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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years ago

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Please Me Oikawa's Oasis: Part 1

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+, MINORS DNI⚠️

Welcome to week 4 of the Please Me Series! A collaboration with @axoxtxhxh! This weeks theme is Virginity Loss featuring Oikawa and Goshiki! This weeks fics are broken into 3 parts! Please check out Joey’s fic, Guiding Goshiki! I will link it in the Please Me master list!

Warnings: Swearing, bad pick up lines

Word Count: 2,000

The sound of Volleyball hitting the floor and shoes shuffling around in the hard wood is all to familiar to Toru Oikawa.

He was finally, living out his dreams as a professional volleyball player. It’s all he ever wanted to do, all he had ever thought about from the time he was a young kid.

After high-school, his goals became centered around making his dream a reality. To accomplish this, he knew he would have to sacrifice a lot. Forgoing his personal life in order to pursue his main objective.

The thought never really bothered Torū. He was always popular with his fans, however none of them seemed to understand his deep desire for the sport he loved so much.

After countless failed high school relationships, he put his personal life on hold in order to pursue something more favorable.

He was given the opportunity to move to Argentina and become a member of Club Atletico San Juan. He jumped at the chance to further is professional career and move abroad, gaining citizenship to a country world renowned for its athletes. His dream was finally becoming a reality

Entering the training gym, Oikawa was anything but nervous. He knew his skills as a setter were exceptional and he always aimed to improve in any way he could. His specialty outside of setting was serving, which is what attracted the recruiters to him. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the bright gym for the first time, preparing to achieve his goals.

“Ahh Oikawa! It’s great to finally meet you” the San Juan teams head coach said as he greeted Oikawa with a smooth smile and a firm handshake.

“The pleasure is all mine sir” Oikawa says as he watches the various members begin to practice.

Oikawa was amazed at the level of skill he saw. These players were on an entirely different level, a level that only served to excited him more.

“Well, it’s probably best if you just join in. I’d like to see your abilities up close” coach says as Oikawa nod, running over to great the members of his new team.

“Hello everyone! My name is Torū Oikawa and it would be my pleasure to set for you” he smirks as the players study Oikawa closely.

Torū had always had a rather flamboyant personality. Often being the stand out character in a room. It never bothered him when others made comments about him because he was confident in himself as a person and as a setter.

The team looked at him, nodding as the captain made his way towards Torū.

“Show us what you’ve got Oikawa” the captain says as he signals for the spikers to form a line “the best way to learn is by doing.”

“I couldn’t agree more” Oikawa smirks as he turns heading close to the net.

“By the way, I prefer if you can get the toss as high so I can have time to correct the positioning if needed” he remarks as the men prepare for spiking practice.

One by one, the players toss the ball to Oikawa as he sends set after set to the players.

“I’m sorry, that one was a little long” he signals to one of the spikers “I can tell by your approach, you favor balls close to the next. I’ll adjust.”

The player nodded to Oikawa and the next player stepped up, tossing the ball to Oikawa.

“Man his adaptation skills are incredible” on of the assistant coaches says as the head coach watched Oikawa closely.

The door opens as the men shift to see a figure pushing open the door with their foot, emerging into the gym with a basket full of freshly laundered jerseys.

Letting out a deep breath, you sigh as you set the basket down, moving onto your next task of refilling the now empty water bottles.

You had been the team’s manager for almost 3 years now. You loved your job so much. The perks were fantastic and the pay was stellar. You worked long hours and traveled a lot but that never hindered your life. You actually enjoyed seeing the world with your team.

Grabbing the bottles, you begin to head for the fountain when the coach approaches you.

“YN, I’m going to need you to prepare a jersey for our newest team member. His name should be on the sheet I gave you this morning. Please have it ready by the end of the week” the coach asks as you nod in agreement.

“I’ll work on it as soon as possible sir”

“Thank you YN. We would really be lost without you” he says as you smile back, eyes glancing towards the gym floor.

You knew a new member would be starting soon. You had heard rumors of one, Torū Oikawa. You had seen his skills on many videos as the team prepared for his arrival. You took notes from what you could see so that you could immediately start helping the promising new setter.

You eyes glanced towards the net as they were met with gorgeous chocolate orbs. The young setter stared at you in wonder as you smiled sweetly, moving towards the door to fill the water bottles.

God you are so pretty Oikawa thinks to himself as he fails to hear the shouts of his teammates, as a tossed volleyball hurls straight for his head.

As you reach the door, a loud SMACK sounded causing you to turn your head towards the men to see the new setter rubbing his head feverishly.

Oh, this one’s a klutz you think to yourself as you roll your eyes, setting the bottles down and running to see if the setter was ok.

“Are you ok?” You ask running up to the new setter, trying to ignore the snickers of the other players as you check him over.

Oikawa rubs his head as he looks up to you.

“I hope you know CPR” he says looking up to you.

“Omg is it that serious?”

“No, it’s because you just took my breath away” he says smiling at you as you roll your eyes walking away as the rest of the players laugh at Oikawa’s cheesy line.

You get up, moving back to the door grabbing the water bottles and walking out.

Great another Romeo you think to yourself as you snicker lightly, remembering the young man’s pick-up line.

“He is pretty funny I’ll have to admit” you under your breath, smiling a little as you fill the teams water bottles.

“Hey Oikawa, are you sure you’re, ok?” the captain says laughing lightly.

Oikawa shakes his head smiling “if there’s one thing I’m accustomed to, it’s getting hit in the head with a volleyball.”

The team laughs as Oikawa looks to the door where you exited.

Of course, you were stunning. Oikawa had seen his far share of women but none quite gave off the radiance you did.

“Hey man” the captain said placing his hand on Oikawa’s shoulder “don’t worry about YN. She just takes her job serious. She’s not really one for screwing around.”

Oikawa nods as he looks back at the door, watching you reenter the gym. He had to admit, he admired how determined you were to do your job. And your cold tone wasn’t going to deter the great king, Torū Oikawa.

“Okey doke then guys, let’s get back to it” he says shaking his hands as he returns to his spot at the net as the next spiker tosses to him, sending a set perfectly to the spiker.

You watched in awe at the new team member. You have to admit, the man was good. He seemed to take the sport of Volleyball more seriously than his pick up game. You smiled as you watched the men hit spike after spike, kill after kill. It was refreshing to have such an invigorating member join the team.

“Alight guys, time to wrap it up” the coach yells as he grabs his clipboard “YN will you lock up tonight after your done please? Also leave the nets up tonight. We will have the gym open early for practice.”

“Of course, coach” you say smiling as the team grabs their towels and water bottles, leaving to change.

You went about your business, finishing laundry, logging notes and filing a few pieces of papers.

“Just mopping left” you say as you sign, leaving your office and heading to the gym.

The sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor radiated from down the hall way.

What is someone still doing here you wonder to yourself as you walk into the gym, checking your watch.

You see a panting Oikawa, tossing a ball up, serving over the net with such intensity.

Your eyes widened as you body jumped at the power he held. His serves were so strong, so intense and so fast. How can anyone stop them?

“It’s not polite to stare” he says as your concentration is broken as you look over to him, smiling at you as he wipes his face off.

“Oh, I wasn’t staring- I just came to umm, I just came to mop up the gym floor” you said stuttering as you walk in, putting your bag down.

“Oh, I apologize. The coach said it was ok for me to practice” he said as he continues to try and cool down.

“No worries, I have sometime. I can wait” you say as you turn heading to sit down. “Oh and by the way, that last serve was out by like a centimeter” you say sitting down, pulling your phone out of your bag.

“Ughhhh” Oikawa says as he grabs his hair and pulls on it as you snicker.

You continue to watch Oikawa practice, 10 minutes turns into an hour, which turns into an hour and a half. While you didn’t want to interrupt his practice, you knew he needed to rest. You could tell he was overexerting himself.

You got up to talk with him when he sent up a serve, landing incorrectly on his leg and wincing.

Your eyes widen as you run to him.

“Ok that’s enough tonight, Oikawa. You’re going to hurt yourself” you said as you grab the ball from him.

“It’s fine YN, this happens all the time” he says wincing at the pain radiating from his knee. He really did overdo it.

“Alright well I don’t care how often it happens, I’m closing practice” you say grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the bench.

“YN –” he says before you interrupt him.

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t overdo it. I’m not doing my job if our setter can’t set after his first day” you say as you help Oikawa to the bench, running to grab an ice pack and a hot pack.

“Here, we will do 15 minutes cold, 15 minutes warm. Then I’ll wrap it” you say as you check his knee.

“Thanks, YN” he says sweetly as you smiley at him.

“No worries, Oikawa, it’s my job” you say as you out the ice on his knee, helping to reduce the bit of inflammation that was forming.

“When you get back home, you’ll need to take anti-inflamories. Do it every 4 hours and you should be ok!”

Oikawa looks at you as you help ice his knee, you really were something else.

“Alright” you say as you wrap his knee up “let’s get you home.”

You help Oikawa to get to the changing room, as you quickly go to mop up the gym floor. You turn off the lights to see Oikawa waiting for you at the doors.

“yoo-hoo Yn-chan” he says waving frantically at you as you roll your eyes at him braking into a smile.

“Yn-what?” You say as you help Oikawa out the front doors, locking the building behind you.

“It’s a personal greeting in Japanese. Often used for close friends” he says smirking at you.

“Oh so we are close friends now are we?” You say as you walk with him towards the dorms he was staying at

“O f course, we are YN-chan! Why wouldn’t we be!” he says smiling at you as you laugh lightly.

“You really are something else Oikawa” you say as you wave him off, heading towards your own dorm.

So are you YN, so are you.

Taglist: @serostapesweat @chaotic-nick @lovelyzabrak-meadow @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes

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the-modernmary · 4 years ago

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when you gonna take me out? || derek morgan x GN!reader

Summary: You and Derek have been flirting pretty heavily for the past few weeks. So when his first time asking you out doesn't go as well as planned, he's determined to get you to say yes.

Warnings: mentions of getting shot, allusions to smut

A/N: Chapter title taken from Aly & AJ's "Take Me Out". This was inspired by a scene from the show community, and also because derek morgan deserves more love

~~~~~~~

“No, no, you see, asking somebody out is an art,” Derek explained to a very frustrated Spencer Reid. “And I think with a little practice, pretty boy, you could become a bit of a player.”

Prentiss, who had been listening to Derek trying to convince Spencer to let him be his wingman for the better part of an hour, scoffed from her desk. “Using a cheesy pickup line is an art now?”

“There is nothing wrong with a line!” Derek argued, leaning back in his desk chair. “It’s a knock at the door. And once they let you in, that’s when you strike.”

Spencer scrunched up his nose at Derek’s phrasing. “I think I’m going to leave the whole player thing to you.”

“Come on, Reid, it’s easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then why don’t you show us?” Prentiss shot.

Right at that moment, Garcia and JJ walked back into the bullpen, coffees in hand. “Show us what?” JJ questioned.

“Derek is trying to teach Reid how to flirt,” Prentiss explained. “But I think he’s just all talk. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Morgan with a significant other.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Hey, I don’t pry into your personal life?”

Garcia put a comforting hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Nobody can resist my chocolate thunder. I mean, look at him. He literally looks like he was sculpted by Michaelangelo.”

“I’m with Emily,” JJ chimed in. “I kind of want to see the Derek Morgan in action.”

Derek’s eyes scanned the bullpen until he landed on you, standing in the kitchen area and making yourself a cup of coffee. You were also a profiler, just on a different team that primarily focused on cold cases. It was no secret that you and Derek Morgan had been flirting pretty heavily the past few weeks — longing glances, pet names, and kisses on cheeks were just the start — and you both had a sneaking suspicion that there was an office pool betting on whether or not the two of you had already hooked up.

“Fine,” Derek said, standing up. “Watch and learn, Pretty Ricky.”

Derek sauntered over to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while reaching for a wooden stirrer. “Let me help you with that,” he offered.

You turned to look at him, a smile on your face. “Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased, but you handed your cup of coffee to him anyways. “I didn’t realize you knew how I take my coffee?”

“You learn a lot about somebody when you can’t take your eyes off them,” he pointed out. “Especially with the way you look right now. I mean, wow. Got a hot date tonight? Because he is one very lucky man.”

You arched an eyebrow in his direction. “Nope, no date.”

“Well, you do now, baby,” Derek grinned. “I’ll pick you up at 8:30.”

You stared at Derek, part amused and part incredulous. “Did you really think that would work?” you asked through a breathy chuckle.

Derek’s confident grin fell slightly as his eyes narrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?” he asked, unable to form any other words.

“Derek Morgan, I expected so much more from you,” you mused, snatching your coffee cup from his hand. “I know you can sweet talk better than that.”

It was Derek’s turn to raise his eyebrows, and he tried his best to ignore the barely-suppressed giggles from his teammates. “So is that a no?” he clarified, not used to the feeling of rejection. Although, it didn’t feel quite like a rejection, especially when you were smiling at him with just a hint of your tongue peaking out from between your teeth.

“It’s a… ‘better luck next time’,” you explained, taking a sip of your coffee.

Derek’s normal, confident grin returned to his face. “You’re saying I can ask you out again?” he clarified, because he did not want to be the guy who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

You walked backwards to your desk, never taking your eyes off Derek. “Sure. It could be fun. But you’ll have to bring your A-game if you want me to say yes,” you told him, and oh, Derek Morgan loved a good challenge.

Derek walked back to his desk, feeling the stares of his teammates the whole way back.

“Like a knock on the door...” Prentiss quoted back to Derek. “So did you just get the door slammed in your face, or was nobody home?”

Derek scoffed and sat down in his chair, already coming up with all the new ways he could ask you out. He had been wanting to for a while, but the timing was always off. But now…

“Oh no, I’m in,” Derek promised, and his eyes were immediately drawn to you. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “But I’m playing the long game.”

~~~~~~~

Derek and the rest of his team got pulled into a case shortly after, so you didn’t hear from him for about a week except for the occasional “how is it going?” text. They got back to the BAU in the middle of the day, but instead of heading straight home like the rest of his team, Derek made a beeline to your desk.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, dropping a quick kiss to your temple. “Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

A soft blush rose to your cheeks as you shut the file you were looking at, spinning your chair so that you could face him. “I missed you tons, as always. But you knew that.”

Derek’s eyes trailed up and down your body, and there was a softness to his gaze that you rarely ever saw from him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Sore eyes?” you questioned. “I don’t know about that. Wasn’t there a meteor shower where you guys were at?”

“Yeah, but no meteor shower can compare to how beautifully your eyes sparkle.”

You tried really, really hard to hold in your laughter. You pressed your lips into a thin line and you bit the insides of your cheeks, but you were only so strong, and even Derek looked like he realized how cheesy and awful that line was.

You broke down into a fit of laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, covering your mouth as you did. “I just — Did you google a top ten best pickup lines list on the plane ride back?”

Derek winced, but nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. Not my best work.”

“No, it was not, Romeo,” you said, patting his cheek. “But we’ll chalk it up to post-case sleep deprivation.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Derek grinned. “When the time comes, you won’t be able to say no.”

You laughed, throwing your head back as you did. “And I am eagerly awaiting that day.”

~~~~~~~

Two days later, Derek all but ambushed you at the elevator. As soon as you stepped out onto the 6th floor, Derek slung his arm around your shoulders, and used his free hand to carry your bag for you.

“Oh, this is exciting,” you mused. You reached your hand up to interlace your fingers with the hand that was draped over your shoulder. “What do you have for me today, baby?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Derek explained. “And you’re a modern, progressive, independent person. I think I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

You nodded in encouragement. He was so close, you just knew it. All he had to do was ask you.

“You don’t want to be dragged down by a bunch of strings. So how about you come over tonight, I’ll put on some mood music, light some candles, and you and I can have one perfect night of pure bliss.”

Or maybe he wasn’t as close as you thought.

“Nope,” you said, moving his arm off of your shoulders. You liked Derek Morgan, but you were not going to be another one of his one night stands. “Not gonna happen.”

“Better or worse than before?” Derek asked, already knowing the answer, and he handed your bag back to you.

“Worse. Much worse.” You paused and turned so that you were facing him. “But I like how forward you were. Keep that up.”

Derek smirked and leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah? So should I keep those candles just in case?”

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds. “With your current track record, baby boy, the only place you’ll be using those candles is in your dreams.”

“You’re already in my dreams, hot stuff,” he promised you. “Every. Single. Night.”

Oh god, that was a very welcome image you would think about forever. You knew that Derek liked you, and you had had your fair share of fantasies involving him in some pretty explicit situations, but him fantasizing about you? It was almost enough to convince you to drag him into the nearest empty room.

Almost. Because if he wanted a chance with you, he was going to have to actually ask you on a date.

Instead, you blew him a kiss and left him with: “And I bet I’m even better than you can imagine.”

Needless to say, the both of you spent the rest of the day incredibly distracted.

~~~~~~~

By that point, pretty everybody on the 6th floor knew what was going on, and they were all invested. More betting pools sprouted up, and even some of the more reserved agents were putting in their two cents, albeit under the guise of disapproval.

That’s why, when a bouquet of flowers appeared on your desk one morning, it was all anybody could talk about as they waited for you to get to work. Even Rossi and Hotch had found an excuse to get themselves out of their offices and into the main part of the bullpen.

“They’re going to say yes today,” Penelope guessed. “They have to. Everybody likes flowers, and this shows the sweet side of my chocolate thunder.”

Prentiss scoffed. “I hope they don’t. I have twenty bucks on at least two more rejections.”

Rossi, who was sitting on the edge of a desk, shook his head. “These are your friends. Don’t you guys feel bad about betting on their love lives?”

“Says the guy who has fifty dollars on ‘they get drunk and leave the bar together’,” Hotch said, not even looking up at the file he was skimming through. Hotch was one of the only ones who hadn’t put money into this whole thing, but he was still very well informed. “You all should really hide the whiteboard the bets are on a little bit better.”

Rossi was about to defend himself when you walked through the glass doors of the BAU. A hush fell over the room and they watched as your smile melted into realization and then nervousness.

You walked over to the bouquet and gingerly took the card, but you didn’t even get to read it when the first sneeze came. Then the next and the next, and pretty soon your eyes were watery, your nose running, and your throat was so scratchy that you sounded like you smoked four packs a day.

You tried to focus on your work, but the constant sneezing and needing to get up to blow your nose was seriously disrupting your productivity. You could barely focus because it felt like a head cold that just wouldn’t go away. Your pollen allergy was something you’d had your whole life, and when they hit, they hit bad.

The flowers were gorgeous and such a sweet gesture, but you didn’t even have the chance to really appreciate them while you could barely breathe through your nose. You were sure you were just a distraction

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, and you whipped around to see Hotch looking down at you with concern. You sighed. “I’m sorry, Agent Hotchner,” you said, your voice nasally. “I usually keep allergy meds in my bag, but it’s not pollen season and I—”

“Go home, agent,” Hotch interrupted you gently. “Get some rest. You can come back tomorrow when you feel better.”

“No, m’fine I just need to—” You cut yourself off this time with another sneeze, and then all you could do was agree with Hotch. “Yeah, I’m gonna go home. Thank you.”

You took the bouquet and walked over to Penelope, handing the glass vase over to her. “Will you please tell Derek that these are beautiful and that I’m so sorry—” You sneezed three times in a row, and by then you were too exhausted to even try talking anymore, so you just groaned and waved goodbye to the rest of Derek’s friends before dragging yourself out of the bullpen.

The next thirty minutes went on as usual, until Derek walked into the bullpen. He had been gone all morning doing a profiling seminar for academy recruits, so he had missed your quick descent into your allergic reaction.

His face fell slightly when he saw your empty desk, and it fell even more when he saw the flowers he had bought sitting on the corner of Prentiss’s desk and his entire team talking amongst themselves.

Derek walked up to them, a frown etched on his face. “Did they not show up for work today?” he asked.

“I sent them home,” Hotch explained, and if Derek didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that he saw the hint of a smirk on the corner of Hotch’s mouth.

Spencer’s smirk, on the other hand, was not even close to being hidden. “Hey Morgan, did you know that pollen allergies affect up to 20 million adults? And sunflowers and flowers in the aster family are considered some of the worst flowers for people who suffer with pollen allergies, since the pollen is so easily dispersed by the wind.”

Realization set in Derek and he cursed under his breath. You had mentioned once in passing that you liked the look of sunflowers, so he had assumed that those were the best flowers to get you. Clearly, he was wrong.

Noticing his dejected look, Garcia quickly interjected. “But they said that they’re beautiful and they looked like they really loved them,” she comforted. “And they wanted me to tell you that they’re sorry.”

Derek shook his head. How did he not know that you were allergic? That seemed like a pretty big thing. “No, they have nothing to be sorry for. I’m going to go wipe down their desk, make sure that it’s clean for them tomorrow.”

The team watched as Derek went over to your desk, taking his time to make sure that there was no flower residue left. They all quickly went back to discussing the bet, changing up their predictions now that they had more evidence to go off of.

Surprisingly, instead of going back to his office, Hotch spoke up. “Morgan isn’t used to being told no. He’s going to break down and beg.”

The team looked at Hotch incredulously. “I’ve never seen Morgan beg for anything,” JJ pointed out, and Hotch just shrugged.

“Well, are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?” Prentiss pressed.

Hotch sighed and shut the file he was holding. “I try not to make a habit out of betting on my subordinates' love lives.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “He knows he’s wrong, he just wants to be a contrarian,” he told the team, baiting Hotch.

Hotch narrowed his eyes slightly. If anybody else had said that, he would have been able to walk away, but this was Rossi. So Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty from his wallet.

“None of this goes on any sort of record.”

~~~~~~~

“Derek Morgan, you got shot?”

You stood up from your desk as soon as you saw Derek and his team walk through the glass doors. It was way after hours, but the news of a shoot out at their last crime scene got back to you, and there was no way you were going to be able to go home knowing that Derek got hurt.

The rest of the team all shared a glance and quickly dispersed, giving you and Derek as much privacy as possible.

Derek made his way over to you, trying to look like he was in less pain than he actually was. “Don’t worry, hot stuff,” he told you, slumping down into his seat. “It just hit my vest.”

You stormed over to where he was sitting, worry evident on your face. “Yeah, I’ve been shot in the vest before!” you reminded him. “It still hurts like hell! What were you thinking?”

Derek forced a smile and held your hand in one of his own. “Baby, I’m okay. Really. I could even show you, if you wanted proof. Then you can stare at my abs without feeling guilty.” He took his free hand and started to lift up his shirt, and you quickly yanked your hand away from his.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, already in the process of storming away from him. “I cannot believe that you are seriously hitting on my right now. You just got shot and you’re asking me out? Agh!”

You started to walk away but Derek caught your hand just in time, laughing as he did. “Okay, don’t go, I’m sorry. I just…” he trailed off, suddenly getting serious. “I just really needed to see your smile.”

You mustered up the best smile you could. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Derek let out a long, audible exhale. “So am I,” he admitted. “I’ve never been more glad to be here doing paperwork.”

You rubbed your hands on the tops of your thighs. “I have some leftover takeout that I had for lunch. How about I heat that up and we can share it while I help you with your work?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll stay. I have nothing else to do.”

Derek grinned and kissed the top of your hand. “You’re too good to me.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Pretty soon, the two of you were hunched over his desk, sharing bites of dinner and chatting easily as you trudged through paperwork.

You quickly learned that he liked to read Kurt Vonnegut and that his eagle tattoo was because of a nickname he had gotten in college. You told him about your fear of the ocean and the time you accidentally set off your high school’s fire sprinkler system during chemistry.

It was nice to be able to just talk to him. It felt like you and him had been friends for years and years, not just the past two months. This Derek Morgan was different from any other version of him, and you loved it. If you didn’t already have the biggest crush on him, this just solidified it. You really, really liked him, and you really, really wanted him to just ask you on a date already.

As the night went on, the two of you had moved closer and closer, until your shoulders bumped and your legs were pressed up against each other. If you both turned your faces to look at each other, your noses would brush. And from there, it would only be a few centimeters until your lips would be on each other…

“Thank you for helping me with this,” he said suddenly, breaking you out of your fantasy. He turned towards you, and you could feel his hot breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “You didn’t have to stay, but… it meant a lot that you did.”

You smiled and tried to control your erratic heartbeat. “It was no problem. I’m happy to do it, anytime. Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But do you know what would make me feel even better?”

You finally turned to look at him, and his face was so much closer than you expected. “What is that?” you whispered, unable to force yourself to speak any louder.

Derek’s lips quirked up in a smile and he moved impossibly closer to you. His lips were brushing against yours, and all you had to do was lean in just a little bit. Then he met your eyes, and they really did sparkle, and for the first time in his adult life, Derek lost all of his nerve.

“You could kiss it better,” he suggested. “Because you are much hotter than any of the EMTs at the scene.” Derek grimaced internally, knowing that he came off sounding like an asshole. All he had to do was ask you on a date. It should have been easy. So why couldn’t he?

You closed your eyes and sighed exasperatedly, pulling away. “Wow, fumbled at the five yard line,” you teased, trying to hide your disappointment. You had thought that Derek and you were really having a moment, but maybe he really just didn’t want strings attached.

Derek frowned slightly, but tried to laugh it off. It was the first time that he thought he actually had a chance with you, and he blew it. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh?”

You fought a smile as you stood up out of your chair. “Mhm. But there’s always tomorrow. And since you’ve had such a rough past few days…”

You spun Derek’s chair around so that he was facing you, and you placed your hands on the arms of his chair, leaning over him. The two of you kept eye contact for what felt like ten years, and his cologne was making you dizzy. Slowly, you pressed a lingering kiss right on the corner of his lips. Derek’s breath got caught in his throat as you pulled yourself away, albeit on shaky legs.

“And that’s all the lovin’ you’re getting from me tonight,” you teased.

Derek leaned back in his chair, his hand over his heart in what looked to be a dramatic display of affection. In truth, he was trying to calm his rapid heartbeat however he could. “Oh, light of my life,” he cooed. “That’s more than enough. It’s the only win I’ve gotten all week.”

~~~~~~~

It had been a few days since your night in the office with Derek, and he hadn’t tried anything, which worried you. He wasn’t avoiding you, and the two of you still exchanged pleasantries throughout the day, but he wasn’t flirting with you anymore.

Part of you wondered if you were too harsh with him that night, if you should have just kissed him and gone home with him. But within the past few weeks, your infatuation with Derek Morgan had turned into a full blown crush, as juvenile as it sounded, and you did not want to be another notch in his bedpost. So you were willing to wait it out, to see if you would actually say the words: “Do you want to go out with me?”.

As if you had summoned him, Derek Morgan wheeled his chair over to your desk and put down a coffee cup from your favorite little cafe in front of you.

“Iced vanilla latte with oat milk?”

“You know both of my coffee orders?” you grinned. “I’m impressed.”

“Consider it a bribe,” Derek said, and you raised your eyebrow as a response.

“A bribe?”

“Please go out with me,” Derek asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “Pretty please. This was fun for a while, but now you are the only thing I think about. I can’t do my job, and I can barely sleep. I feel like I’m going crazy. You are so hot and so smart and so funny. Please let me take you on a date.”

The smile that grew on your face was so big that your cheeks started to hurt. “I’d love that.”

Derek seemed shocked that his attempt actually worked, and he blinked a few times just to make sure he heard you correctly. “Seriously? It’s a yes?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a sip of the coffee Derek got you. “You finally asked me. Of course I said yes.”

“All I’ve been doing the past few weeks has been asking you,” he pointed out.

You hummed to yourself as you scrunched up your nose. “No. You told me that we were going on a date, asked me to have sex with you twice, and the rest of the times, you just used pick up lines. This is the first time you ever actually asked.”

Derek stared at your wordlessly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say. Finally, he landed on: “That’s all it took?”

“Yup,” you replied, popping the ‘p’. “Although, I do want to hear more about my eyes and the meteor shower.”

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he did. “I will be sure to tell you all about it. And more. I’ll pick you up at 8?”

You were practically beaming as you watched Derek stand back up. “That sounds perfect. Oh, and Derek? I hope you still have those candles out and ready to use.”

“Baby, I never put them away.” Derek winked at you before walking back to his desk. Prentiss was mumbling something about owing Hotch money, but Derek was so high up on cloud 9 that he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“See Reid,” Derek said as he took his seat at his desk. “That’s what we call ‘playing the long game’.”

“Finally,” Spencer grumbled, his nose buried in some book Derek didn’t recognize. “Took you long enough to realize.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You knew?”

Spencer scoffed, flipping the page of the book he was reading. “I knew from the first time they rejected you.”

Derek leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “Man, why didn’t you tell me?”

Spencer finally looked up from his book, his eyebrow quirked up. “You were ‘playing the long game’,” he quoted in a bad impression of Derek’s voice. “And since I’m running it, I get a cut of the entire betting pool, no matter who won, so it was in my best interest to keep it going as long as possible.”

Derek shook his head in disbelief. “I see. That pretty face of yours is hiding an evil genius.”

Spencer hummed in agreement and went back to his book. There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “They want you to take them to that Mediterranean place two blocks down.”

“Okay, there is no way you know that,” Derek groaned, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t have to take my advice, but you should. Clearly, you’re helpless,” Spencer shrugged, and Derek laughed as he threw a crumpled piece of paper at him.

When Derek picked you up that night, he made sure that the flowers he brought you were hypoallergenic, and the Mediterranean place ended up being the right choice, not that he would ever admit that to Spencer.

And he did, for the record, make sure to set out those candles he promised, but at the end of the night, the two of you were too busy tearing off each other’s clothes to even bother lighting them.

#derek morgan #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #my writing

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra.

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died.

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less.

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it.

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least.

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right.

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder.

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down.

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled.

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles.

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze.

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling.

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around.

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together.

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate.

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly.

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment.

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself.

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another.

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school.

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way.

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?”

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how.

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center.

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you."

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her.

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation.

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

#ezra x you #ezra (prospect)#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #prospect #prospect fanfiction #prospect (2018)#ezra x reader smut #pedrp pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #ezra fic #ezra prospect x reader #canon compliant #wrote this while listening exclusively to grimes #take that as you will

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tuanyiems · 4 years ago

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First Everything

First Everything Bambam x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst Words: 9.2k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Muse (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. A series of dates in which Bambam tries his hardest (poor boy) to convince you that he really, really wants to be with you. a/n – lol idunno how I feel about this but here you go~

When the door of the restaurant opens, Bambam’s eyes dart over to the bodies entering for the umpteenth time. When it’s not you, he sighs, rubbing sweaty palms over the deep purple suede of his pants. The designer material darkens under his touch, but he’s too nervous to fret over his outfit at the moment.

He’s beginning to regret not picking you up at your place. He should have been more insistent. But the choice was made and now he is here, leg shaking in his chair of the Michelin star restaurant that he’s not quite sure you’re even going to meet him at.

He gulps down his second glass of water, throat parched at just the thought of getting stood up. He eats at this place at least three times a month. How embarrassing would it be for everyone to witness this rejection?

The door opens again and Bambam jerks his head up like a meerkat. An elderly woman walks in, much to his disappointment.

He sinks into the plush seat, tipping the glass to his lips again only to find it empty. A waitress promptly comes over to refill his glass, relieving him of the menacing view of the restaurant door for a fleeting moment.

What’s wrong with him? Bambam hasn’t been this nervous since…well, high school.

“Kun…pi…mook uh Bu—”

Bambam rolls his eyes at the freshmen English teacher, Mr. Kim, butchering his name. “I just go by Bambam,” comes his automatic response.

Mr. Kim breaks into a sigh of relief, taking pen to clipboard, “Great, Bambam it is.”

But Bambam has already zoned out.

Because right across from him is you—an unassuming girl in the back seat, smiling to yourself. Your lips move as you tilt your head down, but Bambam knows exactly what you’ve mouthed and his heart catches in his throat. Bambam.

His name makes your cheeks dimple.

He doesn’t know why, but this little bit of knowledge makes his chest squeeze.

The next day and every day after, Bambam makes sure to sit next to you. Thus, began the beginning of your beautiful love story…

…is what he had hoped.

But after the first day of high school, you don’t even spare him a glance. So instead, Bambam spends every hour of English period watching you from his peripheral.

You are a quiet student and most days you spend the hour doodling in the margins of your notebook. Often, your doodles are centered around cute cartoons yelling at you to pay attention in class. Every once in a while, he’ll catch a funny caricature of one of your classmates.

Maybe you’ll draw him one day, he hopes to himself.

(You don’t.)

“Bambam and Y/N, please read the next passage,” Mr. Kim interrupts his daydreams one day, about a month into the new school year.

His eyes widen, fingers flipping through the pages of Romeo and Juliet.

“Page 46,” you whisper as you get up from your seat.

Bambam lets out a breath, thumbing to the right page as he stands from his seat beside yours. He squares his shoulders, attempting to stand tall though his shoulders only manage about an inch higher than yours, but every inch counts!

“If I profane,” you whisper when he doesn’t begin reading.

Mr. Kim looks at Bambam pointedly.

“If I proFANE!” he starts loudly, cringing when his voice cracks. His classmates snicker, making his cheeks go red, but you don’t even flinch. Your eyes remain steady on the page of your own book, waiting for him to continue. He clears his throat, “If I p-profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my…lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch…with a tender k-kiss.”

Bambam swallows, wiping a sweaty palm on his khaki pants. He prays no one notices his stutter. If you do, you don’t let on, lowering the book as you speak.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

“Ha-”

“You guys,” Mr. Kim sighs, interrupting Bambam. He looks around the room with a scowl. “Can we not read this out like robots, please? This is young love! They’re talking about kissing! Be more excited!”

“Is that what they’re talking about?” you mutter under your breath, eyebrows arching as you scanned the page.

Bambam snorts before covering his mouth with his hand quickly. You catch the sound though, looking up at him with a smile.

His heart catches in his throat.

The playful glint in your eyes keeps him afloat for months after.

When the restaurant doors open again, Bambam chokes on his water. He coughs into the red linen napkin, his grey contact eyes watering. He can’t help chuckling despite it all though.

You’re here. And fortunately for Bambam, your gaze is focused on the hostess. You’re asking her something, probably for directions to his table. You lean towards the hostess’ podium, the heels of your blush-colored flats rising to your tiptoes out of habit even though you are at least a foot clear of the podium. You have on your signature cream oversized knit cardigan which you pull tighter to your chest, covering the simple white dress beneath.

It is so very you—even the stroke of blue paint at the bottom of your dress (which you probably aren’t aware of). On any other girl, Bambam would have scrutinized the stain, especially at a restaurant of this class. Yet, on you, the mark is somehow endearing.

He wonders if the paint stain is fresh. Were you so absorbed in a painting that you came rushing straight here with no time to change? Or was this an old stain on a dress you loved so much you couldn’t bear to part ways with it?

“Hey,” your hesitant voice breaks him out of his thoughts as you take a seat across from him.

“Hi,” he breathes. Underneath the table, he pinches his thigh. Nope, not a dream.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, I had a hard time finding the entrance,” you chuckle to yourself. There’s a story behind that smile, there always seems to be a story behind every expression and gesture you make. He wonders if he’ll ever be part of that story. When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head nervously. “Were…you waiting long?”

“Oh! Ha, no, not at all!” Bambam straightens in his seat.

You smile politely before turning away to admire the place. It’s a beautiful French restaurant that sits at the top of one of Seoul’s tallest hotels. The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, offering a spectacular view of the city. Your eyes linger on the glittering lights of Seoul’s Friday night skyline.

Bambam doesn’t bother to glance out the window. His eyes remain on you, the glow of the candle at the center of the table flickers like stardust on your skin.

When you finally look back, Bambam leans on the table, lifting a proud brow. “Like the view?”

“This place is breathtaking,” you admit, fingers rubbing absentmindedly at the ends of your sleeves.

“Right? It’s one of my favorite places in the city,” he smiles triumphantly. “Wait ‘til you try the food.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Yeah, Lisa introduced me to this place a year ago and I’ve been coming ever since.”

“L-Lisa? Like…from Blackpink?” you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that Lisa, she’s a homie.”

You blink at him. “Wow, okay…cool.”

He pauses, not quite sure how to read your tone. Before he can ask though, the waitress interrupts with the usual spiel on menus and dishes of the night. When you read through the menu, your eyes grow big.

“My card is still on file, right?” Bambam asks, quick to assuage your worries. His card has been on file for months now.

“Yes, it should be, but I can check again for you,” the waitress smiles at him politely, knowing just as well that Bambam already knows this. He winks at her as she leaves before turning back to you.

Unlike his expectations though, the crease between your brow only deepens. He clears his throat, rubbing his palms against his thighs again.

“Anything catch your eye?”

You force out a smile, putting down your menu. “I can eat anything. Why don’t you decide?”

Bambam lifts a brow but nods in agreement. He wonders if French cuisine just isn’t your thing. He should have listened to Yugyeom and gone Japanese, huh? You can’t go wrong with omakase!

“Do you like wine?” he blurts, trying to get his best friend’s voice out of his head.

“Oh,” your eyes dart to the clear glass cases at the center of the restaurant showcasing their selection. You sink into your seat a little. “Well, I’m not really an expert, but I can drink it. Do you like wine?”

“I’ll let you try my favorite bottle! It’ll go great with the usual course I order,” he smiles, quite pleased with his decision.

“Sounds good,” you nod curtly.

After Bambam puts in the order, an uncomfortable silence follows. Your eyes keep traveling around the room like you don’t want to look at him. And Bambam, who could easily entertain an entire party of people at any given moment, finds himself at a loss for words. There’s probably a stain on his thighs now from how often he keeps wiping his palms. He’s too afraid to check.

“So,” he starts, extending the single word uneasily. He doesn’t manage to figure out the rest of his sentence though.

But it’s then that you finally break into a smile. A real one.

“Bambam,” you let out, and his eyes dart to your cheek where the ghost of a familiar dimple lays. “Are you feeling as awkward as I am?”

“More like nervous,” he confesses, leaning back into his seat.

Your brows raise, “You? Nervous?”

“It happens when I’m with beautiful people.”

You roll your eyes, “Says the same guy who’s ‘homies’ with Blackpink’s Lisa.”

Bambam grins, “When you meet her, you’ll see, she’s a bro.”

You arch your brows, clearly not believing him. “If she’s a bro, I can’t imagine what I am.”

You’re frowning and his heart sinks. He hates that you actually mean it. He hates that he can’t even tell you honestly what you mean to him. It’s way too soon for that kind of confession. He’s sure you wouldn’t take him seriously anyways. After all, he barely managed to even get this date.

Yn_ig: The animes lied to me. High school sucks.

Bambam snorts loudly, muffling himself beneath his blue checkered duvet before his mom can hear and yell at him to go to sleep.

It’s midnight and tomorrow will be the first day of sophomore year. He really should be sleeping, but instead he’s smiling stupidly at his phone. Your scowling face lights up his screen. Your best friend smiles brightly beside you, poking your cheek with the end of a paintbrush. You had spent your break taking an art class.

Bambam knows this because he’s been stalking your Instagram, although he’s been too afraid to like any of your posts.

You’ve gotten a lot better in the span of a few weeks though. Or at least, that’s what it seems like from having spent all of freshmen year watching you doodle in the margins. He wonders if he’ll get to sit beside you this year too. His stomach flips at the thought.

When morning comes, Bambam yawns loudly, his eyes barely open as he rushes to the bus stop. He hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but one thing led to another and suddenly he was on Soundcloud, listening to an indie artist by the name of Defsoul, who you had commented about on your friend’s Instagram post fifteen weeks ago.

He pulls out his phone, plugging in his earphones to continue listening. He steps into the bus, in the middle of bopping his head to a song when the sound escapes him and all he can hear is the thumping of his heart.

You’re sitting near the back, looking out the window. You have on headphones and a scowl that looks just like the picture you posted last night.

Steadying his breath, he walks past you and slides into the row of seats right behind yours. He wonders if you’re listening to the same song.

Maybe you’ll share the same homeroom this year. The entire bus ride to school, Bambam daydreams about all the conversations you’d share every morning if that were the case. He’d talk to you about Defsoul and then you’d share your stories about break. He’d tell you his was alright, but it would’ve been better if you two hung out. You’d give him that look, the same one you gave when you read out loud together, and then he’d poke your cheek like he’s always wanted to, right where your cheeks dimpled.

His bubble bursts as soon as a guy takes a seat beside you. Bambam can’t remember his name, but his face is familiar. He’s a senior, and by the way you move your headphones to the nape of your neck and smile, it seems like you know him. Holding his breath, Bambam pauses his song.

“2A? That used to be my homeroom!”

Bambam clenches his fist. His homeroom is at the other end of the hall from yours. Frowning, he eyes the back of the guy’s head as he leans into you.

“So, have you thought about what I asked over break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and Bambam can’t help but wonder what he’s asked of you. Is it a date? The way he whispers seems like it would be that kind of thing, and Bambam doesn’t doubt a girl like you must have a lot of admirers. Is it making you uncomfortable? Should he interrupt you two? But then, you’d clearly know he had been eavesdropping. But if this guy was making you uncomfortable, that shouldn’t matter, right?

Thighs straining, Bambam almost stands from his seat when you laugh. It’s the loudest he’s ever heard you, at least in person anyways.

“I thought you’d forget by now,” you chuckle.

The guy feigns offense, holding a hand to his chest. “Me? Forget about you? I see you think very highly of me, Y/N.”

Bambam rolls his eyes.

“Sure you aren’t just trying to dump all your responsibilities on me?” you pout. Bambam melts inside.

“Ha, you caught me!” the senior laughs, making you laugh too. It’s such a pretty ring to his ears, Bambam already knows he’ll be thinking about it for the next couple of weeks. “But you know I wouldn’t give it up to just anyone. It’s practically my baby.”

“That’s true,” you admit, chuckling, and then quieter, “You think I can do it?”

He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. Bambam squeezes his fist.

“Not just doing it. I know you’ll be a great president,” he tells you confidently. Your ears go red, and if Bambam weren’t so focused on the hand on your shoulder, he would’ve found it very endearing.

“I don’t know, I just…” you pause nervously.

“Yo,” Mingyu breaks Bambam’s concentration. “2D?”

Bambam breaks into a smile, highfiving his friend as he takes the seat next to him. “2D!”

“Sweet!” Mingyu cheers, shoulders bumping against his playfully. “Kook’s with us too. It’s gonna be a wild year!”

Bambam laughs, shaking his head. “You guys are gonna get us kicked back a year.”

His friend whistles. “Girls are into older guys, Bam, it’ll be like one of those harem animes Kook loves so much!”

Bambam laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he glances back at the hand still on your shoulder. He hopes that’s not the case for you.

“It got cold,” Bambam musters as the two of you leave the restaurant.

You nod, looking up at the night sky. “Seems like winter doesn’t want to leave us yet.”

The two of you pause by the curb, in front of the valet.

“Are you sure you had a good time, Y/N? You barely touched your food.”

You look up in surprise. “Oh, I really did have a nice time, Bambam.”

He looks at you skeptically.

“The uh, the…gourdine?”

“Bouchée à la périgourdine?”

“Yeah, that!” you chuckle awkwardly. “That was delicious.”

Bambam still doesn’t believe you but you look uncomfortable, so he lets it go. Actually, you’ve been looking uncomfortable ever since you laid eyes on the menu. Most of his dates took advantage of his generosity, especially at a place like this—ordering the most expensive dishes and trying out all the wine. You though? You insisted on being full after the first course. When he asked you what your thoughts were on his favorite bottle of wine, you mumbled something incoherent as you tipped the entire glass down your throat. You only had water after that.

It was like you couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Maybe he had read things wrong. He thought you were at least interested in him too. The night of Mark’s fashion launch, the two of you had shared so many things—secrets, confessions, old memories and what he thought had been chemistry.

He glances over your way. You’re turned away from him, eyes watching the valet workers instead. You had admitted to hating him in the past. His stomach sinks at the thought that maybe you still do.

You shiver, pulling your cardigan closer to your chest. Bambam unwraps his scarf, holding out his hand for you to take it.

“Oh, I’m alright,”

He lets out a soft sigh before stepping in front of you.

“Do you maybe,” Bambam asks softly, placing his scarf gently around the nape of your neck. “I don’t know, it’s Friday, we could walk around or something or…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead biting on the tip of his tongue as he wraps the cashmere cloth securely around you.

Your fingers brush against his, just barely, but he feels it tenfold. “It’s getting late…”

Bambam tries not to look too hurt when he smiles back at you. “I’ll drive you home then.”

A week later, Bambam finds himself outside of your studio apartment. When you open the door, you’re wide-eyed and frozen like you’ve seen a ghost. In your defense though, Bambam doesn’t look like himself. He hasn’t ever since the night you left him at this exact spot last week.

Dark circles line his eyes and his newly dyed black hair only makes his complexion paler.

“Is everything okay, Bambam?” you ask finally.

He sighs, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. His gold frames lift at the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I probably should have called first.”

“Hey,” you place your palm gently on his arm. “Why don’t you come in first.”

Bambam lets you tug him inside like a lost puppy. His eyes travel around the room. Of course, he’s seen your place before in videos, but it’s different being here now. He doesn’t expect the smell of ginger and lemongrass to greet him. The longer he lingers, the more aware he becomes of the subtle scent of jasmine rice wafting in from the open kitchen. It’s comforting.

Your bedroom door is open, and he can see you’re working on a series of paintings. The canvases line your wooden floors in a haphazard row across the room.

You sit him down on your couch, a worn out burgundy but the geometric pattern is intricate despite its faded color. He lets his finger trail over a line while you poor him a cup of water.

“Your hair is black,” you break the silence.

“Oh,” he runs a hand through his hair like he is discovering this for the first time too. A faint pink colors his cheeks.

“I like it,” you smile softly. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” he utters. His eyes trail down your hands. Your thumb smooths down your own cup of water repeatedly. Your fingers are speckled with green paint.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you chuckle softly to yourself. He looks at you in surprise.

“I like this new look,” you explain, eyes gesturing to his outfit. Today, Bambam is in a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. Granted, the t-shirt is still Tom Ford, but you don’t know that. More noticeably though, is what he is not wearing, no sparkling diamonds around his neck, no Rolex on his wrist. Only a plain, silver ring adorns his right pinky. “So, why are you here, Bambam?”

He winces inwardly, reality setting in on him. Why is he here? Because the hair dye didn’t work? Because he agreed to too many projects in an attempt to keep busy but now he’s just tired and confused? Because Yugyeom pushed him out of the office and told him to figure things out?

Because no matter what he does, he keeps thinking about last week’s date and how you looked at him right before going inside—the mixture of disappointment and sadness in your eyes that felt like he had lost it all.

“Bambam?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

His question catches you off guard. “What? No, of course not.”

“You didn’t like the food,”

“The food was delicious.”

“Then it was me. I was boring.”

“Are you really Bambam? Where did all your confidence go?” you joke, lifting a brow.

His shoulders slouch. You make his confidence deplete like he is fourteen again. When he doesn’t say anything, you put your cup down onto the coffee table and look him in the eye.

“Hey, really, it had nothing to do with you Bambam, and everything to do with me.”

He chuckles dryly. “I don’t need a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ to soften the blow. You can give it to me straight.”

You look at him with a frown, lips threatening to jut into a pout and if Bambam weren’t about to get his heart crushed, he would’ve found your expression to be very adorable. Well, okay, that’s a lie, he still finds you very adorable right now.

“It’s really not you,” you purse your lips together, looking away. “I just…I was very out of place there, Bambam.”

“Wha-”

“I couldn’t pronounce half the menu,” you continue, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Or the wine.”

“But it tasted good?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking at him. “It was amazing, Bambam. But that one meal cost about half the month’s rent of this place!”

Bambam doesn’t mean to, but he laughs at your outburst. He is reminded of himself a few years ago when he first became friends with Jackson Wang, who gifted him a set of Cartier jewelry on his birthday.

When he sees your face, he immediately stops laughing. “Wait, I’m not laughing at you!”

“Yeah, sure,” you roll your eyes, but it’s a harmless gesture. Rising from your seat, you look at him, “Is that all you came here for?”

“Well, no.”

Your brows lift.

“There’s this event,” Bambam rushes, digging into the pocket of his jeans. “Actually, I was working on this mini documentary with this artist and he’s opening up a new exhibit this weekend.”

He raises the tickets tentatively towards you but freezes when your eyes bug out.

“Yoshitomo Nara?” You practically scream, falling back onto the couch right beside Bambam. You smell warm and sweet and the memory of the night you shared a few weeks ago flickers in the back of his mind.

“Yoshitomo Nara,” he confirms softly.

You frown his way, though it quickly turns into a smile, “Well, that’s just not fair. You know how much he means to me.”

“I do,” he smiles quietly.

“So you came here to bribe me?”

He laughs, “More or less. Is that a yes?”

You smile, thumbs smoothing over the tickets repeatedly.

“Jokes on you, Bambam. I would’ve said yes even without these tickets.”

Somehow, he doesn’t quite believe you, but you are giggling, and he has a date.

And that is all that matters.

Bambam sits nervously on a stool of the art studio, his fingers twisting the lens of an old DSLR he’s still not confident about using. From the elevated windows above, the pink evening sky illuminates. Everything about this moment seems picturesque. If Bambam could use his camera properly, he would’ve known.

But instead, the camera remains abandoned in his grasp as he stares in front of him where you stand in front of your easel mere meters away. It’s just the two of you. Everyone from both the photography and the painting club had gone home already. After seeing you continue to paint, Bambam had insisted on staying behind to practice with his camera more.

To be honest, he is hungry and could care less about photography, but he can’t find himself to go home.

“Hey,” you twist around and Bambam’s mind spins.

“H-hey,” he musters up, still unconvinced you’re talking to him.

He blinks owlishly at you, and then, his stomach growls. Loudly. His ears turn so red and he feels like he’s been set on fire, but you don’t even react.

“Mind if I play music?”

“Uh, yeah…that’s fine,” he answers you meekly, eyes diverting in embarrassment.

“Cool,” you reply nonchalantly, walking up to his side of the room where the speakers are. Plugging in your phone, the familiar tune of Defsoul’s music fills the studio. It takes Bambam a minute to get over his own mortification before the music reaches his ears and he perks up. But when he looks around the room, you are gone.

Alone now, Bambam finds the courage to get up from his seat and approaches your easel. The chair beside your easel is stacked with art books of Yoshitomo Nara. It seems you are doing a study. Just like the angry little girls on the cover of the art books, your easel holds a portrait of a little girl too. It is different though.

When he looks at the girl in your painting, he sees you. The little girl holds the ghost of a smirk beneath her scowl and her eyes glint with secrets of mischief, just like you. Without thinking, Bambam takes a step back and raises his camera.

“Like it?”

Bambam jumps in surprise, the flash of the camera going off before it slips from his hands entirely. Flustered, he rushes to bring the camera back into his grasp, thanking god he had kept the old leather strap around his neck.

You giggle softly, standing beside him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s alright, I was just spacing out,” he mumbles sheepishly, eyes averting to the screen of his camera. You lean in, filling his senses with faint notes of your strawberry vanilla shampoo. “I’m still learning how to use the camera.”

“I like it,” you smile, looking up at him. “Can you send it to me?”

“I-really?” he looks at you surprised. Your painting isn’t in focus and off centered. The photo is not good, even Bambam knows it.

“Yeah, gives me album cover vibes,” you chuckle.

He snorts. “When is your mixtape dropping?”

You grin, raising a brow. “You never know what could happen in the future, Bambam.”

He shrugs, pretending not to melt at the sound of his name on your tongue. He didn’t think you’d remember him.

“Here,” you hand him a bag of cheese puffs before opening your own bag. “The vending machine popped out two.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Bambam walks back to his seat, gaze on your back again as you return to painting. He glances at the blurry photo on the screen of his camera and then slowly, he raises his camera once more, one eye squinting into the viewfinder.

Maybe photography isn’t so bad after all.

He snaps another photo. Click!

“Wait, this is a formal thing? Should I change?”

Bambam watches with amusement as you bounce nervously in front of his car. You are dressed in a plain pink tank top and matching satin wrap skirt. Of course, your classic cream cardigan drapes over you, and to his pleasure, so does his scarf from your last date.

“You look beautiful,” he reassures you.

You bite at your lip, unconvinced. “But you’re in a suit.”

“Okay, but when am I not?”

Your pout reluctantly turns into a smile and you huff, walking through the door he’s holding open for you, into the passenger’s seat. When he gets into the driver’s seat, you turn to him.

“When you’re wearing your designer gym clothes,” you smirk.

“Stop, you aren’t allowed to make jokes while I’m driving,” he laughs, pulling the car out of the driveway. “Also, tracksuits are still suits.”

Your giggles ring throughout the car.

When the two of you get to the venue, the place is already busy. The exhibition is part of the new contemporary art wing in the museum, which has been closed for the night for an intimate opening with select guests. Many of these guests are artist friends of Yoshitomo Nara, but even more are the wealthy collectors who are more than eager to call first dibs on the latest works. The only reason Bambam has been invited is because his mini documentary of the artist is playing on loop in one of the screening rooms.

While he loves art, these type of art scenes are not his thing. They’re a bit too stuffy for his taste and exactly why he dropped out of art school in the first place. But when he sees the way you seem to shrink into your cardigan as soon as you step into the gallery, he squares his shoulders and grabs hold of your hand.

You look surprised by his touch, but thankfully, you don’t pull away.

“You have to get used to these kinds of events, Y/N. You’ll be hosting them soon.”

You chuckle, glancing away. “Well, if I’m lucky, you’ll be hosting them.”

It’s his turn to blush now, but he pretends to be cool, pointing to the first painting to the right. “Shall we start here?”

You only grin, gripping his hand tighter. You seemed to get a little too much joy out of making him feel shy. Bambam can only sigh, quietly relishing in the warmth of your palm against his.

When you finally turn your attention to the paintings, the two of you look on in silence. Naturally, Bambam’s gaze falls onto you. There is a glimmer in your eyes, emotions passing through your features like its own movie. There is a lift of revelation in your brow, a scrunch of displeasure in your nose, the twitch of amusement on your lips.

Bambam fights the urge to take out his phone and record you. Instead, he follows after you, committing your profile to memory.

“Why do you like this guy so much?” he blurts out after passing a few paintings. You peel your eyes away to look at him in surprise, cheeks rosy.

“I-I don’t know, I’ve just loved his works since high school.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for the question to come out harsh. I was just curious, I mean, his art is really nice.”

You squeeze his hand, calming him. “I know. I guess I was just drawn to his characters. They’re cute, but rebellious and real. It’s charming.”

Bambam smiles. That’s how he feels about you.

“And it blurs the lines of what is fine art,” you go on, turning back to the painting in front of you. “Like right now, it is hanging in this museum, so it’s considered high end art, right? But this girl can easily be inside a children’s book, and his previous works have.”

You glance back at him, looking embarrassed after your spiel. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t let you skirt over the topic though as he follows you to the next painting. “Is that why you dropped out of school?”

You sigh. “There were a lot of reasons. Maybe my skin wasn’t thick enough.”

“No, I get it,” he rubs his thumb across your skin. “I don’t like museums much, to be honest. I like the idea of them, but in reality, places like these only cater to the gatekeepers and the gatekeepers are just boring ass, tax-evading millionaires.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest as if that’ll rid you of the attention you’ve already gained around your corner of the room. Bambam ignores their stares, laughing along with you.

“Your art shouldn’t be jailed up in this stale room,” he adds, after your giggling subsides.

“But yours is,” you chuckle, making your way into the dark screening room.

Projected onto the wall is Yoshitomo Nara talking midsentence about his latest artworks. You take a seat on the bench before gesturing for Bambam to take a seat next to you.

“This is filmed beautifully,” you lean into him to whisper. The action makes him smile since you are the only two in this room, but if it’ll bring you closer, he doesn’t mind. “You’re really talented, Bambam.”

“I have a good team with me.”

“I always knew you’d make it big.”

He smiles quietly, watching as the glow of the video illuminated your face. You really did.

Yn_ig: This is amazing!

Bambam1a: Thx!

Bambam chucks his phone between his thighs before shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide the smile spreading across his face. He pretends to laugh at something his brother said, though really, he’s twisting with glee because you just liked his latest post on Instagram. And you commented!

“Remember Bammie, this weekend you’re coming with me to…”

His phone dings and his mom’s voice fades into the background. Grabbing his phone, his stomach flips when he sees your handle name sending you a direct message. Ever since the beginning of junior year, he’s been talking to you over Instagram under the alias Muse_ig. It hadn’t been his intentions to deceive you. He was just nervous about talking to you online, but still wanted a way to support you. One comment on your art led to another and suddenly you were messaging him a thank you. Very quickly, that thank you turned into memes and inside jokes. Now, the two of you were talking to each other almost every night.

He clicks on the notification, nodding blankly to whatever his mom is saying.

Yn_ig: Hey! You said you liked photography, right? You should check him out. He’s my classmate. Really talented guy.

Bambam clutches his phone, trying to keep from jumping out of his seat when he sees you’ve sent his Instagram profile.

“Bammie, are you listening to me?” his mom looks at him pointedly.

He tries to school his expression, but joy floods his face anyways. And despite her tone, his mom smiles too.

“Whoever it is, she can wait. Put your phone away,” she teases, inciting laughter from all his siblings.

Bambam laughs it off goodheartedly, tucking his phone away. You think he’s really talented and nothing can diminish the high that this newfound knowledge brings him.

Well, nothing except, of course, you.

You see, when Bambam agreed to tagging along with his mom to her new friend’s house so she could introduce their daughter to him, he was expecting to spend a few awkward hours with some strangers. Maybe bond with said daughter over the awkwardness, but then he would go home and play video games and that would be that.

What he doesn’t expect is to greet you first thing at your doorway. He doesn’t expect to sit across from you during dinner. And he definitely doesn’t expect the glare you send him between each bite.

“You really are the prettiest thing!” His mother coos from across the table. “She definitely takes after you.”

“Oh, stop it,” your mom blushes, waving her spoon. “To think our kids already knew each other. This must be fate!”

“Hardly,” you mumble under your breath, but Bambam hears it. His heart breaks.

He can’t even blame you for it though. This dinner hasn’t exactly been easy for you. He remembers your late-night texts a few months ago and now all those self-deprecating comments make sense. Those words you were repeating? The I’m not good enough and I should just give up—They were never yours. It was your parents’.

“Bambam told me she’s one of the smartest in her grade!” his mom continues to compliment. He nods eagerly. Your frown only deepens as you poke at the asparagus on your plate.

“What good are all those As when all she does is doodle?” her mom laments, chuckling weakly. “We put all this money into her education but all she wants to do is draw.”

“Paintings,” Bambam musters. Both his and your mom look at him, surprised. He wipes his palms against his pants. In his peripheral, he knows you’re looking at him too, but he’s too afraid to look at you. “She paints, and she’s really good.”

There’s a pause and Bambam’s entire face heats up.

And then your mom breaks into a laugh. “And I heard you’re doing photography!”

His chest deflates and he nods meekly.

His mom laughs, hitting him on the back. “Unlike Y/N, Bammie here is terrible at studying. I really hope this hobby takes off.”

“Your mom showed me some of your photos, boy,” your father speaks up gruffly, pointing the steak knife his way. “Keep it up and you’ll earn yourself a free ticket to college.”

Bambam rubs at the nape of his neck, “I don’t know about that.”

“No really, there’s a scholarship, isn’t there, Y/N?” your father insists, looking at you.

You nod, putting down your fork. You look at your dad but it’s clear in your tone that you’re talking to him.

“It’s called the Artisan Award—a full scholarship to your art school of choice. It’s given to one graduating senior for their excellence in art across multiple disciplines—including photography. I’ll be applying to it next year.” You don’t even offer him a glance, focusing instead, on your glass of water.

“Well, you’ll be applying to a lot of scholarships,” your mom chuckles uneasily. “There’s still a year to think things through.”

“You should apply too,” your father adds, looking at him.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any good. Sounds competitive,” Bambam mumbles, glancing at you. You’re scowling down at your plate.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try though,” his mom cuts in, smiling at him. “What are the kids saying nowadays? Have to shoot your shot into the hoop?”

He smiles, pretending to grimace at his mom, making her laugh.

“While we’re at it, let’s apply to the athletic scholarships too,” she jokes.

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “First I have to make a shot into an actual hoop.”

His mom snorts, “It’s okay, if anything you can dropout and become a comedian! We’ve got options.”

The table breaks into laughter but when he glances your way, you are glaring at him.

“I still can’t believe you were Muse_ig this whole time. I dropped out because of you,” you giggle, a crumpled brown napkin in one hand while the other cradles a half-eaten slice of pizza. The two of you had stopped for a bite to eat next door to the museum.

“Hey, don’t blame me, I was just sending you encouraging messages. You made the decision,” Bambam whines, one cheek still stuffed full of pizza.

“Only because I had you feeding into my delusions!”

“You mean showing you your true worth?” he corrects.

You smile, leaning onto the table towards him. “Which ultimately pushed me to drop out.”

He sighs, “Okay, fine, you win. Please don’t tell your mom, though. She’ll hate me.”

“Impossible, she loves you.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

You roll your eyes as Bambam finishes his last bite. Sitting in the pizzeria on a Saturday night amongst a crowd of college students from the local university, the two of you stand out like a sore thumb—Bambam, because of his tailored suit that’s probably the same price as some of these students’ tuition, and you, because, well, you’re you.

In his eyes at least, you always stand out. However, tonight, this is especially so. Unlike your first date, you are laughing and joking together. Maybe he should get pizza with you more often.

“This was nice,” you breathe out as you both step out of the pizzeria. When the restaurant doors close, the loud chatter muffles and is replaced by the quiet night breeze.

“So,” Bambam lets the word drawl sluggishly, not wanting the night to end, but he is reminded of the last date when you turned him down and hesitates to extend another offer.

“So,” you copy, voice soft as you start walking back towards the museum parking garage. “You never explained why you dropped out. Such a waste of a scholarship,” you tease.

“Ah, that…” Bambam stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You place a hesitant hand around the crook of his arm and his shoulders relax.

“If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you. “No, it’s not.”

He opens the passenger door for you, helping you in before heading to his side.

“I guess I didn’t have tough skin either,” he chuckles softly, starting the car. “Some days it really did feel like being jailed inside an art museum. Photography didn’t feel the same without…”

His voice trails and his cheeks heat up. You look at him curiously but he’s too embarrassed to continue. Again, he is reminded by the fact that while you grew up together, the memories you share are quite different.

He glances at you and the way you smile at him is sweet. As if to say, it’s okay to not say anything more. But instead of being comforted, Bambam remembers the way you glared at him from across the dinner table as if it happened yesterday.

“I liked taking photos of the people I care about. I liked capturing moments that mattered…Feelings that…Art school just made me feel empty. I didn’t know why I was doing it anymore,” he finishes off quickly, looking away from you.

“I get that,” you smile weakly.

“But look at us now,” Bambam chuckles, lightening the mood. “We’re doing just fine on our own, aren’t we?”

You smile, glancing out the window. “Well, you are.”

“So are you! Aren’t you publishing a children’s book soon?” Bambam keeps his eyes on the road but her can see in his peripheral that you are looking at him in surprise.

“Did Mark…”

At the red light, he glances at you gently. “Your mom told mines. She brags about you when you aren’t around, you know.”

You frown, playing with the strap of the seatbelt.

“I know that’s her way of caring for me.” You finally say. “Sometimes, though, I wish she was more like your mom.”

“Well,” Bambam sends you a quick grin before turning back to the road. “If you marry me, my mom comes with the package too.”

You laugh. It rings throughout the car and sets his own heart at ease.

“You don’t have to bribe me with your mother, Bambam! If anything, I should be bribing you.”

“I’ll take it!”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Whatever the bribe is, I’ll take it. Think City Hall is still open?”

You shake your head, giggling softly. “I still don’t get you.”

“What’s there to get?”

You hum thoughtfully. “A young bachelor like you so eager to marry and me of all people? Who’s holding you against your will?”

At the next red light, Bambam steels himself and turns to you, eyes steady on yours.

“I like you. A lot. For a while now.”

Despite the dimly lit night, he can see you flush. Your fingers clutch the ends of your cardigan sleeves, a nervous habit.

When you don’t say anything, he continues. “I know your parents kind of forced you into this, but that’s not the case for me. Maybe I’m coming on too strong, This marriage arrangement thing…I get that it’s unnatural. I wish I could’ve gone about this differently, but we’re here now and I’m ready. I know you’re probably not and that’s okay, I get it. But I’m interested, I want to date, I want to go through the whole process with you. Slowly, at our own pace, and if I’m not a good fit…then that’s okay too. But I want to at least try.”

The light turns green and reluctantly, he looks away. The rest of the drive to your place is quiet. When he parks outside your apartment, he smiles as if your silence isn’t eating him alive.

“I had a really nice time, Y/N. I’m glad you came with me tonight.”

“Me too,” you reply, almost a whisper.

When you don’t say anything more, he gets out of the car and walks to your side, helping you with the door. But you don’t get up from your seat.

Instead, you turn to him, eyes staring up at him nervously.

“I like you too.”

It is soft, but his whole chest shakes. Bambam breaks into a smile of joy and relief.

He takes hold of your hand, helping you out of the car. His fingers linger, brushing softly against the tips of yours, and you smile.

“Then, I’ll see you next week at your family dinner?” he asks quietly.

You nod tentatively. You purse your lips, cheeks dimpling shyly. His heart skips as you linger, eyes shimmering under the streetlamp.

And then you lean into him, fingers clutching his and you tiptoe.

It is a fleeting touch—light and feathery on his lips—and then he blinks and you’re stepping away again.

“Night, Bambam.”

“N-night!”

He stays for ten minutes longer, waiting for the light of your apartment to flicker on, his lips still buzzing from your kiss.

Bambam’s lips sting from how much he’s been nervously biting them, the high from last week’s date now a fleeting memory. He sits at your parents’ dinner table across from you and it feels like déjà vu.

His mom laughs loudly next to him. Someone made a joke or something.

He doesn’t hear it. All he can see is the growing scowl on your face. Whatever feelings you had for him last week seem to be long gone if your expression is anything to go by.

Your mom swirls her glass of wine, leaning into his mom warmly. “When you told me you wanted my daughter to be your daughter-in-law—my daughter, for your Bambam!—I almost fainted!”

“What are you talking about? The minute I saw Y/N, I fell in love at first sight! I’m pretty sure it was the same for Bammie too.”

Bambam flushes, stuffing his cheeks with salad.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” his mom nudges him teasingly and he almost chokes but he nods adamantly towards you.

“You two are so humble,” your dad chuckles.

Your mom seems to nod in agreement. “I’m sure Bambam can find better options out there.”

“Y/N has one good trait though,” your dad adds, laughing. “She won’t cause any trouble as far as the love department goes.”

“Oh, don’t get me started, this girl is so stubborn!” your mom starts up again, waving her spoon accusingly at you. “Always work, work, work with my daughter. It’s all she cares about.”

“Oh, Bammie’s the same,” his mom cuts in, smiling amiably at you. “It’s the younger generation these days. Married to their work so to speak.”

“Bambam’s got a good head on him,” you father nods to him gruffly. “There’s a difference between working hard and working smart.”

“Unfortunately, she’s only good at working hard,” your mother sighs.

Bambam swallows thickly, gaze fixed on your expression. You’ve been chewing on the inside of your cheek since dinner started. He can see the tick in your jaw every time your parents say something mean your way.

At first, you managed to fake a few polite smiles, but now your head was fully down as you played with the rice on your plate.

“I like Y/N’s work ethic,” he finally speaks up. You finally look at him, eyes unreadable. “It’s hard work that brings talent to fruition and Y/N has both.”

Your gaze lingers on him.

“If we’re talking about talent though, we have to talk about your business!” Your mom breaks the air and the ghost of your smile completely vanishes from your face. You don’t look at him for the rest of dinner.

“Ready for dessert?” your mom asks after everyone was done eating.

You scoot your chair, rising from your seat. “Actually, I’m not feeling so well.”

“Oh, are you okay sweetheart?” his mother asks.

You smile apologetically, “So sorry to have to leave first.”

“Of course, honey! Bammie, why don’t you bring her home?”

“Oh no, that’s alright.”

“No, no, let me.” Bambam rises from his seat and takes hold of your hand. He gives you an encouraging squeeze. “Thank you for the meal! I’ll get her home safely.”

When you exit the house, you slip your hand from his. He pretends not to notice, leading you to his car quietly.

“Congratulations to our one and only Bambam for winning the Artisan Award, one of the most prestigious art scholarships in the nation.”

The morning announcement rings in his ears and his homeroom bursts in a parade of cheers and congratulations, but his heart lurches and he thinks of you.

He is reminded of the hours you spent afterschool every day in the art studio, working on pieces for your portfolio. He thinks of all the different art programs you attended during school holidays. He remembers your mother’s voice and the way you’d repeat those words during your late-night Instagram messages.

When he sees you at the bus stop immediately after school instead of in the studio, he almost turns the other way, but your eyes meet his and goes to stand next to you instead. You only give him a slight nod before returning to your phone.

It feels like a long time before the bus arrives.

You sit where you always do, near the back, beside the window. He takes the row of seats across from you.

His stomach twists with guilt when he watches your profile. You can probably feel his stare, but you continue to look straight ahead anyways. You’re probably trying hard to look unbothered, but he can see your disappointment clearly. There’s a slouch in your shoulders, a faint frown tilting the edges of your lips.

You are disappointed and probably dislike him right now.

He wonders if you’ll tell him about this over Instagram. He doesn’t know if Muse_ig will be able to console you this time around. He wishes he had the right words to say, but his throat constricts instead.

When your stop arrives, his eyes follow your back as you stand at the door and he beats himself up for having stayed quiet. And when the bus creeps to stop, you hesitate, before turning back to him.

“Congrats, by the way,” you offer him a small smile. “You deserved it.”

You step off the bus before he can say anything back.

You take a different route home for the rest of the school year.

At the red light, Bambam looks over at you. You continue looking straight ahead. There’s a sadness beneath your schooled expression, he can feel this in his gut, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Y/N,” he starts hesitantly.

“The light’s green,” you interrupt.

He turns his attention back to the room. His gut clenches.

“Cupcake!” he blurts, gripping the wheel.

Your head turns abruptly. “What?”

“C-Cupcake, my cat,” he continues, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “You met her last time.”

After a pause, you reply back, “Yeah, I did.”

“I gave her a haircut. A really bad one. She had a bald spot, so I had to bring her to the groomers to get it fixed,” he rambles. “They tried their best, but she looks really awful right now. It’s pretty funny actually.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Poor Cupcake.”

He glances at you briefly, his chest fluttering at the sight of your smile again. “You wanna go see my cats? I heard petting cats is therapeutic, although, not much to pet right now.”

Finally, you laugh.

“Sure, why not.”

When you finally get to his place, he knows he said the right thing. You sit on his couch, surrounded by his cats and a soft smile on your face.

“Awful, isn’t it?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. King jumps into his lap and he scoots closer to you.

“Absolutely terrible,” you chuckle, petting Cupcake gently.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

You let out a quiet sigh.

“Bambam,” you look at him and his heart drops. “Maybe we should just stop this.”

“Fourteen!”

Your brows arch. “You really need to stop saying things without context.”

He puts King aside and grabs hold of your hand like a lifeline.

“I was fourteen. You mouthed my name on the first day of school. That’s when I started liking you.”

You blink up at him in surprise.

“The painting and photography club had to share the same classroom and I knew you just became the president. I did my brother’s chores for three weeks just so I could borrow his old camera,” he looks at you nervously. “I wasn’t planning on falling for photography. You’re the reason I’m where I’m at today.”

“Y-you’re giving me too much credit.”

He holds your hands tighter, shaking his head.

“Your parents have a screwed-up way of measuring your worth, but I don’t care about your job or how famous you are. I care about the girl who mouthed my name and made me feel special. You’ve always been kind to me, taking me seriously when no one else in our grade did. You were the first person to like my photos and you’ve always encouraged me, even though it came at the cost of your own feelings.” He looks at you seriously, “But it shouldn’t. I don’t want to compete against you, Y/N. I want to be on your side.”

“On my side?” you repeat, looking at your intertwined fingers.

“On your side, by your side,” he whispers. “You’re my muse, my first love, first heartbreak. I’d like you to be my last everything too.”

There’s a pause and his chest aches from the silence.

But then he sees it.

Your dimpled cheek.

“So, you had a crush on me since high school?”

He huffs. “That’s what you got from all that?”

You answer with a giggle, dimpled cheeks and very soft lips on his.

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #bambam #fluff #fanfic #marriage life au

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knotfodder · 1 year ago

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

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The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space. Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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ofcacthuxandkylosaur · 4 years ago

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Movie /Serie /Book /Game Inspired Kylux AUs Tag List (part 2)

All AUs inspired by existing work, be it movie, series, books or games.

ABOUT

Go here to find an INDEX of every lists (including all thematic lists)

-> A - K (part 1)

Labyrinth AU

Ladybug AU [see Miraculous AU]

Ladyhawke AU {part of Fantasy AU)

Last of Us (the) AU {part of Post Apocalyptic AU}

Last Unicorn (the) AU

Legend of Zelda AU

Life Is Strange AU {part of Time Travel AU}

Lilo & Stitch AU

Lord of the Rings (the) AU {part of Fantasy AU}

Lovecraft AU (also see Horror AU)

Mad Max AU {part of Post Apocalyptic AU}

Man from U.N.C.L.E. (the) AU (also see Agents [both] AU, Agent Hux AU and Agent Kylo AU)

Marvel AU {includes Captain America AU and Guardians of the Galaxy AU}

Masks of the Ren AU

Matrix AU

Miraculous AU

Mister and Misses Smith AU [see Mr and Mrs Smith AU ]

Mr and Mrs Smith AU {part of Assassins [both] AU }

Moonrise Kingdom AU {part of Boyscout AU and Summer Camp AU}

Moulin Rouge AU

Mummy (the, 1999 movie) AU {part of Mummy AU}

Names in Marble AU (also see 10′s AU)

Nightmare before Christmas (the) AU

Night Vale AU [see Welcome to Night Vale AU]

Office (the, TV Show) AU {part of Office AU}

Over the Garden Wall AU

Overwatch AU

Oz AU

Pacific Rim AU

Peter Pan AU

Peter Rabbit AU

Phantom of the Opera (the) AU

Pillars of Eternity {part of Fantasy AU}

Pokemon AU

Pride and Prejudice AU (also see Regency AU)

Princess Diaries AU

Princess Mononoke AU

Queen of the Damned AU (also see Vampires [both] AU, Vampire Hux AU and Vampire Kylo AU)

Rapunzel AU [see Tangled AU]

Red Dwarf AU

Revenant (the) AU

Rocky Horror Picture Show (the) AU

Rogue One AU

Romeo and Juliet AU

Sailor Moon AU {part of Magical girl AU}

Shakespearean AU

Shape of Water (the) AU

Silmarillion AU [see Lord of the Rings (the) AU]

Six Feet Under AU

Skyrim AU {part of Fantasy AU}

Sleeping Beauty AU

Sleepy Hollow AU

Snow White AU

Spirited Away AU

Star Trek AU

Steven Universe AU [see Gem AU]

Stranger Things AU

Swan Princess AU

Tangled AU

Tarzan AU

Titanic AU {parted from Cruise AU}

Treasure Planet AU

Tron AU

True Mate AU

Uptown Girl (song) AU

Warm Bodies AU {part of Zombie AU}

Welcome to Night Vale AU

Winnie the Pooh AU

Witcher (the) AU (also see Fantasy AU)

Wicked AU [see Oz AU]

Wizard of Oz AU [see Oz AU]

X-Files AU (also see Cryptids AU)

X-Men AU

Your Name AU

Yu-Gi-Oh AU

Zootopia AU

007 AU (also see Agents [both] AU, Agent Hux AU and Agent Kylo AU)

5th Element (the) AU [see Fifth Element (the) AU]

101 Dalmatiens AU

+ Other Movie/TV Show/Book/Video Game Inspired AU (all non-featured above Movies/TV Show/Book/Video Game Inspired AUs)

#tag list #thematic tag list #my tag lists #my films au tag list #kylux #kylux tag list #kylux au

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bxcketbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet & Hot

gif made by the lovely @myloverboyash love you

Pairing: Stripper!Ashton/Aston x Bartender!Reader/Nyx

Words: 8900+

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE GUYS! It's been quite a while since I first started this. I am proud of this. This is probably my favorite fic ever. Also, the misspelling of Ashton's name is intentional. His stripper name is Aston and Cal's is Valentino. I hope you enjoy xox

ALSO, THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN. I’M SORRY, BUT NOT REALLY

ANOTHER THING. TRIGGER WARNING FOR THOSE WHO’VE EXPERIENCED ANY KIND OF ABUSE.

I was rinsing off one of margarita glasses as my eyes were glued to the beautiful man who was dancing on stage. I subconsciously bring my bottom lip between my teeth, biting a bit roughly as Aston's large hand wraps around the pole. The smirk on his pink lips was too much to handle as his hazel eyes were looking down at the two girls in front of him.

"You're staring again, Nyx," Valentino, also known as one of my best friends, Calum. "You make it really obvious that you've got a thing for him."

A scoff leaves my lips and I roll my eyes, setting the rinsed off margarita glass onto the drying mat. "Val, I've got no idea what you're talking about. I'm looking at Romeo," I try to lie and he snorts.

"That'd be believable is he was actually on stage," Valentino chuckles and my cheeks warm up in embarrassment, not realizing Aston was the only dancer on stage.

"Shut up," I huff, going back to washing the dishes.

"I can get you a private dance if you want? He is my best friend after all," Val states and my head shoots up, looking at the blue-haired man with wide eyes.

I start shaking my head, stuttering on my words. "N-No, no, no, Val, don't even think about it," I tell him and Valentino licks his lips, shaking his head.

"Oh c'mon. Live a little! It'll be fun," he tries to convince me and I shake my head.

"No. I swear to god, Val, if you do anything of the sorts I'll kick your ass," I mumble and he lets out a laugh while putting his hands up in surrender.

The club was dying down as it was near closing time. I watch as Aston waves to the girls while he walked towards the red curtains as the woman dancers start to file out. A few groups of men walk into the club, making their way towards the stage when a familiar face headed straight towards the bar.

"Cal," his real name slips from my lips as the blue-haired man looks towards me, seeing the scared look on my face.

"What? What's wrong?" He asks in a panic and looks in the direction I was looking. "Fuck, okay, go take a break in the back. I'll cover you."

Valentino came around the bar, resting a hand on my lower back as he ushers a bouncer towards us. The burly man walks towards us and I watch Val whisper into his ear before pointing towards my ex-boyfriend, Dustin.

"C'mon, miss," the bouncer states and I nod my head, looking back at Valentino.

"Thank you," I mouth as the guy escorts me back towards the dressing rooms and luckily Dustin didn't notice me.

I let out a breath of relief as I close the door to the back, leaning against it. My eyes are closed and I can feel my heart pounding against my chest. Tears are balanced on my waterline, making my vision become a bit blurry as I wipe them away before they have a chance to fall.

Breathe, Y/N, breathe.

"You okay?" A voice asks and I snap out of my thoughts, looking up to see Aston standing in front of me. My breath hitches in my throat as half of his jumpsuit was still hanging off his waist, his hair-free torso staring me right in the eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah?" I question and furrow my eyebrows together. The black-haired man chuckles before gliding his long fingers through his hair.

"It's Y/N? Right?" He questions and my heart flutters surprised that he actually knew my name. I nod my head, giving him a small smile as the panic in my chest was fading.

"Yeah, and you're Ashton… right?" Ashton nods his head and I can't help but divert my gaze to his body once again. "Yo-You think you could maybe cover up?" I ask with an awkward chuckle and his hazel eyes drop to his own chest.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can," he chuckles and moves his jumpsuit up his torso, covering his god-like body. "You sure you're alright?"

I went to answer when the door opens and the wooden structure strikes me in my back. I wince and move away from it, bumping into Ashton who grabbed ahold of my sides to keep me steady.

"Shit, sorry," Calum apologizes after poking his head in. "You okay?"

I nod my head, moving out of Ashton's grasp as I can feel his hazel eyes gazing a hole into the side of my face. "I can't go back out there," I whisper to my blue-haired friend and he nods his head, understanding while rubbing my bare arms with his hands.

"That's fine. You don't have too. I told the manager about the situation and he said that we can go for the night," Calum explains and I frown.

"You didn't have to leave early," I state and he waves his hand.

"I'm not leaving you to go back to your apartment by yourself."

Ashton clears his throat behind us and both Cal and me look over to see a very confused look on his face. "Uh, hi. I'm still here. What's going on?" He asks, glancing between the two of us.

"I-I'm sorry Ashton, but it's a bit… private and I-I can't-"

"That's alright," Ashton cuts me off, understanding that I was getting worked up about it and gives me a small smile, "you don't have to tell me. I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Alright as I can be, I guess," I tell him before glancing towards Calum. "I'm gonna get changed."

I smile softly at Ashton as I walk by him and he returns it before he brings his attention to Calum. I walk towards the locker my stuff was held in, glancing back at the two boys to see them talking closely. A sigh leaves my lips as I continue towards my locker and quickly put my combination in before grabbing my clothes, heading towards the changing area.

"You almost ready?" Cal calls out as I was tugging my jeans up my legs.

"Almost yeah!" I yell with a chuckle. I slip on my shoes before walking out of the changing stall, seeing Calum standing against the lockers as he scrolled through his phone.

He picked his head up and a small smile comes to his lips. "I told Ash he could come over for a few drinks. That alright?" He asks and the smile leaves my lips.

"You're coming over?" I question him, confused as I didn't think he'd be coming to the apartment.

Calum lets out a laugh as I put my coat on. "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. You're staying at my place for a few days," he informs me and my lips part in surprise.

"What-Why?" I stutter and look back at him with furrowed eyebrows. "If this is about Dustin, I'll be fine. I bought new locks so he can't get in. Plus, he didn't see me."

Cal sighs and I bite my lip. "Well, that's not true," he starts and my heart drops into my stomach. "He did see you. He literally asked me when you were coming back from break because he wanted to "talk" to you."

I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding my head as I take the information in. "This is becoming all too much, Calum," I state and he nods.

"I know, babe. We're gonna go to the courthouse tomorrow and get an order of protection or something," Calum mentions as the two of us walk into the parking lot, heading towards his vehicle.

I wrap my arm around Cal's waist, leaning my head against his chest as he draped an arm over my shoulders. "You're the best, you know that?" I mention and his chest vibrates as he laughs.

"I know."

I stare at the ceiling in Calum's guest room, hearing him and Ashton talking in the living room. I gripped the blanket that covers my body, tears in my eyes as flashbacks of my relationship with Dustin are playing through my mind like a movie.

"Y/N! Get the fuck out here!" Dustin yells and I flinch from inside the bathroom, rushing towards the door to lock it. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the banging started. A cry left my lips, my heart dropping into my stomach as I pressed my back to the door. "Open the fucking door!"

"No," I barely whispered, resting my forehead against the wood. "I told you nothing happened!" I scream before backing away from the door.

I breathed heavily, staring at the door as the banging had stopped. I fumble for my phone in my pocket, going to call Calum when the window from behind me smashed. Another scream leaves my lips and I fall to the floor, shuffling away from Dustin who was currently trying to crawl through the small window.

"Come here you little bitch," he seethed and reached out for me. I quickly got up from the floor, unlocking the bathroom door before making a run for the front door.

I press the call icon on Calum's contact, pressing it to my ear. I look back at the house I'm running away from, my heart pounding in my chest as the ringing finally stopped, Cal's voice coming through.

"Hey, Y/N."

"C-Calum-" I start but cut myself off as Dustin's voice was yelling at me. I look back, seeing him closing the distance between us. "Calum, I'm in trouble. Dustin, he-"

"Where are you?!" Calum asks, cutting me off as I look around.

"I-I'm heading towards your place," I stuttered and he mumbled to himself as the asphalt starts to hurt my bare feet.

A scream leaves my lips, my phone flinging from my hands as Dustin's body slams into mine. He turns me over and I start to fight back. "Shut up," he growls and slaps me across the face. A small cry comes from my throat, tears streaming down my face as he pins my hands under his body which was straddling my hips.

"Help me!" I scream loudly and continue to thrash under his hold.

Dustin ticks, shaking his head before pressing his hands to my throat. My eyes widen and begin to panic, trying to remove my hands from under him. "I told you to shut up. You're making me do this," he seethed and began to squeeze harder. I gasped for air, kicking my feet as my heart begins to pound faster in my chest.

"Hey! Get the fuck off her!" Calum yells and my eyes begin to roll back into my head as the darkness beginning to surround me.

Suddenly his hands weren't around my throat and I take gasps of air. I move to my side, coughing loudly as I look to see Calum beating the shit out of my now ex-boyfriend.

I snap out of my thoughts, not realizing that I was holding my breath. I take deep breaths, sitting up before running my hands over my face. A knock on my door was heard and I lift my head, looking towards the bedroom door.

"Y/N?" Ashton calls out and my heart flutters. I slip out from beneath the covers, getting up from the bed and walks over to the door. I open the wooden structure, seeing Ashton standing there with a semi-worried expression. "Hey. I, uh, are you okay?" He asks for the third time tonight. At least he's caring. It's cute.

"Y-Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," I reassure him, giving him a small smile.

"You sure? I heard you breathing really heavy in there as I walked by. I just… I've never seen you in such a state as you were tonight."

A light laugh leaves my lips as the butterflies soar in my stomach, shaking my head before looking back up at him. "God, I never knew you were so observant at work," I tell him and feel my cheeks heat up.

Ashton smiles softly and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, I mean you're right in my line of sight when I'm on stage. It's kind of hard not to notice you," he laughs and I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Even with all the drooling girls around you?" I question with a tilt of my head.

"Oh, for sure. I mean, yeah some of the girls that come in are cute but you? Man," he flirts a bit and my heart starts pounding in my chest again. Is this actually happening? "You're a fucking bombshell believe it or not."

My cheeks heat up and I look away from him, his hazel eyes burning a hole right through my face. Ashton reaches a hand out to me and I involuntarily flinch, taking a step back from him. I swallowed the lump in my throat, seeing the smile dropping from his face and I sigh.

"S-Sorry, I-I can't…" I trail off and make my way past him. I ran into the living room area, passing Calum who's sitting on the couch and he perks up a bit as he watches me run by.

"Y/N, wait-" he calls out and I don't listen, grabbing my coat and shoes before leaving the house.

My breathing picked up as I sloppily put my shoes on, glancing back at the house to see Calum standing at the front door. Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision and make my way towards the park that's nearby.

"So, you know how I'm getting married right?" One of my best girlfriends ask and I let out a snort.

"You don't need to remind me that you're getting married every chance you get, Jess," I laugh and shake my head.

She chuckles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not only reminding you but myself. I never would've thought that Luke would want to marry me," she says and I look up at her, seeing the cheesy grin on her lips as she looks at the engagement ring on her finger.

"Please. Everyone can see that he's stupidly in love with you," I tell him with a genuine smile. My eyes dart towards the stage, seeing Aston gyrating his hips as a few girls screamed. I bite my lip, sighing softly before looking back at Jess.

"You okay?" She asks and I huff, slamming my hands on the table.

"You know. I've been asked that so much yesterday that I'm just tired of hearing that question," I state and Jess frowns. I run my fingers through my hair and let out a sigh. "I'm fine, Jess, really. I think Ashton and I had a moment last night and I ruined it."

Valentino comes up to the bar, reciting out the order of drinks he had taken and I start to make them. "You gonna tell me what happened last night and where you ran off to?" He asks and my heart drops into my stomach.

"I, uh, I just went to the park that was down the street," I inform him while pouring the liquor into the glass.

"Okay. At least you didn't go to a bar or something. So, what happened? Ashton came back from the bathroom and his whole demeanor changed from before he went."

I place the shaker onto the glass, shaking it as I try to think of a way to tell him what happened between his friend and I. I clear my throat as I set the glass back onto the counter. "I was having memories of that night," I started and Val knew exactly what night I was talking about, "and during the memory, I wasn't breathing so when I came to I started coughing and breathing quite heavily. Ashton knocked on my door and basically asked me if I was okay. Then I'm pretty sure he was flirting with me?"

"Ashton? Flirting? I never thought I'd see the day," Valentino laughs and I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what he meant. "It's just… Ashton hasn't been really lucky with love so he basically gave up on it as I did."

"Well, I think he was flirting. He told me I was a fucking bombshell," I shrugged my shoulders and Val's lips parted in surprise.

I placed the finished drinks onto the tray and Val took it in his hands. "Really? Is that why you ran away?" He questions and I shake my head.

"No. I ran because when he reached forward to touch my arm I flinched away from him," I confess to him and Val's frown deepens. "You should've seen the look on his face when I did. I-I-"

"Hey, it's alright. It's gonna happen after everything you've been through. Why don't you two just hang out, as friends? I'm sure both of you would like that. He told me that he's been wanting to get to know you," Val informs me and I whisper really? Valentino lets out a laugh, nodding his head before walking away from the bar.

My eyes glance back towards the stage and my breath hitches in my throat upon seeing Aston's eyes on me. I recover quickly, giving him a small smile and he returns it. He presses a hand to the pole, waving his fingers. I chuckle at the subtle wave, bringing my hand up to give him a shy wave.

"I can genuinely see that you like this guy," Jess' voice snaps me from my gaze and I look towards her. She smiles softly at me as I toss the stainless steel glass into the soapy water. "You know you're allowed to like someone again, right?"

I nod my head slowly, clearing my throat. "I know. It's just hard right now. It's been only a couple months since I broke it off with Dustin and then he came in here yesterday. It's been rough. Plus, I was," I trail off and look around to make sure no one was around to hear me, "abused for months. It's hard to come back from that."

Jess frowns a bit, nodding her head. "That's understandable, but just know that there's gonna be guys out there that would help you through this time and he could be one of them," she tells me and I swallow the lump in my throat, glancing back towards Aston.

He laughs as the girls in front of him throw a bunch of one's on stage. I watch as he undoes the top of his jumpsuit, dropping it so it drapes past his hips. Aston starts to dance around, thrusting his hips forward slightly.

"What if he just wants to get in my pants?" I ask and Jess snorts before taking a sip of her drink. "I'm being serious. You heard Cal. He doesn't believe in love. Why would I change that for him?"

"Look, Luke and Cal have been friends with him for years. They know him better than anyone else. I'm sure if he was like that Calum would warn you about it and not have you pursue it," Jess mentions and my shoulders drop, a huff of air leaving my lips. "I gotta go, but I'll text you later about the bachelorette party alright?!"

I guess she's right. I nod my head, giving her a smile as she gets up and gathers her stuff. She gives me a wave as she walks towards the door. I wave back at her, watching as she leaves the strip club. I turn my head back towards the stage, seeing Aston standing directly in front of the bar and I jump, a short scream leaves my lips.

"Jesus Christ, Aston," I mumble and place a hand over my heart. I leaned against the counter, dropping my head a bit as a breathy chuckle leaves my lips.

Aston chuckles as well, moving to sit on the stool before clasping his hands together. "Sorry, I guess I should've said something," he says and brings his lip in between his teeth.

"What can I get you? Wait, are you done?" I ask him since company policy says you can't drink while on the clock.

"Yeah, I am. Apparently, the guys were complaining last night that there's not enough time for the girls to be on stage, so, Barry's cut our hours a smidge," he explains and I scoff a bit, rolling my eyes.

"Of course they would. It'd be better if both genders were on stage at the same time," I mumble and Aston nods his head.

"Yes! That's what I tried telling him, but he wouldn't listen."

I chuckled, nodding my head. "Yeah, Barry's like that. What can I make ya?" I ask him and splay my hands on the bar.

Aston hums, looking at the menu behind my head before his eyes glance back to me. "I'll just take a rum and coke," he smiles and I nod. I begin to make his drink, feeling his eyes on me the entire time and my body heats up from his longing stare. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

I glance up while pouring the rum into the glass, lips parted slightly. "Uh, nothing. Why?" I ask with furrowed eyebrows.

"I thought maybe we could get some coffee? Get to know each other a bit? It's kind of unfair that you're one of Cal's good friends and I barely know a thing about you," Aston explains as I pour some coke into the glass before handing it to him. He thanks me quietly, handing me a twenty and I go to get him his change when he tells me to keep it.

"I get what you're saying. I feel slightly the same way," I chuckle while putting his tip in my jar. "There's a cute little cafe that's near my place. You can meet me there?"

His hazel eyes twinkle, a large grin coming to his face. "That sounds amazing. We can just meet up for lunch?" Aston asks and I nod my head, smiling softly.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, something that happens constantly when I'm around him. "Can't wait."

Three Months Later

I stood in front of Ashton as he sits in the chair, his fingers drumming along his thighs while I try to find the glitter makeup. "Thanks for doing this, Y/N/N," he mumbled quietly and I glanced towards him to see him looking up at me, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It's not a problem, Ash," I giggle before returning my attention to the array of makeup. "I've actually always wanted to add a bit of glitter to you."

I can hear him chuckle as I grab the glitter palette and a makeup brush. "You're adorable," Ashton whispers and my cheeks heat up a bit.

"Shut up," I giggle and bite my bottom lip, dipping the brush into the liquid glitter. I set down the glitter before hooking my finger under his chin. His hazel eyes met mine and my breath hitched in my throat at how beautiful he looked.

I swallowed thickly, tearing my eyes away from him to brush the glitter along his cheekbones. His fingers itch towards my thighs, feeling his fingertips brush against my warm skin. My heart pounds in my chest, always getting flustered when he provides little touches to my body.

It's been a little over three months since Ashton and I went to get that coffee we've been inseparable. Turns out we have quite a bit in common as well. When I told Calum that he was a really cool guy, he smirked at me before basically saying I told you so.

I move the brush away from his face, looking over my work before dipping my brush back into the glitter. "Am I gorgeous yet?" Ashton asks as his fingers glide against the back of my thighs.

A laugh leaves my lips as I look back down at him. "You're gorgeous no matter what," I tell him and his fingers squeeze my thighs. I step closer to him and Ashton sits up in his chair as he looks straight up at me.

I apply the glitter to his other cheekbone, his hazel eyes never leaving my face as I did my best to concentrate. After finishing I set the brush back down, analyzing my work. I bite my lip as I admire how great Ashton looks with glitter on his string cheekbones. His fingers glide up the back of my thighs, his fingers dipping under the black leather skirt I was wearing.

"You know this outfit is probably my favorite of yours," he mumbled. I glance down at the bright purple bralette I was wearing and the fishnet crop top that was over it.

"Yeah?" I breathed out and he nods his head.

"Absolutely. You look… ravishing."

My fingers gravitate into his hair, combing through it and his eyes fall shut, a pleasant hum coming from his lips. "Thanks, Ash. I can't begin to tell you what your goddamn jumpsuit does to me," I mumble quiet enough for him to hear and I can see the smirk forming on his lips.

"Oh, really now?" He asks and I giggle, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment as I nod my head. "That's good to know, cutie."

I shake my head, the giggles falling from my lips as someone clears their throat from behind us. I jump slightly, looking back to see Calum leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"As much as I love how close you two are, there are other people that want your attention," he tells me and I scoff, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I push myself away from Ash and his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his upper body. "Sorry, Cal, she's mine now," Ashton jokes and the three of us let out a laugh as I set my hands on his head.

"Well, she needs to get to the bar or some people aren't gonna be happy," Calum laughs and pushes himself off the wall. "Also, you and I are due on stage."

Ashton lets out a sigh, nodding his head before letting me go. "I'll see you guys later," I smile at them before giving a wave. They return it quickly before I walk out the door, heading over to the bar area to see one of the waitresses behind it, chatting to some older man.

"Hey, Crystal, I can take over now," I tell her and she gives me a warm smile. "Sorry, I'm late, by the way."

"Nah, that's okay, sweetie," she reassured me with a pat on my shoulder. I love to stand behind the bar when she grabs a hold of my wrist. "Oh, and there's a gentleman here who's on the brink of having way too much to drink. Be cautious love."

I nod my head, swallowing the small lump in my throat as I look around for said man she was talking about.

It's been a few hours into my shift as I smile at the customer in front of me while making her drink. "Have you seen Aston? Fuck he's yummy," she states with a small slur, knowing that she's feeling pretty good.

A laugh leaves my lips as my eyes move to the two men on stage, Valentino and Aston, before bringing my gaze back to her. "Oh, I know, honey. It's pretty ridiculous if I must say," I giggle and pour the mixed drink into a margarita glass before handing it to her. "That'll be six twenty-five, miss."

She gives me a ten, mumbling to keep the change and I thanked her before she heads back towards the group of girls near the stage. I placed the four dollars and seventy-five cents into the tip jar and turned around to see a gentleman in his early forties, maybe.

"Can I get another please!" He practically yells and I jump slightly, my heart pounding against my chest. I part my lips, honestly trying to figure out what he said.

"Sorry, sir, what was that?" I ask and he buffs slightly before repeating what he had said. There's a gentleman on the brink of having way too much. I suddenly remembered Crystal's words and take a slight deep breath. "Sorry, I think you've had enough," I tell him while laying my hands against the bartop.

I went to turn around when he grabs my wrist roughly. A short gasp leaves my lips and I look up at the man, fear swimming in my eyes. "I. Want. A. Drink. Now." He demanded, his speaking almost clear.

"I-I can't sell drinks to customers who are overly intoxicated. It's just my job," I try to reason with him as my heart starts to beat faster.

"I don't care if it's your job! I want a fucking drink."

My throat closes up as the panic is settling in and I begin to hyperventilate as I try to pry my wrist from his grasp. I use my other hand to press the security button under the bar, glancing to my left to see the burly man making his way towards us,

"Excuse me, sir. You need to release the woman and leave the premises. Or we're calling the police," security tells him and the man gruffs, throwing my wrist back towards me.

I stumble a bit as I hold my arm to my chest. Tears filled my vision as memories of Dustin beating me came to mind. "C-Call Crystal back over here, please," I tell the security guard before running towards the back.

I make it into the back room, thinking that no one is in here as I let out heavy breaths through my lips. I lean my back against the wall, sliding down it as I try to breathe. The door bursts open and Aston comes through, his wide hazel eyes looking down at me before he runs towards me.

"Nyx, Nyx, hey, what happened?" He asks and drops to his knees beside me.

Rapid breaths left my lips as his hands rest on my shoulders, bending his head to look at me. "C-C-Cal…" I trailed off, trying my best to catch my breath while still panicking about not being able to breathe. "I-I can't breath, Ash."

"O-Okay, I'll get Cal. Just try and take deep breaths in and release it through your nose, alright?!" He mumbles and I nod my head.

Aston rushes out of the room, looking around the area to find Valentino. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair and heads towards the private rooms, hoping he's in one of those.

"Val?!" Aston calls out and opens one of the curtains to find Valentino hovering over a client. "Val, I need you."

A scoff leaves the blue-haired man's lips and glares at Aston. "Really, dude? Can't you see I'm in the middle of something," he states and motions his head towards the girl below him.

"I understand that, but it's Nyx…" the black-haired man trails off and Val's eyes soften a bit.

He stumbles off the girl and Val apologizes to her before the two of them run back to the back room. I grip the floor, trying to do what Aston said, but it's not exactly working. Tears streamed down my cheeks when the door bursts open, Val and Aston coming into the room before closing the door behind them.

"Hey, what happened?" Val starts and kneels beside me, taking my hands into his.

"A-A guy was too intoxicated a-and asked for another drink," I start and glance between the two men. "He-He got angry when I denied his service a-and grabbed my wrist." I hold up my right wrist, already seeing a slight bruise on it.

They both frown, their eyes trained on the bruise. "Alright. I'm gonna bring you home, okay?" Val asks and I nod my head. "But, first, we need to calm your breathing."

I nod my head again, breathing in tune with Val and my eyes dart over to Aston a few times, seeing the worried look in his eyes. It's a few minutes before my breathing is back to normal. I rest my head against the wall, a deep breath coming from my lips.

"Well, that hasn't happened in a while," I mumble and Val lets out a chuckle before bringing me into a hug.

"Hopefully it's the last one," he mutters into my ear and I nod in agreement, wrapping my arms around his neck.

After I pull away from him I stand up, tucking strands of hair behind my ear. Aston took a step forward, holding his arms out as if he's asking for a hug. I giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to mine. Aston wraps his arms around my waist as he holds me tightly.

My nose gets buried in his shoulder as I look at Val who stood behind his best friend, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes and pull away from Aston, smiling at him softly. "I'll text you later, okay?" I mumble and he nods his head.

Val and I gather our things and walk out of the building, a heavy breath leaving my lips. "Don't distance yourself," he states as soon as we get into the car and I look over at the blue-haired man.

"I won't," I whisper and look back out the windshield, fully knowing that I'm gonna distance myself.

It's been a few weeks since the incident at the Pink Flamingo and I haven't left the house. My phone's been off most of the days, knowing Calum, Ashton, and Jess have probably texted and called so many times. Too many times to count.

I sit in the corner of my couch, staring at the television as it plays something I'm not even watching. A blanket wrapped around my body as I find myself biting my lip while playing the situation over and over again.

I tug the blanket tighter, shaking my head to get rid of the memories. "Fuck," I whisper to myself before placing my head into my hands.

A knock on my door snaps me from my thoughts and I pick my head up, glancing towards the white door. I furrow my eyebrows, not knowing who it could be since I haven't spoken to anyone. I unravel myself from the blanket, getting off the couch before opening the door.

Ashton stands on the other side, a somewhat angry look on his face as a small gasp leaves my lips. "A-Ash… what are you-"

"Do you have any idea how worried Cal and I have been?" He cuts me off and storms into my apartment, running a hand through his black hair.

"I mean-"

"Obviously you wouldn't because your phone's been off for days and you haven't been at work for days. For all we knew, you could've been dead!" He yells while flinging his arms everywhere. I close my mouth, pressing my lips together as I nodded my head, letting him rant. "And Cal even told you not to distance yourself and that's exactly what you're doing!"

"You don't understand," I simply state, narrowing my eyes at him a bit.

Ashton huffs, slapping his hands against his thighs. "Can't you see I'm trying to?! For God's sake. We've been friends for over three months now. I care about you, in case you couldn't see it," he explains and I cross my arms over my chest.

"You won't want me if you knew," I ended up whispering, not meaning to say it out loud and Ash steps forward, lifting my chin.

"Just cut the crap and tell me what's happening," he mumbled and looked down at me, his hazel eyes softening.

I fiddle with my fingers and let out a sigh before grabbing a hold of his hand, dragging him towards the couch. "Okay, uhm, so I used to go out with this guy named Dustin. H-He was great at first, you know? Loving and all. As our relationship prolonged he became more angry with everything, I guess. So, he would… he would beat on me," I whispered and can feel my eyes begin to sting and the tears build. Ashton frowns and I look down at my lap, playing with the fabric of my leggings. "He would beat me almost every night. This was before I got a job here. Calum was always the person I'd go to when I needed to be and feel safe. Dustin never really knew about him, so he didn't know where he lived. He almost put me in the hospital last year when he found out I had gone to a party without him. He was literally chasing me down the street and I had called Cal to help me out because I was… scared, you know? Dustin managed to catch me and choked me against the pavement. If it wasn't for Calum I probably wouldn't be alive right now."

Ashton brings his hand to my face, wiping the tears that I didn't notice had started falling. I swallowed the lump in my throat, staring into his hazel eyes as he sighed softly. "I'm sorry. I-"

"You remember the first time you spoke to me? You asked me if I was alright?" I cut him off, speaking quietly and he closes his mouth, nodding his head yes. "Dustin was there that night. That's why I was the way I am. That night when you heard me breathing heavily. I had flashbacks to what happened last year."

I watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat, his hands moving to mine before he speaks up. "Honestly, I didn't expect this. I'm sorry I made you come out and say it," he mumbles and I shake my head.

"It's alright. You needed to know at some point. I just… it's easy for me to distance myself. Calum and Jess are the only other people that know. You mean a lot to me so it was about time you knew," I reassure him and he nods his head, a small smile coming to his lips.

"He… he hasn't gotten contact with you, has he?" Ashton asks and I shake my head, relieved that he hasn't.

"No. Calum and I went to the courthouse the day after he went to the club to get an order of protection."

"Good, good," Ash mumbles while nodding his head, the man's thumb rubbing against the back of my hand.

Butterflies begin to soar in my stomach as he brings a hand back up to my face, his fingers grazed my cheek. "Ash?" I whispered faintly, looking into his eyes as he smiles softly. "I-Can… Is it bad that I want you to kiss me?"

He licks his lips, a cute giggle falling from his lips. "No, not at all. I've been wanting to kiss you for a while," he confesses and my cheeks heat up. "You want me to kiss you now?"

I nod my head, my stomach doing flips as Ashton closes the distance between our faces. My fingers wrap around his wrist when his lips brush against mine, my breath hitching slightly. My eyes flutter shut when our lips finally connect, a shudder ran down my spine as I wrap one of my arms around his neck. I move my lips against his, reeling in at how soft his lips are.

His thumb strokes my cheekbone as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. My heart pounds against my chest, fingers making their way through his hair as a breath is released through my nose. Ashton pulls away after about a minute and a half, pants leaving both of our lips as I keep my eyes closed.

"You're so cute," he mumbled and I opened my eyes, looking up at him through my lashes to see a grin on his lips.

A chuckle leaves my lips and I shake my head. I bring my bottom lip between my teeth, my hand sliding down his chest before it sits in my lap.

"Do you wanna… maybe I can take you out for dinner?" Ashton asks with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"You just kissed me, Ash. Of course, I'm gonna agree to go to dinner with you," I tell him and he grins before leaning forward to capture my lips with his once more.

Three Months Later…

"I can't believe you didn't tell me we were coming here. Two of our best friends work here," I state as Jess and a few other friends walk into the Pink Flamingo behind me.

"Well, I tried that one time but you were busy staring at Ashton. Who happens to be your boyfriend now, so," she shrugs and laughs a bit. I roll my eyes, taking my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Oh, god. Ashton's my boyfriend," I mumble, my eyes widening as I still can't believe that we're together.

The girls chuckle as we sit at the end of the stage. "He is and you two are fucking cute together," Jess exclaims and my cheeks blush, mumbling a thank you to her.

Music started to play as the lights on stage start to dart around. It was the beginning of Aston's routine and I bite my lip, finally being able to solely focus a hundred percent on his performance. Something I haven't been able to do while I'm working. I rub my sweaty hands onto my tights, tugging my skirt down a bit.

Aston walks out, his eyes widening a bit as he sees me in the audience before a smirk comes to his lips. Oh god. He struts to the end of the catwalk, his hand wrapping around the pole before going around it once. I swallow thickly, taking in every detail of his outfit and features. He had his signature black jumpsuit on, the sleeves cut off as it almost clings to his torso. He usually starts with it off… hm, weird.

The girls hollered as he started to gyrate his hips before falling to his knees in front of us. Jess and Rach fling dollar bills at him, a chuckle leaving his lips. I cleared my throat as I glance towards the girls, seeing the biggest smiles on their lips.

"Give her a lap dance!" Jess yells while pointing towards me. My cheeks blush, eyes wide as I start to shake my head.

"It's your bachelorette party!" I exclaim and she waves her hand to me in response. I look back to Aston and he gives me a cheeky wink before hopping off stage.

I sit back in the chair, realizing that I sat in the one comfy chair the dancers use to give people dances on. I internally groan, gripping the arms as Aston straddles my lap, his large hands resting on either side of my head.

"Hi, baby," he breathes, his face inches from mine. I shiver slightly, my eyes flowing shut as I stuttered out a hi. "Who knew you were so responsive to me like this." Aston teased and I bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes.

His hazel eyes glance around quickly before pressing a light kiss to my lips. He smirks at me after he pulls away, a whine leaving my lips.

"Enjoy the show, baby girl," Aston husks out and I nod slightly.

He brings his hands into the air, dancing to the music as his hips gyrate like crazy. I grip the arms of the chair, wishing I could run my fingers along with his jumpsuit. My friends let out screams as Aston begins to unbutton the top of his outfit. His eyes were looking into mine the entire time as he unsnaps the buttons.

The top of his jumpsuit falls from his shoulders and it lays against his waist. His torso completely exposed as I couldn't help but let my eyes roam the hairless skin. Aston grabs my hands, placing them onto his pecs and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

The two of us haven't done anything sexual wise yet. He's been nothing but patient with me and I couldn't be more happy about it. I mean, it's not like I don't want to, because I do. Look at him. He's like… a god of sorts. My mental health isn't exactly ready for the sexual aspect of a relationship after everything with Dustin.

I look up at him through my lashes, a smile on his lips as I begin to drag my hands down his abs. I swallow hard, taking a quick glance towards Jess to see her encouraging me. My hands continued moving down his body, resting on his hips and I can feel his hips thrust outwards.

Aston leans forward again, his lips right by my ear. "You alright? I know you're not exactly comfortable with this yet," he whispers and a snort leaves my lips.

"I'm okay," I squeak out as I feel his lips brush against the shell of my ear.

"Good. Just tell me when you want me to stop."

"He gave you a lap dance?" Val asks as I clean the glasses behind the bar.

My cheeks heat up before I nod my head, looking over at my blue-haired friend to see a smirk on his lips. "Yeah, he did. I didn't realize I sat in the stupid lap dance chair," I mumble and a chuckle comes from Val's lips.

"So, did you go home with him?" He asks and I shake my head, furrowing my eyebrows together.

"No? Why would I go home with him?" I question and Valentino sighs, rubbing his hand on his face.

"You've been dating for what? A little over three months now?" He wonders and I nod my head. "And you haven't stayed over? Has he stayed over at your house?"

"No, he hasn't. I don't see why it's a big deal. Val, you know what I've been through with Dustin… I'm just… Not comfortable with that stuff yet," I explain and Val nods his head. "D-Did he mention something about it?"

Valentino's eyes widened and started to shake his head. "No, no, no. Ashton hasn't mentioned anything about it. I was just curious, honey," he exclaims and I nod, letting out a breath of relief.

"I mean, if he were to ask me I might say yes. He's been so patient with me that it warms my heart. I… I've never felt this way before. Like, I think I might love him," I whisper and his eyes widened once more. "I-I know it's crazy but I don't know."

Val shakes his head, his parted lips turning into a smile. "It's not crazy. You've been through a lot of trauma and from what you've told me. Ash is helping you heal at your pace, which is fantastic," he tells me and I couldn't help but blush again.

"He's really great," I whisper and smile widely, feeling my heart flutter as I glance towards the stage to see Aston standing on it, his body flailing around the pole.

"You're welcome," Val states and I giggle, waving my hand at him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, hush."

I sat in the backroom, playing around on my phone as I waited for Ash. A pair of lips landing on my head and I snap out of my gaze, looking up to see Ashton standing beside me.

"Hey, babe," he smiles and I smile back, standing from my chair.

"Hey," I giggle before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You have a ride home?" Ashton asks as his hands slide around my waist, resting against my lower back.

I swallowed hard, the conversation Calum and I had earlier flashed through my mind. "A-Actually… I was wondering if I could maybe sleepover?" I question with an eyebrow raised. His lips parted while looking down at me, a surprised look on his cute face. I bite my lip, getting worried as he didn't answer me and begin to retract my question. "You know what- nevermind. It was a stupid idea. You're probably not ready for that y-"

"Y/N, stop," Ashton mumbles and I close my lips, looking up at the black-haired man. "I'd love for you to stay the night. Are-Are you sure you're okay with it? I have no problem with waiting."

My heart flutters and I bring a hand behind his head, pulling his face closer to mine before connecting our lips. A small moan comes from Ashton's lips, his large hands sitting on my waist as he kisses me back.

A smile graces my lips as I pull away from him, looking up at him to see his hazel eyes still closed. I giggle and drop my hands to my sides and Ash looked down at me.

"What was that for exactly?" He asks me and I bite my lip softly.

"You're just… amazing. I don't deserve you," I mumble to him and he scoffs while shaking his head.

"That's not true at all. If anything, I don't deserve you. You're so pure and caring, even after everything that you've been through," he confesses and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

It took almost twenty minutes for us to get to Ash's place, which was incredibly gorgeous by the way. I hug my arms as he leads me inside, locking the door behind me. I can feel the nervousness swirl around in my stomach as Ashton steps in front of me.

"You okay? You still wanna stay?" He asks and I nod my head, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little nervous," I laugh as I feel a little stupid. "I don't even know why I'm nervous. I trust you so much."

He smiles at me, his hands stroking my forearms before grabbing a hold of my hands. I intertwined our fingers as Ashton began to lead me down the hall. A large bedroom is what we step into, my eyes widening at how stunning it is.

"You wanna put something on and I can make some snacks for us?" He questions me and I nod my head in agreement.

"Yeah, sure. Can I borrow a shirt or something?"

Ashton laughs and nods his head, walking towards his dresser. He pulls out a black shirt, tossing it to me and presses a kiss to my forehead before leaving the room.

I tug my leather tank top off of my body, throwing it onto the chair that's sat beside the bed. I slip on Ash's shirt, inhaling his scent that lingers on it. I take off my skirt, keeping the fishnet stockings on as I climb onto the king-sized bed.

My black-haired cute ass boyfriend walks into the room with queso dip and chips in his hands, his eyes meeting mine before he stops in his tracks. "Fuck," he mutters and clears his throat.

I blush, pressing my lips together as he stands at the edge of the bed in front of me. He nudges my legs apart, standing in between them. "Do I look good?" I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.

Ashton groans, setting the food beside me before grazing his fingers along my jaw. "Breathtaking, baby girl. Who knew you'd look so good in my clothes, and with these stockings. Fuck."

A giggle leaves my lips as I fiddle with the hem of his shirt. "I love you," I laugh and smile widely, taking a quick glance at him to see his eyes widen just like before.

"You love me?" He asks quietly and the smile on my lips falls, not realizing the three words slipped out.

"I-Fuck I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean for it to come out since we've only been dating for three months," I start to ramble, pulling away from Ash as I stand up from the bed. "I-I'll just leave and you'll never have to hear from me again, oh my god I ruined the best thing that's-"

I was cut off by Ashton strolling over to me, his hands grabbing my cheeks before pressing his lips to mine. My breath hitches in my throat as my eyes grew wide before fluttering shut. I relax a bit, kissing him back as my hands rest on the middle of his stomach.

"I love you too," Ash mumbled once he pulled away from me. A breath of relief comes out as I step closer to him, wrapping my arms around him. He giggles and wraps an arm around my neck, laying a kiss to my forehead.

"Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I didn't want to have to leave," I mutter and Ashton chuckles.

"You're so cute."

I lay my head on his chest, my heart fluttering as we hold each other for a few moments. I close my eyes, feeling my eyes prick with tears as I can't believe all of this is happening.

"You make me so happy, Ash. Thank you for everything."

He peppers kisses onto my face, giggles leaving my lips as I push myself away from him. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I'm able to help you heal. You deserve so much love, and I plan to give it all to you."

Taglist: @myloverboyash @ashtonsunshine @h0tsos @thebookamongmen @bumblebet-20 @asht0ns-world @maddz-world @ashs-cheergirl @dashlilymark @shower-me-with-roses @therainydays4 @thatcheekychic @lukeskisses @latemikedevil @fayesfairylights @marshmallowtraver @trashbin2 @whatmakesmehappyy @itjustkindahappenedreally @morningfears @sexgodashton @talksopretty @easierforcalum @cashtonasfuck @kindahoping4forever @calumamongmen @bloodmoonashton @irwinkitten @pxrxmoore

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forever-more-never-again · 5 years ago

Text

A Sister’s Love (A Request)

Requested: @gaytrashgoblin

Word count:1793

Pairings: Sibling!Fem!Reader x Sibling!Natasha

Warnings: Mentions of injury

Requested: OMG your requests are open, how lucky am i!!! can you do one where natasha has a biological sister the team doesn't know about (around wanda's age maybe)? so on a mission natasha gets hurt and everyone is super confused when this average girl shows up fussing over natasha and just nat being soft and affectionate with R and the team just being confused

Masterlist

“Thanks for coming in!” You waved to the couple leaving with smiles on their faces after picking out their wedding cake.

Once they left your store, you dropped your smile and heaved a sigh. It had been a long day. During the summer, it was as if everyone and their brother were getting married and wanted the perfect wedding cake.

It was fun, but it was stressful. On top of that, you pulled out your phone and checked, you haven't received your daily check in message from your sister, and that worried you.

Walking to the door of your store, you flipped the sign to closed and turned off the lights. Luckily, you had managed to snag a store that had an upstairs loft, so you didn’t need to leave the store to go home.

Once upstairs, you dropped onto your couch and opened up your messages.

5:46PM - Hey Nat, Haven’t heard from you today. Everything okay?

You tried not to let your fear seep into your message. Having an older sister that was part of the Avengers was not something you had ever imagined happening.

Back before the Avengers, you still worried about your sister, but that worry was more directed to when she returned to the Red Room after a mission and cried into your shoulder about her latest kill.

As far as you knew, you and Natasha had been the only Biological sisters in the Red Room. They used you against each other, threatening one sister so that the other would do what she was told.

Natasha tried to protect you. Taking your beatins, accepting the harder missions. But she could only do so much.

You still took the initiation. You Still had enhancements done to your body. You still had blood on your hands.

But that all changed years ago when you and your sister escaped and ran across the world to Colorado. Where Natasha Met Hawkeye and he brought you into Shield.

While Natasha accepted Director Fury’s offer, you declined. You just wanted a simple life after the hell that was your childhood.

So you bought a small shop in East Brooklyn and opened up a Wedding Cake Bakery.

To make sure that each other was safe and hadn’t been captured and killed, you and Natasha had check ins everyday. With code words if there was danger.

And Natasha had missed the check in for today.

“Okay, Calm down [Y/n]. Maybe the mission took longer. Or she is in a place out of range for service. It’s okay. Let’s just call the tower. Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.” Talking to yourself to calm your nerves, you dug through a drawer filled with clutter until you stumbled upon a burner phone.

Natasha had given it to you for emergencies. Only one number was plugged in. A Direct line to FRIDAY, who was the AI in the Avenger Tower. A way to to get an immediate response.

It was for emergencies only because only a select few knew about you. Director Fury, Natasha (of Course), Hawkeye And Tony Stark. The rest of the Avengers had no idea that Natasha had a sister. It was for your safety and part of the agreement when Natasha joined Shield.

The phone didn’t even ring before there was an electronic femine voice, “Hello. Access Code?”

In a whisper, the fear of what could have happened to your sister, rising back up, you whispered your code words, “Victor - India - Papa - Echo - Romeo.”

A click and then, “Access granted. Hello [Y/n] Alianova. Contacting tower.”

Your leg bounced up and down as you waited. Luckily you didn’t have to wait long before a gruff tired voice sounded in your ear.

“What is it FRIDAY? We just got back from a mission. [Y/n]? What’s going on? Are you secure?” His tone went from tired to frantic in a second.

“Hey Tony. Nat hasn’t checked in. You said you just finished a mission? Is she okay? Is she safe? Is she back at the tower? What happened?”

“Kid, kid, Slow down. Spider is fine. She just got injured and hasn’t had a chance to get in contact with you yet.”

You shot up and grabbed your keys off the table by your door, almost running down the stairs to your store, “I’m coming to the tower. I need to see her.”

You heard a weary sigh from the other end of the phone, “Alright. I’ll let security know to expect you. Do you want me to tell the others?”

Swerving out of your driveway, you weren’t really worried about the rest of the team, “I don’t care. I’m only coming to check on my sister.” And with that, you hung up.

Your knuckles were white, as you gripped the steering wheel.

This was a new type of torture. Different from the Red Room and Russia. Not knowing what was wrong with Natasha. But knowing that she was injured.

You had argued for months about her joining Shield. You had wanted her to come with you, live a normal life.

Eventually you understood where she was standing, she wanted to try to make up for all the lives she had taken while in the program.

The tower shone like a beacon, lighting up the night sky.

Parking on the sidewalk, you walked into the lobby. And suddenly became extremely aware that your hair was a mess, and you still wore your flour covered apron.

“Miss Aliavona?” An armed Shield agent met you halfway across the lobby.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as worry tightened its grip on your heart.

“Right this way.” He led you to a secure elevator hidden in a sideroom, Reaching in he pressed a nondescript button and offered you a small smile as the door began closing, “This will take you to the medical wing. Just take the first right and you’ll find them.”

And then you were alone in the elevator as it took you up.

Racing down the halls, you took the first right and slammed the door open, “Natasha Aliavona! You are going to give me gray hairs!” You screamed as you saw her sitting up on a medical bed, arm and leg in casts.

Natasha jumped as she looked towards you, pausing mid sentence with her discussion with the doctor. Who wisely left the room when he saw you.

“[Y/n]?”

You growled, slapping her uninjured shoulder, “Don’t ‘[Y/n]’ me! Do you know how worried I was when you didn’t check in? And then to hear you got injured!? The younger sister is not supposed to worry about the older sister’s safety!”

Natasha gave a small smile, Wincing under your glare, “Sorry? I was going to send you a message as soon as the doctor had finished his examination. I swear!”

Sighing, you softened your glare and looked over your sister. She had dried blood still in her hair and her suit was cut carefully around her casts.

“Is it as bad as it looks?” You ghosted your hands over her casts.

She kept her green eyes on you as she spoke softly, “No. It’s just a broken wrist and a splintered femur. I’ll heal in a few days.”

Another sigh left you.

And then you jumped as voices filled the room.

“What do you mean an unauthorized visitor made it to the medical wing?”

“I thought FRIDAY was supposed to alert us to all trespassers?”

“You’re acting very calm about this whole thing Stark.”

Your eyes widened as you caught sight of the Avengers for the first time in person.

And they all froze when they saw you.

Natasha broke the tension with a laugh, “Guys. This is [Y/n]. My little sister.”

The blonde who you recognized as Captain America squinted at Natasha and then you, “There’s no record of a sibling in your files Romanoff.”

You smiled when Clint walked out of the crowd and came forward to hug you, causing some more whispers and gasps from the others.

You answered Steve’s unasked question, “That was part of the agreement we made with Shield when Clint found us. I wanted Anonymity. I wanted to escape the past. While Natasha here,” You glared playfully at your sister who tried to act bashful, “Wanted to embrace it. So I was never mentioned. As far as the world is aware, I am an only child known as [Y/n] Aliavona. No relation to the Black Widow Avenger Natasha Romanoff.”

Another, well known, voice spoke up, with thinly veiled humor, “And the Russian Spy known as Viper was killed in an undisclosed location during a redacted mission.”

You smiled as Tony walked up and took Clint’s place as he hugged you.

“Another part of the agreement.”

A red head with bright brown eyes stepped forward, her accent Distinctly Sovakian, “I have seen you in Brooklyn Before. You are the baker.”

Looking at your apron in embarrassment, you nodded, “Yeah. I run one of the only Wedding Cake Bakeries in town.”

Clint laughed and bumped your shoulder, “Don’t be so modest! Your cakes are amazing. Laura loved ours.”

A giggle slipped from you. “I remember that one. Simple, yet elegant with pink roses and gold trimmed edges.”

More wide eyes and whispers.

“Okay you bunch. Can I have some quiet time with my sister?” Natasha whined.

You smiled at her before turning to wink conspiracy with the Avengers, “Yeah. There are...Words...I need to have with my careless sister.”

That seemed to erase all previous tension as all the Avengers laughed at Natasha’s misfortune and quickly left the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you laced your hand with your sister’s uninjured one.

“It seems my time in the background has ended.”

Natasha squeezed your hand, “I know you don’t want to join Shield or the Avengers. But maybe our lives can be more involved with the others?”

You imagined spending weekends at the tower, laughing with your sister and her friends, and nights spent in your loft drinking wine and watching cheesy rom coms with Natasha after missions.

And you realized, you didn’t have to run and hide from your past anymore. You wanted to be like Natasha and take control of your life.

Smiling, you watched your sister’s face light up as you whispered, “I’d like that.”

Laughing Natasha pulled you down into a one armed hug, “Black Widow and Viper together again.”

You winced but still smiled as you hugged tighter, “How about Natasha and [Y/n] Romanoff instead.”

You could almost feel your sister’s smile soften as her hand ran through your hair, “That’s almost better. I love you, [Y/n].”

Closing your eyes, you smiled, “I love you too sister.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @mialeelavellan @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @queenbbarnes @mythixmagic @chas-z @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @princess-evans-addict @rororo06 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver

Natasha Taglist:

@ludwigvonbaethoven @hanjiscience-slut @kitten-q-p @morbid-gaymer @honeybadgerwhodoesntcare @sunnyandtwisty @zoeyknight @kurlyafro @thewomanofwonder @5aftermidnight @myfemininelesboworld @gaytrashgoblin @marvelb00kwolf @multifandom-imagines-things

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc @marvel-is-a-mood

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adjaecent · 4 years ago

Text

- dreamers often lie (t) pt. 1/6

the 1996 Romeo + Juliet AU that wouldn’t leave my mind after this photoshoot and this interview

pairing: romeo!jaehyun x ofc!juliet

genre/warnings: romance, tragedy, violence, tries to be a little geographically accurate and fails at it, no smut (sorry lol)

summary: His fingers traced her cheek lightly, eyes dancing as if to say, “Well, now you have my attention, what are you going to do with it?”

The ringing of her alarm sounded hours after Juliet had already awoken. Her eyes stared blankly at the lacy canopy of her bed, her mind still trapped in the memory of her dreams. If she could stay trapped in those memories, if she could just drown in them all and never wake up again, she would be more content than she felt now. She could even be happy.

She heard the sound of their housekeeper and the woman who had practically raised her making her way down the hall. Chung-sook reached Juliet’s door and shouted loud and true that her young charge was slacking her day away and would be late for school if she didn’t hurry up. Then she cackled loudly, the only sound that could be heard in the entire house. Juliet raised her voice, if not her head, so she could be heard, “I’m awake, I promise! I’m sorry, I must be so distracted I forgot to turn off the alarm.”

Her voice trailed off as Chung-sook laughed again, “Oh, I know your tricks, Miss! You had best wake up right now, I have breakfast ready and I will be very sore if you leave in a rush without eating any of it!”

The housekeeper walked away, thoughtlessly humming under her breath and Juliet finally reached over to silence her alarm. Her dreams had already begun slipping away, slowly like water between her fingers. Yet, just like water, the feel of them remained even afterwards, her hands soaked in their metaphorical thoughts.

She had dreamt of him again.

Her mind drifted as she buttoned up her uniform shirt, her fingers deftly moving up the garment. He had been bent over a book, his graceful fingers moving over a passage as his mouth moved to read the words. She had been sitting nearby, but he hadn’t noticed her. Even her dreams kept that consistency to her normal life. But unlike her real self, she had reached over in her dreams and she had plucked the book from his fingers so that when he looked up in surprise he would have to look straight at her.

His brown eyes were wide in their shock, the warm sunlight illuminating every speck of color. His face was puzzled before it had smoothed over to an amused and expectant look. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel the book start to slip from her twitching fingers and before she could set a goal, before she could act, he moved.

His fingers traced her cheek lightly, eyes dancing as if to say, “Well, now you have my attention, what are you going to do with it?”

She had woken up as his thumb touched her bottom lip, the words stagnant in her mouth.

“Everything, anything, please.”

Juliet sat at the modern dining table, leaving space between her and her mother. Her father would typically sit between them most mornings, but he was currently in the midst of a PR disaster. Some of his shadier filings involving shops he owned in Itaewon had come to the media’s attention and they talked of illegal contracts and bribery. Nothing that wasn’t true, of course, but everything that should never be said out loud.

She knew only one family that would dare to sell information like this to the press. The feud between their families was ancient, something that went as far back as their time as merchant traders in the kingdom of Silla. Both families tried to ingratiate themselves to different sovereigns at different times, to appeal to different traders and foreigners, and to own the coveted trading routes at the Han river. Their last names were a symbol of their trading prowess at this time, political marriages made at different junctures to benefit their status–the strange Chos and Jeongs of Seoul.

Her own family had kept a tradition of naming their daughters using foreign names from the past. Juliet was used to the double take people made when they read her name and then actually saw her, their disappointment always keenly felt. She never lived up to the excitement or the poetry of the name she was given, even if she was expected to live up to the honor of the last name she never sought.

She stood after dutifully finishing her breakfast, making sure she left nothing on her plate so that Chung-sook would not worry. Her mother leans her cheek towards her for a perfunctory kiss, her fingers scrolling quickly on her phone, and Juliet left after her quiet goodbye was left unanswered.

Her family’s driver moved to open the door for her, his smile wide even as he stood in the slightly chilly morning air.

“Good morning, little princess. Ready for school?”

Juliet smiled at Mr. Park and shook her head, both an answer and an admonishment. The nickname was one spouted by her family and by her enemies alike and in her mind it was just another name she couldn’t hope to live up to.

They drove to her cousin’s home as was their normal routine to school. Rosaline walked demurely to the car, disregarding Mr. Park as he opened the door for her. She was older by two years and beautiful, her mind as sharp as steel and the focus of it honed over years. Rosaline was preparing to sit for her university exams this fall and she had already planned her future law career out to the next ten years. Nowhere in these plans was there room for either marriage or love and neither of them ever talked about how Rosaline was free to make this decision as the daughter of the youngest Cho son.

Juliet held no wishes like that for herself, she knew exactly what marriage meant for her and for the future of her family.

The first time she had ever seen him was with Rosaline next to her. Her thirteenth birthday had just happened and Rosaline had taken her out to celebrate the gain of a little more of her freedom. They had been walking in Itaewon which was a neutral zone for both of their families. It held none of the expectations of tradition and of order that the Cho areas north of the Han river did for her and none of the animosity the Jeong areas south of the Han river did either. Here, hidden behind the tourists and the foreigners, she could almost escape all of it.

She had been dragging Rosaline towards a taiyaki stand, the fried dough one of her favorite treats when she was outside the house, when she heard his laugh for the first time. She had turned her head to see a boy making loud and angry sounds in the middle of the street, almost as if he was fighting a shadow. His movements were exaggerated and Juliet couldn’t help but laugh at one of his dramatic stumbles. She was amused watching the show until she heard the laugh again and this time her eyes wandered to another boy standing at the center of the crowd, his body leaning against the front of a shop as he stared at the funny display that was most certainly for him.

Juliet stared transfixed as his happiness spread on his face, the smile pulling at his face to end at the rivets of two symmetrical dimples. Every thought and every feeling was laid bare in his smile and she couldn’t imagine what that would have been like, to express so freely that your own face had certain tells for others to see. For happiness to be something so easy to find in your smile.

His eyes moved to them, most likely sensing her stare, but they quickly flitted past her to her cousin. She could see the recognition in his stare and the sudden excitement at seeing Rosaline, but her cousin only huffed before moving past her. She kept her hand on Juliet’s arm so she wouldn’t be lost in the crowd as she shoved through it. Juliet turned to glance at him one more time, to see his face fall as Rosaline ignored him. His eyes moved downwards and she caught his attention this time, his face curiously blank when he looked at her before Rosaline succeeded in getting through the crowd and the contact was finally broken.

Juliet felt that she might be able to breathe again now that the strange spell was broken, but she found that even the taiyaki her cousin had gotten them tasted like nothing in her mouth. Rosaline glanced at her before sighing, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”

She looked up shocked at her suddenly whiny tone. Rosaline was always regal in the way she spoke, especially to her younger cousins.

“That was Jaehyun, a Jeong, and not just any one of them, but the one to inherit it all. He has this asinine idea in his head that he’s in love with me because I rejected him yesterday and that our family histories don't actually matter,” she scoffed, “The history between our families is one of the only things that matters as far as I’m concerned. He’s insufferable. God, if he would only use his brain for once.”

Juliet remembered the sheer breadth of emotions that she saw on his face before Rosaline pulled them away. She couldn’t imagine being so brave as to go against her family’s wishes. She couldn’t imagine being so brave as to put emotion and passion before logic or reasoning.

She couldn’t help but to admire him, even then.

The gossip reached them even before they reached their school. Juliet was distracted with a kitty collecting game she’d downloaded to her phone, she found a lot of joy in feeding each cat that found its way to her little yard and would play it for hours embarrassingly enough. She heard Rosaline gasp at her social feed and suddenly had a new phone shoved into her face. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that there were multiple posts, some with video even, of a fight that broke out earlier this morning.

As she glanced at the images she could make out their other cousin, Johnny, clear as day. He must have gone after the Jeongs in retaliation for what they leaked about her father’s business dealings, but since they were all still so young, their fights had to be relegated between their fists instead of in boardrooms. For someone as logical and cool headed as their cousin, his actions frequently turned angry when it came to their family feud. Juliet scoffed and looked away from the last image, the Chief of Police himself showing up to end the brawl in the streets.

“I can’t believe he would be so stupid,” she muttered, “It’s his last year and this isn’t what he should be focusing on. This isn’t anything important at all! Why should this feud matter more than his future?”

There was silence before Rosaline spoke, “He’s fighting because of what those scum released to the media about your father, Juliet. I’m sure your father would appreciate the support.”

Juliet could see her face flinch in the window's reflection. Her father got himself into this mess with his less than ideal business practices, why would she have to defend his honor over this? If she had ever done something as embarrassing to the family, she knows they would have had no problems disowning her, only child or not. She glanced at Mr. Park and saw his eyes quickly glance away. His professionalism kept him silent, but she wanted to know just what he thought about her austere family and their terrible places in this city.

There would be no charges filed of course as neither family would want to invite them and the police themselves would ignore it so long as the bribes kept coming from the obscenely rich. Their feud had personally paid for most of the police equipment and cars, she was sure.

As they arrived in front of their school gates, Rosaline squeezed her arm before walking out of the car. Juliet knew what the gesture meant, they were now in front of the public and they would be scrutinized for everything that had occurred over the last week. To show weakness now would be detrimental to her family’s image.

They caught sight of Johnny waiting for them at the school’s entrance and Juliet couldn’t help the glare she shot him, even as she turned her face away so no one standing nearby would see. He dramatically rolled his eyes at her face, bringing his coffee up to his mouth as he ignored her. He never saw any problems with his behavior or his violence and the rest of the family would go along with it because he was the shining light of their family’s future as far as they were concerned. Even Rosaline only smiled at him and asked him just how much detention he was given for this new stunt and that she was sure to beat his score in the university exams now.

“Everyone in the fight has a month of detention for this, which is more fair than I thought it would be considering the Chief’s nephew was in the fight this time and on the Jeong’s side. I have no problems with Minjun, but his decision to be their friend is already a slight to our family that I can’t just ignore.”

At this, Juliet scoffed again and he moved to glare at her this time.

“Have you considered how this will affect your cram school? Will you be the one to let our tutor know or did it even cross your mind?”

She saw his face relax a little at this before he continued, “Well, obviously my dearest cousins will bring me the worksheets I missed and I’ll just have to work harder on the weekends to not fall behind in time for the exam. It’s all those Jeong’s fault, anyway.”

There was so much she could say then, how if he had also minded himself then the adults could have dealt with their business dealings by themselves and the children could be free to stay out of it, how it was not the younger Jeong’s faults that the head of their family decided to do this right when both families were fighting over a new development contract and just how dumb he was to phrase his request for his worksheets like that. They both knew Rosaline was never going to bring him his work.

Since she was in a lower grade than both her cousins, she started to walk past them to the school. She gave them a warning to not be late to class before heading to her designated locker to trade her books for her morning’s classes. There were already whispers around her, her name loud and clear in most of her classmates mouths. As much as she wanted to slam her locker and turn around to shout at them, she held herself back and gently closed her locker.

Her classroom sat at the back of the school, with wide windows that faced out into their private courtyard. It was an affluent school, known for getting its students into high ranking universities, and most of the students knew each other’s families because of their business or political relations. It was also one of the other few neutral zones for the Cho and Jeong families as neither would sacrifice the best education even for their feud.

Her assigned seat was right next to the window and she had selfishly coveted the desk since she received it. She could stare out directly at the large tree in the middle of the courtyard where most students mingled before classes and she could feel the sun stream in from the southern-facing windows. She reached her hand out to touch the window pane, the warmth of the glass warming her palm. There was a movement to her right and when Juliet looked, she had a chance to make eye contact with the same pair of eyes that had haunted her dreams this morning. With a curse, she quickly looked away, angling her body awkwardly in her desk so that she could be hidden from view.

Her heart was racing and she was reminded of how brave she was in her dream, how she not only wanted but commanded his attention there. With several deep breaths, she moved to look out the window again but he was gone and the courtyard was starting to empty. Her classmates started to filter into the classroom and Juliet shook her head in disappointment. She would do better next time.

Their tutor was not pleased with the information she relayed, his strict admonishments falling on the ears of the one person not involved in any of this in the slightest. By the time she had finally gotten all of her cousins' worksheets the sun was starting to hang low in the sky and she knew she would be late getting home at this rate. Her father was throwing a fundraiser gala tonight, some good press to negate the bad he kept accumulating and she was expected to be there and on her best behavior. Her mother had already coordinated an extensively detailed look for her and it would take hours to get ready in a way that would satisfy them both.

Curse her stupid cousin!

When she reached the room where their detention was being held, she could hear the angry voices from outside the door. It did absolutely nothing to calm her anger.

Juliet shoved the door open, the shock at the interruption silencing the group of students inside and she spared a glance to see how they had divided themselves into different areas of the room. Each group was cleaning old instruments and sports gear, their physical tasks obviously meant to keep them occupied though it wasn’t doing them any good.

She could feel eyes staring at her from her left, the group of Jeong boys and supporters most likely shocked at both her appearance as well as her loud entry. She carefully avoided one specific set of eyes that wasn’t supposed to be there, but it seemed like he chose to stick by his troublesome cousins the same way she did. He must have been keeping them company during their detention and if Juliet had known she would have made sure to check her appearance at least once before coming in. And she also might have made a much quieter entrance.

Once her eyes set on her cousin, sitting next to a pile of basketballs he was wiping down, her previous anger overtook her nerves. She walked towards him with the worksheets in her fist and practically shoved the folder at him.

“Do you have any idea the absolute earful I just got from our tutor? I’m not even the idiot who got in trouble! You owe me so much for this, Johnny!”

She could hear snickering from behind her, but she pointedly ignored their audience, choosing instead to stare at how her cousin rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that you’re going to be late to your party, princess. We both know you don’t even like these galas.”

She crossed her arms in order not to shove at him, especially in front of their audience, “You know just how important this is to my dad right now,” she lowered her voice and finally he showed some remorse and Juliet wished the Uncle card wasn’t the only way to get through to him these days, “and you know I'll keep bringing you these worksheets because it’s important to me that you do well. This, your education, is important. Not what’s happening here…” She moved her arm to show the detention room, the pointed divide between each group. The audience behind them was quiet to this.

“But you have to tell our damn tutor that all of this was your fault anyway! I want them to leave me alone or so help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions after this.” She felt the urge to stamp her foot, but held herself back. She was already coming off petulant in her anger right now so it was best not to add annoying brat to everything else.

This caused Johnny to smile and he shoved at her to leave, “Alright, okay, make sure to tell your mom I’ll be right there after this. Go and get beautiful, we both know it’ll take a while.”

She turned to glare at him again, oh that jerk, but was interrupted by a voice from behind her.

“What is this, the Cho’s are hosting a big party tonight? And they forgot to invite me!” Minjun put his hand to his heart, acting every bit as dramatic as the time she had first seen him fighting his shadow in the streets of Itaewon all for Jaehyun’s amusement. She ignored the same boy hovering at the edges of her periphery, just like that first time as well.

“I’m sure the Chief was invited, Minjun. You’re free to come if you’d like,” her diplomatic answer betrayed her racing heart. If she could only just extend the invite to the others, if she could only have an excuse to see him outside of the confines of these walls for one night.

“But your friends are not invited.”

Juliet closed her eyes momentarily at the harsh response behind her. She moved to open her mouth before another voice spoke up. This time she had an excuse to finally (finally) move her eyes to him, giving herself the chance to drink in the picture he made without any worry that someone would catch her staring too long.

“You wound us, Johnny. I thought this detention was finally bringing us closer. You know I have no reason to hate you or your family,” Jaehyun smiled as he spoke, his deep voice calming the room.

He sat on top of one of the desks on their side of the room, the circle of people of him obviously arranged in a way that he was at its center even as Minjun held the most attention. He was still in his school uniform, but his white shirt collar was unbuttoned and his hair had been mussed up by his own hands. It was one of his nervous tells as whenever he felt the loss of control in a situation or in his emotions, his hands would move to touch his hair. His physical perfection was something he put so much thought to that to check on it was something almost ingrained in him. She wondered what about this situation made him nervous. Her own hands twitched at her side before she quickly closed them into fists. She saw his eyes flick to them and realized she must have shown a much more antagonistic picture than she meant to. She quickly relaxed her hands again, stretching out the tension and she watched as he stared at that, too.

“You know our families could never be like that,” was Johnny’s simple response behind her and it was only because she knew him so well that she could recognize the small regret in his tone. There was a time when this feud didn’t mean so much to him either, but as they’d grown older and he’d grown more attached to the family business and the family name, it had come to be the same bitter story as before. Now this feud mattered too much to him. With a sigh she turned away, she had already wasted too much time here and her mother was going to be even angrier at her accidental slight.

As she walked to the door, the boys behind her turned back to their tasks, most likely realizing they’d have to work much faster in order to leave their detention on time. She still felt one pair of eyes on her as she left, their owner left with nothing else to do but watch her leave.

#jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct fic #jaehyun fic #kpop fic #i'll update this next week so it should be completed soon and the plot bunny will finally leave me alone lol

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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The Less I Know The Better (Peter Parker's iPod, Part 9.)

Description: Blip was hard. Dating MJ was a pleasure in Parker’s life, so it was even harder when she told him that things aren’t working as she anticipated - one month before college. Although they remained friends. But Peter isn’t too sure if he can handle liking yet another girl.

Part Summary: As another week came by, another visit from the masked hero was granted. And this time, MJ maybe started to pick up some vibes of you being even bigger weirdo than normally.

A/N: We're feeling fierce today, my babies. Let's give this boy a taste of heaven, shall we?

Word count: 2.5 K

Tagging: @fanboyswhereare-you, @lukesbabylon, @eridanuswave

Master list: H E R E

This time, when Peter decided to come by, it was raining like crazy. The season of crazy spring thunders came by, it was just two weeks away from May. There were gallons of water pouring down every damn second. If you would like a shower or go out for a swim, you could. You just needed to count on having a cold afterward.

Peter came by your window two days earlier actually, with a rose in his hand even, being in one of his super romantic moods, but he forgot that you were about to visit Betty's place along with MJ, so he just gently opened up the window and closed the flower into the doorframe. And now, while the ice-cold water poured down on him, he watched as you laid on your bed, dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts, doing work for school on your old laptop. He could hear a tune playing pretty loudly - and he saw even the rose put in the vase on your desk, which excited him.

Carefully, he knocked on the glass, waiting before you noticed. Your eyes almost popped out when you realized who that even is - quickly, you locked the door and went to open the window.

"I'm certainly not coming on the rooftop with you today in this freaking weather, so, come on in." - You stepped aside, tugging his forearm in, and you could already tell that he's grinning under his mask. He was also insanely cold to touch. That boy was about to be sick, just because he wanted to see you. While he tried to get into your room through the window somehow, you cleaned up some mess before you turned back right at him.

"I'll let you be if you're working, I can come later or tomorrow." - Peter said when he finally got in, looking at you sitting down with your laptop again. Oh, you were playing a happy tune today. It was Vance Joy and his Mess is Mine, which was just radiating with joy and love. You looked at Spidey a bit cluelessly, showing him the math problem.

"I would use some help now. I don't have any idea what the hell am I supposed to do now. But... Are you cold? Won't you take the spandex off? I can lend you something." - You offered. Yes, you wanted to see him undressing and maybe even see more of his body, but also, you didn't want to see the boy get sick. - "And I can warm you up if you want." - You said with a devilish giggle. You, of course, didn't think anything nasty with that comment, you thought about some snuggles in the worst and best-case scenario.

That kinda caught Peter off guard. He started to blush again, for an unknown, stupid reason as he was watching you slowly looking back at the math. Did you just... Could he... Didn't you think something else..? Peter could say yes, since, for a reason, his body was missing your warmth ever since you had to wake up for school after the Twilight Saga marathon. But, let's be honest, Peter had his morals and these couldn't be crossed.

"I'm fine. I can just press a little button on the suit and it does this." - He showed you and the only thing you could see was steam coming out of him along with an intense heat since his suit had turned on the heating function. You nodded and a grin appeared on your face as you wrote down something into your math notebook.

"You could just say yes and take such a privilege, but you need to play the gentleman until the end, don't you?" - You said while looking at the numbers you had written down. Peter shook his head and sat on the chair in front of your desk while you put your blanket over your legs. Before you started to look at the problem again, the man stole your laptop, automatically doing your homework.

"Give me the paper and a calculator would be nice." - He asked you, but the only thing you could give him was the paper since you were consistent with stealing Peter's calculator. You still hadn't bought one. He just let a long inhale out, knowing there isn't any calculator coming, as he found the app in your notebook, finishing the page in the next few minutes.

"How can you be so smart? Math is a torture device, and I'm sure of it." - You mumbled when you stuck your head from behind his back as you watched him just... Finishing the whole homework off just like that. He turned his head on you and you just noticed that he had already pushed his mask a bit up, to breathe some normal, fresh, cold air.

"I'm not that smart, come on. I just like this thing. Also, instead of 3.5, you should get 4.8 here. Now you see why it wasn't working. It kinda makes sense." - Speedy pointed on the screen, showing you where you wrote the wrong number you'd know what to do the next time. - "Why aren't you freaking out? I heard stalkers do that when they have their idol in their bedroom." - He mumbled and his mouth was just flat. For a moment, you thought that maybe he's serious.

But when you opened up your mouth, that boy just started laughing out loud. You bumped his shoulder, saying him that he's a dumb frick before you send the e-mail off to your teacher's address.

"I'm joking, come on, I'm just joking." - He sat next to you on the bed, watching as your expression didn't change a single bit. You looked pissed for a reason, but to be honest, you were just concentrated so you wouldn't do that much typos in that one e-mail. - "Hey, talk to me. If anything, it's only fair to give me something for writing your homework for you, missy."

"I don't know who's the stalker. Do I knock on your windows at eight o'clock in the evening, Speedy?" - You mumbled and send the message off, closing the laptop. Then, you were looking at him. And with that, Peter had to say that you had a point. He was acting like a stalker at that point. - "But to your luck, I'm okay with having a stalker." - A whisper came out when you put that piece of technology away and leaned in to catch his chin in with your thumb as MJ just knocked on your door, making you both jump at that sound.

Jesus, what was her deal at nine p.m. when you had something more exciting going on. You shoved the Spidey boy behind your bed, going to unlock the door for her. She was standing there with her hair let down and her face was just dead from the inside. MJ was holding a cup with ice-cream in her hand, staring you down.

"What's that about?" - She asked, feeling the air in your room. It was extremely humid but pretty cold. - "Are you having a party without asking me to come?" - MJ rose her eyebrows. You smiled at her, opening the door more so she could see that you're all alone in there.

"I don't know what you're talking about, girl. I just finished my math, if you want help with that, I can send you the homework." - You mumbled and leaned your temple into your door. MJ closed her eyes a bit, noticing a rose on your desk. Why didn't she noticed anyone giving you that flower? It seemed to be pretty fresh.

"What you were talking to, then? And why did you lock the door? You never do that." - She mumbled with suspicion in her voice. With a long sigh, you told her that you had Peter on the phone and that you locked the door so the flat wouldn't get too cold since you knew she doesn't like that.

"Yeah. Right. Do you even know that locking your door doesn't help with the temperature at all? You only have to close it, dummy. Physics aren't your thing, are they?" - She mumbled and turned around to walk back to the living room, eating on the ice-cream. Her brain started working and thinking about the mysterious rose in your room. When you locked the door again, you walked to the door to close it a bit, and afterward, you rose your blanket which was hiding the boy.

"Momma Capulet is gone now, Romeo. You can come out." - You whispered, stepping away from him. You saw him looking at the door, licking his lips.

"I will have to take you out on some balcony, then." - Speedy answered, walking to the window. You seemed to be surprised to see him leaving, but he was pretty scared of MJ. - "Since, you know, you're calling me Romeo and stuff."

"What’s the matter? She hadn't seen anything, calm down." - You mumbled and closed the window just when he was reaching out to it. - "You think you're going, don't you? But there weren't any criminals misbehaving or Avengers searching for their youngest addition, so no, I don't think you're leaving."

"Miss, this is considered threatening personal space and kinda holding me as a hostage. And I know you know that I can file a lawsuit at you for that." - Spidey tried to resist, but that was when you pushed him down onto the bed. And Peter just knew that at that moment, he won't be leaving no matter what.

"Oh, you won't do a thing about that, boy." - You said confidently, leaning yourself down to sit on his lap, smiling into his face. The tone of music shifted drastically, as Tame Impala came in with his seductive base guitar.

"You seem to be sure." - The boy remarked as you hugged his outer thighs with your inner ones, leaning your lovely bottom into his knees. You moved your hair away, biting your lip while you looked down on him. When your thumb rested on the top of his chin again, he felt a bit like a little kid whos getting a lecture. Just before you finally kissed him again, he felt a gentle whisper on his lips.

"Watch and learn, boy." - That was the only smart remark you had before getting full silence from that boy. Peter couldn't get enough of your lips, those were just the fact. But there also were the small things like your grip on one of his shoulders, small whimpers before you leaned before another kiss and occasional smiles every time he opened up his eyes.

"Are you fine with this?" - You asked suddenly, making Peter look at you as he slowly tuned back into reality. He looked at you, panting, hearing the song slowly fading away, tuning Jawny’s Honeypie.

"Why? Do I look like I'm running away?" - He joked back and your eyes traveled to his hands just laying around his body. Oh, OH. Peter was just so taken by you kissing him that he forgot to touch you. That was normal for him. He was taken away by you all the time.

"I mean, do you like... Want to dance or will you participate in this activity as well? You know, I don't know if someone told you, but because you're single you might not know that... There are two people when they're making out." - You said courageously, biting your lips as you tried not to laugh. Peter closed his eyes at this and laughed out loud as well. Just seconds after, you almost let a scream out when you were thrown onto your pillows like a sack of potatoes.

"Does this count as me participating enough or what do you want me to do exactly?" - He shot back in the same tone, feeling your palms gently circling his waist again. He leaned into the bed with one of his elbows, holding your face with the other one. The song in the background was playful as well, which made him hum the tune.

"I'm quite fine with this situation going on, Gonzales." - You nodded, rising your knee to meet his hips, laughing when his lips blew air into your neck, making loud farting before he pushed you a bit closer to bring you in for another kiss. MJ intervening was long forgotten as you lost the track of the time or of what was even going on.

"Will you stay to watch a movie or you're in a rush?" - You mumbled sleepily, just having your head leaned into the funny feeling spandex, listening to his heartbeat. He was keeping you closer, having an arm over your shoulder.

"What about you'll play something and I’ll stay until you fall asleep? Hm?" - He hummed back, kissing the top of your head. For a good portion of your fourth date, you were just making out - and even if Peter knew that he won't fall asleep for a pretty long time, he could understand that you're tired. Especially when the weather was crazy outside.

You nodded, playing the first thing you found on Netflix, sniggling under the warm blanket. It felt quite nice to feel someone pressed to your back, having their hand on your waist. You fell dead asleep rather quickly, snorting lightly after just ten minutes. When Peter poked your waist and you haven't moved an inch, he slowly took the mask off, finally looking at you with his eyes only.

He knew that Karen kept on recording everything he saw, that was why could simply rewatch the two hours of you making out, but there was some intimacy about looking at you in the dark room. His face slowly leaned in until his forehead rested on your shoulder as he took a few long, deep breaths.

This maybe was beautiful and much more, but he just wanted to be Peter with you. Oh Lord, he wished you to kiss him with such an eagerness every single morning. Or he could tickle you until you'd woke up in the morning. And... With that, it hit him.

Another realization. And he just knew that he doesn't only has a huge crush on you. He felt that small impulse - as if something inside of him clicked. That feeling everyone told him about. That something which made you wanna do stuff with someone else. Not just kiss them or snuggle them. But stuff, like... Adult stuff.

How he was about to survive all of that? He didn't know. Peter just hoped that you might be able to love Peter as much as you felt affectionate toward Speedy Gonzales.

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