#-my life has been hectic lately no joke new job so I’m doing two jobs now and I’m going back to school so I want to thank everyone truly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

hello lovie how u doing? sorry for bugging again but I was thinking.. how about reader lil jelly of the DEAs new secretary hitting on Javi but he's not giving a shh and reader go to the office for a visit with cinnie and kisses javi like out of nowhere and he gets ?????? and she's suddenly shy

Covetous (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: see above

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: jealousy, flirtation, language and innuendos

A/N: HI I hope this was what you’re looking for!! I hope it’s clear enough that reader is insecure and not demonizing Javier or Luisa... you’ll see. Enjoy!

Javier naturally attracts attention. You’re not quite sure what it is about him that does- or rather there are so many things about him that you don’t know which one it is. Is it the tight shirts that show off his broad shoulders and thick arms? His commanding aura? The sex appeal he radiates like humidity on a hot Colombian morning?

You love him more than anything. How can you not? He gives you all of his love, and expects nothing in return from you. His love is a passionate and all-consuming one; Javier fears commitment, but once he’s in, he’s all in. He’s the strong and silent type, but he melts with you, allows himself to be soft and gentle.

You know Javier would never do anything to hurt you. He can, has, and will go out of his way to protect you, especially with the danger of being the DEA agent’s girlfriend. That doesn’t lessen your anxiety, the fear that some poor judgement lapse on his part will lead to a broken heart. You know the man’s past. You’d be lying to say you weren’t a little scared.

When he started mentioning Luisa, you’d brushed it off and frowned. Javier is an adult. He can be friends with whoever he likes. Plus, she works with him. He can’t exactly ignore her. You didn’t know much about the woman other than the fact that she was young and pretty, as Murphy had told you. She was intelligent, a skilled worker as their receptionist. The only reason you had to dislike her was the little demon inside your head named Jealousy. Hell, you’d never even met her.

Javier mentions her in passing, just something she did at work or something funny she said. Never anything to be suspicious, and you know deep down that your Javi would never do something like that. He’s a good man, he loves you. You know it’s irrational, that you have no reasoning at all, but you can’t help but feel insecure when he talks about her.

Javier works ridiculous hours. He doesn’t have time to do much other than work and work and come home to you and do more work on the couch. He loves you for that more than anything: you understand it. You understand the busy hours and that he doesn’t often have the energy to do much when he gets home. You just sit next to him and quietly rub his shoulders, pressing kisses to his skin while he grinds out some paperwork. You don’t always understand what he’s doing at work, but your outside perspective often offers valuable ideas. You’re not just a girlfriend to Javier, but more of his partner. You are his other half, his comfort and relief and love in his hectic life.

If he’s being honest, Luisa bugs the shit out of him. She’s a smart girl, really, but her job is not as an agent. She likes to think she is, but she doesn’t have the training or knowledge to do so. She’s a go-getter, and Javi admires that, but it’s just another problem on his endless pile of them.

The most annoying thing is her flirting. Javier is no stranger to flirtation, obviously, and in any other situation he’d love to play along; she’s pretty and funny and a good conversationalist, but Javier, of course, only has eyes for you. He’s given her signs to back off, clearly, but she hasn’t picked them up. He’s tried to be more blunt, but nothing works. She is dead set on Agent Peña, and she’s a determined little thing.

You don’t visit Javier at work often. It’s rare that you get the chance, since you’re busy yourself. Usually, you’ll coordinate a day with Connie to bring lunch for the boys and sit with them for a while. They obviously both enjoy it, other than the mockery they receive from the other men when you leave. You love doing it, preening under the attention of your boyfriend and laughing at his annoyance with the other men. You’ve been there enough to know some of the other agents, and you know plenty about them from Javier’s annoyance at them at the end of the day.

Planning a day to surprise Javier at the office is fun. You usually do it when you know he’s extra stressed, when he could use the diversion and a little break in his day. That’s why you decided on it last night. Connie has the day off, and she insisted she’ll help you cook something to bring into work; Steve has been a mess lately too. They need it. She was right.

With a fresh tray of cookies out of the oven, you sigh and climb onto the couch to knock on the ceiling. You rap three times; moments later, two come back in response from Connie. It’s easier than using the phone, Connie suggested one night while you and Javier steadily got the Murphys drunker and drunker. It was funny to you at the time, but she was right. You smile remembering it as you put some cookies into a container and walk out of the front of the apartment building.

Connie is in a cheerful mood today. It’s probably because she has the day off; normally, she’d be asleep at this hour, thanks to long night shifts. She chats with you as the two of you drive to the embassy together, humming along to a song on the radio. She tells you all about Steve, the latest recipe she found, her new favorite grocery store. You smile and nod, mind elsewhere. Her blonde head bobs along to the rhythm as she finds a spot and parks.

You are irrational, you remind yourself as you walk in. You know and trust and love Javier. Luisa is nothing to worry about. Then why do you have a painfully tight grip on your container of cookies? “Hey, you’re gonna crack that,” Connie chides and swats your hand. “You okay, babe?”

You shake your head and smile it off. “It’s nothing. Guess I’m just excited,” you chuckle and loosen your grip on the cookies, though your spine is rigid as a board.

There’s a desk and at the front sits a woman, slightly younger than you, writing something in a book. She looks up when she hears the two of you enter through the lobby deeper into the building. “Hola. Soy Luisa, bienvenidos. Necesitá-“

That’s Luisa? She’s sweet, you frown. You’ve been all worked up over this? She’s cut off when Steve walks past. “Woah, hey ladies,” he chuckles as he sees the two of you. He wraps an arm around his wife and kisses her forehead. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Connie shrugs, beaming up at her husband. “We just thought we’d bring you lunch.”

“I made cookies,” you offer weakly, holding up the tupperware. You’re surprised it isn’t shattered into plastic shards on the ground by now.

“Hell yeah,” Steve smiles and snatches the cookies from your hands. “Luisa, this is my wife, Connie.”

She nods. “I could tell,” she chuckles, gesturing to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Who else would she be around here? “And you are?” She asks, turning to you.

“Ah, that’s Peña’s girl, remember?” Steve says for you, which makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

Her smile becomes tight-lipped and passive-aggressive. “Ah, yes. Wonderful to meet you,” she tells you, turning back to her books immediately. “Steve, you will show the women back then?”

He nods. “Thanks, kid.” He steals a candy from the jar she keeps on her desk and leads you back into the bullpen. He and Connie talk about their days, and you trail behind, nervously tapping your fingers against your sides. Now that you don’t have the Tupperware to clutch, you fidget until your heart warms at the sight of Javier. He’s hunched over his desk, shoulders straining against his tight shirt. He’s rapidly banging out a report on a typewriter, and your smile becomes a little bittersweet with how hard you know he’s working.

He’s a jumpy man, but scaring him is your favorite thing in the world. You hold a finger to your lips to the Murphys, telling them to be quiet, and they nod in agreement. Silently padding up behind him, you cover his hands with your eyes. “Boo,” you squeal.

“What the fuck?” Javier jumps, rapidly pulling the hands off his eyes and spinning in his chair. His hand hovers over his weapon, but his anxiety fades when he sees it’s you. “Hijo de puta… cariño,” he smiles softly, laughing a little. “What are you doing here?” He asks as he stands, pulling you into a hug.

His face is all the reassurance you need, his smile and his arms squeezing you making you grin. “We brought you lunch. Wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as you break away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Got a spare minute?”

He sighs and sits back down at his desk. “Can you give me five? I need to finish this report then I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” you sigh teasingly and kiss him on the head. While he types, you and Connie set up the desks, arranging chairs and plates on top of piles of cluttered papers. Javier’s handwriting is messy, you notice as you look at a folder of information, but legible. Hurried but still nice, looping and arcing.

“Hey,” Javi booms playfully and startles you, snatching the folder from your hands. “That’s classified.”

“That’s about as classified as your dick is to the Colombian population of women,” Steve snorts.

“Stephen!” Connie gasps and scolds, smacking his arm.

It doesn’t matter. You and Javi are laughing, falling onto each other and giggling at the joke. Steve sniggers under his breath, trying to avoid Connie’s wrath from the rude joke.

Straightening up, you take a sip of your water and try to collect yourself, though you’re still chuckling softly. “Does this mean you’re done?” You ask him hopefully.

Javier sighs and signs the bottom of the paper. His signature is beautiful and classy: J. Peña. “Now I am,” he smiles at you and tucks the file away in a desk drawer. “What did you bring us to eat, hm?”

The four of you converse over the meal, waving forks around aimlessly to make your points. The Murphys talk on their own, chatting about plans for the night. The meal is clearly finished and Javier cracks open the container of cookies, winking at you. You know he loves them, adores the little fluffy things. You smile and snag one from the tupperware before he can. He frowns. “I wanted that one.”

“Poor baby,” you tease and cup his face, taking a bite from it.

There’s the clacking of heels on tile approaching before you hear it: “Agente Peña!” a feminine voice sings. You roll your eyes, completely missing the way Javier rolls his too. “Javi?” She asks as she gets closer, about to round the corner.

God, you can’t stand that she calls him that. He’s only Javi to you and the Murphys, to those who love him. Your rational brain is far out of the window, possessed by jealousy as you do the only thing you can to, what, stake your claim? It doesn’t matter. Javier won’t be mad with the tiniest bit of affection. Your other hand cups Javier’s face too and you kiss him.

He’s used to kissing you. The two of you do it all the damn time. He’s just not a big PDA man; never has been. He prefers to keep his passion in private. But he doesn’t care, and cares even less when he knows Luisa is watching. He kisses back, rolling your chair closer to his and cupping your face too.

Luisa huffs at the sight. “Guess you’re busy,” she scoffs in English.

You break away only to find her walking away, and you can’t help but smirk. At least now she knows that Javier is truly committed to you, if she even caught a glimpse of the way he kissed you back. “What was that for?” Javier asks.

“Because I love you?” You chuckle and kiss him one more time, soft and quick.

He knows exactly why you did it. He doesn’t ask again. “I love you too, cariño,” he chuckles and rests his hand on your thigh.

Taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

#javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña

249 notes · View notes

mobiusxyearslater · 3 years

Photo

Rekindling (A Sonally Story)

A/N: This whole thing takes place about two years before the whole AU/Your Dork starts off for context. ~Mun @t-vict101

On a cool night in New Mobotropolis, Princess Sally Acorn is walking back to her cottage from the Tommy Turtle Memorial Hospital. She witnessed her friend, Bunnie Rabbot give birth to her firstborn daughter Annabelle. The whirlwind excitement and joy practically drained Sally’s energy, it was time for much-needed rest. She quietly walked along the dirt path still thinking about her new niece, how cute she looked, and how happy Bunnie and Antoine looked. That’s the kind of love that could last lifetimes. Sally starts to wonder if she could feel that way someday. Well, she did at one point, the only person she felt happy with was--

“Hey there Princess! You’re out late!” Sally heard a voice pipe up.

She looked forward to see the source of the cheery voice, well who else could it be? The one and only hero of Mobius, Sonic the Hedgehog, sat there on her porch giving her a soft wave. Sally stared at him for a few moments unsure of what to do. The last time she saw him he was off fighting Doctor Eggman and saving the world once again. That was almost half a year ago. But that was how Sonic was. There was no tying him down after the job was done which led to their romantic relationship being more on and off if anything.

The ironic part was that their last break-up wasn’t because Sonic wasn’t around. It was because Sally was too busy juggling her life between her duties on the council and her duties as leader. Sonic did confront her about it which led to a big fight then eventually they agreed to go their separate ways. There was a twinge of guilt in Sally’s heart because of that and seeing Sonic there acting as if nothing happened. All Sally could do is muster up a small chuckle as she looks at the blue blur.

“Well, you know me. I’m always busy with one thing or another.” she joked as she took a seat next to Sonic, who gave her a chuckle.

“Oh, boy don’t I know it! So what was it this time?” He playfully props his chin in his palm, “Council meetings? Ribbon cutting? Oh! A big speech in front of the entire kingdom?”

Sally gives him a small nudge and shakes her head, “Oh shut up. If you have to know, Bunnie and Antoine just had their baby tonight..”

“What??” Sonic perks up, “Those two have a kid now? Man. I feel like I miss out on a lot.”

Sally chuckles and shakes head, “Well that’s what happens when you’re gone for months on end.”

Sonic chuckles and scratches his head, “Heh. Well, I do come back once in a while though so it’s not all bad.

Sally let out a small chuckle and nod looking out to the moon, “Yeah.. I guess so.”

The two sit in silence just watching the moon. There was a feeling that someone should say something but neither of them did instead soaking in the atmosphere. Somehow, someway, the silence was relaxing for them both. No one brought up the past or having to suffer the awkwardness of reliving the whole thing over again. But there was one burning question that rattled in Sally’s head. Of all places to go in the middle of the night, why hers? Sonic still had his parents, his Uncle Chuck, heck he could just crash at Tails’ place if he really wanted to.

Sally cleared her throat, making Sonic’s ear twitch. “So, you just randomly decided to pop up here?”

Sonic sweats a bit and gives off a nervous chuckle, “I guess I made it too obvious huh?” He looked at her shrugs, “...I guess I just missed you.”

Sally quirks a brow tilting her head, “Is that right?”

Sonic huffs at her tone and tilts his head, “What’s with that tone? I really did miss you.”

Sally chuckles and pats his head, sighing out tiredly, “And I missed you too.”

Still unable to get a read of what she’s thinking, Sonic wags at her at a finger, “...Why do I feel there’s a huge BUT coming up.”

Sally frowns and sighs out, “But… This feels like a pattern..”

Sonic gives her a confused look, “What do you mean..?”

Through her tiredness she starts to pet through the blue hedgehog’s quills, “...This. Us. You leave for a long time then come back saying you missed me. Old feelings come up and we try again. Then…”

Sonic watched Sally as her words tiredly trailed and looked down to the ground. He always loved Sally, that fact is the solid truth, but being committed was a whole different ball game. Thinking about her words more, he started to see the pattern too. Sure his feelings were genuine at the moment but he’s always changing his mind about them. He started to think that maybe Sally wanted more than just part of him. Maybe she needed all of him, just like he wanted all of her. Maybe just maybe, him leaving for months after each attack isn’t fair to her at all.

Sonic huffs out a chuckle and slides his hands behind his head, “...You wanna hear something funny?”

Sally rubs the tired out of her eyes and looks at him, “What’s that..?”

Sonic rubs his nose a bit, “While I was gone I actually dated someone for a small while.”

All Sally could do is huff in response, “So you can here in the middle of the night to tell me about your exes to your ex?”

Sonic nudges her a bit, “Just listen for sec. While I was away, I actually dated Amy for a small bit.”

Sally’s brows perk up hearing the news, “Wow. You actually let up and let her catch you huh?”

Sonic shrugs letting a small chuckle, “I did. I was always running and she was always there. I figured that was something I wanted or something. At least I thought I did.”

His words slowly trailed off as he thought about his time with Amy. The pink hedgehog sure was a spitfire. Wherever Sonic went she gladly went along with him for support. He figured giving her one date wouldn’t hurt. Then it turned into two. Then it turned to something exclusive. Their honeymoon phase was sweet but soon after Amy found herself in a bit of a rut. Hopping from city to city, fighting badniks left and right, she was all in on that no doubt but she wanted something more. At first, she thought Sonic was that solution, but when she had him that feeling never really went away.

Sonic sighs out softly circling his thumb in his palm. “So she dumped me. She said something about traveling around to find her purpose or something.”

Sally stared at the dejected hedgehog and softly petted his head, “You’re number one fan dumped you. That must’ve been a blow to the ol’ ego of yours.”

Sonic stifles a small chuckle letting himself relax under Sally’s touch, “Yeah it was but I get it. It was fine for a while but I guess somewhere down the line. She realized I couldn’t give HER what SHE needed.” He lets out a sigh and looks up at the sky, “...I am proud of her though. Whatever she decides on doing for herself, she’ll be great at it.”

Sally nods in agreement and lets out a small yawn, “Yeah. She’s too determined to let herself fail at anything that’s for sure. She’ll probably be the best.”

Sonic shakes his head and looks at Sally, “Alright, enough about my dating life. What about you? Anyone in your life?”

Sally huffs out a chuckle and shakes her head, “Not really. There have been dates here and there but my busy schedule made it way too difficult to really settle into anything.”

Sonic snickers a bit, “Woo boy don’t I know it--” he stops himself when he watches Sally’s face slowly fall into a frown, “Come on Sal. I don’t blame you for your hectic schedule.”

Sally gives him a look and crosses her arms, “Isn’t that the reason you dumped me the last time?”

And there it was. That sting of awkwardness they worked so hard to avoid has finally come to the forefront. The silence draped over them as they sat there with their thoughts. No one knew what exactly to say at that moment. Sally realized she still had her hand on Sonic’s head and quickly pulled away looking away.

Sonic took a deep breath, “I know I gave you grief about it before. I just thought we could be how we used to be when we were 17.” Sally opened her mouth to say something but Sonic held up his hand. “Which I realized now… It can never be like that. I guess… I was…. I dunno.. Anxious about everything changing. You and Rotor on the council, Bunnie and Ant having a kid, Tails being the next inventor of the century, even Amy…” He takes a deep breath and kicks the dirt a bit, “...Seems like everyone is running this race and I'm dead last.”

Sally hums a bit pondering about his words, “...I guess… You’re feeling everyone is outgrowing you…?”

Sonic’s ear twitches and lets out a small pout leaning his chin in his palm, “....Maybe yeah…”

Sally lets out a small laugh and Sonic gives her a pouty look. She nudges him playfully, “Oh stop. I’m laughing because you’re the hero of Mobius. Everyone loves talking about you and practically wants to BE you.”

Sonic huffs out and crosses his arms, “I KNOW! I know I just… feel like I can do… more… Like I could do more for the world, my family, our friends, even you--”

Sally’s brows perk up at the last part Sonic started to say but cut himself off. It was kinda strange seeing him so vulnerable. Usually, he had a real cocky attitude with everyone and was the brightest in the room. Honestly, this was a side of him that she tried to bring out a lot of the time but he would always brush it off like it was nothing. He seemed almost embarrassed that he was saying all of this out in the open, especially saying it to her.

She softly puts a hand on his shoulder, “...Hey. It’s normal to feel that way. Almost everyone feels that way sometime or another, right?”

Sonic sighs out and looks at her, “Yeah but it’s ME we’re talking about.”

Sally huffs and stands up, “Yeah and I know you better than you think. You’re a guy who takes action. You’re always putting others first before yourself. You’re a hero that inspires everyone to be the best versions of themselves.” She holds out a hand to him, “...Now are you going to stop moping and do something about it?”

Sonic stares at her hand remembering those were the words he said to her years before. He huffs out a chuckle before grasping onto her hand and standing up, “You got me there. And you’re right, like always.”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head, “Of course I am. I’ve known you way too long to be wrong.”

Sonic chuckles a bit and watches her make her way up to her front door. He leans on the porch rail and tilts his head, “So I’m guessing I shouldn’t keep you from your beauty sleep any longer huh princess?”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head turning back to him, “Well that all depends if you’re going to keep me up all night.” She opens the door and gestures inside.

Sonic gives off a snarky chuckle as he walks up the steps stopping in front of her, “Oh ho ho! And what exactly do you mean by that princess?”

Sally rolls her eyes and pushes him inside of the cottage, “I mean you’re sleeping on the couch!”

Sonic pouts and leans back in her hands, “Aw but I could really use a nice big warm bed after months without one!”

Sally shakes her head, “You should’ve gone to your parents then.” She lets out a soft chuckle before shutting the door behind her, “You big dork.”

END

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic #archie sonic #archie sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic comics #sonic fanart #sonic fandom #sonic satam #sally acorn #sonsal #sonally #fan fic writing #fan fiction #writing

141 notes · View notes

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track.

“Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

“How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

“You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

“Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

“I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

“Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

“George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

“I’m only teasing.”

“And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

“Are you hungry, then?”

A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out.

“You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

“I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs.

George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

“No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?”

George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips.

Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers. For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

“Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

“Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

“Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

“Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

“But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

“Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

And what about now?

George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

“Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

“—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

No! What are you thinking!

George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

“I only meant—”

“I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.”

The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

“Oh.”

Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

“Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

“It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself.

George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

“We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean…

“Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

“You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

“Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

“Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

“Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

“No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

“So, what are you trying to say, then?”

“When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

“Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

“So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

“Nope.”

“And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

“Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile.

“Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

“I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #george x angelina #tw: mentions of death

71 notes · View notes

nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: October + November [part one]

Note: Life is very hectic at the moment so this was edited quite quickly. I think I caught all the mistakes, but I’m sorry if there’s any accidentally left in.

______

The photo shoot the next day went amazingly well. After being out of work for almost ten months, it took me a little while to get back into the swing of it, but I hit my stride quickly once I'd settled in. It helped that I was working with people who made my job almost effortless. Sebastian and Anthony had such good chemistry and were so good at what they do that we got through the day with no hiccups and I had more than enough photos to give Marvel what they'd asked for ten times over.

When I got back to the hotel room, I was in a great mood and it was made even better by the surprise for Chris that I had with me.

"Chris?" I called out as I walked into our large suite. "I'm back!"

He lifted an arm to wave from where he was sitting on the couch, his attention still fixed on the football game that was on the TV.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "How are Mackie and Seb?"

I smiled, knowing he was about to be very excited as I answered him.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?"

That question got his attention and his head shot around to see what I was talking about. As his eyes landed on the two men standing behind me, a grin burst onto his face.

"No way!" He laughed as he leapt up to join us. "Hey, guys!"

All of us - Chris included - had been tested several times over the last few days to make sure that we were all virus free. There was obviously a small chance that one of us could have picked it up some time after one of the many negative results, but I was fairly confident that was pretty unlikely as we'd all been as careful as possible so I'd invited them over for a few drinks. Our hotel room was big enough for us to all keep our distance anyway and I knew that Chris would appreciate the chance to catch up with his friends.

They both greeted Chris before Anthony looked around the room.

"This place is nice!" He observed. "Marvel must love you, you could fit my room in here at least three times!"

"It's not Marvel who loves me," I smirked. "It's Chris - he upgraded our room."

There was a goofy grin on Chris' face as our two guests 'aww'd' in tandem.

"That was too cheesy," Anthony teased. "But man, don't you love me too? Where's my upgrade?"

"I'll get you next time," Chris laughed. "But to be honest, I thought you'd be staying with Sebastian now that you two are a power couple."

Sebastian snorted out a laugh, but Anthony nodded his head.

"I know, man! That's what I said, but Sebastian still won't tell me where he lives!"

"Because you're so obsessed with my couch that I'm worried you'll steal it!"

"Shouldn't buy yourself a five thousand dollar couch if you don't want people to talk about it," Anthony joked, making Sebastian roll his eyes.

"It didn't cost anywhere near that much money. You've never even seen it, I don't know where you got all these ideas from."

"When are you two getting married?" I interrupted with a smirk on my face as they both turned to look at me, their confusion clear. "Sorry, you've just been bickering like an old married couple all day. I was wondering when you were going to make it official."

"That's what we should be asking you two!" Anthony turned it around. "When did this happen anyway?"

"April," Chris answered, sliding his arm around my waist to pull me close. "After a month trapped in a house with me with no other options, she was finally desperate enough to give me a chance."

"That is not what happened," I laughed. "It was more just the fact that being trapped in a house together made us finally have some tough conversations that we'd never had the guts to have before."

"Well, I'm happy for you," Anthony grinned. "And some people owe me some money because I knew you'd get together eventually."

"Wait, you were betting on us?" Chris asked. "With who?"

"Not me," Sebastian was quick to interject, but Anthony just shrugged.

"There was a bunch of us in on it," he admitted. "Downey, Pratt, Renner, Hemsworth, Paul Rudd, Lizzie Olsen, and I think even the Russos. Someone was keeping track of it, I'll have to make some phone calls."

"I don't even want to hear about this," I laughed, shaking my head. I wasn't at all surprised, they were a tight crew and there was plenty of downtime on set for them to get up to all kinds of antics, but I had no desire to hear who was betting on our situation. "So, shall we have some drinks? What does everyone want? I figured we could just order from room service."

After a brief discussion on the matter, we ordered several beers for the men and a bottle of wine for me. It arrived with impressive speed - no doubt a perk of being with a group of celebrities in a penthouse suite - and we all settled around the living room, trying our best to keep some distance between us.

We chatted and caught up, discussing what we'd done to keep ourselves busy through lockdown and when things might start to be more normal - the usual pandemic conversations. The boys were just delving into some sports discussions that were totally lost on me when I received a message from Lisa saying that Grayson was having a bit of a moment and asked if I was able to call. It broke my heart to think of him missing us so I excused myself and did as she asked.

He was crying when she passed him the phone and I felt awful, immediately filled with guilt that we’d selfishly decided to stay in New York for the whole weekend. We would have arrived home quite late if we left right after the shoot, but as I couldn't remember the last time that he’d stayed overnight with someone other than Chris or I, it suddenly seemed cruel to have left him for so long.

He was in bed already, but unable to fall asleep so I chatted with him for a bit before singing him the lullaby that I'd been singing to him since he was born. It worked like a charm and once he was out, Lisa took the phone back.

"Is he doing okay?" I asked, fighting back tears of my own. "Has he been like this all day?"

"No, no, of course not!" She assured me. "He's been totally fine, we've had a great time. He just got a bit weepy as I was tucking him in."

"I'm glad he's been having fun," I sniffled. "I hate to think of him being upset."

"He's just fine, sweetheart," she insisted. "This will be good for all of you. It's good for him to get used to being away from you two and it must be nice for you two to have a break."

"It is," I admitted. "It just feels selfish when he's upset like that."

"Well, sometimes even us moms need to be a little selfish," Lisa laughed. "And selfishly on my part, it's been wonderful having him here."

I smiled, knowing she had been quite excited about their little sleepover.

"We really appreciate you taking him."

"It's absolutely my pleasure. Now, I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing and I will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Lisa. I'll message you when we're heading out so you know when to expect us."

She assured me that they'd be home whenever we arrived and we said our goodbyes before I headed back out to the living room.

"Everything okay?" Chris asked as soon as I sat down.

"Yeah, for the most part," I sighed. "Grayson just got a bit upset at bedtime, I guess. He was crying and wanted to talk to me, but he's fine now."

Sensing I was feeling a bit emotional about it, Chris reached out and squeezed my hand as Anthony spoke.

"I was hoping you'd bring the little man with you. How's he doing?"

I smiled as a grin burst onto Chris' face. He went into a long, somewhat boastful explanation of just how good Grayson was doing, informing them of his extensive dinosaur knowledge and his impressive skills on his bike. It was heartwarming to hear the pride in his voice as he spoke and it was even nicer to see Sebastian and Anthony's genuine interest in hearing about him.

"They grow so damn fast, don't they?" Anthony commented. "One day they can hardly move and then suddenly they're practically BMX champions."

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "It took a good five months for me to allow him to take his training wheels off. He won't be BMX-ing any time soon."

"Well, I hear things are always scarier with the first one," Sebastian pointed out. "Maybe your next one can be the extreme sports star."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Anthony agreed. "When are you having another?"

I tossed back my last sip of wine before letting out a laugh at that question and side-eyeing Chris as I poured myself another glass.

"Did Chris pay you to ask me that?"

"No!" Anthony laughed. "But it's been, what? Four years? Seems like it's about time for another."

Chris snickered as he took a swig from the bottle of beer he was drinking, clearly feeling validated by Anthony's comments, but I just shook my head.

"We've been together for less than a year," I reminded them. "That's hardly long enough to start thinking about another baby."

"Sure, it is," Anthony shrugged. "Maybe not if the relationship is brand new, but you already have one kid, what's the harm in throwing another in the mix?"

"And we already know that we can work together as parents through complicated situations."

I shot Chris a look after his interjection because I really didn't think his friends needed to be involved in a discussion like this, but Sebastian chimed in as the voice of reason.

"It's more complicated than that though, isn't it?" He asked. "Babies are stressful and can ruin a relationship if you're not ready for it."

"Exactly! Thank you, Seb."

"What does he know?" Anthony teased. "He's never had a baby."

I rolled my eyes as I sipped my drink, trying to ignore Chris' smug face.

"If you're such a big fan of the idea, Anthony, why don't you have more kids?"

"More? I already have four!" He laughed. "That's more than enough. Hell, after being in lockdown with them, you could have one of mine if you're not ready to have another of your own."

"I think we're good with one right now," I insisted with a smile. "At least until we see where this whole pandemic thing ends."

"Alright, alright, that's fair," Anthony relented. "But just remember when the time comes, Anthony is a solid name. Or even Antonia for a girl."

"Actually," I smirked. "I do quite like the name Sebastian."

Sebastian barked out a laugh over Anthony's protests as Chris came up with a compromise.

"Sebastian Anthony Evans?" He suggested.

"Can you imagine?" I giggled. "Your fans would lose their minds. You'd have to raise him together, you could make a reality show out of it."

"That's a money making opportunity right there," Anthony grinned. "You just let me know when you need me to show up."

"As entertaining as that sounds, it won't be any time soon," I insisted before changing the subject. "What about you, Sebastian? How's your love life going? Any babies on the horizon?"

His cheeks instantly tinged pink at the attention being flipped onto him as he answered the question and Anthony’s teasing shifted to him.

About an hour later, after our guests left, I found myself stretched out on the couch with my head in Chris' lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. It felt so good that I was resisting the urge to purr like a happy cat when Chris distracted me with a question.

"How was the shoot?" He asked. "I just realized that I never got an answer."

"It was great," I smiled up at him. "It felt weird at first after being away for so long, but Sebastian and Anthony are such goofs. It helped me relax and get back into it."

I felt his body shake as he chuckled, no doubt knowing his friends well enough to imagine the antics they got up to.

"I'm glad it went well. Maybe now there's more projects starting up, you'll start getting more job offers again and you won't have to go so long without doing it."

"Oh, I've had plenty of job offers," I admitted. "But most of them I'd have to travel for or they just seem too risky."

Chris was clearly surprised by that confession as I hadn't mentioned any of the proposals I'd received to him, but it didn't seem important when I'd never even considered taking any of the jobs.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" He asked. "We could have worked something out and made it happen."

"Because I didn't want to accept any of the offers," I assured him. "I don't feel super comfortable flying around the country right now and most of them had pretty half-assed safety protocols in place. This was the first one that was close by and had a clear and thorough safety plan. Marvel wanted me for Wandavision too, but I would’ve had to go to L.A. and I didn't feel great about that."

Chris frowned, his fingers pausing momentarily in my hair as he mulled over my answer.

"I get it, that's solid reasoning," he nodded. "But I'm sorry you've had to make decisions like that. I know you love what you do."

"So do you," I shrugged. "So do a lot of people who are currently out of work. I've got it pretty good, I try to focus on that."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to miss things too," Chris insisted before letting out a sigh. "Do you ever worry that things won't ever get back to normal?"

As I looked up at him and saw the melancholy look on his face, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me.

"Not really," I admitted. "I worry more about what will happen when they do..."

"Oh?" Chris raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I don't want anyone to get sick anymore and I don't want any more people to die. I want to see my family again and meet my nephew and I want Grayson to be able to go to school and make friends," I prefaced my statement. "But for us, it's been really nice. We've been able to figure each other out and build our relationship without anything else interfering and I just worry that when things go back to normal, it won't work."

The hurt that flashed across Chris' face made my chest tighten. I hadn't meant to upset him, but it was foolish of me to think that my doubts wouldn't be hard to hear.

"You don't think we'll stay together when the lockdowns are all done?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Well, that's what you said..."

"I said it was something I worry about," I clarified. "And I do. It'll be a lot harder when we're both working again."

"It's one thing to think it'll be harder," Chris scowled. "It's another to think we can't make it work. Are you planning on running at the first sign of trouble?"

Feeling the panic bubbling inside me, I pulled my head out of Chris' lap and sat up so I was facing him. I did want to run away in that moment - his harsh tone hurting my feelings and making my defences bubble to the surface - but I reminded myself of how avoiding our problems had worked for us in the past and tried to stay calm and explain myself.

"I'm not going to run away, Chris," I assured him. "And I don't really appreciate the way you're speaking to me right now. You asked a question and I explained my feelings, but instead of wanting to talk through that, you're immediately getting upset. I'm allowed to have concerns and all you're doing right now is making them worse."

Despite my frustrations, I kept my voice calm as I spoke and it seemed to have the desired effect as the tension in Chris' body eased slightly.

"Sorry, you're right," he sighed. "I just thought we've been doing so well, I'm surprised that you still have doubts."

"We're just living in such a bubble right now," I pointed out. "When everything goes back to normal and we're both back at work more, we'll be so busy. Balancing that with making sure Grayson gets enough of our attention, it might not leave much time for us and that would strain any relationship."

"It'll be more of a challenge than it is now," Chris agreed, his words spoken cautiously as if they were carefully chosen. "But most parents struggle with balancing their relationship with time spent with their kids. We'll just have to make the effort."

"But we have more to cope with than most parents."

He looked skeptical of that claim.

"How so?"

"Well, you'll be away a lot once you start filming things again," I reminded him, knowing that his next project had plans to film in L.A. and Europe. "And you'll be surrounded by beautiful, smart, talented women who I pale in comparison to."

"That’s not true, but regardless, I won't even look at them twice." His voice was firm and for a moment I worried that he was annoyed again, but as he took my hand in his and lifted his eyes to meet mine, he just seemed sincere. "I love you, Whitney. I only want to be with you."

"I know, I do, I know that. I love you too and I trust you, but I guess it just still feels like you being in love with me is too good to be true."

"I don't think that you do know," Chris insisted. "I'm completely committed to you. I know it's only been a few months, but it's been some of the best months of my life. What we've been doing - you, me and Grayson just hangin’ out and being a family - it's what I've been dreaming of since he was born, it's what I've always wanted. I can't imagine a future without you in it, I don't even want to think about it. I love you and I love the life we're building together."

I felt my eyes grow glassy as he spoke, my heart melting at his words.

"Wow," I murmured quietly. It was a lame response to such heartfelt words, but I was trying to process everything he’d said and, after a moment of staring into his beautiful eyes, I choked out a laugh. "That almost sounded like a proposal."

Chris chuckled and nodded his head.

"I know. Even I wondered where I was going with that for a minute there," he admitted. "It wasn't, but it's all true. I'm in this for as long as you'll have me."

He lifted my hand up to place a kiss on my knuckles and I suddenly felt ridiculous for having any doubts.

"I feel the same," I assured him. "I really do. I don't want you to think that I'm not as invested in this as you are. I just like how things are now and thinking about it changing scares me."

"It'll be different, but we can make it work."

I smiled and crawled into his laps, letting my knees rest on either side of his thighs.

"I guess I've just been spoiled these last few months," I mused, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "I don't want to share you with the world, I want you all to myself."

Chris chuckled as our foreheads rested against each other.

"You really are clingy," he teased. "I always thought I'd be the needy one in this relationship."

"Shut up," I giggled, pressing our lips briefly together again. "And for the record, all those sweet, wonderful things you just said aren't getting you any closer to convincing me we should have another baby yet."

Chris' head fell backwards as a laugh burst from his chest.

"Alright, alright, well, it was worth a shot," he smirked. "But seriously, that's how confident I am in us. It wouldn’t even scare me if we did because I know we can handle it."

I smiled even though I probably didn't share quite that much confidence in our future. I wouldn't bet against us, but I wasn't ready to bring a baby into a situation that might not be such smooth sailing in a few months.

"We have to think about Grayson too though," I pointed out. "He's had a lot to deal with the last few months, a lot of big changes. Throwing a sibling at him on top of everything else might be a little bit cruel."

"That's true," Chris relented, looking a bit defeated for a moment until a smile slid onto his face. "He'll be such a good big brother though. He'll be so excited to teach him everything he knows."

"Him?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We're going to have another boy, are we?"

"Him or her," Chris shrugged. "I'd be happy either way."

I couldn't help, but smile at his enthusiasm. It was a nice thought even if it was clearly a more distant fantasy for me than it was for Chris.

"One day," I assured him. "I love you, Chris."

"I love you too."

With a strength that never ceased to amaze me, he then stood from the couch, lifting me up with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, giggling at the impressive feat as he carried me to our bedroom where we spent the rest of the night showing some physical appreciation and love for each other.

December

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

93 notes · View notes

thatgirlwhowritesbooks · 3 years

Text

Smoke Break - A Nace Fic

I’ve had about a million different Nace fanfic ideas rolling around inside my head lately, so last night I wrote one of them. I’m pretty sure this has been done before, but this is my take on the smoke break conversation Nancy mentions having with Ace in 1x01. Inspired by the fact I’m about to start rewatching the show for the third time before season 3 starts in the fall. Enjoy?

Smoke Break

The lunch rush almost did her in.

It was Nancy’s fourth day on the job at The Claw—and her fourth day of work ever—and she already wanted to quit.

Coastal Maine towns in the summer were a bitch, and Horseshoe Bay was no exception. The entire town was a tourist trap, and The Claw was the best (not to mention only) seafood restaurant for miles. Anyone visiting from outside the state just had to stop in for a lobster roll—which was mostly what Nancy served to people all day, every day. She had lost track of how many of her customers had excitedly informed her that eating a Maine lobster roll was on their bucket list.

What kind of person put eating a ridiculously overpriced lobster roll on their bucket list?

It was halfway through the exceptionally busy shift that George tapped her on the shoulder, hard—so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. “Drew,” she said, unsmiling. “Go take your fifteen.”

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. The entire dining room was full, and there were at least five large groups of people waiting patiently outside for a table. This was the busiest she had seen it yet.

And the busiest she ever wanted to see it.

“Thanks, George,” Nancy said gratefully, earning nothing but a glare from her former classmate.

“Don’t thank me. It’s company policy. Now get your ass out of here. Your fifteen is now a fourteen.” Turning on her heel, she stormed off in the direction of Bess, one of the other newer waitresses, who appeared to be struggling with a large table of ten people that was half adults, half kids, and all chaos. It was probably going to result in a huge tip, but Nancy was glad she hadn’t been assigned to that party. She didn’t have the patience for that.

She headed for the back room and retrieved her phone from her locker before exiting out the back door. She was instantly hit with a blast of hot, humid air, and she almost contemplated going right back inside where it was nice and air conditioned. But despite it being almost intolerably hot, it was quiet outside—unlike the madhouse inside. All she could hear were the crashing waves in the water and the squawking of seagulls in the parking lot looking for dropped food, and she welcomed it.

Staring down at her phone, Nancy slowly made her way over to the lone employees-only picnic table that was inconsiderately located right next to the dumpster. She was about to sit down when a voice spoke behind her, startling her.

“Having fun yet?”

Nancy nearly dropped her phone before spinning around to see who had spoken to her.

Leaning up against the side of the building was one of The Claw’s dishwashers—Ace. She’d met him on her first day—another hectic, busy day—but hadn’t really gotten to know him yet. She hadn’t really gotten to know anyone yet. Just the way she liked it.

She’d been aware of Ace’s existence before meeting him at The Claw. They’d gone to the same high school together, although he’d been a senior when she was a freshman, so their paths never crossed. He looked different now than he had back then. He looked taller. His hair was longer. He’d filled out a little—like he spent at least a couple days a week at the gym. He was cute. No, wait. He was hot. Not really her type—he seemed like a bit of a stoner—but he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“Sorry,” he continued before she could answer his question. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Nancy said with a dismissive wave. “I was just a little startled. I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

Ace nodded. “Yeah. George yelled at me two minutes ago to take my break.”

Nancy smirked. “You too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she yell at employees a lot?”

“All the time,” Ace said with a furrowed brow. He lifted his fingers up to his lips and it wasn’t until then that Nancy noticed he was holding onto a cigarette.

“You’re a smoker, huh?” she asked, wanting to immediately facepalm. He was holding onto a lit cigarette. Of course he was a smoker.

Ace took a long drag and shook his head as he slowly let the smoke back out of his lungs. “Nah. I only smoke when I’m feeling stressed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve had this same pack for two months now, and it’s still mostly full.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t get stressed too often, then?”

“Not really,” he replied. “For the most part, I like to keep things chill.”

“So, then, what are you stressed about right now?” Nancy asked, hoping she wasn’t coming across as being too nosy.

“George yelling at me,” he deadpanned.

Nancy chuckled. “Well, with the way things are going for me with George right now, I might have to bum one of those off you sometime.”

“Anytime,” he said, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “Sharing is caring is my motto.”

Nancy smiled. “That’s a great motto to have. But I was mostly joking. I don’t do cigarettes.” She motioned to her chest. “Virgin lungs.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Something about the way he said it—his voice soft and almost flirty—made Nancy pause. Although, there was no way Ace could be flirting with her. In the only four days she’d been working with him, she’d already been made very aware of his crush on Bess. George had grumbled about it under her breath when she didn’t know anyone was listening, but even if Nancy hadn’t overheard that piece of information, she would have quickly figured it out herself. The guy wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“I probably won’t be here long enough to share too many smoke breaks with you, anyway,” Nancy said, turning her attention to her phone.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work.”

“What kind of work do you think you’re cut out for, then? Sleuthing?”

Nancy’s eyes snapped back up to him, narrowing suspiciously. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, because you’re the Hero of Horseshoe Bay,” he said with a grin. “The famous Nancy Drew, girl detective.”

Nancy could feel a humiliated blush spread across her cheeks. He knew about that? Oh, right, of course he did. He’d lived in Horseshoe Bay his whole life, just like she had. And she’d made the news quite frequently growing up. She would have been shocked if he hadn’t known about that.

“You’re a pretty big celebrity around this town, you know,” Ace continued. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time to ask for your autograph.”

“Oh, is that right?” Nancy chuckled again. “I’d hold off on that request for now if I were you. Maybe I was famous as a ‘girl detective’, but I’m nothing as the girl who tanked her grades her senior year and might never get into her dream school.”

All traces of amusement left Ace’s face as he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

What was she talking about? This was the first time she had admitted it out loud to anyone. She couldn’t tell her father the truth. She couldn’t tell her friends either because those friends had already decided to move on with their lives without her. Apparently, staying behind in Horseshoe Bay to wait tables for a living instead of heading straight off to college was not sophisticated enough for them.

“I…” Nancy began but then stopped, clamping her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to tell that story.

Slowly, Ace made his way over to the picnic table and sat down beside her, although leaving plenty of empty space between them. He turned his head to look at her, waiting silently for her to continue.

She appreciated the fact he wasn’t trying to pressure her to elaborate. She could tell from the look on his face that he was very interested in hearing what she had to say, but he wasn’t going to force her to say it if she didn’t want to.

And, surprisingly, that made her want to.

“I…tanked my grades my senior year,” she repeated finally. “After she…after my mom died.” She lowered her gaze to her lap.

“Kate Drew,” Ace said softly. “Our guidance counselor.”

Nancy nodded.

“I liked her. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Nancy said, “Yeah, me too.” She paused for a moment before continuing. The death of her mother was still very raw. She still cried herself to sleep every night, hoping to wake up the next morning to find out it was all just a bad dream. “Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just…I couldn’t deal. So, I gave up on all my schoolwork and I let my grades plummet. I suddenly didn’t care about trying to get into Columbia anymore or becoming an investigative journalist—which is, by the way, what I think I’m actually cut out for. I just gave up. And honestly? I don’t regret it. Even if it means I’m stuck in this town for at least the next year, getting constantly bitched out at work by the girl who hated my guts in high school.”

She paused for a beat, before sneaking a glance over at Ace. “You must think I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

Ace shook his head. “No. Not at all. Although, I’m not exactly in any position to judge, anyway. I mean, look at me. I’m three years out of high school, and I’ve been working here as a dishwasher the entire time.”

“Well, what about you?” Nancy asked. “Have you ever thought about going to college? Is there anything you want to be when you grow up?”

A small smile played at his lips as he stared down at the ground. “As a matter of fact—” he began, but then stopped and immediately wiped the smile off his face. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “Not really.”

Nancy eyed him curiously. He was about to say something. But what? “Not really, huh?”

“Yeah.” The smile returned. “I don’t really care to have any life plans or aspirations right now. I’m sort of a…free spirit, I guess you could say. I just want to take things as they come.”

“A free spirit,” Nancy echoed before adding with a slight smirk, “And a deep soul.”

She wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired her to add that last part, but there was something about this guy that made her think there was a lot more to him than he was letting on.

He was a bit of a mystery.

Maybe if she stuck around long enough at this job and got to know him a little better, she could solve that mystery someday. As Nancy Drew, girl detective.

Ace turned to look at her and when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were, matching the color of the ocean that bordered their town. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out the back door flew open, and George poked her head out.

“Break’s over, you two,” she barked. She didn’t wait for them to respond before retreating inside the restaurant and slamming the door shut behind her.

Both amused, Nancy and Ace simultaneously stood from the bench.

“Ready for round two?” he asked her. “If you think the lunch rush is bad, just wait until the dinner rush.”

Nancy groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Here.” Ace reached back into his pocket, retrieved the pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and handed it to her. “Take this.”

Hesitantly, Nancy reached up to take it from him. “I’m not going to smoke this, you know.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes it helps just knowing it’s there if you need it.”

They began their short trek to the back door, where Ace proceeded to open it and motion for her to go in first.

“And hey,” he added, “if you do ever decide you’re ready to try it and you need a light, you know where to find me. I’ll be where the dirty dishes are.”

Another smile—this one almost too big to fit on her face—graced Nancy’s lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled this many times in one day. It had been a long time.

“Thanks, Ace,” she said, brushing past him through the open door. “I really appreciate that.”

Ace was right—the dinner rush did turn out to be way worse than the lunch rush. George yelled at her at least three more times before her shift was over, Bess broke at least three plates and two glasses, and one kid threw up all over the floor right in front of her. And she hated to admit it, but more than once, that lone, unlit cigarette in her locker called out to her, and she was tempted to see if it would help to cut down on her own stress levels. But Ace had already left for the day, so there’d be no one there to light it for her.

But she knew he’d be there tomorrow if she needed him. And for now, anyway, that was enough.

#nace #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #nace fanfic

77 notes · View notes

jonsa101 · 3 years

Text

New Amsterdam Season 3x7: The Groundwork to Heal and Rebuild

Last night’s episode truly blew me away. It’s definitely one of the best episodes in the series. To be honest, I was incredibly anxious about how the show would handle systemic racism in the healthcare system but I think the writers did a beautiful job. I love how they have redirected Max’s story. It truly is a great character shift. Max has gone from the “how can I help” guy who tries to solve everything and usually always succeeds at it, to the guy who fails miserably and in frustration even throws in the towel. It’s so refreshing because the Max we had before this shift was unrealistic. This season is so good because this season feels real and authentic and Max though idealistic, is finally getting a big dose of reality in how he operates. I don’t think the show is ever going to give us season 1 or 2 Max again and that’s a good thing! That means our male lead is finally growing and evolving. It’s character development baby and we love to see it! I also love where the storyline is going for Helen. I have always had a head canon that Helen has some wild baby sister that would pop into her life to live with her and Helen would look out for her and take her under her wing. The story line with Meena is way better than my head canon and kinda falls in line with what I’ve always imagined. I’m so happy that Helen has a niece and that she’s moving in with her! This is literally the PERFECT ROLE for Helen. There’s nothing better than having a character who struggles with being vulnerable than literally having an unexpected character show up to shake things up and unroot the vulnerabilities/traumas said character has yet to deal with.

A lot of people couldn’t understand why Helen gave up her relationship with Cassian because of her niece but I completely understand where she’s coming from. Helen is completely out of her depth here. She wanted a baby and had know plans to take in her brother’s child let alone a teenager. This is completely new territory for her and the stress of having to juggle this new role, a new relationship and her already hectic job at New Amsterdam was probably overwhelming. Like most people who have a type A personality, she is doing what she feels like she has to do to get ready. Meena moving in with Helen is purposeful on so many levels and there are three things I’m expecting to see on screen because of it.

First, we are going to see so much more of Helen on a personal level. I fully expect to see Helen’s home life way more frequently as we see her step into this aunt/mother role and raise a teenager. This is not going to be a walk in the park. Helen is going to STRUGGLE. Meena will more than likely push Helen’s buttons to know end and and bring out all the vulnerabilities that she tries so hard to keep down. It will be probably be a bit ugly at first but as Helen and Meena start to bond and find common ground, Helen will FLOURISH. We will see her at her best as she thrives in this aunt/mother role. Second, Meena is absolutely going to peep the feelings that Max and Helen have for each other and she’s going to let her opinions be known. For the most part, teenagers know how to read the room and I’m pretty sure Meena will be know different. As Helen and Meena grow closer and as she possibly interacts with Max as well, I’m pretty confident Meena will say something and play a small part in pushing Max and Helen together. Of course this is just a prediction but usually a third character calls out the obvious “Unresolved Sexual Tension” between love interests and my money is on Meena! Third, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Helen stepped down from deputy medical director to step into this aunt/mother role as Max tries to be a single father to Luna while also trying to fill a mother void in Luna’s life. When we were heading into the season finale and going into season 2, I wrote a meta detailing my thoughts about how I felt about Helen deciding to be Max’s doctor again. I didn’t necessarily agree with the decision because I believed that Helen needed to remain true to the emotional and professional boundaries she was trying to set for herself. I also believed that because it was indicated Max and Helen had feelings for each other, her role needed to shift going forward in their relationship. It took two seasons but Helen’s role has finally shifted! 🙌🏾 She is no longer Max’s doctor or deputy medical director and for once Max no longer has the crutch/excuse of trying to navigate how he feels about her through that lense!!! THIS IS HUGE!!!

Max now has to truly sit there with his feelings and feel the absence of not going to Helen for everything because of the necessity of the roles she once had in his life. He will quickly come to terms with the fact that not only is he in love with her but he’s truly wants and needs her as his LIFE PARTNER! On top of that, Ryan has literally been teasing that Max is looking for not only a partner but a mother/mother role for Luna and he’s trying to figure that out fast (I will literally link the article). Max already knows Helen’s desire to be a mom but he will literally get the chance to see Helen step into that role with Meena! This isn’t by accident and it’s all purposeful. I’ve said this a hundred times and I’ll say it again, the showrunners are setting the groundwork for them to get together this season. Something has shifted. There’s a deep longing and desperation behind Max and I genuinely believe that he is consumed with his feelings for her. Through a bathroom door he was trying to convince Helen to be co-medical director to help battle systemic racism but while he’s trying to convince her, through subtext, he is essentially asking her to be his partner in life! I saw someone mention on Twitter that it was basically a proposal in a joking manner but honestly, that’s exactly what it was. It was a subtext laced proposal! His feelings are so all consuming that he can’t truly stay on the topic at hand!!! I think Max is on the verge of the floodgates bursting wide open and he is going to lay everything out on the table. Also, seeing Max’s behavior last night oddly reminds me a bit of Mr. Darcy in the Pride and Prejudice. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Darcy and Max don’t have the same mannerisms but the depth of the feelings they have for their love interests and how it manifests feels the same. I’ll get into this more at the conclusion of this meta.

Anyway, when I look at the season in it’s entirety so far, I see the show setting up two people that both have to develop and heal in specific areas so that they can eventually come together by the end of the season. Helen is struggling with vulnerability, feeling like she’s running out of a time with the desires she truly wants in life and now in the most unexpected way is being thrust into aunt/motherhood. Max’s idealism has been completely rocked by the pandemic and now more than ever he’s forced to be more self aware of his actions and needs to evolve from the chronic hero syndrome. He’s also essentially stepping into fatherhood again as he tries to learn and navigate being a single dad and making Luna his first priority. I think for a time Max and Helen will need to face their issues head on by themselves but as they go through their own healing journeys, they’re going to need each other. Also, they’re DEEPLY IN LOVE so even though it seems like they’re drifting a part it’s only going to be temporarily. Eventually, they’ll start “burdening” each other again.

Another important point that I want to bring up is this. In the last meta that I wrote, I mentioned how I believed that Max needs to go above and beyond to try meet Helen’s needs and support her and I genuinely believe that we will see that throughout this season. In last night’s episode, after he poured his heart out and told her that he’s grateful that she’s there with him, Helen resigned as deputy medical director. The old Max would have put up a fight and put his needs before hers because he wants her there with him but despite it being painful, he accepted her resignation. That’s growth! Taking Helen out of the equation as his number two at the hospital is going to make him so much more aware of her needs in her personal life rather than the needs of the hospital. They’re relationship has always been so intertwined with their work at New Amsterdam that Max hasn’t learned to truly prioritize Helen outside of that but this season he’s definitely going to. The absence of Helen in his literal everyday work life with the combination of his overwhelming feelings will eventually lead to a wild pursuit. A pursuit to know her heart, her wants, her needs and most importantly a pursuit to be with her.

My last point is this! I’ve made some pretty bold predictions this season about where I see Max and Helen going. Again, I think something MASSIVE is on the horizon and I honestly still think that by the end of this season Max and Helen might very well be engaged!! I don’t know Fam they’re just giving me this vibe especially Max! Last night solidified to me that he is getting to a place where his feelings are beginning to overwhelm him. This brings me back to Mr. Darcy. I believe Mr. Darcy and Max are at the same emotional level when it comes to how they feel about their significant others. When it was to much to bare for Mr. Darcy not only did he declare his love for Elizabeth but he proposed. He literally went from 0-100. Though Elizabeth rejected his first proposal, he proposed again and the second time around they had both done the work that they needed to in order to understand each other better and realize that they loved each other. I can’t help but think of Darcy saying

“You have bewitched me body and soul and I love I love I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.”

Is it just me or is Max acting a little bit like Helen has bewitched him body and soul? He’s all over the place when it comes to her lately and his body language has changed too! Did anyone else peep how closely Max and Helen were sitting next to each other? It was so intimate for a second I thought they were going to kiss or he was going to grab her hands. I don’t know it just screamed desire to me. Also, this ongoing theme were he tells her that he “can’t do this without her” or he’s grateful that “she’s here with him” to me is in the same light of Darcy telling Elizabeth that he never wants to be parted from her. From season two onwards Max has openly expressed wanting/needing Helen by his side. Now that we are in season 3, it seems like Max need for this has only gotten deeper. I make this comparison to say that the underlying vibe of how we are seeing Max and Helen unfold this season to me points to something incredibly tangible happening between them at season end.

The thing about Max and Helen is that yes, they are a slow burn but at the same time they’re also a 0-100 type of couple. I want to write another meta to explain this in detail but what I’ll say here is that if circumstances were different in season 1 and Max wasn’t married, Max and Helen would have probably been the type of couple who got married within a couple of months of knowing each other. Also, from my perspective, once Max and Helen finally let each other know how they really feel, it’s not going to be a thing where they’re just dating like with Cassian or Panthaki. It’s going to be like it’s a wrap, I’m all in, you are my person, this is it for me type thing. It’s going to be commitment! I feel like people forget but this show started in 2018. In September it will be four years since the show premiered. Granted COVID happened in 2020, but essentially Max and Helen have been doing this tango for awhile now. The expectation should be that we are finally going to see things come into fruition in a major way this season because that’s 1000% what I believe. Everything in my gut is telling me that the time is now and they are setting them up to do groundwork to heal so that they can rebuild together. A new chapter for them is on the horizon and I’m so excited about it!

#sharpwin #new amsterdam #max goodwin #helen sharpe #max x helen #sharpwin meta #new amsterdam meta

106 notes · View notes

whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Nemesis - Part 2

I’m so glad that you guys are enjoying this new series! Work was pretty hectic for me today, but here is the next part, albeit a little late.

For the last vote, A won out, meaning that Hero is going to attempt to a more direct approach to aiding Villain. Though, the things they see in this part may just change their mind.

CW//Shapeshifting, cartoon violence, insults, being called ‘worthless,’ interventions, residential medical facilities, flashbacks

The blow came out of nowhere.

It was a rhetorical statement as much as it was a completely literal one. That didn’t matter in the moment, however-- the fist had very much struck Hero in the back of their head, causing them to stumble forwards.

Before them, their assailant rematerialized from thin air, gasping with a smirk upon their face. They blew on their knuckles, as if blowing smoke from a firearm’s muzzle. Stupid, arrogant kid.

“Come on!” The villain taunted. “I thought you were supposed to be good.”

Hero didn’t bother to transform before they leapt; they did that mid-air, curled fingers turning into canine claws before them. Said claws were aimed truly at the villain a few feet ahead, directed at their panicked expression.

Suddenly, Hero felt to be on the edge of a roof. Facing a completely different foe.

Throwing themself to the ground was not a conscious choice, but it was the action that they took.

The hero in lupine shape skidded to the ground, head spinning as it struck concrete. By the time they were back to all four paws, their opponent was long gone. In their wake, the door slammed closed.

Why did they...

No. This villain looked nothing like them. They shook their head, turning back to human form in order to begin tearing out the door.

The laboratory was a nightmare to navigate. White walls stretched far further than they had any right to, all looking terribly identical. Had it been any other situation, Hero would have found themself hopelessly lost.

But they could make a pretty good guess where their target had run off to. It was probably the hall where the shouting and banging was emanating from.

Hero skidded about a corner, forgetting momentarily that in human form they lacked dewclaws, causing them nearly to fall. They did not, however, turning the corner and stopping before they collided with the active battle.

Leader swore loudly as they failed to land a blow on the villain. However, their attacker missed in turn, putting themself in such a position that allowed Teammate to grab them from behind.

The villain yelled and struggled. Almost as if they’d just fallen from the roof of a building, and were now screaming, fighting back against those trying to hold them down.

Hero was on a collision course with Teammate before they so much as realized it. Halfway through the movement, their body turned from human to that of a far more formidable wildcat, easily sending their friend sprawling on the white tile. In turn, the villain their friend had been restraining freed themself.

Leader was too stunned, in the moment, to react. By the time everyone in the corridor had returned to their senses, their opponent had long since dematerialized and left.

Leaving only the three Heroes in the hallway. Two heads turned to stare at the third.

Hero’s feline ears turned back a moment, an expression that was translated to flushing as they returned to human form. Teammate pried themself off the floor, brushing dust from their uniform.

“Sorry.” Hero dipped their head.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Leader snapped. In comparison to the quiet building, it sounded like a gong being struck. “We almost had them!”

“I was, uh, trying to get them on the ground.”

“I had it handled.” Teammate commented in a far calmer tone of voice. “I don’t think we have any chance of catching up to them now, though.”

“No. Probably not. No thanks to someone.” Leader shook their head. “We were so damn close.”

“And they got the medicines too.” Teammate added.

“They what?”

“The medicines?”

“I thought those were secured.”

“Well... They were. And then they took them.”

“Oh my god, you two are stupid.” Leader hissed through gritted teeth. “Hero, what happened in the other room? I thought you had them pinned.”

“They got away.”

“You two are so stupid. I asked for a team, and this is what I get... Worthless. Well, it’s a lost cause, now. Let’s get back to the car.”

Hero and Teammate hung their heads, but weren’t about to argue. They began their walk out of the building in silence, a silence that continued until they had traversed a few flights of stairs. That was when Leader spoke up, once again, some of the most acute venom seeming to have left their voice.

“Hero... You seem nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“I know you can fight better than what I just saw. I want to know why.”

“I guess... I guess I’m not sure.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

No. Of course they weren’t sure, because it was a lie. The night prior, after their diner meeting with Hacker, they had not succeeded in getting a single second of sleep. Now, they felt like their legs-- however many they happened to have at the moment-- were made of jello.

“I’m sure. I just need some sleep.”

“And then you’ll be back to normal?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I need my best fighter back in shape. Villains don’t catch themselves, y’know.”

Except, sometimes, they did. Sometimes they tripped, right off the edge of a roof. And, sometimes, their fall haunted the dreams of the hero who had caused it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The dorms at HQ were a lot of things. They were cramped, and cluttered, and the thermostats never seemed to work quite right. All of that, though, was normal. A life spent living in apartments and dorms had gotten Hero plenty used to making themself comfortable in small quarters.

The bad thing about them was that, living in an enclosed space with the same people for years on end, it became just about impossible to pretend they weren’t home when someone knocked on the door.

That didn’t mean they didn’t try every single time, however.

Hero nestled themself further under the blankets that covered them, burying their head beneath their pillow in an attempt to block out the incessant knocking. Eventually, they gave up, shouting back:

“Hero isn’t home. You can’t come in.”

“If Hero isn’t home how are they talking to me?” Came Teammate’s joking cadence.

“This is a recording. Please come back later or not at all.”

“Well, can I at least come in and talk to a recording of Hero?”

“Fine.”

Hero rolled over, staring at the ceiling a moment before getting off the bed to let their friend inside. They were smiling, which was automatically a red flag.

Teammate found themself a seat on the couch shoved into the corner of the dorm, while Hero returned to their bed, collapsing dramatically onto their back.

“I have a feeling that you know why I’m here.” Teammate started, in that weird voice they used when trying to calm down a civilian.

“What are you, my therapist?”

“No. But I am worried about you.”

“I told Leader already. I’m just tired.”

“Is that why you tackled me out of nowhere?”

“I was trying to tackle the villain.”

“While I was already holding them?”

“Can you just drop it? I’m fine. I just need to go to bed early tonight.”

“it’s not just today, though. You’ve been acting weird all week. Maybe longer.”

“Have not.”

“When you froze up on that roof?”

“Nope.”

“When you pretended to be sick so you didn’t have to go to that ceremony at the university?”

“Had a cold.”

“When you just let a villain punch you in the face?”

“I- Why do you have to be right all the time?”

“Not all the time. But I think everyone has been getting a bit worried about you. You haven’t been acting yourself... We just want to help. Are you sick? You can be honest with me.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine. Physically, I’m fine. So I should be fine and dandy.”

Teammate nodded.

“The anniversary.”

“You remembered?”

“They had it on the news. Though I have a feeling you didn’t need any help remembering.”

“No.”

“How many days has it been, now?”

“374.”

“Nine days since the anniversary of Villain’s capture. Nine days you’ve been acting weird. That’s an awfully interesting coincidence.”

“I’m worried about them.” Hero dipped their head. “I can’t- I can hardly sleep.”

“You’re worried about Villain?”

“Well- I’m not worried about them. Of course I’m not worried about them, they’re a villain. But...”

“But?”

“It’s been over a year, and there’s been no news. You’d think they’d be like, fighting back, or trying to escape, or something.”

“Is that what you’re worried about, them escaping?”

How were they supposed to escape when they couldn’t even open their eyes?

“I guess so, yeah. It doesn’t seem right for them to be so docile like that.”

“The rehabbers are very good.”

“I know they are. But Villain is... they’re the worst! When they were captured the city threw a parade! They’ve hurt so many people. And now they’re just gone.”

“You think they’re planning something?”

“I guess.”

“Well... why don’t you go see them?”

“What?”

“It’s not like they’re being held on some secret Alcatraz. The rehab place is just across the city. They’ll probably let you in if you just go up and ask.”

“You really think that would work?”

“Why not? Villain is probably just going to like, spit on you or something, but if it’s worrying you this much, just go see them. You’ll see that they’re under control, and then maybe you won’t tackle me anymore?”

“I’ll try not to.” Hero chuckled. “You think that’s gonna work?”

“It’s worth a try. Besides, maybe Villain will be better, this time. Those rehabbers are crazy good at their jobs. I don’t think a single villain has come out of their still being, like, evil. They have a one hundred percent success rate, as far as I know.”

Almost one hundred percent.

Almost.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

This was stupid.

It was the only thing Hero could think about, sitting there in the parking lot, staring at the building with its cute little picket fence and brightly-colored exterior.

It was a stupid plan. They had spent so long the night prior, overthinking the few brief words they had exchanged with Hacker.

Villain needed to leave that place.

At the very least, they needed to... Hero didn’t know what they needed. They needed to be contained, certainly. They were dangerous. Too dangerous to be free. But they at least deserved to be awake.

Did they?

Yes. Of course they did. If asked, Hero was unsure if they could truly defend their position on the matter, but they knew that Villain did not deserve to be in the state that they currently suffered. It wasn’t right.

That wit. That tongue. Those sharp, intelligent eyes.

Villain did not deserve to be drowned in sedatives until they could no longer remember their own name.

It did not matter where they went. Where they were contained. So long as they were allowed to be awake. Allowed to live.

They at least deserved that much.

But... Hero had no power over such things. Every possible plan they had concocted fell apart as soon as they tried to think it through. Certainly, despite its cutesy exterior, this building was heavily guarded. Even if they did manage to get Villain out of the facility, where would they take them? Hell, as soon as they were out, Villain would probably tear their throat out!

They should have just gone right back to the HQ and forgotten the whole affair. But that image of their foe, dead to the world, would not leave their mind. It was burned into their eyelids. They saw it when they blinked.

Hero had no plan. But, they had a car, and a near complete lack of self restraint.

They had no intention of going in guns blazing. They’d be taken out in seconds, and would probably land in the very same facility, being “rehabilitated.” But, if they could at least get in, then that was a significant hurdle leapt.

And they had the perfect plan to achieve that step.

Hero’s hadn’t even realized just how white their knuckles had grown from having gripped the steering wheel with such force for so long. Their fingers ached as they removed them from the wheel, exiting the vehicle.

For a moment, they stood there.

The only sort of barrier between the facility and the outside world was a white picket fence, only a few feet in height. A moderately athletic cat could jump it. A villain would have no difficulty.

Beyond the fence, the building looked almost like any medical clinic. Decorative windchimes hung from the awning overtop the entrance, which was little more than a pair of glass doors. There wasn’t even a visible lock. From either side of the main part of the structure, wings of patient rooms stretched, their windows decorated with childish crafts made of construction paper and glue.

It looked more like a civilian hospital than something holding the city’s most dangerous criminals.

Hero hated just how nervous they felt, opening the gate to the picket fence and approaching the front door. Their suspicions were correct-- the doors were unlocked, and a bell above them even chimed as they were opened.

The lobby beyond was small, consisting of only a single desk, at which a lab-coated person typed on a computer. As Hero entered, they looked up. Their eyes widened.

“Hero?” Their mouth was almost agape. “I didn’t think we were expecting a visit from you.”

“Sorry about that. It’s kind of a more... spur of the moment thing.”

“Oh? How can we help you?”

Hero approached the desk, trying to hide the way their finger refused to stop twitching.

“I...” Their shoulders slumped. They weren’t an actor by any means, but they had gotten plenty of practice in lying to Leader about how long they had spent in the gym. “A bit over a week ago, it was the one year anniversary of Villain’s capture.”

“Was it? Time flies, I suppose.”

“I was wondering if I could see them.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?”

“I’m just a little... suspicious. I want to make sure they’re doing alright. That they aren’t planning anything.”

“Hm... Well, I can understand your concern, but I assure you that Villain has been a model patient.”

“Even so... Can I see them?”

Hero could see the tips of the Labcoat’s ears growing red.

“Let me talk to the head doctor.” They stood from their desk, notably turning off their computer as they did so. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”

“No need.”

At the back of the small lobby area, a door opened, revealing a man wearing a pair of blue scrubs and a warm smile.

“I’m right here, Labcoat. Is there something you need- Oh my goodness, Hero in the flesh! For what do we get the honor?”

“Um-”

“They want to see Villain.”

That dropped Head Doctor’s smile pretty quick.

“I see.” They nodded, nearing the desk. “Wanting to visit the old nemesis, hm?”

“I just want to make sure they’re doing alright. That they aren’t... planning anything.”

Head Doctor frowned a moment, before sighing.

“I’m sorry, Hero. And to think you came all this way. But I’m going to have to say no. You see, Villain has had a hard day, today. Usually they’re very well-behaved, but they had some trouble today. I don’t think it would be the best idea to rile them up like that, right now. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hero put their hand in their pocket, ensuring that the doctors could not see as they balled it into a fist.

“I understand.” They nodded, trying their best not to grit their teeth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s terribly unfortunate. If you had just come another day... But I don’t want to waste your time entirely. And it’s such a terribly long drive across town.” Again, Head Doctor’s countenance was brightened by a grin. “You won’t be able to see your nemesis today, but how about a tour? You can speak to our other patients, if you would like. They’re eating lunch right about now.”

A tour.

Hero could work with that.

“That would be great. Are you sure it’s... Are you sure it’s safe? Not that I’m worried or anything, but.”

“Of course it’s safe. It’s always safe, here. Come on. I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you.”

Yeah. Delighted.

Head Doctor’s blue scrubs rippled under the bright florescents as they turned, heading back towards that door at the rear of the room. It felt almost too good to be true, but Hero wasted no time in following suit.

This door, unlike the others, was metal, and required a key to be passed through. It opened with a rather heavy creak, and clicked solidly as it closed behind Hero. They almost jumped.

If they were being quite honest, they had never really thought about where villains went after they were locked up. Like a hunting dog, they had little care where their prey ended up, only that they retrieved it. If they had to guess where their fallen foes ended up, they would have likely described a well-secured concrete building, complete with snipers and barbed wire.

Not a cute little hospital ward.

The door from the lobby opened into a wide-open, carpeted space, decorated by several sofas and a television, alongside a few well-stocked bookshelves. Beyond it, three hallways sprouted-- one to the front, and one to the left or the right.

Every door was wood.

“We call this the commons.” Head Doctor explained with a smile. “A sort of... hang out space. And those two halls lead to the patients rooms. Not much to see there.”

In an awfully hurried manner, they lead Hero forwards, into the hallway that led straight out from the commons. It was wide, with several doors on either side. Yet, not a single window.

“This is where me and my colleagues work, most of the the time. It’s mostly offices for our therapists. And that one, there, is my office.”

During the whole explanation, they did not stop walking forwards. They only did so at the end of the hallway, where a door was embedded.

“Um... This is the dining hall, just past this door. Everyone is eating lunch right now. I assure you that it’s perfectly safe, but I understand if you don’t want to see some of your, um, old foes.”

“It’s fine.” Hero did their best to smile. “Is Villain in there?”

“No. They decided to eat lunch in their room today.” Head Doctor chimed, opening the door. From behind it, there was no sound.

Nothing that Head Doctor said had been untrue. The dining hall was clean, immaculately so, scattered with plastic tables and chairs, both painted to look as though they were made of wood. Each table only sat two people, and most of them were full.

Full of the city’s worst. Villains who had hurt people, who had killed dozens.

They seemed happy enough, at least based upon the expressions on their faces. It was just about as typical as a cafeteria during mealtime could get.

Except for the quiet.

Even with the two dozen or so people sitting and eating, not a single one spoke. Each and every one of them seemed intent on sitting and eating the food before them.

Hero scanned the room a moment, gaze eventually setting upon one of the few tables with an empty chair. They didn't recognize the villain very well. They may have had ice-related powers, or something of the like. But they had fought, at least once. And Hero didn’t remember them being that horrible.

It was something. It was the best they were going to get.

“Head Doctor?” They spoke up.

“Yes, Hero?”

“There’s someone else here, I want to speak to.” They gestured towards the villain, sitting alone. Staring at their food. Engrossed. “We used to, um, we fought a lot. I want to talk to them.”

“Oh? Well, that’s just fine by me. It’s always good to reconcile. They’re a model patient. Do you want anything to eat?”

“No thank you.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back at the end of lunch, if that sounds alright?”

“That’s just fine.”

“Splendid! I will see you then, Hero.”

Hero ducked their head in agreement, waiting until the doctor had left before approaching the table. They moved slowly, taking a seat across from the villain that they couldn’t so much as remember the name of. Even as they sat down, the person across from the table did not so much as bat an eye.

They only did so when Hero spoke up:

“Um, hello.”

It was oddly slow, the way in which the villain raised their head. They placed down their fork gingerly, smiling.

“Hello, Hero. I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

“Uh, you neither. How are you doing?”

“I am doing just fine, Hero.” It was terribly stilted, the way in which they spoke, as though they had to carefully consider each word. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Did you come here to visit me?”

“Um, not you specifically. I came here to visit Villain.”

The edges of the villain’s smile flickered a moment, as if continuing to keep them upturned was quickly becoming a major effort.

“You should leave this place, Hero.” Even as they said it, their smile never fell. “It’s not worth it.”

Their hand gripped around the handle of their fork.

“Do you know where they are? Where Villain is?”

“Yes I do, Hero. I did not think you would care. It is you who put them here.”

“I didn’t do anything. Are they-” They looked around, expecting to see at least one guard, one nurse, one orderly. But the dining hall was barren of every person except villains. “Are they okay?”

“If I tell you that, I will end up like them. You do not want to be in this place, Hero. You should leave this place.”

“Um-” A single drop of sweat dripped down the side of their face, tracing their jawline. “I really suddenly need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s right there.” The villain raised a hand, pointing to a door labelled ‘16 - Restrooms′. “The bathroom is in room 43.”

Hero didn’t have to be given the hint twice.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Risk it all and attempt a prison break - Should Hero attempt to free the others, as well?

B.) Don’t take the risk. Leave and reconsider - Should Hero tell anyone what they saw?

#whump #whumpee #whumblr #nemesis #hero villain whump #whump community #villain whumpee #hero villain prompt #hero villain #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump

70 notes · View notes

qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

Text

a double shot for me (with a splash of you)

also known as a coffee shop au no one asked for, but i wanted. aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

word count: 8628

rating: teen, for lots and lots of coffee consumption, baked goods, and falling in love one cup at a time.

Penelope sees it first.

Ever since JJ left, cases fall on her more and more. Those pesky paper files that the FBI insists on keeping around. Dark manila folders embossed only to be thrown away. It’s a shame, but those are the ones she has to take up to Hotch’s office.

She makes the climb, moves to his door with purpose. Reaches out to knock, clutching one of her more muted pens in case Hotch needs one to sign. Not likely, but the last time she had one with a fuzzy pink thing on a spring, and the visual of Hotch signing one of their cases with that much... fluff made her eyes cross.

Anyway. She’s up and in, Hotch giving his permission, and the files in her arms get placed in his box.

“Just a couple of signatures,” she informs him.

“Are these finished consults?” he asks, and she fills him on what details she can. It’s while she’s filling him in, though, that he lifts a mug of coffee to his lips.

It’s a new mug. One that she’s never seen on his desk before. Definitely different, because the ones he usually chooses are the kind that the FBI keeps as standard issue, the ones that get stolen and restocked because they’re convenient and... just okay, as far as mugs goes. They hold coffee effectively enough, is what she’s saying.

But this is a mug. A kind of cute mug, with a logo on the front of some coffee shop. It’s white, too, almost a shock on the more somber mahogany of her boss’s desk.

“Garcia?”

She realizes then that she stopped talking. Hotch is staring up at her, mug still poised halfway up to his lips, and she blinks, mouth falling open a little.

“I’m - I’m sorry, sir. I was just admiring that mug you have. Is that place any good? It opened up pretty recently, right?”

He glances at it. Seems to notice it for the first time as well, and his face softens. That’s the only way Penelope can describe it, as if looking at the mug makes him think of something... good.

But when he talks, it’s like any other conversation. As if that little moment she spies doesn’t happen. Nods, face just on this side of neutral.

“Yeah, I like their coffee. Fair prices, too, even with the knowledge that a building full of FBI agents are here to overcharge.”

She chuckles, but it’s for more than the joke. It’s at the fact that Hotch seems that close to smiling himself, and she pulls back from his desk with a little grin. “All right, sir. Thank you.” Her head dips a little.

“Thank you,” he shoots back, and when she leaves, she thinks that maybe she’ll let that place be all his.

The first time Aaron-With-Two-A’s comes into your coffee shop (distinguishing him from Aron-With-One-A and Aahron-With-An-H), you’re pretty smitten with him. You can’t tell if it’s the fitted suit and tie, the jawline, or the small smile he gives you when he orders, but by the time you serve him with an extra bright smile that he kindly returns... well, you’re in love. He could be the love of your life. Especially when he drops a tip in the jar.

An exaggeration, of course. It’s not love.

Maybe.

Anyway, you see him walk out the door and at that point you know that you’ll never see him again. This isn’t the part of town that usually gets the suits, and there are shops closer to where they gather that he’ll probably use next. Your luck is shitty anyway, so anyone like that who brings you a little bit a joy would, of course, never return. You’re already a late bloomer, and known for your bad decisions, so while you’re very thankful for your job you know it’s not luck that landed you where you are.

But you suck it up, of course. You can’t afford to get distracted. You’re the only one working a shift in the afternoons, and that time is used for cleaning and second-guessing every decision you make, along with doing your best to make damn good coffee.

But he comes back. More than once. Get his same order, a very plain black coffee with a couple of sugars, and you hand it over across the bar each time, sometimes going out of your way to put it in his hands. Smiling, your handwriting the scrawl on the cup that spells out his name.

A-A-R-O-N.

He’s becomes a regular, and you feel comfortable calling him that. It isn’t every day he comes in, not even close. Sometimes he’s gone for three weeks at a time, but he always trails back in, bright and early for a hot cup. Soon, you’re adding smiley faces to the end of his name, and the first time you do it you can’t help but peek out behind the pastry case to watch him see it.

He smiles. You smile. It’s a win.

Slowly small talk develops. It’s weeks, pulling little tidbits from him each time you take his order. Basically, what happens is you ramble for too long, he smiles and responds, and the process repeats.

But he seems to enjoy himself, and you definitely are, and as long as the line isn’t held up, you don’t really mind.

Of course, the days aren’t all peaches and cream (though the peach galette you sell always tastes like it). One day, a slower Tuesday, you’re trying to hide the way your chest aches, after a particularly brutal phone call with your mother that brought tears to your eyes.

Why are you wasting your time on this – this coffee shop? she had asked. Mocked. You gave up a lot for that dream of yours, and you’re just scraping by –

And you’d tried to explain. You really had. What it meant to you, to start this on your own, to get away from your past, your bad decisions, your spouse. From what was holding you back. But she snapped, and she scolded, and as you closed your eyes and hung up there had been nothing you could do but gasp for air.

Her words overwhelm you behind the counter, and you close your eyes tight at the memory, not realizing that at the same time, the coffee cup you’re holding overflows.

The coffee scalds you. Because it’s fucking coffee. You let out a cry, dropping the cup all over the floor, grateful it’s only a cardboard one for to-go orders. It splashes your no-longer-clean jeans, and at that moment you’re done. You’re just done. Your hands are shaking, and burned, and you push to the sink in a gasped sob. Your hair falls in your eyes, gets shoved back, and once it falls forward again you reach up to pull at it overwhelmed.

Your name is called out, but you wave the hand that isn’t stinging, splashing water without meaning to when the faucet gets going. “I’m fine, just - just give a minute, I’ll get it right out.”

“Are you okay?”

It’s an innocent question. And you should be more put together, it’s a goddamn customer, but your already shitty day just peaks and you whirl around to snap before even processing who’s in front of you.

“Do I fucking look - oh. Oh, my god.”

It’s Aaron. With two As. The coffee you spilled? His. The voice. His? The look of concern, one that makes your cheeks flush with a red you haven’t felt in a long time? His.

Of course. The one time you yell at a customer, and it just happens to the one you have a raging crush on.

“I’m - I’m so s-sorry,” you stammer. “Like I said, it’ll be right out, I just...” You don’t even know how to recover, instead choosing to turn back to your hand, which luckily is not blistering. It’s just bright red, inflamed. The cold water over it helps, but you can still feel the undercurrent of the sting. However, you still have a job to do and you force yourself to pull way, moving to grab another to-go cup. “I’ll get you a fresh one, okay? Give me a minute.”

“Put your hand back under the faucet.” It’s not an order, but his voice carries the weight of one, and you blink a few times to stop the tears before moving back to the sink, whimpering as the cool once more rushes over your skin. “Do you need me to go get anything? Is there anyone in the back to help you?”

You can’t help your snort. It feels snotty with the tears that you’re just barely holding back. Why is he being so nice? You just make the coffee.

“No. It’s just me this morning. Just my luck, right?” The crushing loneliness of that statement floors you, and you find yourself staring at the running water to avoid his eyes.

The water is the only noise in the room, besides your occasional sniffle. After a moment, you force yourself to pull back from the water, eyes closing tightly as the pain ramps up again. And Aaron is still there, his eyes holding an intense kind of pity, and you realize his hand is reaching for yours.

He clears his throat as you raise a brow at the gesture. “I’m not a doctor, but I have a third-grader at home. Burns are nothing new to me.” You give him a weak smile (of course, he’s a father), and he takes your hand gently, looking over it with that classic intensity. He’s furrowing his brow at it for a while, and the whole time he’s just... holding your hand.

“Your professional opinion?” you ask in a shaky voice, and he hums, turning it over to look at your palm. He looks up at you again, and when he speaks it’s deadpan, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know. I think we’ll have to cut it off.”

There’s a beat, and then you’re sputtering out a laugh before you can stop yourself. He smirks before letting you pull your hand back. The pure shock of the statement brings you back from the edge, and the tears in your eyes seem to vanish as you realize you’re giggling, a hectic kind of sound. He doesn’t seem to mind the horrific noises coming from you, though, because he’s still watching you, one hand sliding into his pocket as his face relaxes.

“You’ll be okay. It’ll heal on its own – just make sure if any blisters appear you don’t pop them.”

He gets a playful glare for his efforts, and you reach for a clean washcloth, soaking it in cold water and wrapping it around the affected hand.

“Any other advice?” you ask him, and his eyes glance toward the coffee on the floor.

“No. Fresh out, but. Let me help you clean up.”

You huff out another laugh. Was he serious? “And ruin your suit?” You gesture to his whole outfit. Hell, he’s got a tie on that screams expensive, shoes that surely are the cost of a full day’s profit. “Trust me. Coffee smell stays with you. And once it’s bad, it’s bad. I’ll get it, after I make you another coffee, one you can actually take with you.”

He doesn’t seem too convinced. For a moment, he looks almost like he’s going to ignore you, take off his jacket, and grab the mop. But no matter how much you would love to see that, you shake your head, and emphasize it again. “No. I’ll do the cleaning.”

Your stern tone gets him to lift his hands, in surrender. You smile, then, a real one, without much snot, and he starts moving towards the door.

“You’ll have a good day, all right?” He says it so… so confidently, so assuredly. And smoothly pulls out his usual two-dollar tip from his wallet, dropping it in the jar.

“You don’t want your coffee?” you call out, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. And then he’s leaving, and you’re trying to think of what to say. Something, anything, to thank him for his kindness.

“Wait!” you cry out. You must sound desperate, because he stops and when he turns back to you, you’re rummaging around behind the counter. You almost completely disappear for a moment before you’re popping back up, your prize in hand.

“Here.” The gift is thrust forward. “To say thank you. Really. You didn’t have to stay, and you did. And. I think my day will be better because of it.”

He takes it from you, turning it over in his hands.

“A coffee mug.”

Suddenly, the gesture feels stupid, and your face flushes as he keeps turning it over in his fingers. “Yeah, I - I would’ve given you a ticket or something, for a free coffee and pastry, but I only printed those for the week of the grand opening. I’m sorry, really, it’s dumb, I can take it back, and we can pretend this never happened -”

But when he looks up at you, you stop talking. The earth has stopped spinning, as far as you’re concerned. His eyes have wrinkles at the corners, because you suppose that’s what happens when he grins. You find yourself tracing them, unable to pull your gaze away. In this light, he looks brilliant. The shine of the early morning sun is dancing on his features, and you feel like an idiot for even thinking it but it’s all you can think.

“I can just… I owe you,” you finally say, and to that he shakes his head.

“No. This is – this is great.” And he means it, chuckling with it.

With a lift of the mug, he turns and goes out the door, leaving you a little agape as the world starts turning once again. And in that moment, the coffee smell is worth it, just so you can watch him disappear from view.

Rossi notices because he notices Aaron.

After all, the man’s life is… pretty routine. There are parts about the job that have him yanked all over the place, but the days that they’re at home, it’s methodical. A comfort in a way, knowing that some things never change.

At work before everyone else. Working the day away. Coming down for lunch (or not, depending what he (or Jess) managed to make at home for him and Jack in the evenings). Going back up, and working until everyone else leaves. He takes phone calls and meetings in his office, and every so often one of the team ventures up to interrupt, but. All in all, a pretty straightforward schedule most days of the week.

Dave doesn’t like to burn the midnight oil unless a book’s got him hooked, or get up too early unless there’s something in it for him, and so he’s always trailing in behind him, still before the others but at a time that’s sane.

Until one day. Aaron comes in a little later, later enough to catch the same elevator, and there’s a look on his face that’s a little… hurried.

There’s a cursory scan – no rumpled clothing, no identifying marks. And Aaron knows that he has eyes on him, because he ducks his head, not looking in his direction. Besides, Hotch isn’t exactly the type for one-night-stands, and so Dave rules it out with a nod and a press of the elevator button.

“Dave,” the unit chief acknowledges, and then steps off of the elevator once they arrive.

So. Something’s up.

Dave doesn’t confront him immediately, though. Just lingers, watches. Hotch knows that eyes are on him, but Rossi’s good enough that that doesn’t matter, especially when it happens again. Another elevator ride together,

“So,” he asks his friend, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Who’s got you running late?”

There’s not an immediate answer. Hell, the guy almost looks chastened at it, like Rossi’s scolding him for coming in at 7:45 instead of 7:15. How dare he make it in only fifteen minutes before eight in the morning?

“There’s this… coffee shop I like to hit before work. Stumbled into it one morning, and…” Hotch murmurs. He pauses, and the numbers keep climbing.

“Yes?”

If anything, Hotch’s face seems to flame, working his jaw for a second as he considers telling Dave what he already figures. “The barista. Think they own it, too, and makes good coffee in the mornings.”

Rossi doesn’t say anything at first. Just chuckles, shaking his head a bit.

“Well. Have you gotten this owner’s number?”

The silence is very telling, and Rossi just laughs.

“Come on, Aaron. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, a rejection, for one,” Hotch replies with a look shot Dave’s way, but the older man just shakes his head again.

“Rejecting a handsome FBI agent who frequently pays the bills? Nah, I think you’ve got it,” he says, with a hand reaching to smack Aaron on the back. It’s that he leaves him with, along with another call over his shoulder.

“Y’know, once you get the number, you probably won’t have to spend so much on coffee!”

The days continue to pass by. Slowly, and surely, your little place seems to get some attention. More customers, more regulars. You manage to remember the names of your people most of the time, too, when the late nights keeping books and thinking of new bakery ideas don’t run away from you. And with those days, Aaron remains.

He still comes in the morning, at the asscrack of dawn. Of course, you don’t call it the asscrack of dawn in front of him, but often you’re still yawning when he comes in and asks for his order. And with it, since he’s so early, he stays to chat more and more. Sometimes, you see him glance at his watch, and excuse himself in a rush, and you can’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought that he just… likes talking to you that much.

There’s worry with it, too. What if he just feels so obligated to stick around? Are you forcing him to stay back longer than he needs to? But those fears are squashed by the way he always looks back to wave at you, lifting the cup of coffee you made him.

Of course, right after that he’s gone.

It’s like he vanishes. No sign of him in the mornings, and you feel a little bit of sorrow over the loss. But of course, immediately there’s a bit of embarrassment with that sorrow. You barely knew the guy, was he really worth a bit of mourning? But he truly just disappears, and for a moment your head comes up with crazy explanations as a way to cope without your early morning conversations, deal with the continued exhaustion that weighs on you as your business grows.

All hope is not lost, however, because it’s another late night into early morning balancing books when you see Aaron next.

It’s been a couple of weeks. You don’t exactly know what he does, but you know it’s something that requires the suit and tie, so you figure it’s important. Maybe a business trip, or something else that kept him away from your shop, but either way, it doesn’t matter. Because he’s back, and he gives you a little smile when you take his order, even when you can only yawn your way through it. The conversations even flow, like they did before, another source of incredible joy.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, on the tail end of yet another jaw-popping yawn. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Your hands lift above your head in a stretch, and his gaze drops to the tip jar where he deposits his normal amount: two dollar bills.

“We all have those mornings,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s not a problem.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have a morning like this,” you tease. Your hands move easily, even in your exhaustion, making his usual order with a flourish. Two sugars, in a little to-go cup, coffee over the top to make sure it’s mixed in. “What’s your secret? Don’t tell me you’re an energy drink fanatic. I’d feel like you were going behind my back.”

“No, no. Just your coffee,” he returns, and it’s easy. Comes out of him without any thought. If you blush, you hope he doesn’t notice, because your face is turned to his cup to make sure it doesn’t overflow.

“You’re too kind.” Lid on top, secured tightly, and when you turn back to him and hand it over, he doesn’t turn away. His comment makes you feel bold, too, so the name you write on it has a winky-face instead of a smiley-face. “Don’t stay away too long, my good days always come when you’re my first customer,” you add, and something seems to… shift.

Because Aaron doesn’t turn away. Smiles at you, at the coffee cup, and then glances back behind him. There’s no one else in the shop, there never is this early – it becomes known around the city as a good place to get a quick bite later in the day, set up and do some studying for a while since the black cups of coffee can be bottomless. But he checks anyway and then passes his coffee cup from one to the other, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a little card.

“I was… politely encouraged by a coworker to take the leap,” he admits, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re offered the little white cardstock, and when you look at it, you see his full name. It feels like a momentous occasion, Aaron-with-two-As shifting to Aaron Hotchner. “And if you’re willing, I would love to go on a date with you. Get to know you more.”

Then there’s a pause, and there’s a cloud of… something. You watch it come and go, and the whole time you just offer the same smile, a smile that seems to rouse him of whatever he’s thinking about.

“But, if you don’t want to, I understand. My work life is pretty hectic, as I’m sure you can guess, and I know you know I have a son –“

“I would love to.”

It’s the easiest thing to say, because you feel it with every fiber of your being. Because Aaron Hotchner seems like a really sweet guy, who works in Quantico and still comes by your coffee shop every morning he can.

“Really, Aaron. I would. As you can guess, my schedule’s pretty routine, but I do close as of right now, so, our dinners might have to be later rather than earlier –“

“Dinners?” he says it with a small smile, and you flush at the slip.

“I didn’t mean to… assume anything, but. Whatever we get a chance to do, or keep doing, I would love to. Just. Give me a second.”

You don’t wait any longer. Your fingers move to your phone, input his number, and immediately send him a text, with your name. When his phone buzzes, you smirk.

“Now you have mine, too. Easy as pie.”

When he leaves, that day, it feels like something special. You don’t know what, just yet, but it feels new, and bright, and good.

Yeah, you think to yourself, I hope we get to do at least a couple of dinners.

Emily notices next.

It’s a later night. The whole team has their nose buried in something, whether it be a consult or a report or, God forbid, something for Strauss. There’s work to be done, and unfortunately the jet life is only a small part of it.

She’s working on a report that particular evening. This case ended a few days ago, but since shots were fired it’s taken longer to sort through. Positioning, discharge time, how many shots, where, at who, with who. A nightmare, but incredibly necessary, and she’s done with it soon enough.

Her coat mocks her as she rises to her feet. So close to picking it up, dressing, and heading out the door. But she mentally promises to be right back, that home is just a little visit to Hotch’s office away.

She climbs the steps, and is glad to see the door is cracked open, that warm lamplight is filtering out from the open blinds. It means that when she knocks, he’ll let her in.

A couple taps of her knuckles. She waits a beat, two. No response.

Huh.

Another tap. Tries to peek in, but the door is just open enough that she can only glance in with one eye. She’s not usually one to snoop without the pushing from Derek or Penelope, but her eyes are tired and she’s ready for a night in with Sergio.

Is he... is he on his phone?

His cell phone?

And smiling?

Her eyes widen a bit, and she pulls back immediately. At this point in the night, Hotch is nothing but business. Tired, like all the rest, and if he’s bent over anything, it’s a file he needs to sign off on. Maybe Jack. Maybe he got a picture from Jess…

But he’s... distracted. And she knows Hotch’s smile when he’s looking at Jack, and what she had seen is not that.

She knocks again. A lot louder, and when he responds, it’s quick. But not quick enough. There’s a beat, and she narrows her eyes.

“Come in.”

She pushes into the room, file in both hands. Immediately her eyes drop to his desk, but his cell is gone. She looks up at him, and he’s looking at her, like nothing’s the matter, like he wasn’t just smiling at his phone –

“Prentiss?” he asks. Brows furrowed at her, their permanent state.

She’s brought back to reality. Because that’s what this is, reality. He was probably just... looking at a picture, or a video, or… something. “Right. Sorry. Just finished up my report for the Douglass case. Wanted to drop it off before I headed out.”

“I’ll sign off on it tonight,” he tells her, and he bends over an open file on his desk. Like nothing ever happened. “Thank you, agent.”

She thinks on that, jogging down to her desk. Glances behind her at the shine of the light from his office. Pulls her coat on, flicks her hair over the collar.

Huh.

Getting to know Aaron Hotchner is a joy.

It’s a little complicated, finding a date that works for the both of you. Not because of anything other than clashing schedules, and it’s a good learning experience to realize that Aaron Hotchner is always on call. But there are points when he’s home, and free, and you finally are churning enough profit for someone else to close in the evenings, so the nights are what work the best.

And dinner is… great. It’s fantastic, really, and you get to know Aaron Hotchner as that, not just Aaron with the great smile and lines at the corner of the eyes. Well, he definitely still has the great smile, but now you know the whole person.

He tells you about his job, what it means to him, and it feels like you’re truly getting to know him. You can tell he’s passionate about what he does, helping people, and you find yourself enthralled by the way he speaks about his position, his team.

“Sometimes it hurts, knowing what we’re leaving behind when we fly back,” he tells you. “But. I also know there isn’t any other group of people I could this with. None of us are perfect, but when we’re together I know we can get the job done.”

Aaron doesn’t get animated, exactly. His passion is a quiet one, simmering deep within him, right where his heart is. He doesn’t talk with his hands, gesticulate or raise his voice. No, he talks with his eyes. In the way he locks gazes with you, looks up at you from the meal, in the way they crinkle with his little smiles and get warm when he mentions his son.

You’re captivated.

And he gets to know you, too, a little. A lot, really, and you feel like you’re rambling, but you’ve got his full attention, a little smile behind his clasped hands as he listens to you wax poetic about the inherent romanticism of owning your own café.

Well. Not really, but it feels like it comes pretty close to that lecture (a different lecture, for a different time).

After all, it’s your place. It’s a place for the college kids in the mornings and the evenings who suck down your cold brew incessantly. It’s a place for the workers at after sunrise, who just want a quick treat before sitting down and doing real jobs. For the curious in the afternoons, who run their fingers over your bookshelves and sit down for a place to think. It’s a place for the nerdy, and the lazy, and the studious, and the dreamers. It’s yours, and it’s kind of romantic.

“I know it’s not a lot of people’s dreams, to open a café. It’s… childish, as my mother would say,” you tell him. “But it’s more than just a shop to me. It’s owning a business, running something on my own, creating new things for people to try. It’s perfecting my bakes, and now, teaching others to. Coming up with recipes is one of my favorite things, even more than the latte flavor of the month. Giving people a place to come and be comfortable, y’know?”

You’re rambling again, and you find yourself hiding behind a sip of your wine, but he’s nodding. Like he gets it.

“I don’t think it’s childish at all,” he tells you, in a tone that makes your heart swell. “A dream is a dream, isn’t it? We all have them.”

And maybe you’re putting a lot on Aaron Hotchner, but it’s nice to get to know someone who understands, even just a little.

One date turns into two, and then three. They’re spread out, over a couple of weeks, the two of you stealing a few hours when you can. It’s the dating life of two very busy people, but neither of you mind. Each pairing of dinner and drinks is full of life and laughter and a little bit of something else.

You feel so guilty when the next time you’re meant to spend time together, another late evening, has to get pushed back. Aaron had warned you that the first cancellation would probably come from him, but it’s you texting at 5:30, letting him know that your usual closer bailed because of the flu.

It’s not a problem for me to take over, but it means that I’m going to be here until 10:00 or 10:30 cleaning up and prepping the dough for tomorrow morning. :(, you say, and add the frowny face for effect. You prefer them over emojis, just because you can’t draw emojis on coffee cups.

Frowny faces are pretty serious, he quips, but your little chuckle is weak when you read it in between orders.

I’m so, so sorry, I know it’s last minute.

Don’t worry, he texts back, quick as can be. I promise I understand. We’ll just do next week.

You’re sure? I can try and find someone to cover for an hour, at 7:30 or so.

Don’t put that stress on yourself. Next week, and it’ll be extra special to make up for it.

So that’s that. Your heart breaks a little knowing you won’t see him, but his words make you feel a little less guilty. Only marginally, really, but you have other things to focus on, like the onslaught of cleaning that comes after the doors are locked.

At 9:30, you’re sending the last stragglers away, which gets you a late start to cleaning up. Your stomach is rumbling, too, because dinner at your home didn’t end up happening.

But at 10:00, when all seems lost, and you’re realizing that 10:30 is going to be more like 11:00, Aaron’s there.

At first you don’t even realize it’s him. You’re so focused on scrubbing and cleaning the espresso machine that the person standing outside isn’t even a thought. But then your phone buzzes, and when you look over, it’s him, with a bag of something that looks like food.

You going to leave me out in the cold?

You snort at the text, shaking your head, lifting your hands and showing the suds to him through the glass. “Two minutes,” you mouth over, and he smiles at that. At you.

You’re hurrying to wash and dry your hands on the towel at your waist, and when you make your way to the door he hasn’t stopped smiling at you. The door unlocks with a clank, and when you pull it open the cold air rushes in, along with Aaron Hotchner. Of course, it’s hard to acknowledge him, when you can smell what he brought you.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be making it up to you?” you remind him, but there’s something weak in your voice when you feel him pull you into a hug. With it, you feel his lips gently press against your hair.

It’s exactly what you needed. A break, some food, and him. And even though it’s only for a short moment, fifteen minutes while you scarf down what he’s brought you, knowing he was there is what pushes you through the end of the night.

And the fact that Aaron sticks around to stack the chairs, his jacket off and sleeves rolled up?

It helps a little bit, too.

Derek’s embarrassed, but he’s the last to catch on. And only because it’s right in his face.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly looking. There were other things to worry about, bigger fish to fry, and Hotch’s love life wasn’t exactly top of the list. But Emily mentions the possibility, and then Garcia, and then even Rossi makes a comment that gets him a dirty look from the boss.

Coming together to gossip about Hotch’s love life is at the very least entertaining and watching the team watch their boss becomes Derek’s pastime. Emily swears that he’s always texting someone with a grin on his face, and Garcia informs them of Hotch’s newest mug and his eyes as he did so (yeah, his eyes). Rossi doesn’t play along as much as the others would prefer, but he has a glint in his gaze when they bring it up.

Derek even does his best to spy, peek around corners when he knows Hotch is close, but even with his best efforts, he comes up empty-handed. For a minute, he almost thinks the team is pulling a prank on him, but his girl insists that something’s up.

“Baby, the look on his face. I’ve never seen such a wistful look at an innocuous cup of coffee before.” The two of them are lingering in her office after a long day, his offer of a ride home keeping him behind while she finishes something on her screens.

His snort comes with a shake of his head. “I’d believe it was indigestion at this point, over… what? A fling?”

“It’s Hotch,” Garcia laughs. She reaches up, poking Derek in that arm. “You really think he’s the type of have a fling? No. Whoever it is, they matter, and matter enough that he has not let that mug come off of his desk. He uses it every day, Derek. Every. Day.”

Point taken, but Derek is still skeptical. It’s a coffee mug.

He takes the bait, though. He watches and waits. Observes. But Hotch is often a door that stays closed.

Until everything seems to go to shit one day and he has to open up.

It’s a really bad case, and the jet is a last-minute decision. The whole team thinks they’re going home, after just landing back, and end up with thirty minutes to pack for a plane back to Nashville. Sure, Derek understands, but he has plans he has to cancel, too (plans that Emily teases him relentlessly about once it all calms down). Overall, not the best way to end the week.

Everyone goes to make their respective phone calls, or at least, those that need to. But before Derek can put his phone up to his ear, moving to the conference room for some privacy, he hears him.

Hotch.

He’s just on the other side, and talking softly, but the sudden shift means not much else is happening besides last-minute packing. So Derek hears, and he eavesdrops.

And he listens.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you. I know that there wasn’t any warning –“ Hotch immediately starts, but whoever is on the other end must him off. He follows it up with the slightest hum and it’s… warm. It makes Derek’s eyebrow lift, but he keeps his distance, tries to glance around the corner.

Hotch is sitting, leaning on the edge of the round table. His legs are crossed, and his face is tilted downward. He looks pained, with the furrow in his brow, but the person on the other end seems to be talking sense. After all, Hotch lifts his hand and wipes, and the furrow is gone, and he’s smiling again.

“I know, but. Putting it into practice is still hard for me. Jack… he’s… he’s a strong kid, but I know days like these are the hardest.”

There’s some more words from the person on the other end of the line. Hotch smiles, a small private thing and Derek sees, in that moment, what Penelope means. About it being… different. And in that moment, Hotch is thrown back to Haley, and it looked like for his boss to get to talk to her.

There’s an echo of that here.

“I owe you, really. Jess will come and relieve you as soon as she can… Okay. Thank you, again, and I’ll call you when we land back in Nashville, okay? And if I could talk to Jack, then… Perfect. Okay. Have a good night, yeah?”

Derek’s gone, before Hotch finishes his conversation. His hand is holding his phone up to his ear, walking down towards the stairs. But there’s no one on the other end, and all he can think about is how Penelope is going to say how much she told him so.

Three dates turn into ten. There are dinners and lunches and time stolen when the two of you can. There’s coffee in the mornings and decaf in the evenings. He teases you for it, your downright addiction, but a couple of kisses that taste like French vanilla follow it.

It’s sweet. And you like the way he tastes even without the coffee on his lips.

However, you know it’s more than just sweet dates. There’s layers to Aaron Hotchner, ones that get peeled back alongside yours. It’s opening up to each other, on walks after dinner. Those are good, the two of you, side-by-side, because it’s an even playing field. No bar between the two of you, no coffee shop, no badge. Just. You both.

You tell him about home, and what it meant to leave. He’s seen the impact of your mother, the way she winds you up and leave you hanging, but you tell him about the tan line on your ring finger. The way you were left broken and nowhere to go but away to follow a dream, because the dream was the only lifeline you had left. What else could you do, with a hobby and a throwaway degree in business admin?

He tells you about Haley. About her laugh, about her smile. About the way they would poke and prod and teach each other until the two of them were rolling on the floor. You see how much he loved her, how much he loves her still. And when he talks about Jack, well, there’s nothing that can stop him from absolutely gushing, and you don’t want him to. Seeing this just affirms that Jack’s the luckiest kid in the world to have a father that cares about him so much.

There are layers, to each of you. But like a good chocolate-filled croissant, the insides are worth it.

And you get to meet Jack, and Jess. Finally, it feels like, after hearing so much about each of them. The four of you end up going to the zoo, on a weekend, an outing with Aunt Jess and Dad’s new friend, and by the end of it you’re smitten with all of them. Because Jack gets a lot from his father. A fierce protectiveness, a kind heart, incredible perception, and a love of chocolate ice cream.

“Do you like chocolate?” he asks you, suddenly, as the four of you eat your scoops from the vendor. Hotch and Jess are chatting, so they don’t hear the question.

“I like chocolate a lot,” you tell him. “What about you?”

He seems to ponder it a second, before shrugging, taking a long lick of his cone. “It’s all right. Second favorite to mint chip, but above cookie dough.”

You laugh a little, seeing the logic. “I see. I think if you switch cookie dough and mint chip, we’re on the same page there, buddy.”

He nods. “What about my dad? Where does he go?”

It’s a jump you can’t connect, and you raise a brow at him, stopping in your tracks and Jack doing the same.

“On the list. Of things you like. Where’s Dad go?”

“Oh.” Your cheeks are flushing, and you realize that Jess and Aaron have stopped their conversation, are watching the two of you. But there’s only one true answer, and you smile at him. “Well, he’s at the top of the list, Jack. I really like your dad, and… I hope I can keep spending time with the two of you. And Aunt Jess, of course.”

There’s a beat. Jack takes a long lick of his cone, getting some on his nose, and then shrugs again, a little bashful as he looks at you again.

“Yeah, that’d be cool. I like talking to you. And Aunt Jess doesn’t like chocolate, so I like that you’re on my team.”

You try to ignore the warmth that immediately floods you, especially when you look back behind you and Aaron is watching, his head ducked behind his cone so you can only see the edges of his smile. “I like being on your team, too,” you agree, leaning forward to offer a napkin, and Jess just chuckles, the four of you continuing on your merry way.

Things push forward. And some days are harder than others.

It’s complicated, after all. The more you learn about Aaron’s job, the more you realize how much he gives to it. And some of those days leave him worn down. You do your best to support him, to support all of them. And in return, they do the same for you.

The call comes in the middle of the day, and when you see it’s from Aaron you immediately smile. Your hands are elbow deep in a yeasted dough you’re kneading for fresh cinnamon rolls, but you’re able to lean down and answer it with your nose.

“Just a second, sweetheart.” You pull your hands from the mess, move to lift your phone to your shoulder and trap it with your ear. You feel a crick in your neck immediately, but it’s worth it. “Hey, sorry. I’m at the shop. Didn’t want to put you on speaker.”

“It’s okay,” he returns, and he sounds tired. Even in two words, it seems like he has to take a breath, to steady himself. “How’s the day going?”

You shrug, humming as you continue to work the ball of dough under your knuckles. “It’s all right. Ashley is running the register and Ben’s helping her work the front. They’re doing a good job. Makes it easy to focus on the good stuff.”

Aaron chuckles, just a little. It’s reserved. “You should bring some samples home to Jack, then. He loves taste-testing for you.”

There’s a pause, both in your hands and your response.

“Just Jack, then.”

His breath comes out again. Long and low. “Yeah. The case… we thought we had it solved, and then. Something came up. We’re flying back again, waiting for the jet to refuel.”

You know what that means. Even if he doesn’t often tell you, directly, outright, you know that it means another body. Another life lost. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“I had already called Jess, told her I’d be picking up Jack. Would you mind going to get him? I don’t want to jerk her around.”

“Of course.” It’s immediate, and you glance at your watch, blowing off remnants of flour. “He gets out at 4:00?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry to do this to you, I know there wasn’t any warning –“

You click your tongue. “It’s not a problem. You know that. Besides, this dough rests overnight, and I can do some experimenting using your incredible oven, hmm?”

Aaron just lets out a little chuckle. There seems to be some relief there, but you can’t tell right away. “I know, but. Putting it into practice is still hard for me. Jack… he’s… he’s a strong kid, but I know days like these are the hardest.”

You nod, giving your neck a little stretch as you lift your shoulder to carry the load of the phone. “I know. It’s hard for him, and for you. But it’ll work out, okay? Just promise me you’ll be safe, for all of us.”

“I owe you, really,” he tells you. “Jess will come and relieve you as soon as she can…”

“She doesn’t need to rush. We’ve got it.”

And with that, you know it’s a load off of his mind. One you can take from him. “Okay. Thank you, again, and I’ll call you when we land back in Nashville, okay? And if I could talk to Jack, then…”

“I’ll make sure he’s available,” you reassure him, and his little sigh is… just what you needed to hear. To know that his head will be where it needs to be when he flies.

“Perfect. Okay. Have a good day, yeah?”

“I will. I love you.”

It comes out. Automatically. Your hands stop working again, and you feel color on your cheeks. Aaron doesn’t say anything either, and the two of you seem to sit in a kind of dangerous limbo.

But then he just chuckles. A sound on the receiver, like he’s standing to his feet. “I love you, too.”

“Be safe.”

It’s a gentle farewell, and you can’t help but stare at your phone as it resumes its place on the countertop, staring at the screensaver you have. The two of you, and Jack, looking up at the camera.

It works. It’s complicated, and comes from nowhere, but it works. The three of you, working together to build something special. You’ll never replace Haley, but you don’t to. It’s new, and brilliant, and happy, and you find that you have another dream taking shape, one that has the Hotchners front and center.

(And Reid? Well.

Spencer’s not unaware. Spencer actually puts all of the pieces together before almost anyone else, including your identity.

“I think you’ll find that I’m what you would call perceptive. Very perceptive.”

That’s what he says to Derek, at least, when he asks him how he already knew who the mystery date was. Dave offers Hotch a plus-one to a night over at the Rossi mansion for the team and their significant others, and Hotch actually takes him up on it. That’s when they meet you, for the first time, but Reid’s the only one who doesn’t seem to be surprised who walks through the door.

But no one else has been to the coffee shop that’s on the mug, or has seen the person that Hotch has been texting and calling, and… well.

Spencer has had the pleasure of doing both all in one morning. Because next to the coffee shop you work at is a bookstore specializing in rare editions, and one day Spencer decides to go before work.

He adds a little eyebrow wiggle to his words for Derek’s sake, too, which gets him punched in the shoulder.

It’s worth it.)

“You didn’t have to bring me breakfast,” you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest.

It’s a little firm, especially since you now know that Aaron’s drives have been fifteen minutes longer to stop at your place. The direct route to the FBI Headquarters breezes right by you, and getting off and stopping is definitely out of the way.

But he doesn’t care. And truly you don’t, when it’s him and you realize that the bag he has contains one warm sausage roll, and a glazed donut, fresh from the shop by his place. that melts when you bite into it. “I know you didn’t eat anything, and you hate trying to snack on the stuff you have yet to sell in the morning,” he says. Shrugging, as if it’s that simple, because to him, it is. “And I wanted to.”

“Did you get something for yourself, too?” you ask him.

“I wasn’t the one who had to leave in a hurry, was I?” he teases. His eyes are deep and dark, and you get caught in them when you catch his meaning.

Your face turns a crimson that he smirks at, leans forward to make it brighter with a kiss on your cheek. “Well, I wasn’t the one who was insisting on some last minute… affection,” you shoot back, but all that elicits is a low chuckle from him, all bass and gravel. “Besides, Mr. Profiler – question with a question. You didn’t eat, did you?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing instead to lean against the countertop you’re sitting on, watching as you pull out the two treats and placing them on some napkins you have right at the front. But his non-answer is definitely a ‘no,’ and you give him a look.

“One day I’m going to teach you to take care of yourself as well as you take care of others, okay? Here. We’ll split ‘em.”

You snag a plastic knife, and get to work, and soon there are two perfectly portioned plates of pastry in front of the two of you. It’s early enough that customers aren’t exactly a problem, and so you don’t feel guilty sitting on the counter when you know you’ll wipe it down, or leaning down to kiss some glaze off of his lips since there’s no one to see or an order to distract you from.

Of course, neither of you notice the eyes that happen to glance in the window. Not when Hotch is standing between your legs, facing away from the glass, and not when you pull back just to look into his eyes, and in the end it doesn’t matter that a tall and lanky fellow profiler managed to sneak a peek.

Because that’s when you start to feel that your luck has really changed. The early morning before the workday, when the world just starts to come alive. There, in your shop, before the sign has even been flipped to open.

And there, in your coffee shop, as you sit on the counter, you realize that Aaron-with-two-As, standing between your legs, could possibly be the love of your life after all.

tag list: @emilyxprentiss // @genevievedarcygranger // @quillvine // @falcon-arrows // @afuckingshituniverse // @sercyan // @sparklingkeylimepie // @kianagilder-blog // @alexxcorona113 // @mandyandy22 // @thedeaddrop // @angelsbabey // @lolychu // @icyprincess // @gabbygabbie // @cevanswhre // @roses-and-grasses // @mayaaaa // @baadmaxx // @ssaic-jareau // @mooneylupinblack // @rachelxwayne // @greenie128 // @dilaudidwinchester // @stylesboy // @grandpascurtains // @softbibxtch // @winterscaptain // @hurricanejjareau

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #gender neutral reader #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #fluff #coffee shop au

334 notes · View notes

gruviafan-forever · 3 years

Text

GRUVIA WEEK- DAY III

"DISCOVERY"

When Gray had reported the drone issues to Erza and Mr Dreyar, the agency was in fix about who could be going to this extent to know about one of their actor's personal lives.

"Looks like there are still some reporters who believe that photos stuff,"

Makarov said while rubbing his forehead.

"But Master didn't we announce it's just a hoax that should have calmed everyone down" Erza reasoned.

"That's not the case, Erza. It's more like these people are working to uncover Gray's secret and create some scandalous sensations"

Makarov said and tried calling his grandson, Laxus Dreyar who works in the police department.

After informing Laxus, Makarov seemed to have calmed down. That's when Erza informed Gray's decision to unravel his marriage.

"It's high time. However, it's a good decision" Makarov said with a smile.

He knew how hard Gray has worked for these four years to shape his career.

"Let's hope it goes accordingly. Tell Mr Jason to come and meet me. He needs to prepare an article about this and publish it the very next day of the award function on Sorceress Weekly. Also, I need to talk with Gray tomorrow, do inform him, Erza" Makarov informed.

"Yes Master," Erza said with a smile.

NEXT MORNING

Gray got ready for the upcoming event and told her he could come late at night so that they don't wait for him for dinner.

"Yes, Gray-sama. Today I was planning to take Yuki to the park so that she could play with kids of her age. But after what happened yesterday, I decided not to," Juvia said and was adjusting Gray's coat.

Gray began to ponder before he spoke again, "I know it's not right to keep her inside the house and deny her playing freedom. But the situation calls for it, we have to bear for a few more days, Juvia."

He said confidently and kissed her forehead.

It was still 9 AM and Yuki was still fast asleep. So the couple had time for themselves to enjoy their company.

"Sure Gray-sama. You take care. Don't go getting rigid suddenly. Be smiling and welcome your fans warmly. It's because of them you have gained this popularity, remember that Gray-sama."

Juvia lectured her husband like every time any event comes up.

"Yes, madam"

Gray rolled his eyes and smiled at the end. At times, she treated him like a child which he secretly liked.

"Good boy, now get going. I have a lot of chores to do today. If possible, can we go to the supermarket? They're few things which we need to purchase." Juvia consulted him.

Gray agreed and told them to be wary of their surroundings.

"Don't let Yuki wander off on her own. She's such a ball of energy. I know she is a bit difficult to control but look after her. I will take my leave, bye, wifey."

Gray leaned forward to kiss her lips and got one in return.

After bidding bye to her husband, Juvia got freshened up to kick start her day before her daughter woke up.

Soon Gray reached the mentioned location, he was escorted by his manager through the back exit.

"Good morning, Erza"

"Happy morning, Gray. How's Juvia and Yuki doing?"

"Oh, they are doing great. Did Mr Dreyar say anything about the issue?" Gray questioned her.

"Yeah… he wants to meet you after this event. So get ready for that."

Erza informed them and soon they reached the main cabin where every celebrity under the Fairy Tail banner was present.

They greeted each other before Gray went to his friend, Natsu Dragneel and his girlfriend, Lucy Heartfilia.

They bumped their fist and the first thing Natsu asked about was Yuki and Juvia.

Almost every single member of Fairy Tail knew about him so it was not a piece of surprise news for them.

"They are good. Juvia's been calling you two for dinner. Why don't you come by one day? And you too, Erza. Come with your boyfriend."

Gray teased the red-haired woman who had the courtesy to blush on hearing about her love interest.

"Sure, we will come by, once we get to enjoy some free time,"

Natsu said and Lucy nodded in agreement.

That's when Gajeel decided to enter their group. It had been three years since he joined Fairy Tail after his Phantom Band got disbanded.

It was Juvia who proposed Gajeel join this big agency. Gray had spoken about this to Mr Dreyar on his girlfriend's insistence.

Mr Dreyar readily agreed after seeing his performance, ever since, then, Gajeel had been performing for this agency.

His popularity soared after his debut. Gajeel was very much grateful to both Gray and Juvia.

Gajeel had insisted Juvia continue being his lyricist but she denied it as the agency had appointed their best Lyricist, Levy McGarden to aid her best friend.

Juvia knew Gajeel was smitten by her and didn't have the heart to the third wheel behind them.

Moreover, things happened which made her quit the part-time job which she was doing.

"Yo guys, it's been a long since I saw you all in existence. How's everything going on?"

Gajeel greeted and began with the conversation.

Gray greeted him back and soon everyone started to discuss the event and its aftermath.

It had been a month since Gray and Juvia had levelled up their relationship.

Gray's first tv drama shooting has been wrapped up. In a few more episodes, the drama reaches its conclusion.

For now, Gray enjoyed his free time before the shooting for the next drama commences.

The last two days were hectic for both of them as the agency had ordered Gray to move out of that lodging apartment to other high society flats which they had arranged for him.

This move was taken to avoid fans and reporters gathering around his place and prevented them from invading his privacy.

Juvia was sad hearing this news as now she will be left alone in his apartment.

Even her best friend had moved out to give privacy to her and Gray, same was the case with Gray, Natsu had moved out a couple of months as soon as he signed up for his first tv series.

Juvia tried to remain bold and not to tear up but nothing could get past Gray's eyes.

"Juvia"

Gray pouted, she was not paying attention to him and was just staring blankly at his shirt.

To remove her from trance, Gray hugged her from behind which startled her.

"Gray-sama"

"Oi!! What's with the long face? I have never seen you thinking like this. Are you perhaps trying to ditch me?" Gray teased her and kissed her neck.

Juvia turned around and hit his chest, "Don't joke like that. You know how much I love you. Stupid Gray"

Juvia sounded serious especially when he heard her calling him 'Gray'.

She never called him by name without a suffix. That's when he noticed she was crying.

Gray began to fidget and cupped her face, "Hey dear, what happened? Why are you crying?" He asked her worriedly.

Juvia began to wipe her tears off but it never stopped until she told him the reason.

"I feel we will stay apart, Gray-sama, emotionally too. I'm scared that I will be left all alone once again in my life. Of course, I'm being clingy on you but I couldn't help it."

She conveyed her feelings and hugged her lover tightly.

Gray felt happy that she opened up her fear. Even he didn't want to move away from her and from the morning was thinking of asking her to move in with me as his fiancee.

Yes, Gray wanted to marry her and have a lovely life with her. He knew from these 7 months of dating, that she was born for him and he for her.

He was going to propose to her tonight but it looks like the plan needs to be executed at the moment to make her feel assured of their relationship.

"Juvia, I.."

Before Gray could say anything, Juvia fell unconscious in his arms. He tried to wake her up but it was futile.

He carried her to the bedroom and went out to call a doctor from a nearby clinic.

Once the doctor had come and checked her up, Gray felt relief that she was alright and nothing to worry about except...

"WHAT??" Gray shrieked.

"Yes, Mr Fullbuster. Your girlfriend is pregnant. Congratulations, once Juvia wakes up, give her the medicine and go and visit the gynaecologist, they will guide you from there."

The doctor left him after advising him how to take care of a pregnant woman.

Gray couldn't believe what was happening at the moment. He had mixtures of thoughts and emotions.

But predominantly, it was happiness. He is going to be a father, that too really soon. He was going to lead a happy life with his beloved.

Soon, he was going to have a family which he and Juvia were denied from starting, this brought him happy tears and thanked the Gods for such a second chance.

Now all he hoped for was Juvia to feel the same as him.

After 30 minutes, Juvia woke up from her sleep, the first thing she saw was Gray resting beside her.

Juvia smiled at him and ruffled his hairs and that's when she noticed the ring on her finger.

She couldn't believe her eyes and closed her mouth with her palms to avoid shouting.

Slowly, Gray woke up and saw his girlfriend's surprised expression which brought a smile to his face.

"Well, calm down, Juvia"

Hearing his voice, Juvia pulled him into a hug and shouted 'yes'.

Gray chuckled, " I didn't even ask you yet"

Juvia began rubbing her face against his and kissed his forehead,

"I will marry you, Gray-sama."

Gray kissed her lips, "I was actually planning to do it tonight after dinner but here, I'm asking you 'Will you marry me?' "

"1000 times Yes… I'm waiting to live my life with you, Gray-sama…"

"So do I, dear"

Gray kissed her again.

Once their adrenaline has calmed down, Gray slowly broke the news.

"You know what, I found out something. Can you take a guess?"

Gray asked her while squeezing her palms.

Juvia wondered what it could be and accepted her defeat. Now she was curious what this could be.

"We are going to be parents. You are pregnant, Juvia. You are gonna be mama and I'm gonna be papa."

He said with a big smile and kissed her palm.

Then, he told her everything from the moment she fainted to till doctors departure.

Juvia was shedding happy tears and caressing her flat tummy for now. She was going to be a mother, she was going to have her own family now which she longed for since her childhood.

"Are you happy, Gray-sama?"

She wanted to know his feelings.

"My happiness goes beyond this world. I'm happy that we are gonna start be a family together. Juvia, let's get married tomorrow."

Gray shared his piece of mind.

"Thank you for sharing the same feeling as mine, Gray-sama. I love you a lot." Juvia said earnestly.

The very next day, they got their marriage registered in an office. Gray casually informed the recent events of his life to friends and Mr Dreyar.

They were shell shocked yet wished them both happiness enough for their life ahead.

That's when Mr Dreyar had told him to hide this news from the public as Gray was still a budding artist and this could hamper this growth.

Juvia agreed and supported this decision and even convinced Gray to agree with this. It's after sorting out these issues they finally went to their new home.

#gruvia #gruviaweek #gruvia week 2021 #gruvia week

50 notes · View notes

vantaenims · 4 years

Text

daffodil street | seokjin

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 8.1k

warning/s: mentions of death, age difference, unrequited love, and mutual pining.

summary: You’ve been struggling for quite some time to overcome your feelings for your best friend who doesn’t even love you the way that you do but there are instances when he would ignite your hopes or maybe this is all just in your mind but is too much to ask for something more?

Part of BTSGhostieBingo (unrequited love)

masterlist

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings, and eternal life.

Jin has told you the meaning behind this yellow flower countless times that you have memorized it by heart.

Why would he explain and tell this to you? Because Daffodil is the name of the street from where he lives and it also happens to be the street where you occasionally wander around with your bicycles during the late afternoons or evenings.

It’s something you’ve both done in the past when the both of you were still teenagers wherein you still have a lot of time to spare to do those kind of things but Jin managed to reopen the idea last week despite how hectic both of your schedules are - Jin being busy with graduate school and you with work.

You have happened to know Jin through your older brother. They have known each other ever since their grade school days but only got the chance to be closer in high school – a time in which Jin would frequently visit your house to play games after school until he stopped doing so when he turned eighteen.

You were in the living room, watching the television when Jin entered the house without your brother, telling you that your brother’s still in a meeting with his school club members and that he’s just going to wait for him here until he gets home.

But that never happened, your brother never came home.

Your brother was only eighteen when he was taken away in this world. He was on his way home, riding his bike when he had gotten into an accident as a truck van going over a hundred miles per hour in an intersection managed to beat a red light that ultimately caused the death of your brother.

Ever since that incident, you and Jin have become closer than ever considering you two are the only people that know your brother best, with him being his best friend and you being his younger sister. You two had become each other’s sense of comfort through all of the sorrowful and devastating times of your life.

[Sunday, Oct 6, 9:01 PM]

Jin: Where are you?

You: Home

You: Why?

Jin: Meet me in front of my house

Without much thought, you know for sure that he’s inviting you over to wander around his neighborhood. You got up from your bed as you grabbed your windbreaker from the back of your door, wearing it over your pajamas, not caring to dress up into something casual considering the time and the place.

“I’ll be going to Jin's,” you said to both of your parents as you peeked your head inside their bedroom.

“When did you not?” your mother lightly chuckled, “Don’t come home too late, you have work tomorrow”

“Yeah, I know” you said as you shook your head at your mother’s unwavering strictness with you.

Opening your storage room under the stairs, you got your bike out as you made your way outside of your house and on to your way to Jin’s house which is approximately five minutes away from you.

Soon as you know it, the subdivision gate then came into view as you turned right but then you instinctively stopped your bike as you skidded both of your slippers against the asphalt when you almost crashed yourself into the barrier gate that usually opens right away since the head security, Mister Choi, has grown to be familiar with you since he’s the one stationing the place over the years but it seems like a new security personnel replaced him.

“Location and I.D. Please” the man said who looked to be in his early thirties.

You panicked for a bit as you only brought your phone and a bit of cash with you, patting the pockets of your windbreaker for the hopes that you could’ve left your company I.D. there but you were met with none. Suddenly, the barrier gate was lifted and a familiar voice spoke out to you.

“The Kim’s at Daffodil Street, right?” Mister Choi asked you whilst he whispered to the young man how you frequent here hence the reason why he should not bother to ask for your identification.

“It’s okay, he’s just doing his job anyway and thank you, Mister Choi” you waved as you then entered the subdivision.

The security is pretty tight in here and by tight you mean that they have a protocol that should be strictly done - the guard house needs to contact the home owners every time someone wants to visit them to confirm if they’re expecting a visitor and once it’s confirmed, they could only then proceed inside.

The subdivision is considered as one of the exclusive homes for high profile individuals like celebrities, politicians, and such, hence the tight security. There’s no doubt that Jin’s family lives here since his dad is known to be the president of their multinational company which is something Jin would like to follow.

Jin’s currently taking his masterals in a graduate school that specializes in the business field, saying how he felt like it’s his responsibility to continue their company’s legacy someday since his older brother opted to go through the medical field instead which left him with no choice but to be the successor of their family business - not that he’s complaining as he told you because he in fact unexpectedly feels like he’s made for it.

As you entered, the first street post came into view, reciting them in a whisper as you passed by them.

Hyacinth Street.

Lilac Street.

Aster Street.

And finally, Daffodil Street.

It’s the fourth street to the right upon entering the gate. You chuckled to yourself upon thinking how Daffodil Street is the fourth street because you see, number four has become to be more meaningful for you or should you say that it has sounded foolish enough for you this year.

Four years is just the number of your age gap between you and Jin that seems to be pretty non-existent with how close you two are.

Four years is just the number of how it has been so long since you hid something from Jin, fearing that you might salvage your friendship with him if you planned to lay it out for him.

Four years is just the number since the time you fell in love with Jin.

Four years. It was also four years ago when you vaguely remember that night clearly, the night of your 19th birthday where you indirectly confessed your feelings to Jin and as a return, you got indirectly rejected too.

It was exactly 12 a.m. when Jin messaged you a birthday greeting and also telling you that he’s outside of your house. Jin has made it his mission to always be the first one to greet you, saying that you’ll have an amazing and great day ahead of you when the first greeting comes from the ‘most handsome man’ as what Jin refers to himself which is probably what you've grown to ignore by now.

Peeking out your window, you saw that he came along with his bike, instantly figuring out what you’re going to do but instead of the usual Daffodil Street, you biked around your neighborhood instead.

There’s something about the midnight hours that can make people emotionally vulnerable. You know how they say that a person tends to reveal the things they wouldn’t think they would say to another person during these hours and you’re the living proof to confirm it.

“I think i like...someone” you said, quickly replacing the word ‘you’ into ‘someone’ out of panic.

“Is it me?” Jin said, probably in a joking manner. Usually, you would just laugh at his statement but you’re pretty anxious right now and all you could do is to just stare at him, suddenly losing the will to answer the question.

“Don’t you think i’m too old for you?” Jin laughed as he ruffled a bit of your hair. You decided to laugh along but more so to laugh at yourself for thinking you’d have a chance to begin with perhaps for also the fact that you’ve been rejected indirectly.

“Kidding aside, who is it?”

“Nevermind, i think i really don’t like him that much”, you said as you look at Jin who’s completely oblivious to the pain you’re feeling inside.

Ever since that happened, you accepted that Jin would never see you in a different light thus the reason you tried your best to hinder the feelings you’ve harbored for him but it only did the exact opposite thing for you because it ironically grew even more over the years that you felt like you can’t escape from it now.

Soon enough, you took out your phone to call Jin to inform him that you’re already outside of their house but then he quickly dismissed the call, making you furrow your eyebrows until an obnoxiously loud sound startled you, causing you to drop your phone.

Looking to your right, you then see Jin in the driver seat of his pickup truck, doubling in laughter at your reaction and as if he wasn’t satisfied enough, he turned on the engine and the headlights, blinding you in the process as you got off your bike to pick up your phone off the ground and finally, glaring at him as you made your way towards his window.

“Sorry, you should’ve seen your face,” Jin said, calming himself once he saw your annoyed face, “Get in.”

“Weren’t we going to bike around?” you confusedly asked.

“Yeah, we are” Jin got out of his car to get your bike from you as he went to the back, opening his trunk to see that his bike was already loaded in there.

“Where are we going?” Jin smiled at that question but it just ticked you off at how he’s been clearly ignoring your questions as he picked up your bike to place it beside his, closing the trunk once he’s done, still no answer as he went straight away inside the car.

“You didn’t answer me” you said through his open window.

“Get in first” you rolled your eyes at him but nonetheless walked around the other side of the car, opening the door of the passenger side to get in but his pile of textbooks and a rim of photocopied papers occupied the space.

“Sorry, i just got home and had a meeting with my groupmates”, Jin told you as he emptied the front seat and placed all of it at the back seat along with his backpack.

“Can you now tell me where are we going?”

“Why don’t you put your seatbelt in first before i tell you?” Jin mischievously smiled that left you to huff in annoyance whilst you buckled yourself in.

Jin put the car into drive once you got yourself safely settled in your seat, the smile he’s been wearing still evident but it quickly broke into a chuckle when he noticed in his peripheral vision how you’re completely facing him and he just knows you’re completely annoyed by now.

“We’re going to Hangang Park.”

“At this hour? And it’s Monday tomorrow” Jin knew you would oppose his idea but he luckily made it work, thanks to your obedience.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to bike around a new scenery and not Daffodil Street?”

“But it’s late and you know that it’s Monday tomorrow”

“Just this once, please? Plus I'm your free pass, right?”

Technically, Jin is indeed your free pass - it’s more of like what you refer to him whenever you plan to stay out late at night back then. As you’ve mentioned, your parents are strict in a sense that they have imposed a curfew on you when you were still studying but that wouldn’t matter to them once you let them know that you’re with Jin or how he’s going to take you home - indicating how much they trust Jin.

Of course, you don’t have a curfew to follow anymore but that still wouldn’t stop your parents to question your whereabouts whenever it’s late but that’s fine with you, reminding yourself that they’re just concerned for you.

“Fine, it’s not like I have a choice anyway” you said as to cover the fact that you’re already into whatever idea Jin has to begin with just because you couldn’t say no to him.

“Don’t make it that way” Jin ruffled your hair, causing you to smile.

Biking around Hangang Park is something you’ve never done in your whole life despite living in Seoul for years until now. It has always been one of the things you’ve wanted to do but too lazy to do anything about it, setting it aside for some future time. It’s nice to bike around a new scenery as Jin said - skyscrapers and city lights in sight along with busking performances that made the place livelier at night.

Jin, who’s biking ahead of you, seems to be wearing a more casual attire with his plain white shirt and ripped denim pants, making you look underdressed compared to him as you’re only wearing a set of pink Hello Kitty pajamas, thinking you’re only going to bike around his neighborhood.

“You should’ve told me sooner that we’re going here so i could’ve dressed up” you complained, pedaling faster so that you’ll be cycling beside him.

Jin looked at you, chuckling once he took notice of your appearance, “It’s okay, you’re fine.”

“You’re saying that because you’re wearing normal clothes”

“You look cute in it, don’t worry”

You opted to look at the buildings to your right instead so that you could hide how that got you so flustered, making you purse your lips to stop your smile from getting bigger. Racking your mind, you’ve thought of things to talk about before the mood gets awkward until you’ve thought of one thing you’ve been curious about the happenings for the past week.

“Why are you being so spontaneous lately?”

You’re only able to reach out and hang out with each other through phone calls and messages or if luck is on your side, you’d get to hang out with him for at least once a month though that also rarely happens but you’re thankful your closeness still remains the same.

Also, you never failed to notice how Jin would message you every single night, inviting you to bike around which is something you’ve both done in the past but failed to continue considering your busy lives now until everything took a turn during the last week and suddenly, you’ve been spending most of your time together whether it be through meetups or through phone calls and messages.

“I just have a lot in my mind right now and you see those textbooks right?”

“If i remember correctly, isn’t your reporting due this week?”

“Yeah but I’ll be burned out if i don’t take a break right now.”

Graduate School is surely taking a toll on Jin specially with the way he always complains to you about how he’s hardly getting any rest or sleep from how his schedule is always filled with day to day lectures, reports, and presentations and at the same time, he would occasionally drop by his dad’s company to help him and learn the know hows.

Jin has told you how it has taken all of the free time he has and there was no doubt that he is exaggerating any of it. You could only sympathize and show support to Jin who is clearly only doing the best that he can to live up the expectations they’ve set on him as the sole successor of their business.

“How’s grad school for you?”

“Hell as always but i’m just glad i’d get to leave that hell hole soon”

“Oh so you’re claiming it huh?”

“Wow, are you underestimating me?” Jin dramatically clutched his hand above his chest, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

“Of course not, Mister COO” you teased as what you’ve always called him, telling him that if his dad is the CEO then that makes him the COO - Child Of the Owner, “I now already know what to get for your graduation gift.”

“What?” Jin asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“A name plaque that you can place in your office - Kim Seokjin, Child Of the Owner”

“Funny” Jin said in a sarcastic manner.

“Oh come on, your jokes are far worse than mine” you playfully slammed your hand against his back when you biked past him.

“You just have a bad sense of humor” Jin snickered at you.

It was particularly refreshing to stroll around Hangang Park at night until it had to be ruined when you have to maneuver around the couple who’s engrossed in kissing each other in the middle of the bike lane out of all places. If you come to look at it, there are a lot of couples surrounding the area as if it isn’t enough to make you feel more single and lonely.

“How is Nami, by the way?”

Nami is one of the kindest persons you’ve met in your life, she’s so kind that it’ll be impossible to grow some kind of hatred towards her, specially if she’s the one who’s making Jin happy for four years now and you can’t help but sometimes be jealous of her.

They’ve been together for so long that the idea of them ending up marrying together isn’t a far fetch idea at all. Nami and Jin are what you’d like to call the perfect pair, seeing how their relationship looks to be healthy and ideal for a couple. They’ve genuinely both brought out the best in each other that’s why you couldn’t really find a reason not to hate Nami because she deserves him - they both deserved each other.

You’re not even faking it when you think of it that way because you’ve come to accept it a long time ago that you and Jin can only be friends ever since his rejection but it can’t always be helped that there are times you still think of the possibility between you two though rarely but the hope is still there.

“She’s okay”, Jin answered.

“Just okay?” you scoffed at his prompt response.

“Yeah” Jin raised his eyebrows at you, not knowing what you would want him to say, “Anyway, how about you? I keep forgetting to ask how you are every time we meet.”

You stare at Jin’s side profile, thinking if he just dodged his way out of talking about Nami but you shrugged nonetheless as you pressed on the brakes.

“I’m tired.” you exclaimed as you stood up, bottoms hurting from sitting too much on the saddle.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“No, I'm literally tired. Can we take a break on that bench first?” you chuckled as you pointed to the bench that’s facing the river as you made your way over it.

Hopping off your bike, you put down the kickstand as you set it aside the bench where you plopped off as you let your head lull backwards on the edge of the backseat, giving you a perfect view of the night sky and the 63 Building on your right side catching your attention.

Beside you, you then see a group of kids playing with their light up toys as they run along the grass. The view gave you a sense of nostalgia when you and your brother used to beg for your parents to buy you one whenever you would go to a park as you would always get jealous of the other kids who also had them.

“Do you want some water?” Jin suddenly asked, standing up to go to the convenience store nearby when you nodded at him.

“Can you also buy some ramen? I heard that they taste way better here” you shouted as Jin raised his thumb at you. You turned back to watch the kids having fun when you felt the buzz on your phone.

[Sunday, Oct 6, 10:39 PM]

Moyeon: What’s your passport number?

Moyeon: There’s an ongoing seat sale, so hurry!!

You: Wait, I’m outside!

You: I’ll send it to you later

During your college years, you’ve been planning with Moyeon to take an out of country vacation once you two have graduated hence the text message.

Moyeon: Let me guess

Moyeon: YOU’RE WITH JIN AGAIN!

You: :(

Moyeon is your best friend and the only one who knows your secret feelings for Jin which is something she had countlessly given you advice with - to snap out of your one sided feelings in to which you would always say that you will but there are things that are easier said than done and this situation is one of those.

In the span of those four years, you’ve tried your best to totally eradicate the unnecessary feelings you have for Jin though your efforts are always wasted at the end because you fail every single time you try as you find yourself back at square one.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated along with the sound of your ringtone, the name of Moyeon with a pig emoji flashed on your screen.

“Hello, Stupid”

“Hi Moyeon” you sighed, knowing you’re in for another sermon.

“Is he with you right now?”

“No, he’s buying something at the convenience store” you said, adjusting yourself on the seat as you twisted your upper body around to place your arm on the backseat whilst you propped your chin above your arm as you stared at the convenience store so you could watch when he’ll go out.

Moyeon’s curiosity perked once she heard the mention of the convenience store and she was rather surprised to know that you’re in Hangang Park tonight, asking you if you two are on a date with you saying that you could only dream about it for that to happen.

“What happened to ‘I’m not going to give in to his hang outs’” Moyeon said in a slightly high pitched voice, causing you to smile and shake your head even though you know you’ve said that - a lot of times in fact, differing from things like ‘I won’t talk to him that much anymore’ or ‘I’ll start to ignore him’ or other things that didn’t seem to happen in the first place and you know that you’ve said it too much that Moyeon could make a screenshot compilation out of it with your replies.

You always give in easily as soon as Jin would message you as if you’ve instantly forgotten that you’re supposed to do the exact opposite thing but how can you not when he has always been irresistible for you.

“I’m just all talk, I know” you said, “My feelings for him will eventually fade soon.”

“And until when are you going to say that?”

Moyeon has her way to always keep you in touch with reality although you know for yourself where you stand in Jin’s life but you’re also not lying that there’s a tiny glimpse of hope within you that maybe or someday, he’ll be able to look at you in a different light but that’s just wishful thinking.

“Soon” you chuckled as you lifted your eyes from the ground only to see that Jin has made his way out of the convenience store and is now walking back towards you, “Okay, he’s coming back, bye!”

You heard Moyeon click his tongue in disapproval as she said one last thing before hanging up the call, “Well, don’t forget to send me your passport number.”

Placing back your phone into your pocket, you smiled at Jin as if you weren’t just talking about him earlier.

“Who’s that?” Jin asked as he handed you the square tin foil packaging filled with ramen and a boiled egg plus a sausage on stick - your favorite.

“Just Moyeon”, you said as you broke the chopsticks, “How much is this?”

“It’s fine,” Jin said as he slurped on his noodles right away.

“Aw thank you, Jin” you said in a rather cheery voice as you winked and elbowed him at his side, causing the soup of his ramen to splatter a bit onto his jeans that made him close his eyes in an annoyed manner only to open them to give you a glare albeit playfully though he rather looked cute than menacing but you didn’t say as to not inflate his ego but more so to not give away your hidden admiration.

“Oh no, we can’t have a stain on your jeans” you took one of the tissues as you wiped it on the stain as if it’ll make a difference.

“Quit buttering me up”, Jin said as he swatted your hand away, making you chuckle as you focused your attention back on eating your ramen and soon enough, silence filled in between you two as you’re both too busy munching on your food as if you haven’t eaten dinner yet.

“I’m getting cold, can we share?” Jin said through his chattering teeth as he tugged on the sleeve of your windbreaker.

“How can we share? You know i’m always cold” you stated out though you quite feel bad for Jin who’s only wearing a short sleeve shirt whilst you on the other hand is double coated with your long sleeved top and a windbreaker.

Jin instructed you to remove your right arm from the sleeve to give that part of the windbreaker for him whilst you occupy the left sleeve with your left arm thus leaving Jin with no choice but to scoot closer to you and you can’t help but think how his shoulders are touching yours or how the sleeves of the windbreaker is too short for him as it only falls on his wrist compared to yours that’s covering half of your hand.

Butterflies make their way to your stomach and you try so hard to play it out like this is nothing to you as you focused on biting on your sausage. Until you felt a buzz coming off from his jean pocket, spotting it to be from Jin’s phone that he took out and you were quick enough to see that it’s a call from Nami before Jin flipped his phone over so as not to show the screen and also pressing the side button to stop it from vibrating.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at why he just ignored Nami’s call.

“I’ll call her later”

Jin’s not so good at being discreet if you could say that because you could definitely tell that something’s up between him and Nami ever since that prompt reply of his, figuring that maybe they just had a big fight and you can’t help but ask just because you’re genuinely concerned if they’re alright.

“Are you two okay?” you asked as you glanced at Jin to see him focused on chewing his food as he took out the water bottle from the plastic bag to take a sip as if he’s trying to avoid your question and you were only certain that you had put him in an awkward place once you noticed his eyes blinking excessively which is an obvious sign for when he feels anxious.

You look straight ahead as you bite from your sausage and eventually humming along to the song that’s probably being performed by a busker somewhere in the distance to make up for the uncomfortable situation.

It wasn’t your intention to make Jin awkward but you could sometimes be quite dumb for not reading the air and you had just realized that Nami is probably a sensitive topic for him right now hence the reason why you didn’t pry any further even though you know everything about each other, there’ll always be some kind of boundary that you both shouldn’t stick your nose into.

“We broke up”

Upon hearing that statement, you stopped yourself from chewing only to swiftly turn your head to the side with wide eyes as you look at Jin who has his head hanging low as he stared down on his shoes.

“What!? How did - why?” you asked in a mess as you try to find the right words to say but you’re too preoccupied in processing this new information.

So this must be the reason why he was always persistent to change the topic lately whenever Nami is brought up in the conversation and it’s because they’re no longer together anymore which is something you’re quite not sure if you should feel sad or happy about it but one thing you know is that you’re going to set aside your feelings first and be a friend to Jin, specially now.

“What do you want me to answer first?” Jin chuckled for a moment until he got serious again to continue explaining, “We broke up two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

Jin placed his elbows above his legs as he intertwined his hands, fidgeting with his thumb as if he’s hesitant to answer the question but he told you the reason nonetheless, “I don’t know… I feel unfair for not loving her the same way anymore.”

“What do you mean? Like you fell out of love?”

“Yeah” Jin confirmed.

“Did you tell her that?” Jin nodded his head, leaving you to wonder how Nami’s doing right now and how she is able to cope about this, much so because of the reason.

You don’t know much about relationships but one thing you know is that breaking up because the other fell out of love is one of the painful reasons to take in just because it’s something out of your control or sometimes it’s beyond repair.

“Well, did you at least try to make it work again?”

“I did, in fact, this was the second time we’ve broken up. We were on the rocks since June - we’ve tried our best to fix it but i don’t know… it seems like it won’t really work anymore when i feel like this.”

You heaved out a sigh, feeling quite frustrated because he sounds very much of an asshole right now though it’s not like you could blame him when he tried to make it work but still you can’t just give up in a relationship just because he doesn’t feel anything - Love is not a feeling, it is a commitment.

You could only guess that Nami called a while ago to talk things through and persuade Jin to reconsider their relationship which you think is something Jin has finally given up on, considering how he didn’t answer the call.

“Why don’t you try again? You know, maybe a third try’s the charm.”

You know your place and you’re just being selfless so the least thing you could do right now is for Jin to be happy and you believe that Nami is the perfect person for that and he’s just out of his mind to let her go like this.

Jin only fidgeted with his thumb until he relaxly laid his back on the backseat, looking at you for the first time ever since he broke out the news that had you feeling nervous because of the close proximity but more so because of the way he’s looking at you so softly yet so intense at the same time.

“You think so?” Jin asked whilst he continued to hold you with his stare and you don’t know if you’re just imagining things but why does it look like he’s more of like asking it out of a permission but maybe that’s just what your head wants you to think and before you could even get more delusional, you break the contact as you stare straight ahead.

“Yeah, I think so”, you said as you soon started to chatter your teeth from the cold.

Jin took note of this as he scooted much closer, grabbing the side of your face with his left hand as he guided it to rest on his shoulder, hands still on the side of your face and you could only hope he wouldn’t feel how your face is heating up right now.

“Here, so you’d be warm”

“Thanks” you whispered, not even moving an inch with how the sudden action got you stunned but you know that once you move your head to look up, his face will be perfectly mere inches near you which is something you never imagined that you’ll be able to get this close to him like this.

And you took advantage of the moment to cherish it, you never know when this will ever happen again but you’ll take it if it’s the closest thing he can hold you like the way you wanted him to.

You’ve wanted to put your arms around him but you’re scared, always been scared how he will react so you just let your arm limply lay on your leg and when you were about to do it, you back away at the last minute as you slip out your arm off of the windbreaker instead.

“I’ll throw this out” you said, gathering the trash beside you as you put them in a plastic bag.

Standing up, you excused yourself with the plastic bag on your hand as you walk away in a brisk manner so you could escape for a while from the source that’s making your little hopes grow bigger day by day and it’s quite alarming you to even hope for something more when you have ingrained in your mind that it’ll be impossible to happen.

But how can you stop yourself when Jin is being more in touch with you these days and you mean it literally and figuratively. Your best at acting as if his actions do not affect you but you noticed how he’s being more affectionate than ever like how he’s placing a piece of your hair behind your ear or those subtle touches or how he’s been hanging out with you everyday all of a sudden or how he’s been constantly calling you during the late night hours just because he likes to talk to you more is what he told you even though you just met a few hours ago.

At the beginning, you thought that all of these changes seemed too good to be true and you could now confirm that your intuition is right. The reason why Jin is acting like this is because he just got himself out of a long-term relationship and that leaves him to feel vulnerable and lonely.

He just needs someone to be there for him and that someone is you because like you said - you’re each other’s sense of comfort and that’s enough for you to keep yourself in touch with reality and for your hopes to deflate.

All he needs right now is a friend, someone he could share his worries to. No more, no less.

Sighing, you disposed of the plastic bag as you crossed your arms to keep yourself warm but youre nose eventually started to feel runny that had you sniffing from the cold as you walked yourself back to the bench.

“I think we should go home now” you said as you look over at your mom’s message, saying that it’s already midnight.

“Your nose is red” Jin chuckled as he removed his arm from your windbreaker, standing up to give it to you but he beat you to it when you were about to grab it as he placed it around your shoulders that got you quite stunned for a moment until he spoke up, “Come on, get your arms in.”

This gesture made you feel weak again with how he’s being so caring but you did not show any of it as you try to play it cool.

“It’s okay, i got it” you said as you grab the windbreaker from his but Jin did nothing to move himself away, still standing in front of you as he held the piece of clothing around you and that only leaves you to abide if it’s the only way he could finally stop being this close to you because you’re sure that your heart has been a fluttering mess and you can’t keep up.

“Let’s go,” Jin said with a smile as he hopped on his bike, making you do the same as well. You let him advance for a bit until the distance is safe for you to whisper the whims of your heart.

You’re making it so hard to loose the strings when you tug it ever so tightly.

Thankfully, it has gotten much warmer now that you’re inside Jin’s car but that still doesn’t stop your series of sneezes and you’ve now definitely caught a cold and a case of runny nose which only made Jin feel bad for asking you to share your windbreaker with him awhile ago.

“Here have some more” Jin laughed with a lace of worry as he opened his center console to get his pack of tissues to give it to you, “Let’s stop by a pharmacy or a convenience store for a medicine.”

You nodded your head as you blew your nose onto the tissue, resting your head back against the window as you closed your eyes to relieve the headache but you’re glad your sneezing fit stopped for a while.

“Hey, you didn’t answer my question back there” Jin reminded you.

“What question?” you asked with your eyes still closed.

“I asked you how you’ve been doing?”

“Well, I’m okay except for now”,you pointed to your nose that had you both laughing, “No, but seriously, I’m doing just fine.”

Jin snorted, “Such a generic answer.”

“I think I've practically told you everything”, well you think you did with the amount of hours you’ve been talking and spending time with each other since the past week.

“Everything?”

Of course not.

You managed to ignore his question as you bite on your thumb, putting your attention to the scenery out of the window but your attention was soon diverted into something else when you felt something warm on top of your hand and to your surprise, it was because Jin placed his hand on top of yours as he tightly held it in his.

“You know, I've been meaning to thank you for being there with me, specially these days.”

You turned your hand upwards so that you could properly clasped it around his, squeezing it as you warmly smile at him, “Of course, that’s what friends do.”

Those words sounded bitter as it left your mouth but you need to remind yourself to keep yourself grounded, that being friends is as far as what you both can come to which is why you pulled back your hand from his, laying it to rest around your stomach as you turned back to look outside the window.

“Of course” Jin meekly said as he cleared his throat.

The air definitely felt awkward but not for long as Jin parked the car in front of the convenience store by a gasoline station. You opened the door to escape the suffocating silence and walked straight inside the store to get a bottle of water and a pack of decongestants by the counter.

“Drink it with some Vitamin C” Jin said as he appeared right beside you to stand with you in line, giving you a box of orange juice.

“Thanks, anything else you’d like to buy?” Jin shook his head no but changed his mind instantly when he saw the pack of gummies nearby. He was about to reach for it when he stopped midway to take out his phone from his pocket and you were able to get a glimpse that it’s a call coming from Nami again.

“I’ll wait for you outside” you nodded your head as you placed the items on the counter, getting the pack of gummies for Jin as you take a look right by the convex mirror to see him taking the call.

As you got the paper bag in your hand, you pulled the doors as you walk out of the store and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation but you were able to make out the words ‘try again’ and ‘i love you’ for you to decipher that Jin took your advice and as ironic as it sounds, you can’t help but feel a twinge of pain.

In an instant, your ever rapid growing feeling of hope quickly deflated until it diminished and you think that this should be a sign that you seriously need to acknowledge for you to stop and move on.

You stood idly outside of the door of his car as you waited for the doors to be unlocked but Jin’s too engrossed in the conversation for him to notice that you have already made your way outside and you could hear your heart slowly crumbling as you heard more of their conversation.

“Sorry, i didn’t knew you came out already” Jin said as he pressed on his keys

“It’s okay”, you said, opening the door but you hesitated for a bit as you watched Jin get in, buckling himself in, “I’ll go to the restroom first.”

You leave the paper bag onto your seat when Jin nodded at you, closing the door as you walk towards the direction of the bathroom, pursing your lips as you try to keep your emotions in bay.

As you opened the door of the restroom, you got inside a cubicle, locking it as you just stood there to stare at the back of the door as you felt all the emotions crashing all at once, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palm into your eyes.

You cannot cry just yet.

It’s making you frustrated how you’ve been trying so long for your feelings to let go only for it to resurface again and again and it hurts how this is the most painful slap of reality to you just when you thought that maybe, just maybe your hopes could be realized only for it to come crashing back down as always.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you let out a whimper as you let yourself cry a tear or two for only a moment as you still try to hold it in but your heart is broken and you’re done mending it every time by yourself but you’re also quite stupid for letting him have the power to break it.

Unlocking the door, you were immediately greeted with your reflection as you look back on yourself at how pathetic you are as you turn on the faucet to splash your face with some cold water.

You wiped your face with some tissue paper whilst still looking back at yourself, sliding your finger under the rim of your eyes to remove the evidence that you’ve just cried. You took a deep breath and checked to see if you look normal enough to go back inside the car.

You get yourself settled in right away as soon as you get in and thankfully, Jin didn’t notice anything different when he casually asked you if you’re good to go in to which you nodded your head. You take out the items out of the bag as you pop in the tablet of decongestant, downing them in an instant with the bottled water.

It was nice and quiet for a while as you sip on your orange juice as you let the side of your head rest against the window. You noticed on the reflection of the window how Jin would turn his head at you to take a glimpse right then and there, unsure what he’s been trying to do but before you could think of it too much, you felt your eyelids starting to get droopy from the drowsiness that probably is the effect from the medicine.

Next thing you know, you were woken up as you felt the car jolt only to realize that Jin ran through a speed bump without slowing down.

“Sorry” Jin apologized when he saw you rubbed your eyes from sleep.

“Weren’t you going to drop me off first?” you asked as you noticed the surroundings that look like to be the inside of Jin’s subdivision.

“Yeah but i forgot that i was supposed to give you the kimchi my mom made” Jin said as he parked the car in front of their house, “Do you want to go inside for a while?”

“I’ll just wait here” you yawned, stretching your arms.

“Okay, I'll be quick” Jin smiled, ruffling your hair as he got off and closed the door whilst you watched him walk through their front walkway until he halted as if someone called him when he turned to look at his right with a quite surprised look.

Curious as well, you looked back to see that it was Nami who had just gotten out of her car as she rushed forward to envelope Jin in a soul crushing hug. It took almost a while for Jin to return the gesture, not expecting her presence tonight hence the reason why he looked over at you to give you an apologetic look.

You watch as Jin said something to Nami that had her looking over your direction. Jin left Nami to stand there for a while as he went to your side, opening the door to tell you something.

“Hey, maybe you should go inside for a while. I just need to talk to Nami and then i’ll take you home.”

“No, it’s okay. I could bike my way home” you said, feeling like you shouldn’t be here at all to witness this but it looks like Jin’s opposed to your suggestion as he blocked you before you could even step a foot outside the car.

“It’s late, I’ll drive you home, okay?” there’s no way Jin would let you win thus you obliged.

“Fine but can i just stay in here?”

Jin nodded with a worrisome look, “Sorry, i didn’t know she would come over.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I promise it’ll be just quick” you pushed Jin away playfully as you told him not to worry and go back to Nami who then offered you a warm smile once both of your eyes met.

As soon as Jin closed the doors, you watched as he ran up towards her, the forced smile you were showing now completely turned into a frown, making you look away as you try to look everywhere else except them so that you could keep your mess of emotions at bay.

Hold it in just a few more.

Heaving out a sigh, you took the last ounce of courage in you to look at them and concluded that maybe this is how it will always be and that some things just don’t go the way you would want them to - you can never be in the picture.

It has been four years but it isn’t too late for you to finally let him go.

As much as it hurts to think about it, this will be the last time that you’re letting yourself be with Jin and you truly mean it this time. It might be hard at first but you need to keep a distance in order to give yourself time to heal and you could hope he’d understand why you have to do this.

Loving someone who could never love you has always been dangerous in the first place as you find yourself in a never ending loop of anguish suffering and you could only truly let go when you take the courage and will to do it.

Letting go of someone doesn’t always end up with you losing them but just maybe you need to let go in order for you to handle yourself better and to be able to take a better hold of your own worth so you could stop holding on to something that’s not even meant for you to hold on to.

As you were able to wrap your head upon this realization, your eyes flickered towards the car’s side mirror where it perfectly showed you the street post that reads the name Daffodil Street that had you chuckling as you remembered it’s meaning once again but more so because of its other meaning you’ve come to learn recently that perfectly explains your predicament.

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings, and eternal life.

Jin has told you the meaning behind this yellow flower countless times that you have memorized it by heart.

It’s such a funny thing how Daffodils look so bright with it’s yellow petals yet so dark with its other underlying meaning. Maybe Jin is unaware of the other meaning or he may have forgotten to say it to you but that doesn’t matter anyway as he made you feel it instead.

Daffodil also symbolizes unrequited love.

A/N: This work is inspired by the songs called fallingforyou by The 1975 and Someone That Loves you by Honne (ft. Izzy Bizu) which perfectly gives out unrequited love or mutual pining vibes. Hope you’ll like this!

235 notes · View notes

taleasnewastime · 4 years

Text

There’s no way

Jin x reader genre: fluff word count: 3.3k

a/n: This is basically just a whole ramble based off the song “There’s no way” by Lauv and Julia Michaels. Hope you enjoy and it’s not too much waffle!

The film you were watching with the boys was slowly coming to an end as you felt a yawn leave your mouth. You worked with the boys and it had become a sort of weird tradition that when you were home and had a day off you would come round and watch a film together. Tonight, you were watching You’ve Got Mail as it was new on Netflix. It was one of your all-time favourite films so you forced yourself to stay awake throughout although you were knackered from your countless days of working.

Just as Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks started making out in the park you kicked the blankets off you making Jin jump next to you.

“Right if I don’t go now, I don’t think I will ever go,” you leap off the sofa.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Yoongi states.

“Because I live 5 minutes down the road and I have a perfectly good bed there and then it means I won’t have to wake up tomorrow morning and deal with you lot.”

“Fair enough, just saying that the offer is always there.”

“Thanks Yoongi,” you smile at him as you start walking towards the door.

“Don’t forget we’re all going to that bar tomorrow to celebrate,” Jimin shouts as you head closer to the door.

“Yeah yeah, I know, see you guys there at 8.”

You finally reach the door and start to put your shoes on.

“You know, Yoongi is right, you are always welcome to stay over.” You hadn't realised Jin had followed you to the door until he spoke.

As you finish putting your shoes on you stand up and put your jacket round your shoulders.

“And as I said to Yoongi, I appreciate the offer but I have a perfectly decent flat just 5 minutes away,” you look up into Jins eyes and smile. “Thanks for tonight. And thanks for being on my side for watching You’ve Got Mail. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow? Is Clare going to be joining us?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. I think she’ll be there. I mean I’ve invited her but we’re kind of going through a rough patch at the moment so who knows what she’ll do.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Jin, I didn’t realise.”

Clare was Jin current girlfriend. From what you knew the two of them had only been going out for a few months so you were surprised when he said things weren’t going well.

“No worries. To tell you the truth it's not been good for a while now,” he leans against the wall and runs a hand over his face. “What about you?”

“What?” He looks into your eyes as you look back at him confused.

“Are you bringing anyone tomorrow?” He says it so seriously, eyes not leaving yours.

“Nope. You know how it goes, if you have somebody then I don’t, and if I have somebody, you don’t.” A smile breaks onto his face at this long-standing joke. For as long as you had known Jin there was never a moment when you had either both been with somebody at the same time or both been single. Much to your dismay.

“So, I guess I will just see you tomorrow then,” he says softly.

“Yep, tomorrow,” you reply just as softly.

You stand staring at each other for what felt like hours, but is really just a few seconds, before you finally turn and open the door, walking through it. You give him one last smile as you close the door and head home.

The next night comes around fast. Mainly because you had a hectic morning of doing odd jobs. Before you know it you are walking into the loud bar who’s address you’d been sent by Jimin. As you make your way to the bar you recognise a few faces of people you work with you smile at them as you go to get a drink.

“You finally made it,” a voice almost shouts out next to you.

“I would call this being on time,” you turn to smile at Jimin.

“We won't count the minutes, but if we were to, I’d say you were 13 minutes late,” you laugh at him as he gives you a hug. “13 minutes late or not I’m glad you came,” he whispers into your ear.

“I mean I think I’m probably somehow contractually obliged to come tonight.”

“Don’t lie, you love coming to these things.”

“Come on let's just get a drink.”

Jimin orders you both a drink and picks them both up when they are placed in front of him. Without saying anything he walks away from you leaving you to trail behind. He finally places the drinks down on a corner table and as you reach to take a sip you are embraced in yet another hug.

“Y/N, you came,” Jungkook squeezes you a tad too tightly.

“Why are you all assuming I wouldn’t have come?” You pout slightly as Jungkook pulls away.

“Because your Y/N,” Hoseok puts an arm around your shoulder squeezing slightly and smiling.

“And what the hell does that mean.”

“It means, you’re like me,” Yoogni stays seated as he looks up at you. “You wouldn’t be here unless you had to be.”

You simply scoff in response. “I mean am I that boring and predictable?”

“Hey, are you calling me boring and predictable?” Yoongi mocks hurt, everyone else laughing.

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your drink. “And here I was going to say it's nice to see you guys,” you glance around the room. “Where are the others anyway?”

“Jins over talking to someone by the snacks I think.”

You immediately look towards the snack table, only to try and hide you quick reaction looking back to Jimin. “And Tae and Joon?”

“Oh right, I think I heard them talking about getting some more drinks.”

You hum in response and the conversation moves on. As it does you start to tune out and turn back to look over to the snack table. It had only been a day, less than that, probably only a few hours, since you’d seen Jin but you couldn’t wait to see him again. As someone moved away from the table you caught sight of him. He had a plate in his hand and he was chatting to someone next to him. One of them obviously said something funny because Jins face lights up as his head rolls back slightly into a big laugh. Although you were too far away to hear it you can imagine the sound and a slight smile takes form on your face. You turn back to the conversation going on at the table in front of you, smile still on your face, as you meet Yoongis eyes. The smile drops from your face as if you have been caught in some awful act but he just gives you a sad smile in acknowledgement. Your face heats up slightly as you ignore Yoongi and try to listen to what Hoseok is saying, adding your own comments and jokes to the mix.

“Guys, the food tonight is some of the best I’ve had at one of these things. I brought back a plate for you to have but if you want more you should go now, saw a few people pigging out so don’t think it's going to last.” A plate is set down on the table in front of you and Jungkook immediately grabs some sandwiches. “Hey Y/N,” you look to see Jin smiling down at you.

“Hey,” you smile back up at him.

You continue to stare into each other's eyes for a second more before he interrupts. “If you want any of that food I’d get in quick.”

You turn to see the plate is nearly empty as each of the boys is almost shovelling the food into their mouths. You give a big laugh as you watch.

You turn back to Jin smile still on your face to see him already looking at you. You smile falters slightly as you aren’t expecting him to be looking your way. “Where’s Clare then?” You ask.

“Oh, um, she couldn’t make it,” the smile that was on his face falls.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t worry about it, she had something else going on anyway.”

“Right,” you sigh. “You know, I should socialise with other people,” you clap your hands together, looking around the room. “As much as I love hanging out with you guys, I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression that I have favourites. And as Yoongi so rightly pointed out, this is a works party and I should probably mingle with some other people.”

“But I am your favourite right?” Jimin pouts at you.

“Of course, Chim,” you beam at him as you pick up you glass and give a slight wave at them all as you walk off.

For the rest of the night you talk to your work colleagues and get slightly inebriated. It's not until the music starts to get louder and room is made for people to dance that you realise how drunk you truly are. You and another girl dance over to where the space has been cleared and start jumping around to the music. You hadn’t seen any of the boys since you left them earlier in the night so you couldn’t help but smile when Jimin comes bounding over.

“Chim!” You almost scream, wrapping him in a tight hug.

He laughs in your arms and starts to rock you both to the music before taking your arms and twirling around. You can’t stop laughing as you both dance together, starting to involve your friend too.

“Hobi!” Jimin suddenly screams trying to get the mans attention, arms flailing in the air. Hobi spins around and his face erupts into a beaming smile at the sight of Jimin. Strutting over he joins your growing circle of dancers. As more and more people join and as the night goes on you became more and more delirious, both from laughing and alcohol.

Mid laugh you make eye contact with Jin who’s stood on his own at the edge of the crowd of dancers. You immediately start making your way over to him, smile never leaving your face.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” You ask.

“You know I’m not the best dancer.”

“Pull the other one, you are 10 times better than me and I’m still out there shaking my ass,” you laugh, demonstrating the moves you were previously doing on the dance floor.

“Oh, I saw,” he states under his breath. “I’m happy to observe tonight.”

“No come on, I am not having that.”

And with that you take his hand and start dragging him back to the spot you previously occupied. You ignore the feeling in the hand that is holding his, but when you get to your destination and let it go you miss the feeling. Putting those thoughts to the back of your mind, you go back to dancing. It takes him a few minutes but in no time Jin joins in with everyone and is soon doing the craziest dances. But it doesn’t take long for a wave of sleep to come over you. One second the life of the party, the next second you wish you were tucked up in bed.

“I think it’s my bed time,” Jin has to lean down so you can speak into his ear.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

You grab your coat on the way out and try putting it on as you walk down the steps outside, which was a bad decision as you stumble slightly.

“Easy there,” Jin pulls you into him so you don’t fall. You laugh almost hysterically as you both make your way down the rest of the steps. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“I lost count when Jimin started bring me shots.”

“And this is why you should never go on a night out with Jimin.”

“Hey, he’s fun. And I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah, not sure how much of that I believe. Shall I call you a taxi?”

“Nah, I think I’ll walk.”

Jins head shoots to you. “No, I don’t think you will.”

“I’m a big girl, I’ve walked myself home many times, I’m sure I won’t get lost,” you button up your coat and pull your bag in closer readying yourself for the walk home. It was only a 15-minute walk anyway.

“It’s not you getting lost I’m worried about Y/N.”

“Well there should be nothing to worry about then,” you smile up at him sarcastically. “It’s been a lovely night Jin, thanks for dancing with me.”

“Y/N.”

“Oh and thanks for bring that plate of food over at the start of the night,” you ignore him, not giving him a chance to get a work in.

“Y/N.”

“Not that I had much of the food as the boys gobbled it before I got a look in.”

“Y/N,” Jin almost shouts to get you to stop talking and it works as you stare at him in shocked silence. “If you will let me talk, I was going to say that I will walk you home.”

“Oh no need, I know the way.”

Jin sighs but couldn’t help the slight laugh that leaves his lips. “I’m not worried about you getting lost Y/N. If you won’t get a taxi, I won’t let you walk home alone.”

“Fine,” you say stubbornly. “You know, sometimes it feels like you’re my dad.”

“Well sometimes I feel like I’m the dad of 6 boys, so what’s the difference if I add one more person to that.”

“Come on then, at the moment you should be more concerned about me catching a cold. If you’re walking me home let's go,” you roll your eyes as you start walking off.

He soon catches you up and you fall into a steady rhythm. You start talking easily about the night you had just had, laughing at things that you’d both heard that night and you smile to yourself at how nice it is. As you walk you felt the tension between the two of you build, hands occasionally brushing against one another. The tension between the two of you wasn’t unusual and if you were honest you had always felt like you and Jin would eventually get together but the timing was never right.

As you walked, talked and laughed you felt so happy. You wished you could make time stop and forget everyone and everything except the two of you. But you remained calm and hid your feelings from him, though you didn’t think you ever did a good job. Any idiot could probably tell how in love with him you were.

15 minutes later you arrive at your door. As you push open the door and start walking in Jin stays still.

“Not coming in?” You turn around to face him and stand so you are holding the door open.

“I should probably head home too.”

“At least come in for a drink while you wait for a taxi.”

“I think I’ll walk.”

“Is this my queue to offer to walk you home?” You roll your eyes at him and a light chuckle leaves his lips.

“It’s a 5-minute walk, I think I’d be home and in bed by the time a taxi was to even consider turning up.”

“You sure it’s not just because you don’t want to spend more time with me,” you mock as a pout comes to your lips.

“You know that I would spend every second with you if I could.”

You heart stops.

“So why don’t you come in?” Your question comes out almost as a whisper.

Jin sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s been a long night. I think I just need some sleep.”

“Oh,” is all you can think to say as your eyes drop to the floor. His feet soon come into your sight and you feel his hand on your cheek. He lifts you head so you are looking at him again.

“I had a really nice night. We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?”

“I’m sure we’ll probably see each other at work on Monday,” you smile sadly at him.

He slowly leans into you and you remain still. Eyes still locked to his. Heart pounding in your chest. As he inches closer you suddenly come to your senses and turn your head at the last minute, pulling him into a hug to cover up whatever was about to happen.

As you pull away you look back at him and say, “well I hope Clare is OK and you can hang out on the weekend.”

His hand scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, same.”

A few more awkward moments pass.

“Well I should head off.”

“Thanks for walking me home. And get home safe yourself, text me when you get in so I know your OK.”

“Of course,” he says before heading off into the night.

It had been almost a week since that night and you hadn’t seen or spoken to Jin since. The last text you received from him was him saying that he had got home safely, which you hadn’t replied to. So, you were surprised when you saw his name on your phone screen indicating that he was calling you.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Have you got a boyfriend?”

You were confused by the statement and even held your phone out to check it was Jin you were talking to.

“What?”

“You heard me, have you got a boyfriend? Or have you been on dates with anyone recently that you could see becoming your boyfriend?”

“What are you on about Jin?”

“Just answer the question, Y/N.”

“No Jin, I don’t have a boyfriend. You only saw me last week, and I had no boyfriend, or potential boyfriend then, who do you think I am?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Me and Clare have broken up.”

“Oh,” you find yourself at a loss for words again. “I’m sorry to hear that Jin.”

“Don’t be, like I said it’s been bad for a while.”

“What has this got to do with me having a boyfriend?”

“Whenever I break up with someone you are always fresh into a relationship, I just wanted to check.”

“Seriously?” You laugh.

“Yeah, because if you had a boyfriend then I couldn’t ask you out on a date.”

You heart stops. Why does it always do that around this man?

“What? Jin you’ve just broken up with your girlfriend and you’re asking me on a date?”

“If I wait much longer my chance will be gone. I’ve wanted to go out with for a while but time has never lined up. Well, now it’s lining up and I want to go on a date with you.”

“I don’t want to be just a rebound for you Jin.”

“Y/N, you could never be a rebound,” he says sternly. “You know how much I care for you.”

“OK,” a smile takes over your face, your heart taking over from your mind.

“OK?” He says in slight shock.

“OK!” You say smile now fully taking over your face and heart pounding in your chest as you think about the date you have been imagining for so long that is finally going to happen.

113 notes · View notes

poptod · 4 years

Text

jiāoqiǎnyánshēn (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: jiāoqiǎnyánshēn (chinese, v.) - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger.

Notes: for @hideamnos! a bit longer than my last couple of fics so I hope you don’t mind. the strange city happenings are all things I’ve seen in San Fran. As always, gender neutral. Word Count: 2.6k

Rain falls down from the sky in great sheets, battering down at your umbrella so harshly that you have to tuck it away to avoid flying off. Wind whips at your hair, biting at your exposed skin, pushing you to seek some sort of shelter, any shelter, from the fall-winter weather.

Nowhere is open. It has to be around midnight – you can't be bothered to check your phone, considering the last time you used it it was on 5% battery. The only light you can really see is the one near the train station, and with that singular sliver of hope, you run off in that direction. With the wind at your back, something finally goes right for you.

In the fluorescent light another man sits, skin that you assumed would've been dark in any other light paled in the station lights. The dull buzzing you usually hear is gone, beaten out by the rain, pounding harsh against the flimsy rooftop. With shaking hands you sit on the bench, curling up into a ball as though that would keep you warmer.

You won't deny that New York City has some strange folks – it's much like that in many other cities, though New York has to be the worst case you've seen of it. There was one point where a long line of monks, numbering somewhere into the fifties, walked down the sidewalk chanting some language you couldn't understand. This one can't be the strangest occurrence, though it is a little peculiar. His clothes are too nice to be a costume but it can't be anything else; a man wearing ancient Egyptian garb, donned entirely in gold and bearing a crown that looked far too heavy for his head. He's standing, carrying a tablet at his side as he stares off into the ink black of the city's night.

When it begins to hail he looks up at the sky, a calmness in his movement that you hardly ever see. Turning back down to the ground, he steps further inside the safety of the train stop, sitting down on the bench beside you.

"Come here often?" He asks in a humorous tone, a British accent shocking you mildly. With a chuckle and a wide smile, you shake your head, mumbling a small 'no.'

When he turns to once again stare at the empty railroad tracks, you let yourself examine him, his bone structure, the way his skin rests on his face – all very middle eastern, probably Arabic or Egyptian, or a mix of the two. It's becoming a bad habit at this point, staring at people's facial structure. Despite the fact that it'd probably make people uncomfortable if they knew you were doing it, it's good practice for you, what with your attempts to become a forensic pathologist. He's pretty, you note that as well – soft skin, sharp jawline, sweet eyes, pink lips – all leading to you blushing and looking away when he notices your stare.

"You're curious, aren't you?" He says in a quiet voice, but you can tell he doesn't mind your intrigue in him.

"Well... yes, but I'm used to not figuring out why people do strange things," you say, recalling the fifty monks and the one woman wearing only dog leashes as clothes. Your comment earns you a tiny smile from him.

"My name is.. Ahk," he says, removing his hand from the many folds of his clothes, holding it out for you to shake. You do so, noting nice fingernails and a firm grip.

"I'm (Y/N)," you respond, releasing his hand.

"I'm from the Natural History Museum, here in New York. The Egyptian exhibit," he says, and for a moment you wonder what the hell he's talking about, before remembering they created a new exhibit recently. Some sort of attempt to 'bring history to life' by hiring actors.

"Oh, you're the actor playing that boy king," you say in recognition, secretly proud that you remembered that.

"He's... he's not really a boy," he laughs sweet, a wide grin and crinkles around the eye – you can't help but continue noting how handsome this man is.

"How old is he then?" You ask, scooting closer in a fashion that made sure he wouldn't recognize what you were doing. This was too good of a chance to lose so suddenly.

"I – um, he died when he was around seventeen," he stutters out, blushing when you both know that's still a very young age for a king. "But – but he would've... grown up."

"All of us would've grown up. Doesn't mean that fellow is 4,000 years old now," you snort.

"Yeah..." he chuckles nervously, "right."

"Are you interested in Egypt or.. is it more of just a job for you? It seems interesting nonetheless," you say, leaning in. Stories have always been a staple of your life, the woes people go through and the accomplishments of humanity – everyone has something interesting about them.

"I'm actually from Egypt," he says, confirming what you'd deduced earlier. "It's a bit like returning to my childhood. I.. um, I lost my parents at a pretty early age, so it's a little difficult sometimes, since my job sort of.. reminds me of that part of myself, but um – I, uh, I still enjoy it."

"I understand. I lost my father recently," you say in a soft voice, your gaze drifting to the hail covered cement as you recall your father. He'd always been much nicer and closer to you than your mother. "It must be difficult. It's great that you've been able to enjoy yourself, though. When did you leave Egypt?"

"... in my twenties," he says after blipping out for a moment, which only makes your sentiment for him warmer – maybe you have a thing for airheads. "I left to go to Cambridge."

"Really? Wow, that's a nice school," you say with a sigh, already shuddering just imagining how expensive it had to be. Not even factoring in the fact that University in itself can be expensive, Ahk is Egyptian and had to be a foreign exchange student, which only ups the price.

"Yeah, I had a mildly pleasant time there," he chuckles, and you laugh as well – you wonder for a moment if you could manage to get his number.

"Here's another question for you, if you don't mind my asking," you say before being promptly interrupted by him.

"Only if I can ask you a question after."

With a sheepish smile you nod, realizing you've been bombarding him with question after question, and leaving him little time to figure out anything about you. He adjusts himself in his seat, and waits patiently for your query.

"Why are you at a train station in the middle of the night wearing your work clothes?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he laughs, but proceeds to answer anyway. "A couple friends and I went out for fun since we weren't actually working, we, uh, we don't work on Tuesdays and weekends, but we do rehearsals and such on Tuesdays so it's... technically work? Anyway, we went out, had some fun, caused several statues to come to life and then we got separated because they got arrested for disturbing the peace, but I managed to escape, ever the lucky one –" you laugh when he says that as though it's a monumental accomplishment, "but I need to get back to the Museum before dawn.. my clothes, and all that. I don't have an automobile, so... train."

"Sounds like a hell of an evening," you say with a laugh, wondering what other hectic things this man could be up to.

He proceeds to ask you the same question, 'what are you doing at a train station at midnight,' but it doesn't process in your head when you realize he said he caused several statues to come to life. He had to be joking, but he didn't mention it, which he definitely should've since it's a very confusing and worrying statement to make.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry," you rush out, registering he's been waving his hand in front of your face. He backs away when you finally react, though he continues to look worried, and asks you if you're alright. "I'm fine, I just.. remembered I haven't had dinner and I need to plan that when I get home."

"Oh, that's not good. Definitely eat something. But, uh, as I was saying..." you perk up again, "what are you doing here?"

"That's – that's a funny story, actually. I was off at an art exhibit, or at least I was planning on going to it, and it was a pretty late night one," you look down at your phone, which is now dead, "it was supposed to go till around 1 AM, not sure what time it is now but – I was, I was stopped at the door because, as it turns out, I had the wrong address. I didn't know that at the time, though, so I kept insisting I wanted to go inside. I sort of thought they might've been discriminating against me but I digress. I finally got inside, turns out I actually was at the wrong place. I'm honestly not sure what kind of party I walked into, but it was.. really odd. Decided to stay because it began to rain, but then somebody started stripping and so did everyone else and I decided it was time to get out, as many people would decide. I left the building incredibly disoriented and a little drunk, got a bit lost, and then the rain picked up and I couldn't see a thing. Eventually found my way here."

"That sounds a lot more exciting than my evening," he says after giving your spiel a moment to set in.

"Yes, well, at least no one got arrested. To my knowledge."

"Right," he laughs, looking down at the floor when you meet his eye. As his laughter fades he tucks in his lip, biting and discreetly rolling his tongue over the top lip, making your heart stutter in your chest.

"Hey, do you know where we are? I might be able to drive you back to the museum," you offer, something you can immediately tell was the right move to make. He sits up a little straighter, a spark of hope in his eye.

"Would you do that? That'd be wonderful, really. I'll die if I don't get back in time," he says with wide eyes, turning to you like you've just become best friends. You giggle and nod your head, thinking about the many strange things this man has said, and wondering if he has always been so different from others.

Unfortunately, neither you nor Ahk have much of an idea as to where you are, so you turn to the maps. Two of them sit on either side of the small rest area, illuminated by the pale light and protected behind glass. There's a marker telling you where you are, and while Ahk is absolutely horrible at reading the map, you manage to pinpoint where you stand.

"It's a good thing you're smarter than I am," he comments as the two of you head off, trying your best to stay out of the hail.

"I don't think I am. I think I've just lived here a while," you say, ducking beneath the overhang of a building roof. "You start to recognize patterns and such the longer you stare at things."

"Yes, I've..." he looks to you as though you're suddenly precious, "I've noticed. I used to look at the stars quite a bit when I was younger."

After going through both sopping rain and biting hail, the two of you are exhausted by the time you reach your car. You hadn't driven it to the function (it would've been much easier to find had you done that, but you didn't) and you hadn't left it at home either, but you distinctly remembered leaving it in an underground parking lot. The reasons as to your decision to leave it there are unimportant, and Ahk does not ask. Painted an alarming shade of red, your car was a gift from an eccentric aunt, and though it's tight to fit more than two people in there, the two of you manage.

Throughout the evening you've noticed things that are 'off' about him – the way he tells stories, how he recalls memories, his choice of words, his life in general, but sitting in the car with him has to be the strangest thing that's happened to you. It doesn't feel as though he's ever even been in a car, mesmerized by the blinking lights and the soft radio that comes from the surround sound system you have. So it's a fact in your mind – there's something about him that isn't entirely true, that isn't wholly normal, and the idea excites you just as much as it terrifies you. Maybe he's a prince. Maybe he's a murderer. You don't know, but he keeps up the happy energy that seems ever present in his company all throughout the ride.

Large lights dug into the ground shine bright onto the front of the museum, showing off the pillars and carvings and, of course, the ever-changing advertisement posters. The hail has lightened back into rain, though it's still freezing and biting when you walk him up the entrance. Your legs slow in the cold, sore to move and making your whole journey up the many steps just a little more difficult, but Ahk doesn't seem bothered by it. It's another thing that strikes you as unusual – he hasn't complained of the cold, or shown any of its effects at any point. His clothes only add to your confusion, as they're definitely suited towards warm, Egyptian weather, not hail and sleet.

"I want to thank you again for driving me here. I am indebted to you," he says with a small bow once the two of you are safe underneath the portico. Inside, all the lights are on, and it looks as though most of the actors inside are still in their costumes.

"It's not a big deal," you insist. "I'm happy to help."

"Still, you're very kind," he says, taking your hands in his, a sincere smile on his face.

"I, uh –" you stammer, blushing from the contact. "I enjoyed our conversations. Is... do you, um... is there any way I can, uh, contact you?"

He halts, and for a moment you think you misread the signals – maybe he isn't as interested in you as you thought, and the idea of that alone puts an anchor in your chest.

"I don't have any phones," he says, a sentence that sounds wrong but is technically correct, "but I'm here pretty much every night. I'm very dedicated to my job." He winks, and you can't help but smile.

"Then I hope I'll see you again, Ahk," you say softly, biting at your lip as your nervousness begins to get at you.

"I hope to see you again as well."

With that he leaves you starstruck, already dreaming of when you'll see him again.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader #gender neutral reader #rami malek #rami malek character

199 notes · View notes

softboywriting · 5 years

Text

Christmas Together | Shawn Mendes

Summary: When you and Shawn head home for Christmas, you end up stuck in a snowstorm in a small town in the middle of the united states. With all flights grounded until further notice, the two of you will have to spend Christmas together at a bed and breakfast. This blizzard may just be the push that brings the two of you together with the help of a little Christmas magic. [fluff] [Christmas themed] [personal assistant to lovers au] [non au shawn]

Word Count: 6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Traveling with Shawn for the holidays is never easy. He is possibly the busiest man you've ever worked for but you don’t mind because being with Shawn is just like being with someone you love, because, well, you do love him. Thanksgiving came and went, yours in the states not his, you don't go home for that holiday anyways. It's not a big deal for your family back home. Christmas is though and traveling three days before Christmas is a nightmare.

Things were going smoothly, you had a plan to get home before christmas. Things were going perfectly until the last minute. You had somehow gotten two tickets on a fully booked flight from Brazil to Canada. The plan is for you to fly straight to the Toronto airport, no layovers and from there you'll catch a cab home to New York. You're about an hour into the flight and you can feel some turbulence coming on. No big deal. Until the pilot announced an emergency landing somewhere in Iowa.

"Oh no...no no shit." You look out the window and see nothing but clouds. No doubt about it, you’ve flown directly into a storm system.

"What? It's fine, we're just going to be a little delayed." Shawn rubs your shoulder. "It's no big deal."

"No, it is." You lean your head back against the headrest. "My sister is having a baby today and I promised I'd be there. My whole family is going to be there for Christmas. She's the first of us to have a kid."

"Oh. You didn't tell me that."

You look over and Shawn looks concerned. He always has such a big heart for everyone, it’s one of the many reasons why you love him so much. "I didn't think you needed to know. It's not work related."

"Well yeah but I still care about you. I know I'm your job but like, I'm still a person who cares about you."

"I know...I know I usually tell you everything it's just been...I've been-"

Shawn lays his hand on yours and you look down at it, heart racing. "I've been difficult lately. I know and I'm sorry. Traveling and shows have been hectic the last few weeks. It's totally my fault you’re overwhelmed."

"No, Shawn it's fine. My job is to take care of all that stuff. I'm not- I shouldn't complain about it."

"So what's stressing you out if it's not me?"

"Everything about the christmas season. My sister having a kid, obviously but...mostly it’s that christmas sucks when you're single okay?"

Shawn's eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

"Because every year I go home and my siblings all have their girlfriends and boyfriends or fiance's and shit and I'm the odd one out. Every year I become the center of attention at dinner, the butt of the joke during gift opening. It's just a pain in the ass being branded as the forever alone child in the family."

"Why is your family so mean?"

"They aren't. They don't mean their comments venmously, it's just little things that bug me. Little indirect jabs that remind everyone I'm single and I have been for a long time."

"Why are you single?"

You give him a blank stare. He couldn't be serious. He doesn't understand that he's the reason you can't be in a relationship? That your job of tailing him everywhere and managing his schedule and life is just as stressful on a relationship with someone for you as it is for him. "Shawn, I'm constantly traveling. When am I supposed to date? When am I supposed to meet someone?"

"Fuck." He groans and scrubs a hand over his face. "You're in the same boat as me. I didn’t even think of it like that."

"Yeah except I can't fly somewhere every time I have a few days off to see someone and make an attempt at one."

He shakes his head. "I've doomed you to be single. I'm putting you through the same stress I put myself through and it's not fair."

"It's not. But it's my job, and you have yours."

Shawn grabs your arm as the plan drops and shakes. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." His voice falters as the plane jerks violently.

You squeeze your eyes shut and he threads his fingers between yours, palm a little sweaty. "I don't see how but okay."

"If we make it through this I will do everything I can to get you a date."

"You're crazy Mendes."

"Yeah but you already knew that."

_____________________

The plane lands in one piece despite feeling like it was going to tear in half at any moment. As soon as you get to the airline club lounge you find out the flight is not just delayed but all flights are grounded for the next forty eight hours at least. Two days. You are definitely going to miss your sister's baby and you're possibly going to miss Christmas. As much as you don't want to deal with your family for the holiday, you're still going to miss them and you’re upset you might not be there.

"What're we going to do?" You ask as you slump into a chair beside Shawn. He looks over from his phone and you raise your eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"I got a place to stay until we can get another flight."

"What? How? That's my job."

He chuckles and pockets his phone. "I can book a place. I know how to use the internet."

"Well yeah but- how? There was a hotel with rooms free this close to Christmas and during a storm?"

"Kind of. Every hotel I looked at was full but there is a bed and breakfast about half an hour from the airport that had a room."

You stand up and grab your bag and suitcase. "I'll call a car or taxi or something for us and-"

Shawn lays his hand on your shoulder. "I did that too. I got an Uber."

"Oh."

"You do absolutely everything for me. I figured I could return the favor since right now is really stressful for you."

"But it's my job...it's not a favor."

Shawn shakes his head and grabs his bags. "Come on, you need to relax. I read that this b'nb is super nice and the rooms have huge tubs. I know you like baths."

"What? How do you know that?"

"You travel with mini bath bombs in your shower bag and you always seek out the hot tub when we book a really nice hotel on tour." Shawn looks back and you jog to catch up to him. "I guess I’m a little observant?"

"What else have you observed?" You ask nervously, hoping he hasn’t caught on to the fact you have very real feelings for him. You’ve done your best to hide them for a long time.

Shawn holds open the door to the pick up lanes for you as you step out into the icy wind blowing snow everywhere. "Your favorite color is red."

"Why's that?"

"You rarely wear it but when you do, you are always more confident and you seem more comfortable. You always pick red when given a choice of things and your eyes always light up whenever I wear my red button down, so I know you must like the color at least."

"Maybe that's because it looks so good on you."

He smirks. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good to know." Shawn steps out into the snow and approaches a black car. "Come on, this is our ride."

_____________________

The bed and breakfast looks like a winter wonderland. It's decked out in decorated trees, wreaths, lights, the whole nine yards when the Uber driver pulls up. It has a little sign in the front that says Dover Inn. How Shawn found this place you have no idea. A short walk up to the front and you and Shawn are pushing your way through a heavy door into a small foyer that's been converted into a check in area.

"Hello!" An older woman with long dark hair says as she comes out of a back area. Her name tag says Judy. "Do you have reservations?"

"Yes, Mendes. We booked online." Shawn shakes snow off his hat by the door. "The first name is Peter."

"Ah, yes, here you are." Judy says, squinting at her laptop on the old wood countertop. "Let me go see that the room is ready. I'll be right back."

"Peter?" You ask, dusting your coat off. "Why'd you use your middle name?"

"I didn't want to draw attention to myself. You know how fans are, they always somehow find out where I'm staying."

"True. Smart, actually. But we're in the middle of nowhere Iowa in a town of probably a few thousand people during a snowstorm. I'm pretty sure that no fans are going to bum rush you out here."

"I wasn't taking the risk." Shawn pulls his hat back on and you shake your head at him.

"Mr. Mendes?" Judy says from the stairs behind the check in desk.

"Yes?"

"You booked a double room correct?"

"Yes."

The woman walks forward to the desk and types something into her laptop, chewing on her lower lip. "There is an error with room numbers on the site, the room you booked is a single room suite with a queen bed. We can refund you if you like. I'm so sorry."

"No," you lay your hand on Shawn's arm before he can say anything. "It's fine. We will take it."

Shawn gives you a look, silently asking if you're sure.

"You're sure?" The host asks, looking between you and Shawn. "I can at least give you a discount for the mistake."

"That will be fine, thank you." Shawn says softly and the host grabs your room keys.

On the way up the stairs you notice how beautiful this place really is. It's old, a historic building if you were to guess. A large manor like house of sorts at some time, but now converted to a bed and breakfast. Everything is decked out in Christmas, literally everything. Judy leads you to your room at the end of the hall and opens the door.

"We have pillows and blankets in the closet. There are heated blankets available on request. Breakfast is served at eight until nine every morning. If you need anything you can call the front desk by dialing star five five. Feel free to explore the inn, we have a large living room and the kitchen open to guests after ten in the morning. Can I get you anything right now?"

"No, thank you." You smile as you look around the gorgeous room. It's huge and spacious. There is a fireplace in the center of the far wall, lounge chairs flanking it with a small tree decorated in the corner. A large queen-size bed with a huge bed frame and two dark wood dressers sit against the opposite wall. There is a door on the left of the entrance for the bathroom and the right for the closet. It's incredible.

Shawn drops his bag on the floor by the closet and pushes his suitcase and guitar case up against it. "You're fine with sharing a bed?"

"Yeah? Should I not be?"

"Well I mean isn’t it a little...intimate?"

You laugh. "Shawn, I've been your assistant for almost two years now. I'm pretty sure that I can survive sharing a bed for two nights with you. It's just like sharing your bed with your best friend when they sleep over." You drop your own bag by the closet. "Don't worry about it." You say this, but honestly you’re not sure how you’re going to fare. Being close to Shawn is one thing, but sharing a bed is a special kind of intimate, whether sexual or not, you worry about how you’ll be able to keep your cool.

Shawn takes off his coat and flops down on the bed. "I'm sorry you're missing your sister's baby."

You hang your own coat and flop down beside him. "There's nothing that can be done now."

"What if we can't get home for Christmas?"

You look over and he turns his head to look at you. "We have each other?"

"Yeah, we do." Shawn smiles softly. "I'm glad I'm stuck here with you."

"I'm glad it's you too."

____________________

Sleeping with Shawn is better than you expected. To start, you thought he would be a bed hog like he is on the tour bus, sprawled out all over his bed at the back of the bus, but he isn't. The two of you put on pajamas and crawled in on your respective sides. It was a little awkward at first, both of you unsure if it was okay to move or curl up or anything really. You decided to break that barrier though, push the button and make a move because the tension was absolutely eating you alive.

You scoot over from the very edge of the bed where you are laying uncomfortably still. You turn on your side and face Shawn who looks uncomfortable as hell too. "Hey, you look like you're petrified."

"I don't know what to do."

"How do you usually sleep with other people in your bed?"

Shawn rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. "Well, usually I spoon them because it's someone I'm very interested in and have usually just been intimate with. Other than that I usually sleep alone."

"Uh huh. So is it the lack of intimacy before hand that's stopping you?"

His cheeks turn dark pink in the soft glow of the white lights on the tree in the corner. "I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"If you need to spoon me so you can sleep, you can. I don't mind." You lay on your back and roll so your back is to him. You pat your side, inviting him to cuddle up. It’s the worst idea you’ve ever had and your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest at the sheer thought of Shawn being pressed against you. But how else will you ever get to experience a Shawn cuddle? You would rather know and live with that knowledge for the rest of your life while you pine in silence until you find someone to settle down with, than never know and always wonder just what you may have missed. "I trust you Shawn."

The bed shifts and you can feel the heat from his body as he scoots closer, but not quite touching. "You don't think it's weird?"

"We've been in much more intimate situations I’m sure. I've seen you naked a few dozen times. This isn't a big deal. I sleep better with someone close and you do too it seems. Just cuddle me and stop being so nervous about it."

Shawn's hand rests tentatively on your hip. "You're sure you don’t mind?"

"Shawn. I swear, it's fine." You chew on your lip, voice surprisingly convincing despite your nerves.

Finally Shawn takes the plunge, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you back against his warm body. Instantly you melt, body completely turning to mush. It’s everything you imagined it would be and more. He’s just right, bigger than you, warmer, soft but not too soft. You let out a sigh and he presses his nose to your hair.

"You smell really good,” Shawn says quietly.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, and thank you for letting me cuddle you. I hope you don't think I'm weird."

You put your hand over his against your chest. "I always think you're weird, but not because of this."

"I miss it."

"Hmm? Miss what?"

"Being affectionate like this." He adjusts himself so he is fully pressed against the length of your body, feet covering yours between the blankets.. "It's been a long time."

You close your eyes, nervous to say what you really want to. Worried he will know you're falling for him. Well...that you’ve already fallen for him. You did that a long time ago. "I don't mind if you want to do this. I mean...like, again?"

Shawn presses his hand against your chest gently, holding you back against him as if giving you a hug. "I just might have to take you up on that offer sometime."

_____________________

Morning finds you warm and cozy. There is a fire in the fireplace when you sit up and look around the otherwise empty room. Shawn isn't there, but the smell of his body wash wafts in from the bathroom that's open but dark. You look to the clock over the fireplace and it's just after eight thirty. You check your phone and you have no signal, of course.

You stretch as you get up and go to the big windows on the far wall. It's snowing still. You doubt it has ever stopped. You grab the complimentary robe from the dresser on your side of the room and wrap up in it before heading downstairs.

In the dining area that's set up like a small restaurant would be with it's tables and chairs scattered around with families and couples sat in eating, you find Shawn alone by the fireplace sipping coffee and reading something on his phone.

"Morning," you say softly as you take a seat with your back to the fireplace. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby. You?"

"Same."

Shawn puts his phone down and offers you his cup. "Coffee?"

"That's yours though?"

"Yeah but you can have some while we wait for the hostess to come by again." Shawn scoots the mug toward you. "I know you aren't sick or something."

You wrap your hands around the mug and lift it up to take a sip. Straight black coffee with a hint of sweetener. It's strong as hell and you swear you can feel it wake your senses up immediately. "This is horrible. How do you enjoy this?"

He laughs. "It's good?"

"No cream or something? It's like engine oil."

"Nuh uh." Shawn plucks his mug from your hands and takes a drink. "It's great. Oh, here comes the hostess."

You order some eggs, bacon and orange juice. Shawn asks for just some bacon and toast. You look out the window to see the snow reaching the bottom of it, drifted up from the wind no doubt. It has snowed so much you're seriously worried you may not get home for a while.

"What's wrong?"

"The snow. It keeps falling."

"Yep." Shawn turns and looks outside. "I told my parents I would be spending Christmas here. If I'm wrong, it'll be a surprise when I get home. If I'm right, they're not worried about me."

"You have signal?"

"Yeah. You don't?"

"No. Can I call my parents?"

Shawn hands you his phone and you excuse yourself to the living room where it's a little quieter. You dial your dad's cell number and lean against the wall near a tree.

"Dad? Hey it's me."

"Kiddo! Where are you? We thought you were coming home last night?"

"We had to land in Iowa. We're grounded for at least two days, but it might be longer. It's hasn't stopped snowing since last night. Did Penny have her baby?"

"Not yet. They said it could be any day now, I guess she wasn't ready."

"That's great! Well, not for Penny but I didn't miss it. Is she worried about me? Did she think I forgot?"

"No no, we figured you might have been delayed. Whose number are you calling from by the way? I didn't recognize it."

"It's Sh- the hotel's number. I'm using a landline."

"It's an out of country number? I thought you were in Iowa?"

You scrub a hand over your face and mentally kick yourself. You don't want to tell your dad it's Shawn's cell number but your lie doesn't make sense. "It's Shawn's phone. Promise me you won't give this number out."

"Shawn? You're traveling home with him?"

"Yeah, well, no."

"Honey!" You dad calls for your mom and you hear her respond in the background. "Our daughter is bringing home a guest for Christmas!"

"Dad! No! We aren't going to make it!"

"What's that dear? You're breaking up, I can barely make out your voice."

"Dad, we probably aren't going to make it for Christmas and I'm not bringing Shawn home. Dad, can you hear me?"

"You're bringing Shawn? That's okay! We'll see you soon!"

"Dad no! We aren't-" The line goes dead and you pull the phone away from your ear. The signal bars drop from three to none and you groan. Perfect...just perfect.

______________________

After breakfast you find Shawn in the living room with his guitar sitting with a little girl who has a cat piano that meows instead of playing regular piano notes. The girl is maybe five or six and you're pretty sure her grandma is the woman sitting a few feet away on her iPad. You lean against the archway that leads to the dining area and smile as Shawn let's the girl pluck a few strings on the guitar.

"You like music huh? What's your favorite?"

"I like the music from Frozen and Moana." The girl says and presses a key on her piano that makes a deep cat meowing sound. "I like Moana the best."

"Me too." Shawn smiles, playing a few chords. "I know the song How Far I’ll Go pretty well."

You shake your head as he smiles to himself. Of course he knows the song, it's one of Alessia's. Shawn looks up and sees you. He says something to the girl really quick and gets up, leaving his guitar on the floor.

"Hey, did you get to call your parents back after it dropped?"

"No, the signal keeps fading. I sent a few texts, hopefully they'll get them."

"Ah. Well...did you know you're standing under the mistletoe?"

"Huh?" You look up and sure enough there is a little sprig of green with holly berries attached to the archway. "No, I think you're under the mistletoe."

"No, it's definitely you and you know what that means."

"You're gonna kiss me?"

"Yep." Shawn leans in and kisses your cheek gently as you back up. "You're free to go now."

You roll your eyes and giggle as he steps forward and leans against the archway. "Oh no, looks like you're definitely under it now."

"Ah crap."

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Looks like I was right all along."

Shawn laughs and turns away to go back into the living room. "I'll get you back for that, you lured me in."

"Uh huh. Sure you will." You head upstairs to find a movie on tv to kill time. May as well get used to it. You're going to be here a while longer.

_____________________

A little after noon Shawn finds you in the room curled up on the bed watching TV. You just got a text back from your dad saying that Penny had her baby. A boy named Lucas, eight pounds. You couldn't help but cry, disappointed you weren't there but happy that Penny had her baby okay. It sucks.

"What's wrong?" Shawn asks, sitting beside you on the bed. "Your eyes are red like you were upset."

"Penny had her baby."

"Oh! That's great, is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

You nod. "I'm just sad I couldn't be there for her. She's the first of my siblings and I to have a kid and I guess...I guess I sort of live vicariously through her."

"Oh."

"It's fine." You wipe your eyes. "Everyone is healthy. I'll get to meet the baby a little later. It's alright."

Shawn opens his arms and motions for you to come to him. You do, leaning forward until you're crawling into his arms. He holds you tight, rubbing up and down your back with his big soft hands. "Its okay to be upset. I understand if you're emotional about missing something clearly important to you."

You rub your nose on his shoulder. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm crying so much."

"No, shh, you don't have to be sorry."

"But-"

Shawn squeezes you. "No buts, let it all out. You're always there for me on my bad days, I'm gonna be here for you."

_____________________

"Can I take you to dinner?"

You look up from your laptop. The inn has WiFi but it's not the best. You've just been updating schedules and trying to get any flight out of Iowa. So far everything is still grounded until the storms blow over. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. I was talking with some people in the living room earlier and they said that there is a place not too far from here that serves dinner through Christmas Eve. I thought maybe it'd get your mind off of everything."

"Sure." You close your laptop and get up to put on your coat. "Are we walking?"

"Yes. Wear your boots."

"Mmm and what are you going to wear?" You glance at his well loved chelsea boots in the corner. They're the only shoes he has with him aside from some tennis shoes made of breathable mesh.

Shawn grabs his boots and looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes in his socks. "I'll wear extra socks?"

"Mmhmm." You sit down and pull on your black leather boots that are possibly the best shoes you own. "Y'know you're a millionaire right? You can afford new boots just like those that aren't worn thin."

"I know. But these are comfortable, they're my boots."

"Right."

He groans as he sinks into the bed beside you to put on an extra pair of socks. "I promise I'll get new boots okay? But I won't get rid of these."

"Shawn, they're old."

"They're my favorite." He zips the side and stomps his foot down to adjust to the extra socks bulk. "Don't judge me."

"Alright, alright," you giggle. "I'll stop bullying you into getting new shoes. If they make you happy, that's what matters."

"They do." Shawn gets up and grabs his coat, tossing you his sweater he wore yesterday. "You might want that."

"I have a sweater?"

"The thin one that you wore yesterday? That's hardly a sweater."

"I didn't plan on being trapped in a snowglobe after leaving Brazil, a very non sweater climate. So sorry I didn't pack for a blizzard."

Shawn narrows his eyes and you narrow yours back. "I'm not going to take a human popsicle to dinner."

"Oh whatever." You snatch his sweater off the bed laughing as you pull it on. It's a little big and it smells like cinnamon and his cologne. So basically, Shawn. You used to wonder why he smelled like cinnamon, then you found out one of his primary vitamin supplements has cinnamon in it. It's supposed to help with metabolism or something. All you know is it makes him smell slightly spicy when he gets warm.

The walk to the restaurant is fairly short. It's just two blocks up from the inn. The snow is a pain to walk through and it's easier to walk in the street than it is to try and use the sidewalk. There are absolutely no cars out and about so you're pretty safe. There are a few other people in the restaurant when you step in, grateful to get out of the cold wind. You're glad you wore Shawn's sweater.

"So, if we are stuck here for Christmas, what do you want to do?" Shawn asks as soon as you're seated by the waitress.

"We're going to find a way home."

"I know you're trying but-"

You shake your head. "No, I'm going to find a way home. I missed Penny's baby. I'm not missing Christmas."

Shawn sighs softly. "Alright. We're going to find a way home. I'll get you home one way or another."

"We'll get us both home."

"Right. Enough about that though, we're supposed to be enjoying dinner and not thinking about all that." Shawn says, lifting his menu. "Look, they have a Christmas dinner option. Ham, potatoes and all the fixings. Sounds good."

You nod and try to focus on the menu. It's hard. You can't help but feel nervous as the day comes to a close. One day until Christmas. At least you're not alone.

_____________________

Just after two in the morning you wake up to a severe weather alert on your phone. The signal must have connected enough for you to get one. Shawn's phone goes off too, loudly buzzing on his dresser.

"What's going on?" Shawn asks sleepily, arm falling to your waist as you sit up.

"It's a severe weather alert." You read the message on your phone. "Blizzard warning. High winds may cause power outages across the state. Below freezing temperatures are in effect, be advised if going outdoors."

"Shit." Shawn mumbles.

"Shit is right. We're not leaving this place."

He pushes you back down and you curl up facing the windows away from him. "We'll be alright."

"This sucks."

"Mmm. I promise I'll make it up to you. It's my fault we're out here because I didn't want to leave Brazil until the last minute. I ruined Christmas." He sighs.

"Shawn, stop. You didn't ruin anything."

He cuddles you against him and presses his nose into your hair. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"I still feel guilty."

You grab his hand and he threads his fingers between yours. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, but I'm not very awake."

"Do you think we were meant to be here, together for Christmas?"

"Hmm?"

"Like...never mind."

Shawn yawns and doesn't press the subject. He relaxes into you, his weight comfortable against your back. You close your eyes, really enjoying this moment despite the impending knowledge of being stuck here for the holiday. You and Shawn fit together perfectly, maybe a little too perfectly.

_____________________

Shawn is gone again when you wake up in the morning. It's after eight and you know you should get up and go get breakfast, but you aren't hungry. It's Christmas Eve. You don't want to get up.

The bedroom door opens and Shawn walks in, bundled up and carrying a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Good morning."

"Morning. What's that?" You point to the gifts and Shawn grins sheepishly.

"Presents."

"For?"

"You?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Why do you have presents for me?"

Shawn sets the bag down by the tree and unwraps his scarf from around his face. "Everyone deserves gifts on Christmas day. And since we're going to be stuck here, I figured we should make our own Christmas."

"You're not sad you can't get home?"

"I was, but I talked to my dad this morning. He said that Christmas is what you make it, whether that be with family, friends or your pets. He said that they will miss me, but he doesn't want me to fret over it. We can do Christmas whenever I get home." Shawn hangs his coat and kicks off his boots. "I'm lucky, because I have you and I'm not alone."

"I guess you're right. We are together in the same boat."

"Yep. So let's make the best of it."

"I suppose I should get up and go shop for you now huh?"

"You could. But let's have some breakfast first." Shawn holds his hand out for you. "Come on, there is cinnamon roll pancakes with your name on them."

"There is?"

"Mmm. I talked to the kitchen staff this morning. They said they would make them special since we're some of the few guests left at the inn." Shawn bites his lip. "I know they're your favorite."

"You're sweet." You curl your fingers around his hand and he lifts you up out of bed. "Too sweet."

Shawn hugs you tight. "You deserve it."

_____________________

Breakfast is amazing. The kitchen crew out did themselves with the cinnamon pancakes with sweet icing for you. Shawn ordered just eggs and bacon but they're also super good. Even the coffee is better than before.

Shawn reaches out and swipes some icing off your lip with his thumb. "Do you like me?"

"What? Of course." Your heart sinks, stomach churning. You know he doesn’t mean in a general way. "Why?"

"I mean, as more than your friend or job...whatever. I've just been thinking. The last few days have been some of the best I've had and-" He looks away, flushed. "And you and I have been kind of flirting a lot? Unless I've been reading this completely wrong."

"You like me?"

"Of course I like you." He looks back and fidgets with his fork. "You and I have had a vibe since you joined the team. I think I've been too nervous to admit it before now. I was too scared to shoot my shot."

You grab Shawn's hand and make him stop tapping his fork on the table. "Calm down. I like you a lot. A whole lot."

"Yeah?" He grins, chewing on his lip.

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't want to stop sharing a bed with you any time soon. You’ve spoiled me the last few days. I don't think I've slept this well since before the tour started." He chuckles to himself. "Remember when I promised you on the plane that as soon as we landed I'd find you a date?"

You giggle and he lines his hand up with yours on the table, palms together, his fingers curling over the top of yours slightly. "Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me tonight?"

"But there is a blizzard warning."

Shawn looks around the dining room. "We can stay here, I can get hot cocoa and cookies from the kitchen. We can watch a movie or something." His fingers slot between yours and you squeeze his hand. "We can stay up until midnight like kids on Christmas."

"Alright." You smile softly and he looks back just as soft. "Let's do it."

_____________________

At midnight you and Shawn exchange gifts, not all of them, just one each. You had gone out and shopped at a small store in town that had all sorts of things for the holidays. You picked out a few things for Shawn, just little memorable trinkets. One is a keychain so you never forget this holiday and it says first Christmas, Iowa. It's cheesy but you don't care. The next gift you grabbed was a paracord bracelet the store had by the registers. It's black with a red stripe down the middle. You couldn't pass it up. Shawn loves his accessories and especially if they mean something or are a gift.

Shawn hands you a small box wrapped in brown paper first. "Merry Christmas."

You turn it over and give him a look. "What is this?"

"Open it and see."

You tear off the brown paper and open up the box. Inside is a little sparkly rose charm on a gold chain. "This is so cute." You lift it out and it is so ornate and delicate. "Where did you get this?"

"It's a secret." He smirks.

"Mmhmm. You did not buy this here.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Oh yeah? I have access to your bank account remember? I swore I wouldn’t use it for ill intent but...and you told me you’d never lie to me when we first met.”

“Fine, I did promise you that. I got it before we left Brazil. I was going to give it to you at the airport.”

“Thank you.” You curl your hand around it and smile. “Your turn." You hand him a tiny bag with the bracelet in it.

Shawn opens it and slips it on. "I love it."

"I thought you might. I didn’t get you something cool in Brazil....and I know it's not much but-"

Shawn leans forward and kisses you, hand resting against your neck. Your eyes go wide and he pulls back.

"W-what was that about?"

"Look up."

You tilt your head back and see there is mistletoe hanging over the area in front of the fireplace where you're sat with Shawn. It was definitely not there earlier. "When did that happen?"

"I told you I'd get you back." He smirks and it dawns on you. The other day in the living room, the mistletoe.

"You put that there." You laugh and he cups your cheek. "You...you put that there?"

"I did." He leans in and you take a deep breath. "And I did it because I needed some Christmas magic to give me the courage to do this." He presses his lips to yours once more and you slide your hand into his hair.

"Merry Christmas Shawn."

"Merry Christmas."

End

______________________

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fics #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes non au

902 notes · View notes

the-darklings · 5 years

Text

—𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔;

pairing: john wick x f!reader

word count: 6.5k+

summary: “Tell me a story with a happy ending.”

warnings: strong violence, blood, swearing.

notes: oh wow, it’s been a hot minute, huh? I miss posting my writing on here but life has been hectic and pretty unkind this year so apologies for the inactivity. All I can say is that I got an urge to finally write for Mr Wick. This is set pre-first movie so any spoilers will be up to that movie only. For now, I decided to split this into two, so expect another part some time soon and enjoy!

children of ares series: .. | 02 |

“Tell me a story with a happy ending.”

“I can’t. People like us don’t get happy endings.”

. . .

The first time you meet him, he points a gun to your face with a sharpness that makes your pulse race.

You’re just a second behind him, but you know perfectly well that it would have been a second too late.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Tarasov grumbles under his breath, waving his hand in irritation. “Will you two lower your weapons, we aren’t in the zoo.”

The man clad in all black does so immediately, and you idly wonder just how tight his leash is if he obeys so seamlessly.

You watch him warily as you lower your arm as well, hesitating just long enough for Tarasov’s gaze to slide your way. While you don’t want to piss off your new boss, the man in black stands beside him with a stoic sort of calmness that makes your instincts prickle with unease.

You know who he is.

You’ve heard stories about him.

Soft, terrified murmurs of his infamy—of his terrifying skill. You would rather not meet him at all, truth be told.

Even amongst killers, John Wick’s name is spoken with a degree of reluctant respect and fear.

“John, this is our newest associate. I wanted to introduce you personally,” Tarasov explains easily, pouring himself another glass of vodka. “I was rather hoping you will be able to look after her for a bit. Show her how we do business.”

You rather he didn’t. Truly.

John Wick is tall, calm, and deadly focused on every twitch of your body.

Underground world has some certains you can find in any corner of the world: money, blood, drugs, and high egos. The latter goes hand in hand with an inflated sense of self-importance and posturing.

You’re used to that. You know how to handle people with egos. Know how to communicate with those who like the sound of their own voice a bit too much.

Yet, John Wick somehow manages to be the most fear-inducing thing in the room without so much as making a sound.

His dark eyes appear almost black when they finally connect with yours. There is nothing but polite coolness to be found in his gaze.

“Sure.”

Tarasov grins wider, saluting you both with his glass, “Excellent,” he intones in smooth Russian. “I do believe this is the start of something rather beautiful.”

. . .

Three months down the line, and you’re still unsure what to make of John.

Anyone who kills people for a living should be easy to pindown. Sure, everyone has their own reasons, but at the end of the day, they’re all a little twisted.

John is a walking contradiction.

He’s cold, he’s stoic, he’s frighteningly efficient in his field. John rarely speaks, and getting more than a few sentences out of him at any given time seems like an incredible feat.

But he’s also kind in the most subtle ways, thoughtful, and always—unfailingly—has your back on the field.

Tarasov originally wanted you to do three missions together before he sent you on your own. But somewhere along the way, he seems to have concluded that you work better as a unit.

It’s odd at first. You’re not used to working with someone, and you’ve never heard of John having a partner with him either. He’s the man they send when no one else wants the contract or they simply can’t finish the job. So working with him is as bizarre as everyone's reactions when they see you together.

Most of the time, you’re not sure if he even likes you because most of the time, it’s near impossible to read him.

On paper you should never work, you know that much.

He’s older. His name is known. He’s earned the respect of some of the deadliest in the world.

You’re a nobody from nowhere. Sure, your skills are finally being utilized and by merely associating with John and Tarasov, people are starting to take notice of you, too. But doubt still lingers in your mind as you go through one job after another.

Truthfully, you’re still unsure if there’s a place for you here, in this shadowy circle of Tarasov’s gang. Though all the alternatives are so much worse you can’t even entertain the idea of a different life right now.

“A stick of gum?”

John is silent for a long time, and for a second you worry that he may not have heard you over the sound of the wind, but you don’t dare to lift your gaze from the scope in front of you.

Patience you know well. It’s one of the very few areas where you and John are equals.

“Realistically, one,” he finally mutters, his voice low to a point you have to strain to hear. Blinking, you suppress a grin, adjusting your position as you wait for your target to appear.

“Just the one?” you repeat with obvious disappointment. “Huh.”

John’s breaths are quiet next to you, thoughtful, “Sorry to disappoint but choking is the only viable option,” he points out a little dryly.

You hum contemplatively, trying to think of your own spin on this scenario. It has become a bit of a game between you. When you first started working together, John’s company was near painfully boring, especially on long jobs. So you came up with the idea of challenging him with ordinary objects and drilling him on how many people he can realistically kill with them. Of course, he has to fully justify his reasoning for each casualty—that’s half the fun right there after all.

He still likes his space and peace to this day, but at least now you get him to talk with you regularly on jobs.

“See if it were me,” you begin in an unhurried drawl. “I would put slow-acting poison in the gum. Maybe even add a dispersing agent into it, so anyone the target comes into contact with would die as well. Multiple dead, I won’t even have to break a sweat.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he points out idly, but the challenge in his voice is clear. “And highly volatile. How can you be sure it won’t accidentally kill your partner or anyone else that needs to be kept safe?”

“Antidotes, John, c’mon now,” you shoot back playfully, your finger moving to rest against the trigger when you spot slight movement in the building opposite to you. “Oh, the party is a go. Target twelve o’clock.”

You both watch as the men file into the room, chatting and pouring drinks as both parties sit themselves down around the room. A typical setting for deal negotiations. Of course, Tarasov doesn’t want any negotiations to happen at all—hence why you and John are here, and ready to rectify that.

“You have a clear shot,” John speaks beside you after a long pause, and it still unsettles you how composed he is during jobs and outside of them. It’s like nothing can ever affect him. With every job, every interaction, you begin to understand more and more why the nickname The Boogeyman is starting to catch on. “Take the shot.”

You do.

Inhaling deeply, you line the shot and it pierces the air with a deafening whistle that shatters the hotel window to pieces.

Panic reigns and the men scatter like cattle. Some try to find where the shot came from, but by the time they come anywhere near the window, you and John are already walking down the fire exit in a calm, unhurried fashion. The target is dead, and that’s all either of you care about.

“You’ve gotten better.”

It’s not praise, not exactly, more of a tepid assessment. But you take what you can get with John nowadays. In the beginning, it unsettled you, but now you just know that’s how he is.

“Marcus is a pretty nice guy once you break past that prideful demeanour of his,” you joke with a slight laugh as you both get into his car. “I think he tolerates my pestering because of you, to be honest.”

You feel John’s curious gaze on you, and when you turn to glance at him one of his eyebrows is arched slightly. “That so?”

“Drive on, Wick,” you say instead. “I’m starving. I wonder what it is about doing this job that always makes me so damn hungry.”

. . .

“You’re a pain in my ass, I hope you know that.”

John only grunts in reply.

You half drag him with you through the front lobby of The Continental as you slowly approach the reception.

Charon welcomes you with his typical placid smile and a polite nod of his head.

“Mr Wick and Miss Vipress,” he greets politely, unfazed by all the blood covering you both as you stagger to a stop in front of his desk. “Pleasure as always. A room for two?”

You nod your head briskly, shifting on your feet till more of John’s weight is leaning against you. “Thanks,” you mutter, sliding the golden coin across the smooth wood. There’s still specks of blood on it, but Charon takes it without batting an eye.

“Will you be needing a doctor tonight?” he questions with a tilt of his head, ever the helpful hotel concierge.

You’re shaking your own head before he’s even finished speaking, and glance at the still dazed John beside you. He’s already looking better than he did fifteen minutes ago—less pale and clammy—meaning that the poison is slowly but steadily leaving his system.

“We’ll be fine,” you say wearily. “But if you could send us up some X7 and Aspirin later, I would appreciate it.”

Charon hums, noting your request immediately in a notepad in front of him.

“X7 will take a bit longer but consider it done,” he responds pleasantly, sliding your room key across the table. You grapple for it, clenching it tightly between your bloody fingers. “Enjoy your stay,” he adds as you turn to go.

You grunt some vague pleasantry back but your mind is only focused on getting John to the hotel room before his legs decide to give out on him.

By the time you make it to your room on the third floor—Charon has mercifully put your room only a few doors away from the elevator, and you make a mental note to thank him for it tomorrow—your arms are trembling from the strain. John falls on the couch heavily, a harsh groan rattling free the moment he does, indicating just how bad he must be feeling.

His dark, half-lidded eyes track your movements as you stumble towards the bathroom, grabbing the complimentary first-aid kit found in every room. A certain, intent sharpness you’re used to seeing is missing from his gaze and you snap your fingers in front of his face a few times.

“Hey, you still with me?”

John nods his head and groans as he sits up, leaving you once again impressed with his silent strength. It seems like things that would kill ordinary men ten times over barely leave a dent on John. Some part of you can’t help but be slightly envious of the fact that he’s really as brilliant and as unstoppable as everyone makes him out to be.

He shrugs off his jacket under your command, leaving him in only a shirt and a tie and you loosen it, hurriedly wrapping it above his bleeding forearm.

“See, poison is a bitch when it’s not done by yours truly,” you mutter under your breath, carefully tracking his breathing patterns. “Aren’t you a lucky boy to have me on hand?”

His answer to your poor attempt at a joke is a half-hearted glare, and you smile weakly, grabbing a small blade from your boot to cut off his shirt sleeve. The white material flutters towards the ground and you grimace at the deep gash running at least eight centimetres down his arm. It looks angry and inflamed; a side effect to the potent poison the blade to make that cut was laced with.

You brush the damp strands of loose hair away from his sweaty forehead, and press your palm against his skin. A pleased hum escapes you and you nod your head, satisfied, before turning to sanitize the needle you’ll be using.

“The fever is going down,” you tell him when you feel his silent question hang in the air between you. “That means the antidote is working. You should be back to normal in another hour or so. Gelsemine though? Jesus. I miss the days when people used Thallium and thought they were efficient poisoners.”

You grab your belt, taking it off with a hurried jerk as you offer it to John who looks up at you in confusion. “For the pain,” you supply, shaking your hand a little.

“Just get me something strong,” he grunts, pointedly shifting his gaze to the table where a bottle of something that looks like whiskey sits untouched.

Clicking your tongue, you shake your head, “Not if you want to start vomiting blood. The poison is still in your system. Alcohol will make it worse and likely kill the antidote too. Take it.”

John looks away and you roll your eyes, dropping the belt to the ground as you step between his legs to get better access to the wound.

“Right, okay, this will hurt.”

John doesn’t say anything—not that you expect him to. You start with cleaning the cut first, and John’s fingers sink into the couch but he remains stubbornly silent. His eyes focus on a spot just above your shoulder as you work quietly. Cleaning wounds is meticulous work, and your line of work assures that you’re always meticulous. By the time the needle finally pierces John’s skin, it already looks better.

His jaw clenches tightly as you move the needle in and out of his skin. You know it’s excruciating but he makes no protests aside from occasional soft grunt of pain. His blood is warm on your fingers and you work as quickly as you can without messing up, a slight tremor shaking your hand.

“How,” he begins before clearing his throat. “How did you get involved in all of this?”

You make a small sound at the back of your throat, unsure if he’s trying to distract himself from pain or truly asking because he wants to know.

“How does anyone get involved with this sort of thing,” you answer dully, not taking the bait. “We’ve known each other for almost a year and you’re only asking about my tragic past now? Tsk, tsk.”

You feel his eyes focus on you, and pull on the needle harder, tightening the stitches much to John’s clear discomfort.

You’re both silent for a long moment after that, and much to your surprise John doesn’t push further. Most people would.

But John Wick is not most people, you’ve come to find.

He’s the type of man who never tries to make passes on you, never makes unnecessary comments about you or your appearance, and always insists on two beds. If there’s no spare bed, he always offers to sleep on the couch or the floor—the only exception to this rule is if he’s injured himself.

“My parents,” you speak softly before stopping. There’s a sudden tightness in your chest and throat as you swallow, gripping John’s arm tighter so you don’t slip with all the blood coating your hands. You feel his attention turn to you, and work to control your breathing. “They worked for Tarasov when he still ran his drug operation in Moscow. Everyone owned him. He practically ran the city. People were watched, police bought out. I didn’t know about any of it. My father was tasked with the export of drugs from and into the country. My mother worked directly in one of his drug houses. Keeping the books.”

You pause, breathing deeply, and grab the nearby towel to wipe away the blood on John’s arm. Hesitating, you glance up at him. He looks alert again, sharp, and you wonder if you should continue.

This man is already lethal—the last thing he needs is leverage over you.

But—

You move towards the desk where the bottle of whiskey is sitting while you wipe your own hands on a towel, hiding the visible trembling of your fingers as you resume your story.

“They decided that it would be a good idea to have a side gig on the side,” you continue, your words flat, emotionless. By now, you don’t feel grief when thinking about your parents. Just anger. The destructive, bubbling sort of rage that festers under your skin every day. “My mother started adjusting the numbers. Little by little. Nothing Tarasov would notice. Never more than thirty thousand rubles per shipment. That may sound like a lot but actually, it’s less than five hundred bucks. Seems laughable now when I think about it. For us, of course, every month that kind of money made a big difference. We didn’t need many luxuries. But they say your greed grows as you eat.”

You turn back towards John, bringing the bottle over to him. Sitting down on the table in front of him, you pour some of the whiskey on a fresh towel and press the soaked material against his arm. John’s expression twists slightly but you can tell from the way his eyes focus on you seconds later that he’s listening intently to your every word.

“They started taking a bit more every month,” you whisper, swallowing your anger, “More and more. Just a bit. But penny after penny and it all adds up. Tarasov eventually found out, of course. He gathered everyone who works for him and had my parents shot in front of them. That’s how you keep sheep in line. You scare them till they’re too afraid to do anything, even help. I don’t blame them though. Those people had nothing. Elderly. Orphaned kids. Immigrants. Fear and hunger are all they’ve known. And well, after...”

Your head dips, and you nibble on your lip for a second, tasting blood. For the first time in a long time, the coppery tang makes you feel queasy.

“Tarasov came to our flat that same afternoon. Had me make him dinner practically at gunpoint,” you explain further, a sardonic smile twisting your mouth as you meet John’s steady stare. So far, he hasn’t made a sound. “We discussed my parents' debt to him. He could have just had me shot too of course. But he said he didn’t want that. He said that my talents with chemistry were too valuable for him to waste. So he gave me a choice. I work for him until my parents' debt is paid off or….”

For the first time since you began your story, John speaks, “Or?”

You chuckle under your breath, removing the towel from his arm, and lightly press your fingertips against the tender flesh.

“There’s many uses for a healthy, young woman, John,” you state flatly, your lips stretching into something that could never pass for a smile.

You can’t exactly pinpoint his expression, but you know it’s not pity. Perhaps it’s sympathy or even compassion. Some deeper understanding that can’t be expressed with words alone. But for once you feel like John is looking at you openly and without that uncrackable armour he usually wears like a second skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, at last, his voice almost gentle. “About your parents.”

You scoff, taking a swing from the bottle and wince at the stinging burn the drink leaves in its wake. “They were stupid idiots,” you deadpan harshly. “I love them dearly. But they were fucking idiots.”

John nods once because you both know you’re right, and you swallow shakily, blinking your eyes rapidly.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet between you. You expect it to be awkward yet somehow it isn’t. In fact, it’s almost peaceful.

“Anyway, I made my choice and here I am,” you mumble, carefully pouring him a tiny amount of the drink. He should be fine to drink it by now. Probably. “Tarasov said that once the debt is repaid, I’m free to go.”

“And you believe that?”

Your eyes meet as John takes the glass from your hand.

“No,” you reply frankly, your smile pained. “But when you have nothing, you have to believe in something.”

. . .

You settle into an odd little routine, you and John.

Tarasov gives you a mission, you go, accomplish the impossible somehow and get to go on breathing for another day.

The longer you work together, the easier it becomes to correlate. Your only weakness—if one can even call it that—is that you’re both stubborn individualists. He’s a brute, relentless strength to your sly, vicious subtlety. That’s what makes the fact that character-wise you couldn’t be more different so stupidly hilarious to you. The only real arguments you have is the way in which the job should be approached.

That thought makes you chuckle and you wince in pain immediately after. The ice pack against your jaw shifts slightly, and you shift in your seat, trying to get more comfortable. Most of your body aches painfully, but your jaw feels especially sore. One of the idiots has managed to get three heavy hits in before John splattered his brain all over you. In return, you’ve been forced to kick John out of the path of a bullet hail.

He’s the one who pressed ice against your jaw while you were busy cleaning his bruised and bleeding knuckles.

Then you sat in silence, digesting another job well done, and basking in the tranquil air of the hotel room while the pain-reducing solution you’ve made works its magic.

And odd routine indeed.

“Hey,” John’s voice breaks the soft tranquillity, and you jerk up, realising that you’ve come dangerously close to dozing off. “Do you ever think about getting out?”

You blink slowly, clearing your head as his words register. Then, confusion blooms, “Out? Get out of what?”

John doesn’t look at you though. His heavy gaze focuses on something outside, out of your sight. The slopes of his profile have become familiar to you—the raven hair, dark eyes, the small crinkles that appear around his eyes on the rare occasion he does smile. He’s not standoffish in the way others often accuse him of being now. If anything he looks softer somehow, more human than a weapon Tarasov boasts of so smugly. More than a living nightmare so many fear.

He looks like a man. Simple as that, and when he finally turns to face you, you see the fresh cuts and bruises on his face. Just a man.

“Getting out of this life,” he replies slowly, his voice rougher from the lucky hit one of the guards managed to get into his throat. “Getting away from everything. From Tarosov.”

It strikes you then that John is asking from a genuine place of interest—something he rarely indulges in with you, considering nine out of ten times all conversations between you are started by you.

The second thing that strikes you is a genuine surprise. John is not the person you would ever expect to hear this type of question from. It’s private, it’s raw; he knows about your debt, about the chain around your neck. Better than most, perhaps better than everyone. But because you respect him enough to at least give it actual thought, you consider his question for a long time.

It takes at least five minutes until you finally speak and when you do your voice sounds hollow in your own ears, “I never wanted this life,” you begin softly, your voice thin. “I never asked to be involved in any of this. I didn’t ask for my parents to take me from country to country, never allowing me to settle down anywhere or make friends. When they kept secrets and were barely home. I didn’t ask for adventure, or danger, or even wealth, John. But—”

John stares at you, considering you, no doubt analysing your words, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat at his show of keen interest.

“But,” you repeat again, your tone harsher. “I’m here, and I have to make the best of it. I’ve never been good at anything in my life. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself in this last year is that I’m very, very good at this. I’m starting to think that violence is in my blood, and I don’t know what that means just yet but…”

You exhale, eyes fluttering shut and you only open them after counting to ten inside your head. Slow and steady as you meet his gaze straight on. “So to answer your question: no. No, I don’t think about it. Even after I’m finished dealing with Tarasov, I don’t see another path for myself anymore. It was taken from me.”

John peers at you for a long, long time after you fall silent. You’re not sure what he discerns from your expression or what he’s searching for, but you doubt he finds it as his obsidian eyes eventually slide away from you and towards the window.

The sun is rising in the East.

Milan is beautiful this time of year.

You sit together through the sunrise, not saying a word.

Years later, you would look back on this as the last true moment of peace for an interminable number of years.

. . .

Separation comes only two short months later like a punch to the face.

Tarasov’s argument is simple: he needs two jobs done on different sides of the world. One requires the lethality John is infamous for, another requires the most subtle of touches; a snake’s slyness.

Tarasov needs the Boogeyman and the Vipress but for vastly different things this time.

John must sense your unease—this will be your first solo mission after all—and he stops you as soon as you’re both out of earshot of any prying eyes.

“You’ll be fine,” he says so simply, effortlessly, with enough confidence in his low voice that for a second you believe him too. “It’s the perfect job for you.”

“Of course I’ll be fine,” you shoot back with forced nonchalance. “I’m not that helpless.”

Your smile is forced, and John knows it too.

He doesn’t point it out because deep down John is kind—no matter how ironic it is for a deadly assassin to be that.

For once, you expect him to say something else but he doesn’t. One of Tarasov’s men shouts him over because his flight is leaving in three hours. John’s gaze lingers on you for an insignificant second but he still walks away, leaving a cold kind of silence in his wake.

His name burns at the back of your throat as dread bubbles in the pit of your gut.

But you don’t call his name out.

. . .

It doesn’t go bad.

It doesn’t go well either.

It goes thoroughly and wholly to shit.

You grasp at your shoulder where blood is still pouring freely, and your eyes sting with tears of pain as you make your report to the silent Tarasov over the phone.

They have known.

They have prepared.

The target got away at the last moment.

You are lucky to still be alive.

“Better you weren’t then,” Tarasov purrs in Russian, the letters curling like a death grip around your throat. “Report to me tomorrow.”

“But—”

The line goes dead.

You pull the bullet out yourself. Through gritted teeth and sweat dripping down your forehead. You cry twice and throw up once before you pass out from pain and terror. Still, you manage to patch yourself up.

The lack of John’s presence stings in an unexpected, violent way when you wake up, bleary-eyed and shivering.

You have gotten dependent on him and his help.

Now it feels like a weakness.

Now, you hate yourself for shaking in terror as you make your way to Tarasov’s new office in New York.

You’re strong (but not strong enough), you’re smart (but not enough), you’re—

You wonder if you should pray, or perhaps plead for help from some higher power. Tarasov as good as admitted that you will be dead by the end of this meeting. There is no helping you now.

Sickness cramps your stomach and you dry heave in an alleyway behind his office. Your vision swims, your blood rushes in your ears and for a second you consider simply lying down on this cold, dirty ground and letting the world consume you.

You failed, you fucked up. First solo mission and you failed in the most spectacular way possible. The target got away. There’s no one to blame but yourself.

You’ve considered poisoning him, but that seems so unlikely to succeed now. His lackeys will never allow you to walk through the office door without ransacking you, nor would Tarasov be stupid enough to let you anywhere near him.

Death, now more than ever, seems like an inevitably.

John will save me.

A harsh bark of laughter tears from your throat at the sudden, invasive whisper of your mind. How pathetic. To mess up is one thing, to know that there’s close to nothing you can do to rectify the situation is another, but to actually hope someone else will save you…

Even if you are to allow yourself the overly indulgent thought, that still doesn’t change the fact that John is in Europe right now. Half a world away—too far away.

John.

Knees quaking, you stand up.

Squaring your shoulders, and ignoring the burn of pain in your left shoulder, you start walking.

John would face this with dignity, with that same cool detachment he does most things.

John would not quiver in some dingy alleyway. He would not cry like some pathetic idiot because of his own mistake. He would face it, and he would fight back.

Your forehead presses against the freezing wall of the building as you pull yourself together piece by piece.

You are no longer that same girl who wept over your parents because you have no idea where they are buried, or if they even had a burial. If perhaps their bodies have been thrown onto the streets, or woods, or simply fed to the dogs.

That girl has been killed by your parents' stupidity.

Now only the Vipress remains.

Vipress who is a master poisoner, whose name is no longer whispered with mockery but with reluctant respect that’s starting to rival John’s.

With every step, you stand straighter, walk with more confidence. Your shoulder throbs terribly but you step into the building as through a fog.

Tarasov greets you with a glass of vodka and a wide grin.

The hardness of his gaze is chilling though, and you try to keep your cool demeanour, emulating John as much as possible. Two other guards lurk in the dark corners of the room, and you still entertain the thought that you can take them if it comes to that.

Your heartbeat is so deafening in your ears, you barely catch Tarasov’s words.

“Sorry?”

His grin stretches even further, and he tuts, “My, my, I almost forgot. How’s the shoulder?”

He doesn’t sound like he cares. But not answering would be a stupid thing to do. “It’s fine, sir.”

Tarasov makes a small sound at the back of his throat before his fist strikes your shoulder with enough force that you crumble to the floor. A cry of pain manages to escape before you bite your cheek, hot blood flooding your mouth as you tremble on the floor before him.

“Oh, my,” Tarasov comments in sharp Russian as if surprised by your predicament while one of his guards hands him his glass. “Seems like you’re not as ‘fine’ as you say. You’ve disappointed me, (Name). Greatly.”

Tarasov pats your head, the contact heavy and patronizing, as he jerks your head up. He stares at you with a hum, shaking his head as his powerful features rearrange into a look of genuine disappointment.

“Stand up,” he orders sharply and lets go of you, allowing you space to stagger to your feet. “It would be undignified to shoot you like this. Believe it or not, my hopes for you were high and you’ve been rather useful to me. I at least respect that.”

The two guards shift in the dim room, and you bare your bloody teeth on instinct, lowering your blood-covered hand from your shoulder. If they want to fight...

Tarasov laughs genuinely this time, loud and booming, suddenly reminding you of your father. “You’ve got fire, little viper. I will need that ferocity for our expansion. But you also fucked up. Badly. But you will never fail me again, isn’t that right?”

You don’t answer, staring at him through a pain-fueled haze. Tarasov ‘tsk’s and the back of his hand strikes your face with numbing force. Your lip splits on contact, one side of your face tingling with raw pain as your head snaps to the side.

Few droplets of blood hit the pristine floor, and you stare at it dumbly, breathing harshly through your mouth.

“I grow impatient,” he mutters coldly in clipped Russian. “Isn’t that right? I expect an answer. What did you think I will kill you? No, no, my dear. Not yet. You’ve made a mess but it can be sorted. How severe your punishment is going to be, however, is entirely dependant on you.”

Swallowing thickly, you lift your eyes to his, “I won’t fail you again.”

Tarasov laughs again, and salutes you before drowning the half-full glass in one gulp. He exhales, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Of course you won’t,” he hums pleasantly, and pats your injured cheek with heavy intent. “Because if you do, I will have John himself put a bullet in your pretty little head. Now get out of my sight and don’t come back till I call for you.”

. . .

The knock on your door comes two days later.

You aren’t expecting guests so the first thing you do is grab your poisoned needles and your gun.

Gripping the familiar weight in your palm, you cautiously approach the door, levelling the gun against the wood. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Your hand drops instinctively, and you crack the door open, only to find a familiar pair of dark eyes already staring at you. Your fingers tremble slightly as you open the door fully and John’s familiar stocky frame comes into view.

He, in turn, takes a good minute to no doubt take in your bandaged shoulder and bruised face. Even though you added ice the moment you left Tarasov’s office, one half of your face is still swollen. Ugly, blotchy bruises litter your skin and you swallow shakily upon noting the hard, near frightening intensity in which John is taking in your injuries.

“Why did you come?” you finally force out, and clear your throat when your voice cracks a few times. “Didn’t you have—”

“What happened?” John speaks instead, and there’s an icy undercurrent to his words you’re unused to hearing from him.

Turning away, you walk deeper into the room, and John follows you silently.

“I figured you would know. I’m the talk of the town,” you mutter dryly, and feel a stab of anger at the thought.

When you turn to face him, John’s expression is still oddly severe though his demeanour appears as calm as always. You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

“I do know what happened on the mission,” he replies, his mouth a tight line, and voice dropping into almost whisper. “I want to know about this.”

He reaches out and for a stupid—purely idiotic second—you think that he’s going to touch your face; maybe run his thumb over your tender jaw to soothe the pain.

But John stops halfway and allows his hand to drop back to his side, patient and quiet as he waits for your explanation.

There’s an odd tension in the air that you can’t quite pinpoint. The relief of seeing him, at knowing he cares enough to at least come and see you, is already enough. Which doesn’t explain why you feel a distinct stab of disappointment at the realisation that he’s not going to hold you or comfort you, regardless of how naive it would be to expect something like that from him. That hard demeanour of his is near impossible to crack through most of the time.

“Tarasov wasn’t happy,” you settle on the easiest explanation you can give him. “Reminded me that I will never fail him again or he will have you shoot me next time.”

John’s expression twists. “I—”

He cuts himself off and you smile sadly, wincing when you scabbed lip stretches too wide. You know what he was about to say. That he wouldn’t do it—that maybe he simply couldn’t. Even in the world of killers, there are grey areas no one likes to tread on. Friends, family, associates.

But you also know the truth.

You both work exclusively under Tarasov’s contract. John would have to do what he’s told regardless of his own feelings on the matter. And maybe even if he does care, even if he considers you an actual friend, it won’t be enough to deliberately place himself in danger by showing disobedience.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, and you wonder why you sound so sad without even meaning to. “We do what we’re told. We don’t ask questions. We just pull the trigger, right? It’s who we are. We’re made for violence and isn’t that fucking sad? We don’t even question it anymore, John. Do you think—”

His head tilts, his loose hair brushing against his forehead. “Do I think what?”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head, and give him another tiny smile. Somehow even ignoring pain is easier with him beside you.

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

For a moment, it looks like John will say something else but he stops himself at last second and nods his head as if accepting your words.

The distance between you feels like a ravine even while you spend the entire evening in the same room, breathing the same air. But perhaps that’s just the endless paradox between you.

. . .

It doesn’t happen overnight. Or days. Or even weeks.

It’s slow. So much so that you don’t notice for a long, long time and by the time you do, it’s already painfully clear that there’s no going back.

Much like the name John wears, much like the man himself, it creeps up on you. Little by little. Bit by bit.

There’s no groundbreaking moment, there are no fireworks. There’s just the knowing that sits deep in the pit of your stomach. It’s a foolish, idiotic thing. You brush it aside because you know better. Because you’re not naive enough to hope for anything in a world like this.

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you’ve had yours broken too many times to rely on it anymore.

So you don’t.

You know not to expect good things anymore, to never try and rely on anything or anyone. Every good thing you’ve ever had has either died or been taken from you.

So you really should have known that this would never last.

. . .

Tarasov’s imposed “time out” lasts for three months.

It marks the beginning of the end.

And it starts with an accident that turns into a tragedy.

. . .

an: wooo, I hope you all liked that. I’m sooo rusty it’s not even funny but I hope you found some enjoyment in this. Also sorry for the very slowburn relationship I suppose? This isn’t super romantic. But considering the type of man John is (and the fact that he’s younger here) I actually don’t see him falling for someone immediately? Also, I love angst so....this is gonna be exactly that! Thank you for reading everyone!!

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #john wick fic #fic: children of ares

1K notes · View notes