#but the fact that in season five they say NINE MONTHS HAVE PASSED

[rainbow-arrow]

SAINT ATHANASE DAY IS MAY 2ND I CANNOT

[mistergreatbones]

Okay so in Aftermath Tech mentions that they haven’t been back to Kamino in 180 days, making it roughly 6 months that they’ve been away. Once they’re back on Kamino, Echo makes snide comments about their barracks, implying that he’s been there before, meaning that it has to have been at least six months since he joined the batch.

Before Echo is rescued, Anakin takes a call with Padmé, where she appears to be about four months pregnant. Of course, two fetuses is a lot to have inside a person, so it’s possible she might have started showing earlier than in an average pregnancy.

Ignoring the fact that twins are typically born prematurely, let’s assume that Padmé had a typical pregnancy of nine months, with the boys arrive on Kamino in time for Empire day, and the twins being born two days later.

Meaning that Padmé is nine months pregnant throughout the entirety of Revenge of the Sith. The first scene Padmé in has her revealing her pregnancy to Anakin, but by the time Empire day rolls around Bail, Obi, and Yoda know, and obviously everyone knows during her funeral. Which makes sense that she was waiting to tell Anakin first, but also implies that she hasn’t been able to speak with Anakin since she learned she was pregnant. (Also that she waited until she was about to give birth to tell her friends that “oh btdubs I’m super preggers.”)

According to Wookieepedia: Maul and Savage creating the Shadow Allegiance, Satine’s death, Ahsoka’s expulsion from the Jedi Order, Fives’ discovery of the chips, Padmé and Anakin’s misadventure with Clovis, Anakin helping Yoda escape from the Temple, and the whole Chiss Ascendency thing all happened within the year 19 bby. All of which require Anakin to either interact with Padmé or be on Coruscant where it’s highly likely that Anakin would visit Padmé.

For RotS to make sense, Anakin cannot have interacted with Padmé in person before the battle of Coruscant. Meaning all of the above events would have to be before she became pregnant or learned she was pregnant.

During her call with Anakin, she puts her hand on her stomach, implying that she does know she pregnant (obviously that’s not definite what the means but clearly that was the animators’ intent). She also mentions having not seen Anakin in months, which would fit in with idea of her carrying the twins to full term but ALSO means that her and Anakin cannot have spoken in person during her entire pregnancy. Meaning all of the above events would have had to take place before she became pregnant.

Wookieepedia also says that everything that happened in the bad batch between Aftermath and Echo leaving the batch also took place in 19 bby. The creators of bad batch have stated that season two take places months after the end of season one.

SO if we’re to give them the benefit of doubt, let’s say only two months passed between seasons one and two. If we add that to the nine months of Padmé’s pregnancy, that leaves… one month for seasons 5-7 of tcw AND seasons 1-the first half of 2 of tbh

Makes total sense thank you so much for the consistent timeline Star Wars 🙄

[atlanticcanada]

Influenza combined with other viruses create a dire situation in New Brunswick

As influenza, RSV and COVID-19 continue to sweep through the region, Tuesday is the first day in three weeks that Cathleen MacKenzie doesn’t have at least one child home sick from school.

“It seems like we have a brand new virus every 10 to14 days,” said MacKenzie. “So, some of the kids are getting over the previous virus, some are going into a new one.” 

MacKenzie has five children in school, one of which also attends daycare and her spouse is also in school. In general, she says her family is pretty healthy, but these last two-and-a-half months have been something she’s never seen before.

“It’s the very, very first time,” she said. “I’ve always chuckled at parents who say their kids are sick this often, I’m not sure I believed them. So, maybe it’s karma, I don’t know, but we typically have a very strong immune system.”

Right now, MacKenzie says she can’t send her kids to school until they’ve been fever free for 24 hours and it’s directly impacting their grades. However, she doesn’t know what else to do as she doesn’t want to risk passing a virus onto someone else.

The Anglophone East School District released data on its student absences for the month of October. On average, kids in Kindergarten to Grade 8 missed 1.8 days of school and grades nine to 12 missed 2.3 days.

However, sickness and absenteeism isn’t just affecting the students.

“It’s really kind of been a hidden reality and it is not business as usual in our schools,” said the president of the New Brunswick Teachers Association, Connie Keating. 

Keating says right now there has been an average of four unfilled absences a day, but some days, it can climb into the double digits. With no supply teachers available, she says guidance counsellors and principals are stepping up to fill the daily gaps.

“Currently our school leaders are doing the best they can, they’ve become more like crisis managers as opposed to educational leaders and we need to have actions in place across the board,” said Keating.

She adds that there are many layers to the current crisis, but studies done before the COVID-19 pandemic had pointed out that schools were already under resourced.

“We’ve identified a need for a provincial task force to identify immediate actions to address the current crisis in schools and so, we need to bring together our leaders in school districts, we need to be able to sit down with EECD, our department of education, and we need to problem solve this together,” said Keating. 

For MacKenzie, concern around grades and absenteeism at school is growing and with sick season just getting underway, it’s worrisome to think about what’s to come.

“My spouse is high risk for influenza and COVID,” she said. “COVID is always a concern, but this year, influenza has actually been a concern for the first time.”

“With our immune system already being low and the fact that there’s already so many hospitalizations in the area, and we both know how the staffing issue is at the hospitals with extremely long wait times. So, if it does become serious with influenza season here, I’m not looking forward to what that would look like for us,” she added.

Meantime, the province of New Brunswick has released new influenza numbers this week from the end of November.

“Physicians around the province are concerned,” said Dr. Michele Michaud with the New Brunswick Society. “We’re seeing more ER visits, we are already crowded in the ERs, hospitalization rates are higher."

Since the beginning of the season, 975 influenza cases have been reported, 218 ended up in hospital and 14 people have already died from the flu this year.

“I think it’s more sad than surprising,” Michaud said, in reaction to the recent numbers. “I think we need to think of all of those families and wonder if we’re responsible in some ways and what we can do to avoid those things.”

Michaud says it's up to the public to help where they can with mask wearing, hand washing and staying home if they are unwell.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/hGN1skF

[thyandrawrites]

I was trying to pinpoint Touya's exact age when Endvr gives up on him and accidentally found something interesting

So, there's a four year difference between Fuyumi (born in December) and Natsuo (born in July), plus about a year between Fuyumi and Touya (born in January). So Touya and Natsuo are 5 years apart.

We know that Natsuo was born to dissuade Touya from training in secret. It takes nine months to carry a baby to term, so Touya was still 4 when Enji chose to have another child. It's a pretty tight schedule, isn't it? Quirks manifest at about 4, so that means Touya's training started immediately after his showed up, and ended just as quickly.

But how long did Touya actually get to be the apple of his father's eye?

Natsuo had to be conceived around October to have a birth date in July, so that gives Touya roughly 10 months with his dad's undivided attention.

But if we are to trust the clothing as an oblique hint of the passing of time though the seasons, it's actually less than that. The first time we see Touya protest that Enji's not making time for him anymore, he's wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts. It's probably summer/late summer. And his words make it sound like Enji's continued neglect is not a new thing, either, but has been going on for a while by then already.

The weather in October in Japan is still mild enough that they could be wearing short sleeves, but I'm inclined to say it's not yet fall at this point in the timeline because we have another sequence of events before Natsuo's conception.

The Todorokis go see a quirk specialist, and they're wearing long sleeves. So are Touya and Fuyumi when they discuss later:

It's light clothes, so my guess is that this is around late September at the earliest/early October

Next up in the timeline, it's summer again (July), Touya is now 5, and Natsuo's born. You can see it on Touya's face that the truth finally sinks in.

His reaction now makes more sense, when you consider that by then, he'd already spent a whole year trying to convince his father to look at him. Despite his diagnosis, despite seeing Rei's belly swell up again, the realization that he won't get his father back never comes. And how can it? Even at five, Touya had already spent longer chasing after his dad than he did in Enji's company. Let that sink in for a moment.

Plus, with the knowledge that all it took was barely six months at the longest for Enji to fully judge Touya's worth and subsequently cast him aside, this other panel makes a lot more sense, too:

Shouto was "already" five because Touya "failed" at delivering on his potential at the ripe age of four.

And now, for my favourite detail...

Toga's parents stopped tallying her height after she turned 3. Since quirks manifest at around 4 and they were repulsed by her fascination with blood, it's hinted that they stopped loving her unconditionally after she turned old enough to manifest one. It was so soon after that, in fact, that they didn't even get to mark her next birthday.

But more specifically, they stopped loving her when her quirk turned out to be something they couldn't control.

Sounds familiar yet?

Yep.

Touya and Toga both lost their parents' love shortly after turning four, and both spent the next decade of their life, up to middle school, trying to earn it back by being "a good child," only to ultimately fail at that, too

So... Do we think that Dabi saw those tally marks when he followed Toga to her house...?

Cause I think he did, and that's what prompts him to show her kindness for the first time afterward.

[angstama]

apple tree | chifuyu.m

pairing: chifuyu matsuno x reader

genre: angst, slow-burn, unrequited love, pining, fluff, chifuyu doesn’t love you that way :( 

warnings: as usual, heartbreak coming ahead <3

��. in which you look back on the times that chifuyu had been the highlight and heartbreaker in your youth. 

you were five when you first met chifuyu matsuno under the big apple tree one summer day. 

head deep into bending the fragile weeds into a flower crown when a blonde haired boy with the prettiest ocean blue eyes approached you. “what are you doing?” he asked curiously, licking his already melting chocolate ice cream while looking at the imperfectly balanced flower that you had spent hours on crafting in your hands. “making a flower crown.” you answered simply, not even sparing the blonde haired boy a glance as you were too focused in tweaking the branches. 

“woah that’s awesome!” he beamed in excitement, plopping down next to you instantly and leaning in closer to take a look at it. “yeah i know right!” you smiled in triumph, finally looking up to see whoever was showing interest in your little hobby and behold, there sat chifuyu in a rainbow striped t-shirt with his legs crossed and eyes gleaming with interest.

 in all honesty, your flower crowns were horribly ugly, but in chifuyu’s eyes it was uniquely you. perhaps it was maybe because he hadn’t seen anyone making an actual flower crown before or perhaps maybe he was just feeling sorry for the girl who always sat alone under the big apple tree that never bloomed a single fruit all year round. whichever it was, you wished that it was the first. “teach me how to make one please!” he grabs your wrist, causing your cheeks to burn under the scorching hot sun and heart rate quickening though you were clueless as to why it happened being only at the age of five, so you decided that it was okay to have him around. 

strangely ever since then, you were never seen alone under the apple tree in the park again. 

you were nine when you first understood the concept of crushes, with the help of your best friend, chifuyu matsuno of course. 

“it’s when you want to share the biggest chicken drumlet with them dummy!” chifuyu explained, voice muffled from stuffing his face with fried chicken one after another. you weren’t sure how the two of you derived at the current topic, though you remember the last you checked, chifuyu was rambling on and on about the new girl in your class. “so, you’d share this with whoever you have a crush on?” you asked as you pointed towards the biggest drumstick that chifuyu had saved for the last, as always. 

he nodded impatiently, grabbing the very same drumstick and ready to devour it but only to come to a halt when the two of you locked eyes. “want some?” he offered, waving the fried chicken in front of you. “wh-what?” your words fumbled, taken aback by chifuyu’s sudden offer right after the whole sharing of the biggest chicken drumlet explanation he had just made. “you kept staring at it. do you want it?” he asked, with innocence laced in his voice, oblivious to the shade of red slowly making an appearance on your cheeks. you huffed, “am not!”. chifuyu only lets out a snort, “yeah sure,” he chuckles boyishly, leaning down to rest on your shoulders, causing your body to stiffen upon the sudden contact. that afternoon, for almost an entire hour you were forced to sit as straight as you could, afraid that something was going to erupt in your tummy again as you could feel the bubbling sensation that threatened to explode. 

you were thirteen when you finally realised that you, y/n l/n, wants to share the biggest drumstick with chifuyu matsuno. 

it was christmas eve and chifuyu had invited you over to his place for a dinner, claiming that his mother had threatened to throw his precious romance mangas away if he didn't invite you. 

you arrived at the matsuno’s household ten minutes earlier than stated with a tray of roasted potatoes held in your hands and beads of sweat running down your forehead despite the freezing cold temperature outside. for the eight years of friendship you had with chifuyu, you’ve never felt this nervous seeing him and his family. it’s the cold, you naively thought, when the door swung opened, revealing your best friend dressed in a maroon striped sweater with suspenders. his eyes widened, not expecting to really see you when he was just opening to check in an attempt to ease his mother’s sixth sense. “y/n? why didn’t you knock?” he gasped, gently tugging the tray on your hands into his as he looked at you in surprise. “well, i was gonna but you opened the door before i could!” you scoffed a white lie, wanting nothing but to cover up the fact that you had been standing outside because you couldn’t get your heart to calm down. 

“chifuyu why don’t you give y/n the gift you got for her now?” mrs matsuno chimed, elegance evident in her posture and movement when she lightly dabbed a napkin across her lips which made you wonder how is it possible that she's the mother of chifuyu when chifuyu shared not a single bit of her grace when it comes to eating. chifuyu pauses briefly, “give me a sec,” he nods before stuffing the roasted potato that was previously halfway into his mouth and standing up to jog over to his room. “he cleaned the house for two months for it.” mr matsuno chuckled as chifuyu jogs out again, this time with a paper bag held in his hand. 

“you better wear it everyday.” he sent you a playful wink, handing you the brown paper bag. you carefully unwrapped the ribbon that bounded the paper bag and pulling out an overly oversized hoodie enough to fit you through a lifetime. you noticed that it was same hoodie that chifuyu often wears except that yours was in the shade of emerald green, the colour that chifuyu had taken the effort to remember that you had once claimed as your colour when the two of you had a heated discussion on what colour represents yourselves. 

“wow! now we have a friendship hoodie!” you beamed in excitement, pulling the oversized hoodie over your sweater. “how do i look?” you asked, posing a few turns at chifuyu as he took a good look at you. “pretty.” he held a thumb up before stuffing another spoonful of pasta down. 

your lowered your gaze upon hearing the sudden compliment your best friend gave, opting to look at the last piece of roasted chicken that mrs matsuno had offered you earlier just now before chifuyu could lay his hands on it. your lips pursed, not entirely confident to do it but eventually picking up the piece of meat and placing it on chifuyu’s already dirtied plate from all the sauces he had mixed with his food. “thank you,” you mumbled, looking anywhere else but chifuyu’s burning gaze on you. 

the butterflies were taking flight soon and you on the other hand had no idea how to contain it. 

you were sixteen when chifuyu first broke your heart on the first day of the spring season, openly declaring in front of you and takemichi that he’ll be confessing to the pretty girl sitting in front of him during lunch time. 

her name is haru.

“no way! you’re kidding!” takemichi gaped, leaning in closer to chifuyu as the close proximity between the two of them wasn’t enough for him to hear chifuyu clearly. chifuyu crossed his arms, confidence evident in his posture, “of course not! i’ve already decided, there’s no going back!” 

“be sure not to scare her away!” you stuck your tongue out to which chifuyu rolled his eyes in response. “eh? you’re just jealous that no one’s confessing to you!”, wiggling his head in a playful manner as he brought an ‘L’ sign up to his forehead to further anguish you. you raised a middle finger, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation for you weren’t sure if you were able to contain the effect of your heart dropping six feet down. 

you knew chifuyu succeeded when he came running to you after school with the brightest smile you adored, a faint tint of blush coated on his cheeks. “guess i’m gonna see you lesser huh lover boy?” you chuckled softly, shoving your textbooks into your canvas bag as he swung himself onto your desk with a smug grin. “you’d wish huh don’t you? but no, you’ll still see me as often when i’m off from boyfriend duties,” he sang happily. perhaps maybe because it was chifuyu’s own words, you believed wholeheartedly that you were okay with being just his best friend and being supportive of his relationship. so you watched chifuyu’s love for haru bloomed into something more than just the typical puppy love you often watch on romcoms. 

in just a blink of an eye, two years had passed and the next thing you knew you were spending your birthday without your best friend for the second time in a row. “this sucks,” you grumbled, throwing your phone aside when the time struck midnight, announcing a new day had just arrived. chifuyu’s words were just empty affirmations when you realised that you barely ever saw your best friend. you weren't sure if the two of you were even best friends anymore. it felt more like he’s just a friend that you talk to occasionally now. you see, chifuyu is a loyal friend and that’s a widely known fact and that’s what made it even more heartbreaking for you because chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive and you had no reason to hate him for that. 

you rubbed your temples tiredly, wanting nothing more than to run your aching head into the wall when a packet of your favourite watermelon mints was thrown onto your desk. “rough night?”atsumu, your beloved table-mate asked smugly. “you don’t say,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at the obvious as you impatiently tore the packet open. “he didn’t wish ya happy birthday did he?” the freshly bleached haired boy questioned. atsumu got his answer when you didn't sat in silence, opting to look out the window to distract yourself from the threatening tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. and god do love to test you when the scene of chifuyu leaning in to kiss haru on the lips ever so gently unfolds at your sight. oh how you wished that it was you who he’s kissing right now. 

chifuyu always does just enough to keep your friendship alive. 

it was already late into the night when you heard a knock outside your balcony. your breath hitched when you saw that it was chifuyu who had disturbed your little movie marathon alone after the events that had happened lately. “hey,” he breathed, a soft smile wearing on his lips to which you returned it with an awkward one, inviting him into your messy room. “oh we’re in our friendship hoodie!” he chuckles nervously. your eyes travelled on him, realising that indeed he’s wearing the same hoodie that you were currently wearing right now. “it’s late chi, what’s going on?” you sighed, tone coming off harsher than you intended to. chifuyu nods slowly, face soon replaced with an apologetic look. “i’m sorry for missing your birthday, i feel horrible really,” he begun. “ i know i haven’t been around lately, so i want to make it up to you.” 

your brows furrowed at chifuyu’s apology, you knew he was being so sincere so why did you feel even much more upset hearing it? “that’s it? you could’ve just done this in school tomorrow chifuyu.”you sighed, trying your hardest to mask the pettiness within you with a tired voice. “ i know i know, but i couldn’t sleep knowing that i left my best friend alone on her 18th birthday.” he looked at you hesitantly as you quietly pulled your duvet over your lap. “how about let’s go hiking and watch the sunrise this weekend? just the two of us. i know you’ve been wanting to do that.” 

you wished you weren’t in love with chifuyu so that you wouldn’t give in so easily. you wished you were petty enough to make a scene and just be angry at him but you couldn't so here you are right now, hiking up the trail with your hand in chifuyu’s as you helped him up the slope. “your stamina really sucks,” you retorted to which chifuyu huffed in response. “it’s not that my stamina sucks, it’s that this trail is literally ninety-eight percent high slopes,” he pouts. 

“well you could've chose not to show up.” 

“no! i want to do this with you. what are you talking about?” 

you only smiled at his little defence. “whatever,” you mumbled as you quickly dropped your grip on his and walking ahead of him in an attempt to hide your blush. “hey! wait for me!” 

it was near autumn when one day chifuyu appeared in the wee hours of the night with tears streaming down his cheeks when he fell into your arms and hugged you tightly. you found out that haru was moving away to the states with her family and had broken up with chifuyu, refusing to try out long distance relationship. 

so like any other best friend, you let chifuyu cry into your shoulders as you sat in silence that night, heart breaking at the torn state chifuyu was in. he truly loved her. 

you were twenty when chifuyu held your hands and asked you to be his. 

“chifuyu matsuno! where the hell are my batteries?” your voice echoed through your shared apartment, causing poor chifuyu to jump and drop the eggs he was previously holding in his hands on to the floor. it’s been almost two years since haru and chifuyu had broken up and you had spent a great deal of time trying to mend his broken heart though you knew that it would never be fully healed. she was his first love after all. 

the two of you had moved in to a small apartment close to your university as planned since young, officially becoming roommates. “fuck!my eggs!” chifuyu cried out loud as he frantically lets go of the spatula in his hands to grab a kitchen tower and clean up the pool of egg yolk and egg white on the marble floor. you groaned in annoyance when chifuyu doesn’t answer your question, slamming the tools drawer shut and making your way towards the kitchen. 

“i swear chi-” you paused when you saw chifuyu kneeling on the floor with his pink kitten design apron tied against his body, a pout clearly evident on his lips. “what ever happened?” your head tilted slightly, annoyance slowly decimating. “you screamed like a mad woman. that’s what happened.” he retorted. you rolled your eyes, grabbing another kitchen towel and joining chifuyu on the ground. “well if you didn’t misplace my batteries, i wouldn't be screaming.” 

“if you looked close enough, it’s literally on your study desk.” 

“it’s not!” 

“it is!” 

“it’s not!” you huffed, getting up and stomping over to your room to prove a point but your eyes widened, horrified by the pure sight of your batteries accompanies by a fresh pack with a sticky note attached on top of it. ‘you’re welcome <3′, it wrote. you slowly walked out of your room with your head hung low, doing the walk of shame. “say it,” chifuyu taunts as he skilfully tossed the omelette onto the plate and placing it in front of you. you scrunched your nose, lips pursing and taking a deep breath. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly, fingers fumbling at the ends of your shirt. “ah-ah i can't hear you,” you hear him sing, a little too happy. obvious that he’s enjoying this. you sighed in defeat, clearing your throat loud enough. “i’m sorry,” you said it loudly this time. 

chifuyu lets out a laugh in satisfaction, throwing his head back while you on the other hand could only pout at his triumph. but that didn’t mean that your heart didn't swell up at the expression of happiness he has on his face right now. digging in at the breakfast that chifuyu had made for you which had now became a routine, you couldn't help but to feel small under chifuyu’s intense stare on you. “are you not gonna eat?” you raised your brow, eyeing the untouched omelette on his plate. chifuyu rests his chin on his palm, looking at you with a look of as if he had something to tell you. 

“i will.” he hummed before reaching out to grab your hands. your body stiffened, dumfounded at what’s currently happening. “you know, for the last two years, life was a little less painful thanks to you.” chifuyu confessed earnestly, “ i guess what i’m trying to say is that, you’re my end game y/n l/n. i don’t think i would've came this far if it wasn’t for you so i’m going to ask you this once,” he paused, intertwining his fingers in yours as he gazes into your eyes deeply, 

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

your relationship with chifuyu wasn’t a perfect one but the two of you always made it work somehow. which is why here you are sitting against your bed frame with luggages packed by the side wondering what exactly had gone wrong along the way? 

and you realised that you were never meant to be chifuyu’s end game. you were never meant to be his forever. 

“you think that i don’t fucking know that you were always looking at her instagram when you think i’m not around?” you screamed, body shaking from the exhaustion that’s taking a toll on you both physically and emotionally. “i don’t see how it’s wrong wanting to see how my friend is doing?” chifuyu snaps. 

you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. “yeah. as if you don’t still say her name in your sleep. as if you don’t fucking mess up our favourite food, as if you didn’t tell takemichi that you wished i was haru!” this was the last straw for you. you were too exhausted to try anymore. haru was irreplaceable and you were just a temporary band aid for chifuyu. 

it was as if you had hit jack pot when your lover went silent. “i’ve loved you for so long chifuyu. but loving you hurts too much. i’m so tired of this.” you finally allowed yourself to break down, letting yourself go loose on the emotions you’ve suppressed for years as chifuyu could only watch in remorse for tearing you apart till this state. 

you finally understood why the apple tree never bloomed any apples.

you were twenty seven when you decided to leave chifuyu matsuno. fifteen years of friendship and seven years of being each other’s significant other. you finally walked away, planting one last final kiss on chifuyu’s lips and shutting the door on your ex-lover’s sleeping figure. 

[fruitcoops]

Hi! I wanted to request something, but no pressure, you can totally ignore it. Maybe a fic where Reg is at NYU, and maybe he's stressed about something, or something went wrong (anything you want really) and maybe he calls Sirius for help? And Sirius talks him through it? Thank you, have a good day :)

More sibling hurt/ comfort and fluff! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Sirius was almost done with his lasagna when the phone rang. “Come on,” he groaned aloud, glaring at the ceiling. His dinner had been interrupted no less than three times by different members of the team asking about pre-season details that were already in their goddamn emails. “Can it wait thirty more seconds?”

The phone continued to ring. Sirius cast his pasta one more longing look and grabbed the phone without checking the caller.

“Hello?” he answered, well aware of how grumpy he sounded.

A few moments of panicked breathing followed on the other line. “I fucked up.”

Sirius dropped his fork. “Reg?”

“I fucked up,” Regulus repeated shakily. Something was whirring in the background; Sirius heard no other voices. “I think—shit, I definitely did.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” Sirius instructed as he stood, already patting his pockets for his car keys. “Do you need help?”

Regulus sniffled. “Yeah.”

Shit, shit, shit, what did you do? “Tell me where you are.”

“The laundry room.”

“The—what?” Sirius paused halfway to the front door. His heartbeat was pounding pretty loud in his ears, but it sounded like Regulus said…

“The laundry room.” Another sniffle. “In my dorm. I fucked up.”

Sirius was quiet for another moment before he blinked and shook his head. “Back up. What is happening right now that you need help with?”

There was a rustling noise on the other end of the line. “So—so I know you’re supposed to separate dark and light clothes, and I always put all of mine on ‘normal’ at your house, but there are so many settings here and none of them say ‘normal’ so I don’t know what to do and I’m definitely going to fuck up all my clothes—”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Sirius interrupted as Regulus began talking faster with each word. For the time being, he was going to ignore the fact that Regulus had been washing everything he owned on the same cycle for nine months. “Just hold on a second, ouais? What are the settings on the washing machine?”

“Uh, there’s delicate, cold, warm, hot, and towels.”

“Thank you.” Sirius sat down at the table again and pushed his pasta out of the way so he could prop his elbows up. “I don’t think you have to worry about the delicate cycle—”

“Why not?” The edge of panic returned to Regulus’ voice. “How do you know?”

“Do you wear bras, Reg?”

A beat of shocked silence passed. “No.”

“Then you don’t have to worry about it. Have you already separated the dark and light clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Good job, that’s important.” Sirius listened to his breathing slowly even out and gave himself a mental high-five. “Now, most clothes have a tag on the inside that will tell you how to wash and dry them. A lot of the dark clothes will ask for cold water, which makes it easier. Read through those and make piles, okay? Towels and sheets have instructions, too.”

“Will you—” Regulus trailed off, then lowered his voice. “Will you stay on the phone?”

“Of course.” Sirius leaned back in his chair as the sound of shifting fabric and humming machines filled the air; a few different sets of footsteps came and went in the time it took Regulus to methodically make his way through. “How’s your second week going?”

“C’est bien.”

“Made any friends yet?”

“Sort of.” Regulus paused for a moment and Sirius heard the sound of a zipper. “I’m supposed to zip pants and things, right?”

“Oui. Otherwise they’ll rip your other clothes.”

“Cool. Um, yeah, I’ve made a couple friends. It’s kind of difficult during orientation, though.” Sirius waited patiently for Regulus to continue—he recognized the hesitation in his voice. “How’s Leo?”

“Misses you.”

“I miss him, too. Give him a hug for me, ouais?”

Sirius smiled to himself. “I’ll be sure to pass it along. How’s the laundry coming?”

“I just got the warm water ones in. How much detergent should I use?”

“Are there marks on the cap?” He wracked his brain for any memory of which brand they had sent Regulus off with; they didn’t often use the liquid kind at home, so it was no surprise he was confused. “Does it have numbers below the lines?”

“Oui!”

Sirius let out a breath of relief. “Fantastic. The numbers mean how many loads you’re putting in. Right now, you’re going to fill the cap to the ‘one’ line and then pour it wherever it needs to go.”

There was a creak. “Do I need softener or bleach?” Regulus asked skeptically. “Because there are little wells for both.”

“Not right now, no.”

A few seconds passed—Sirius heard a familiar jingle play, then a rumbling as the washer started up. “I think I got it,” Regulus said, clearly astonished.

“Congratulations,” Sirius said with a grin. “I never had to use one of those things, so you’re finally better than me at something.”

“I’m better than you at a lot of things,” Regulus teased, though his pride was audible. “Thank you, Sirius.”

“Any time.”

“Sorry for interrupting your night.”

Sirius shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You can call any time and I’ll pick up.”

Regulus shuffled his feet a bit on the other end. “It was kind of a stupid thing, though. I could have looked it up.”

“It’s not stupid,” Sirius said gently. “And I’m glad you asked me instead of getting a bunch of different advice from the internet. You can call for anything.”

The phone was quiet for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. If you need more help with the dryer, I’ll be here.”

“Miss you.”

Sirius closed his eyes as his heart gave a tug. “Miss you too, Reg. We’ll be up for parent weekend, d’accord? Two months.”

“Two months,” Regulus repeated; Sirius could practically hear his smile.

[radiantsouth]

birthdays

Lucy's Saturday began with a soft rapping at her door. Hesitantly, she peeled her eyes open; it was only barely light out, not early enough to be woken on a weekend. Still, she was curious to know what warranted an interruption of her sleep. “Come in,” she croaked out.

The door cracked open. “Good morning, Lucy,” her mother said, smile wide on her face.

“Hullo, Mum,” Lucy yawned. “Is there something the matter? Why are you up so early today?”

“Only your birthday, sweetheart!” Mum said. A shadow of a frown passed across her face, fleeting but enough for Lucy to see. “Oh, I'm sorry, dear, I should let you sleep in—”

“It's alright, Mum. Thank you,” Lucy said as sweetly as she could muster. “I must have forgotten.”

Mum frowned, gliding over to the bed. “Well, that won't do,” she sighed. “I know I've been awfully busy...”

“It's not that, really,” Lucy was quick to say. “I really forgot.”

“It looks like your sister and brothers didn't remember, either,” Mum continued with another sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you what—I'll pop ‘round the bakery for a cake and we'll have a party, the five of us. How does that sound?”

Lucy was on the verge of protest—cake seemed too indulgent, and she’d seen her mother's ledger of expenses—but she found herself nodding. Mum wouldn't let it rest, she suspected. “I'd love that, Mum,” she said with her biggest smile.

“Wonderful.” Mum bent down to kiss her forehead and bid her goodbye, promising to come back with chocolate cake.

Lucy lay in bed for a little while longer, wanting to fall asleep again but too awake now for that exercise in futility. The fact that today was her birthday was strange. Turning exactly nine years old didn't feel any different; she still had the same limbs from yesterday, the same loose tooth, the same freckles on her arms. She supposed there needed to be a day to mark her growth, all the same—if not for her benefit, then their mother’s.

She hadn’t had a birthday in a while. There seemed no necessity for it in Narnia; the months there were not the same, and neither were the seasons for that matter, after a hundred years of winter. They did not know on which days they should celebrate, and in time, they forgot their birthdays altogether; only the new year counted, it seemed, another year with Narnia growing along with them.

Slowly, she slid out of the covers, tying a robe around her nightgown and fumbling for her slippers under the bed. What she’d do for a cup of coffee right now! But the stuff was scarce around the house without Dad to drink it, and Mum would never allow her. Maybe the older ones could be cajoled into letting her while Mum was out.

She dragged her feet down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Peter, Susan, and Edmund were sitting at the table with their heads down and looking quite morose. Edmund was the one to spot her, eyes widening. “Lu!”

“Hullo, everyone,” she greeted cheerily. “Supposing you knew about this birthday business?”

“We're so sorry, Lu,” Peter said. “How could we forget?”

“I didn't remember, either,” Lucy whispered conspiratorially, and they all exchanged relieved smiles. “It's quite alright. There's no chance of gifts, anyhow, as we're all stretched thin.”

“That's not true,” Susan protested. “We've a little money set aside. If there's anything you want—within reason—we'll buy it for you.”

They all looked expectantly at her, eager to please. Lucy pretended to think about it, then said, “How about some ground coffee?”

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter fifteen:“I wanna be yours”

Word count: 6,4K

Summary: Our fools in love have to tell everybody they are dating, and prepare for all the teasing.

Warnings: Hardcore fluff, cursing. Spoilers of Season 6 Episode 13 "The thirteenth step". Smut implied but nothing explicit.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this endless, slow-burn series. Thank you for your comments, your support, and your love. I will be writing some one-shots about these two fools in love in the next few weeks and planning a sequel, 'cos I can't just let them go. Love you so much!!

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

Sequel: Baby I'm yours

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Spencer's point of view

There's an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other.

I couldn't stop thinking about that saying when I woke up, and the first image I saw was (Y/N) lying naked next to me. Her chest rose slowly as she sighed and cuddled closer to me.

She was mine. Just mine. And I wanted to be hers for the rest of my life. Was it too soon to say? Of course, it was.

I had never experienced that amount of peace in my entire life. It was still night when I opened my eyes, but even in the darkness of that room, I could see her beauty shining. I moved carefully, wrapping my arms around her protectively. I thought I was still asleep, ‘cos it felt like a dream. But it was real. Very real.

For how long I had wished I could be like that with her. Feeling her in my arms. It felt like a lifetime had passed for us to finally meet the way we were actually meant to be. Together.

(Y/N) slowly moved in my arms and sighed. I looked at her knowing I couldn't shake the silly grin from my face. When she opened her eyes and stared at me, I could read the shock on her face for a few seconds as she remembered what had happened the night before, and her arms tightened around me.

- "Good morning, ma chère"- I whispered and kissed the top of her head.

- "Good morning, honey bunny"- she murmured and moved closer to me, kissing my lips softly- "Slept well?"

- "I hadn't slept this good in months. You?"

- "Me neither."

- "Does that mean we have to sleep together more often to rest better?"- I asked her, and she smiled, blushing, immediately.

- "Those are all the Ph.D. showing, my smart ass boyfriend"- she joked and giggled.

- "Just to make sure it's actually something for a fact, we should make another trial"- I suggested and felt her lips on mine one more time.

- "Tonight?"- (Y/N) asked, smiling.

- "And the night after"- I added, and she just nodded.

- "For at least a whole month."

- "Yes, ma chère. For as long as you want."

I wanted to enjoy that sweet moment forever, but a call to our room let us know Hotch was waiting for us downstairs. It was earlier than we had agreed to meet, but apparently, neither of us had picked up our phones the five times he and Rossi called. On our defense, we were… we didn't really have a decent defense.

Derek and Prentiss looked at us as we reached the lobby, holding our bags and making our best to act normal. We had decided to talk with Hotch first when the case was solved. And then with the rest of the team. Obviously, the fact we were now dating would be big news for our group of friends. (Y/N) had actually thought about organizing a dinner party to drop the information to Frank, Mikey, and Lu. That would make them happy. It felt weird to hide something so big from our friends, but we had to work. Besides, Penelope would never forgive us if she wasn't there when we first told them we were now a couple.

- "What took you so long?"- Derek frowned as he looked at us reaching their side.

- "Sorry, that was me,"- (Y/N) raised her hand and shyly smiled- "I had a female emergency, and Spencer was nice enough to wait for me."

Whenever you said "female emergency," Derek wouldn't argue with you. (Y/N) knew it. I kept my best poker face and looked at Hotch. He just raised an eyebrow and walked to the door.

- "They killed again. Let's go."

I sat at the back of an SUV and carefully heard what Hotch said on speaker through the phone. I had to make an extra effort to focus on work that morning, ‘cos I could still feel (Y/N)'s lips on mine, and the memories of the night we had shared were way too fresh in my memory. I could see her naked body underneath mine. I could almost hear her moaning my name in my ear. I chuckled and looked outside the window, doing my best not to blush, and obviously, failing in the process.

- "Hey Reid, what's so funny?"- Prentiss asked and looked at me from the front seat after hanging up the phone to Hotch.

- "Nothing, why?"

- "You seem happy"- I frowned and shrugged immediately.

- "Is that a bad thing?"

- "No. But… please don't get me wrong, it's just weird."

- "So it's weird that I'm happy. Ok, thanks"- I looked at her, pretending to be insulted. Maybe that could finish the conversation faster.

- "I'm sorry, Ried. I just…"

- "I had a good night's sleep and rested last night. That's all."

I avoided looking at her. Derek looked at me from the rearview mirror as he drove

- "With (Y/N)?"

- "We shared rooms, yeah."

- "And did you tell her what we talked about the other night?"- I thanked it was just me, Morgan, and Prentiss in the car that minute, ‘cos I didn't want to lie in front of everybody. If I must be honest, I think I suck at keeping secrets from the team.

- "No. I didn't"- I kept my eyes outside the window- "She didn't want to talk to me."

- "And what are you gonna do?"- Derek asked and parked outside the latest crime scene. A community center.

- "Wait until we solve the case and then talk to her. Work first."

- "Are you ok with that?"- I shrugged at Morgan's question and simply said.

- "I have no other choice. Now let's work."

(Y/N)'s point of view

Hotch didn't ask a thing. But I was sure he knew. I sat in the back of the SUV and heard all the details of the latest attack. He commented on the phone with the rest of the team, who were right behind us in another car. I kept my eyes outside the window, trying to process what had happened the night before, and at the same time, making my best effort not to giggle. I wanted to giggle, laugh, and probably cry of happiness, all at the same time. But I couldn't. I was at work, and my job was important.

I grabbed my phone and typed quickly. I felt like a teenager, but I didn't care.

- "Miss u"- I wrote and sent. A few seconds later, my cell hummed, and I read Spencer's reply.

- "Me more."

- "Everything ok?"- Rossi asked and raised an eyebrow, staring back at me.

- "Everything is perfect"- I replied and smiled.

- "That's what I love to hear, mia ragazza"- I chuckled at the loving nickname. Of course, he knew too. Hotch must have told him.

The crime scene was bloody. Prentiss and Morgan stayed outside, checking a body in the parking lot. At the same time, Hotch, Spencer, Rossi, and I walked inside the community center. Apparently, our unsubs hit an AA meeting.

- "So they steal the liquor from the gas station, they go on a binge, and then they come to a meeting?"

Hotch questioned, staring at the scene around us. It was brutal. I crossed my arms on my chest and nodded, making my best not to make eye contact with Spencer ‘cos I knew I was gonna blush. And a crime scene is not the place to blush or flirt with your boyfriend.

- "What if the unsubs met at a meeting?"- Rossi suggested, and I nodded right away.

- "Sounds logical. They hear each other's stories and develop a bond because of their similar backgrounds."

- "That makes sense"- Spencer turned to me and nodded. I nearly sighed as soon as I saw him- "People typically drink to excess because they're unhappy with themselves or their past."

- "From the looks of it, at least one of the unsubs shot from upfront"- Rossi pointed out, and I started recreating the whole scene in my head, trying to picture what might have happened. Emily and Morgan walked in that minute and stared at us.

- "Well, if the meeting started at 8:00, and this happened at 8:45, they were probably in the sharing portion of the meeting"- Spencer added. I bit my lips, thinking he actually knew what he was talking about.

He still assisted NA meetings twice a month. I always picked him up and took him for a late dinner afterward. I knew it was hard for him, but he was doing great. And I always told him how proud he made me.

- "So maybe they didn't come in here to kill."- I told him, making my best to look normal.

- "You know, what if they really are struggling with sobriety?"- my boyfriend (I couldn't believe he was actually my boyfriend) looked at me and kept talking like nothing was going on- "If they're really working the program, they could be working on the hardest steps."

- "Which are?"- Hotch asked him, forcing us to talk with the rest of the team around us.

- "Seven, eight, and nine. Acknowledge your shortcomings, accept responsibility, and make amends. The trouble is, these unsubs already broke one of the most important steps"- I kept my eyes on Spencer as he spoke.

- "What's that?"- Morgan asked him, confused.

- "The thirteenth step. Members aren't supposed to enter relationships with each other while trying to get sober."

- "Thank god that doesn't count for other groups"- Prentiss said, and we all turned to her at the same time. She just chuckled and looked at me, as I made my best not to blush- "I mean, I bet that sucks."

- "Come on, we have to deliver a profile"- Hotch ignored her and walked out of the community center with Rossi.

- "Did you tell her anything?"- I whispered Reid on our way out.

- "Nothing… I just told them I slept, and that's it…"

- "You barely slept"- I remarked and giggled.

- "Totally worth it."

I had to bite my lips not to laugh and kept my arms crossed on my chest, just to stop my instinct of holding his hands. I was craving for Spencer. I needed to feel his touch.

- "We're looking for a young couple from North Dakota, late teens to mid-20s. We believe they may have recently been married."- Hotch announced to the local police enforcement, who stood around us in the parking lot. - "We see that alcohol plays a significant role in these crimes. It's allowing them to kill freely and recklessly"- our unit chief added and looked at me, and I turned to the police in front of me.

- "Our unsubs are killing surrogates who represent those responsible for deep-seated wounds"- I said- "Now, these two most likely met at alcohol support. And they get a sexual charge out of the kill."

- "The change from gas station to alcohol support meetings suggests one of them might have a slight moral compass that led them to get help"- Prentiss added, and Rossi continued talking.

- "Ultimately, we believe one of the pair is a sociopath, while the other is a psychopath."

- "What's really the difference?"- the detective asked, and of course, my boyfriend answered that question gladly.

- "They're similar pathologies, but a sociopath is less likely to participate in criminal activity and can be lured by a dominant, while a psychopath is a consummate leader and likely to engage and destroy anyone in their way."

- "The most recent attack was 12 hours ago, which means they're most likely heading west of Helena and towards Idaho. All surrounding areas should be on alert"- I added, and Spencer nodded at my words with a warm smile. All my mind registered at that second was: "That's my boyfriend."

Rossi, Hotch, and Prentiss headed to an SUV. Spencer and I followed close but keeping a safe distance.

- "I love you"- I whispered, and he blushed.

- "I love you more"- he stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept walking with his eyes on the ground- "Wanna stay in my apartment when we get home?"

- "Are you going to take me out on a date too?"- I asked him playfully.

- "We will go on so many dates, ma chère, you'll get tired of them."

- "Never."

- "What are you kids talking about?"- Morgan asked as he showed up next to us.

- "I was telling (Y/N) about meetings."- Spencer lied so quickly I was shocked- "She asked about the steps you go through, and I thought I could share my experience."

Derek stared at him blankly, not knowing what to answer. I just nodded and walked a little faster. Cocky and slightly more confident Spencer was new to me. And he gave me a funny feeling in my tummy…

I was glad Hotch stayed with Spencer and asked me to go with Derek and Prentiss to check the latest crime scene ‘cos I just wanted to kiss Reid whenever he was close to me. Besides, something was definitely wrong with Emily. She just wasn't focusing on the case. She was worst than me, and that's a lot to say.

We were checking a new crime scene, now the father of our suspect was dead, which gave us a substantial lead of who and why our unsub might be killing. And Emily was just… reading texts on her phone. Derek turned to me and raised an eyebrow. I just shook my head and mouthed: "Don't ask her." But I don't know why I bother. I knew he would end up asking her anyway. And she was going to get all defensive. But that wasn't my fight, and that day precisely, I was too happy to get in the middle of any argument.

- "You know, maybe she is the one calling the shots"- I said as I stared at the crime scene one last time- "She's the psychopath."

- "Well, if she did do it without his consent, they're going to be at odds"- Morgan commented and looked at Prentiss. I turned to her, too, waiting for her comment.

- "The first marital fight is supposed to be the worst"- that was all she said.

- "Well, it just might be the wedge that we need"- I added and opened the trailer's door. Hotch was out there with a witness and Spencer. I stood still and just made my best not to smile. But failed when I saw those loving chocolate eyes staring back at me.

- "How did it go?"- he whispered and walked to me, leaving Hotch and the witness alone.

- "I have the feeling something is going on with Emily"- Spencer frowned, confused.

- "What are you talking about?"

- "I don't know. She seems off."

- "Do you want me to talk to her?"- he suggested, but I shook my head right away- "Are you sure you are not just paranoid ‘cos we are hiding something?"

- "Yeah, I was thinking that too…"

- "Frank called me, but the way"- Spencer announced, and his cheeks turned blood red in a matter of seconds- "I couldn't answer ‘cos I was with Hotch. But I think I should call him back when we've got a chance."

- "Reid, (Y/L/N)"- Hotchner's voice interrupted us. Our boss looked at us and raised an eyebrow, his face completely emotionless.

- "Yes, sir?"

- "We need to talk when we are back at Quantico"- he simply stated and then turned around.

He knew. Of course, he did.

Spencer's point of view

The unsubs were hidden in a gas station. They had met in an alcohol support group, and Syd, the wife of our suspect, had actually killed his ex-girlfriend to make sure she had him. That was sick. And yet, that wasn't the worst of all. They were killing people who had hurt them. Their parents, in this case.

Hotch asked (Y/N) and me to stay at the command center if they double back, and the rest of the team drove to Spokane to catch them.

It was both a blessing and a curse to be paired with her that day. But I thanked Hotch for leaving us alone while they took care of the case. I think he knew our heads were anywhere but on the field. Most of the time (Y/N) and I spent alone, we were kissing. And I swear, I regret nothing. We had already wasted too much time being just friends. I now couldn't keep my hands off her, even if I tried. I felt like a teenager, assuming that's how teenagers feel like.

- "The officials are staring"- (Y/N) whispered as she moved apart from me.

- "I'm sorry. I just can't help it"- I watched her blush and walk away just in time, ‘cos Hotch and the team walked in a few seconds later.

- "Ready to go home?"- Derek stared at us, and we nodded. I could read in his face the case hadn't ended well. Maybe we should wait before dropping the news to the whole team. Perhaps talking just with Hotch was wiser.

(Y/N) fell asleep sitting next to me on the jet. We weren't even touching each other, trying to keep it as professional as possible. Morgan looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I cut him an awkward smile, knowing what he was thinking about. He had seen me drunk as a skunk a few nights earlier, nearly screaming my love for my best friend out in the street. And now, she was asleep next to me, safe and sound.

- "So?"- Morgan whispered- "At least it seems things are better between you two."

- "Kinda"- I tried to avoid answering the question ‘cos I knew (Y/N) wanted to tell them all together the next day at the bullpen, after talking with Hotch.

- "Did you talk to her?"- I just shook my head no and made my best effort to look serious.

- "Are you going to?"- and I nodded. Morgan cut me a short smile and gave me a thumbs up- "Good luck, kid."

I swear, it was hard not to chuckle.

When we reached the bullpen, most of the team went straight back home. Emily literally rushed out of the jet and towards her car. (Y/N) turned to me and raised an eyebrow, but Hotch's serious voice caught our attention and forced us to hurry. My girlfriend stuffed her hands into her pockets, which stopped me from holding her. She was clearly more intelligent than me. At that minute, I knew the hormones, and my feelings for her blurred any serious thought I could have.

Rossi walked towards his office as (Y/N), and I followed Hotch to his. I let her walk in first and closed the door behind our back.

- "Please, have a seat"- Hotch pointed to a couch, and we both did as asked. That time, (Y/N) reached out for my hand to hold it, intertwining her fingers with mine.

Hotch stared at the scene with a deadpan look in his eyes. I had no idea what they had talked about when he had asked her in his office, but as (Y/N) had told me, he wanted us to get together. Somehow, it felt like we were going to be scolded by our dad. My dad? Her dad? Well, someone's paternal figure.

- "I got some comments from the Chief of Police. Some cops commented about two FBI agents making out, standing by a federal SUV."- I closed my eyes, embarrassed as soon as I heard Hotch's words, but (Y/N) just chuckled.

- "I didn't see anything"- (Y/N) answered and giggled- "You, honey?"

But I couldn't even answer. I could barely even breathe. I was totally flustered, my cheeks burning red. Hotch looked at us and smiled.

- "I'm glad you two finally talked. And I am guessing you are no longer just friends"- (Y/N) giggled again, and I cleared my throat, awkward but making my best to speak.

- "Yes, we wanted to inform you, Hotch. (Y/N) and I are now... "- I had to clear my throat again and finished the sentence- "We are now dating."

- "Calm down, Reid"- (Y/N) joked and smiled at me- "It's not like you are telling my dad"- she made a pause and stared at me, raising an eyebrow- "But remember, you actually have to tell my dad. And my brother."

Hotch chuckled, staring at us, and shook his head. It was crystal clear the news made him feel happy, which was actually a relief.

- "I need you to sign a form due to fraternization policies, but overall, I am glad you are happy. It took you long enough, so I hope you can enjoy your relationship from now on."

Hotch said and stood up. (Y/N) followed and wrapped her arms around her the second Rossi knocked on the door holding four glasses and a bottle of champagne.

- "Am I on time to congratulate our golden couple?"

- "You knew too?"- I asked, and Rossi just shook his head.

- "Who do you think suggested locking you too in the same room?"- I widened my eyes thinking everybody knew and was somehow involved in us getting together.

- "Thank you, papa pasta"- (Y/N) joked and jugged Rossi too.

- "You are welcome, mia ragazza. I just hope you two are happy together."

- "Just don't kiss in front of the police force again"- Hotch added, and I nearly choked on the champagne.

- "I promise, we'll keep all public displays of affection to the minimum while we are at work"- (Y/N) smiled and sipped her glass. I felt her holding my hand, and I turned to her with a wide smile.

(Y/N) drove us back home. We picked up something for dinner and headed to her apartment 'cos it was closer. We were weary, though I was honestly eager to be alone with her again. Just that alone wasn't really what was waiting for us at her place.

- "So what the fuck?!"- Frank, Lu, and Mikey were sitting on her couch, arms crossed on their chest, staring at the door, clearly waiting for us.

- "What the hell? I gave you that key for emergencies only!"- (Y/N) argued right away, walking into her apartment. I closed the door and left out go bags on the floor.

- "You have no right to argue this intrusion, missy. You haven't picked up any of our calls or even answered our texts!"- Lu debited immediately and looked at (Y/N), standing up. Frank followed her quickly, looking at me.

- "And you didn't even call me back! I fucking called you seven times!!!"

- "I'm sorry"- I excused myself right away- "We had a busy case… we just got home…"

- "Mikey?"- (Y/N) turned to her friend and raised an eyebrow- "What the fuck is going on?"

- "They dragged me here and promised me the best news on earth. So… are you pregnant?"

- "What?! No!!"- (Y/N) freaked out right away and sighed.

- "Then are you two finally facing the fact you love each other, and you are getting together, so we can all fucking continue living our lives without the eternal angst produced by the fact neither of you seems to be able to get your shit together?"

Mikey asked and looked at us, crossing his arms on his chest, waiting for our answer.

- "We… what?"- I frowned, and (Y/N) looked at me, shaking her head.

- "These guys are the worst."

- "And they are our best friends"- I pointed out, and she just nodded.

- "Are you fucking together already?!"- Frank yelled, and my cheeks turned blood red as I nodded, hearing (Y/N)'s voice.

- "Yes, we are. We are dating!"

- "Finally!!!"- our friends shouted and ran to hug us. It was weird. I never imagined they would be so happy to know we were now a couple. But apparently, they were all rooting for us to get together for a while now.

- "Come on, we need to celebrate!"- Frank ran to the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers- "We have to make a toast for these two lovebirds!!"

I felt so embarrassed, now that everybody knew I loved (Y/N). But I guess that was what was supposed to happen. And drunk me had nearly shouted it to the word a few days earlier, so… I couldn't really argue with what was going on.

- "Do you wanna ask for something to eat?"- Mikey asked and looked at (Y/N), who for once was utterly blushed and overwhelmed.

- "Actually, we were planning on calling you guys this weekend and maybe have you over at my place… I got Exploding Kittens the other day… we could…"- I tried to be a subtle as possible, as Mikey and Frank raised an eyebrow looking at me.

- "Yeah, we could do that"- Mikey said- "But we could also eat now."

- "Guys, I think the lovebirds want to be alone"- Lu announced them, and (Y/N) nodded in silence.

- "Oh… OH!!!!"- Frank burst out laughing and tapped on my back a few times- "I get it!! Shit! I'm so sorry! You have a lot of time to make up for, so… yeah… use some lube, don't wake up too sore!"

- "Franklin!!!!"- (Y/N) shouted and smacked his head, but that didn't stop him from laughing.

- "Oh, this shit is gonna be so fun, nugget!! Love you! Use protection!"

(Y/N)'s point of view

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock, and Spencer Reid was sound asleep next to me. I felt my heart skip a beat as soon as I saw him and snuggled closer in his arms.

- "Good morning, chipmunk- he whispered in a groggy voice, and I felt his long fingers running up and down my back gently.

- "Good morning, honey bunny"- I answered and moved closer to kiss his lips slowly, enjoying the sensation of the first kiss of the day.

- "Slept well?"- he asked me, and I nodded- "Me too."

- "Two nights of sleep on the road, seems like we are on a winning streak."

- "I don't wanna ruin it, so we are sleeping together tonight too"- he said, making me smile.

- "You promised me a whole month of sleepovers."

- "I can promise you much longer than that"- Spencer whispered, and my stomach fluttered in excitement.

- "Really?"

- "Ma chère, I can offer you forever if that's what you want to spend with me"- Spencer wrapped his arms tighter around me, and I sighed, staring into his eyes, knowing he meant it.

- "Forever sounds fair enough"- I said and giggled- "But if there's any chance to make it longer than that, you better let me know."

- "I'll use my knowledge in physics to make the equations work."

I snuggled in his arms and enjoyed for a few minutes the life I always dreamt of sharing with him. Waking up with him, telling him how much I loved him, knowing he loved me too. It still seemed to be a dream, and I didn't want to wake up.

- "Ma chère?"- he whispered after a moment. I just hummed and looked at him. His short messy hair was hypnotizing, and his chocolate eyes looked sweeter than I had ever seen.

- "Are you ready to tell the team?"- I sighed and closed my eyes again.

- "Nope, you?"

- "I am actually excited about it… we could get them breakfast and drop the news."

- "So you are ready for all Derek's teasing?"- I asked him, and he groaned- "You hadn't thought about that."

- "No, I was actually just picturing Penelope's excited face."

- "She's gonna scream"- I added, and he nodded.

- "And she'll call JJ…"- Spencer whispered and chuckled as I nodded. I kissed him again and then sighed.

- "We should get out of bed, honey bunny."

- "That's the most challenging task of the day now that you are naked here with me"- he said, and his hands played with my skin underneath the sheets.

- "You are one teasing and horny boyfriend, Spencer Walter Reid."

- "Can you blame me? I have the sweetest and sexiest girlfriend on earth"- he smiled and kissed me one more time.

- "You are also deadly charming"- I chuckled and sat on the bed- "Come on, it's time to face family."

Telling our BAU family we were now dating shouldn't have been such a big deal. Maybe we could have just walked into the bullpen holding hands, and that would have been it. But it had been almost five years, and whether we liked it or not, they had been a part of our relationship since the very first day.

So we got coffee, cake and some more things to eat, and set them in the meeting room before everybody got there. I was nervous and excited at the same time. It was weird. Spencer wrapped an arm around my waist when he noticed I was arranging everything on the table for the hundredth time and kissed my lips sweetly for a second.

- "Come on, ma chère. It's gonna be ok, it's just our friend. You should be excited."

- "I am! I just don't know why I am so nervous! I think I'm a little scared they are gonna tease us for years!!"

- "You better be sure of that"- Spencer laughed and kissed me again. And that was when I heard it. Prentiss gasping.

- "What on earth did I miss?"

- "Surprise!"- I moved from Spencer's arms and smiled at my friend with burning cheeks.

- "Oh my god! What is happening?!"- Emily wide opened her eyes and stayed still, staring at us for a moment.

- "We are dating!"- I announced and raised my arms in the air, looking as cheerful as possible.

- "I can't believe this!! Congratulations!!"- Em walked towards us and hugged us both at the same time- "When did this happen?"

- "Yesterday"- the two of us said at the same time and chuckled at her excitement.

- "What happened yesterday?"- Derek asked as he walked in with Penelope, Hotch, and Rossi and looked at us intrigued.

- "Why are we having breakfast together? Is there an announcement? Is Hotch retiring?"- Penelope wide opened her eyes and looked at him, freaking out right away.

- "No, Garcia. I am not retiring"- he explained and shook his head, hiding a smile.

- "Actually, we wanted to set this for all of you as a way to thank you"- I said and turned to Spencer, who nodded and held my hand. I noticed Penelope's eyes open in shock as she stared at us and one smirk on Derek's face as he looked at Spencer like a proud older brother.

- "What is happening?"- Garcia whispered and gasped- "Is it happening? Are you…?"- and I just nodded, resting my head on Spencer's arm slowly.

- "Finally!! My boy wonder and my munchkin!! Together?! I can't believe it!!"- Penelope ran to us and hugged us. She nearly tackled us as she wrapped her arm around us at the same time and gave us a bone-crushing hug.

- "We wanted to surprise you with a little breakfast and thank you for being so patient with us,"- Spencer explained as Derek waited for his turn to hug him, tapping loudly on his back.

- "My man! I'm glad you finally got your girl."

- "Thank you"- Spencer blushed as he hugged his best friend. After my boyfriend had confessed he had gotten drunk with Derek and even gotten into a fight with James, I was waiting for Morgan's endless teasing. But that day, he hugged us both and wished us the world's happiness. It felt like we were announcing our engagement.

- "Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?"- Ashley walked into the room that minute and stared at the scene, confused. Spencer held my hand right away, and I bit my lips.

- "Our babies are making babies!!"- Penelope nearly yelled, and I wide opened my eyes in shock.

- "Garcia!! We are not having babies yet! We just started dating!"- I corrected her and looked at how Spencer's cheek was burning.

- "You are?"- Ashley asked and cut us a quick, forced smile as she noticed we were holding hands- "Congratulations, guys."

- "Thank you"- my boyfriend and I said at the same time, and an awkward silence hung in the room.

- "Does JJ know?"- Emily asked and took a long sip of her coffee.

- "No, we haven't told her yet."

- "And your families?"- Derek asked as Spencer and I both shook our heads.

- "We have just told our friends"- Reid explained- "Frank and the guys stopped by last night, and we talked to them, and now you. We were planning to tell (Y/N)'s family next weekend, and we'll fly to Las Vegas to talk to my mom by the end of the month."

- "But Diana is already sure you are dating! Why are you telling her otherwise!"- Penelope joked, though she was, in fact, right. Diana was sure Spencer and I were dating ever since we first met, nearly four years earlier.

- "I'm gonna get another coffee"- Prentiss stood up and held her already empty mug.

- "You already drank the one we got you?"- Spencer questioned, shocked- "Wow, did you have a long night?"

- "That's for me to know and for you not to ask, lover boy"- she replied and walked out of the room on her way to the kitchenette. Spencer pouted, and I just wrapped an arm around him, feeling him resting his head against mine for a moment as he stood by my side.

- "I can't believe I am watching you too being this adorable to each other. It's like… unreal. I wanna write fanfictions about you two!"- Penelope said and took a picture- "I'm sending this to JJ right now."

- "Told you!"- Spencer whispered, and I stuck my tongue out to him for a moment.

- "Please, remember you must keep your relationship strictly professional while you are at work"- Hotch reminded us as soon as I felt Spencer leaning over to kiss me. My boyfriend stopped what he was doing right away, and we both nodded at our boss.

- "Yes, Hotch"- Spencer let me go, and I walked to the table to grab a cupcake.

- "Does this mean the kids are getting their own room when we travel?"- Derek asked and elbowed Spencer with a teasing, smiling.

- "This means their relationship won't get in the way of our work"- Hotch explained and shook his head, but I could see him hiding the smile as he sipped his coffee.

- "Ok, munchkin, I need details. How did it happen, when did it happen, did he propose already? I don't even know why you are just dating at this point. You've been crazy for each other for years! You should be planning your wedding!"- Garcia was hyperventilating as she spoke, and I know Spencer was embarrassed and blushed with each one of her words.

- "I can tell you all the details later"- I said and giggled- "Maybe girl's night?"- and her eyes lit up right away.

- "Girl's night! I'm scheduling that right away. Emily!!"- Prentiss turned to look at Garcia as she walked back into the room, holding another cup of fresh coffee.

I heard Spencer chuckling as he looked at me, and for once, all I could read on his face was pure bliss and happiness.

- "What's so funny, batsy?"- I whispered as I walked over to him and looked at our friends having breakfast together. Those brief moments of peace at our work were priceless. I mean it.

- "I'm just happy, chipmunk. You make me happy."

- "That's great, ‘cos you make me happy too… thought I was thinking… should we get new nicknames now that we are dating? The ones we've got are not friendship nicknames"- he gave my words a little thought, and I patiently waited for his answer.

- "I don't know… if I must be honest, there's nothing friendly about me calling you "ma chère." There never was, and there never will. I was basically screaming, "I love you," hoping you'd understand"- I chuckled and shook my head.

- "Besides, I love being your honey bunny. I wouldn't change it for the world."

- "Really? But I could still come up with more nicknames for you"- I whispered and felt Spencer's hands resting on my waist as a loving smile lodged on his lips.

- "And I will love them all, just as much as I love you"- he leaned over slowly to kiss me until we heard Derek clearing his throat and stopped.

- "Do I have to give you a warning on your first day dating?"- Hotch said as we moved apart as fast as we could, blushing.

- "Sorry"- Spencer smiled and held his cup of coffee. I giggled and shook my head.

- "You wanted us to date; you should be excited."

- "I will never be excited to see you sucking faces"- Emily joked and smiled at me- "But I will always be happy you two are happy."

- "Yeah, besides, it took you forever!"- Morgan added- "It was painful to watch!"

- "Oh! shut up!"- I argued and sipped my coffee- "Good stories take their time. But they have a happy ending."

- "And you know what doesn't have an ending?"- Hotch said and sighed- "Paperwork, so… let's get to work as soon as we finish breakfast"- we all groaned but sighed, resigned.

- "JJ is in shock"- Penelope announced, reading a text- "And she is in for lady's night this weekend."

I looked at Spencer, who stood at the other side of the room and smiled. I couldn't believe I had fought my feelings for so long when it was so clear to the world. Spencer and I were in love, and we made each other happy. I guess it was like Tolstoy said once: "If you want to be happy, be." And all I wanted was to be at the BAU with my family and in love with Spencer Reid.

***

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405 @eyakoroleva @nani-2305

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Completed

[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

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ENJOY!!

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The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

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[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

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

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

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

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve 

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

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

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

*

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

[starbuckie]

𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰

challenge: 200 followers challenge by @angrybirdcr

prompt: “there may have been a slight misunderstanding, but nothing we can’t fix.” and locked in the trunk of a car

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 5,504 words

warnings: post-endgame, bucky’s kinda a dick, enemies to friends(?), swearing, angst, mentions of violence, talk about sexual assault, guns, bickering, jealousy

summary: bucky had been adjusting to the new familiarity of having a stable routine, right until she walked in.

a/n: I DON’T NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL. okay, great, done that, but congratulations on 200 followers!! i had so much fun taking part in your writing challenge, so thank you so much. imma be honest, there’s not a lot of romance in this, it’s some enemies to friends type of shit and i genuinely did not think this fic would get so angsty and dark and actually long, but i had an idea and ran with it mid way through the old fic with this prompt. also i had an idea for an epilogue to this, so tell me if you want that part 2 because i am on the verge of writing it. this is not proofread by a beta, but i edited it myself and hope it is okay. anyways, now that we’re done with that, please enjoy this rollercoaster of a fanfic i’ve written.

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Life in the twenty-first century was strange, Bucky concluded. Though he’d been free of HYDRA for around nine years technically, being a fugitive and in another realm didn’t give him much time to learn about the modern world. As soon as he came back, Steve had left him and he had to move on without his childhood best friend. It was hard for him to adjust to this century, with the new rules and the whole scene in general, but he seemed to make it through just fine. He’d come to peace with the fact that there was no escaping the fighting at all, falling into a steady routine that became his holy grail. 

In the new Avengers compound in Upstate New York he felt content and more sure of himself than he’d felt in a very long time. Everyone in the tower was quiet and kept to themselves mostly, still dealing with the aftermath of losing so much in so little time. But in that silence Bucky felt like a free man, able to walk around without fear of being hunted down every second and time to really look about this new world.

There were still times when he woke up in a sweaty panic, disoriented and terrified until he realized he was in the safety of his room in the compound. He’d flinch at loud noises in the quiet and his heart would stop, something that went by unnoticed by everyone else, though he didn’t blame them for it. Bucky felt extreme guilt for the horrible things he had done as the Winter Soldier, memories of bloodied and dead bodies, bodies he had made fall to the ground motionless. It wasn’t him, he knew, but his hand still had pulled the trigger. When he found something new a smile would split across his face, ready to tell Steve what he had discovered, until he remembered that the rambunctious blond boy was gone, a wrinkled grey man with a new family in his place. It still hurt him to think that he had left him so easily, with barely a goodbye. Bucky still had days where he felt so incredibly tired, left still on his bed as horrible thoughts ran through his mind, anxious about the future.

But then he found new things everyday, things that seemed to outweigh the bad by a whole lot. He’d found cool ranch Doritos were the best chips and that he really liked the season of fall with the leaves falling around him as he took a serene walk. He found that he really loved Frozen, the songs and Sven the reindeer making him crack a smile every time he watched it. He found that he could sleep in on his days without missions and Wanda liked her pancakes with an unhealthy amount of syrup on the side to dunk them in. He found that Sam was actually really funny, always making the worst puns or the dirtiest jokes at the most inappropriate of times. He found a new sense of respect and warmth in the family they’d built together, learning how to go on without those that they loved. He found that he was really enjoying his new routine and his new sense of peace with himself.

All until she walked in.

Bucky could still remember the exact moment she flipped their world upside down. Sharon had fawned over her, talking about one of her old SHIELD buddies who was finally coming back to the states. After the organization fell in 2014, Y/N L/N fled to Hawaii, running away to the one place she knew no one would find her. She was done fighting, or that’s what she believed until Thanos showed up. 

It was shameful, really, that Y/N was aware of all the problems that went on, yet did nothing to help. They needed her help, she knew they did, but she couldn’t bring yourself to go help her friends. Originally she was trying for a settled down life, planning to retire from the constant fighting, but after a few failed relationships Y/N realized that she wasn't cut out for that white picket fence life. Those had just been the dreams of a fourteen year old Y/N L/N, left empty and hollow by the horrors she had seen during her time at SHIELD. There was nothing left waiting for her, no family, no friends, but she was too stubborn to get back into the fight, so she stayed in her humid Oahu apartment and waited for something interesting to happen.

Well, maybe Y/N shouldn’t have wished so hard, that “interesting thing” showing up in the form of being snapped out of existence by a large, purple grape.

When she came back she felt nearly indifferent, knowing that five years had passed by her, and though Y/N felt nothing but emptiness she knew that it was time to go back. It was her duty when she had joined SHIELD to always be there and protect, and she had failed that job. But Y/N was more than ready to make up for it. Nothing like Thanos could ever happen again, so she called Sharon, one of her closest friends and previous commanding supervisor at the organization. She was ecstatic to have Y/N back, probably a bit too much, and before she could have second thoughts the girl was on a plane overlooking JFK, ready to land in New York.

So when Y/N walked in, with a tight-lipped smile and butterflies anxiously fluttering in her stomach, Bucky couldn’t help but despise her. Maybe he had formed his opinion off of Sharon’s explanation of her past, but Y/N got the life of settling down that he didn’t and he was infuriatingly jealous. 

“Hey, Bucky, Sam, come meet Y/N!” Sharon said excitedly. Her hair was put back in a headband neatly, two suitcases in hand as she looked at the two tall, muscular men. Of course Y/N recognized both of them, she hadn’t been living under a rock. Keeping up with the news of the Avengers and remaining SHIELD officers had been one of the only things keeping her from coming back, hearing of the terrible fights and destruction done to whole cities. She recognized Sam Wilson, the infamous Falcon being marked down as a “war criminal” in 2016. She never believed that crap, if he and half of the other Avengers were locked up there had to be a good reason behind it.

Then, there was James Buchanan Barnes. Now, she knew him from her eighth grade American history books, reading about the brave Howling Commando who had given up his life for saving the country, but Y/N knew him better as the Winter Soldier from her time at SHIELD. The fight in 2014 had been brutal, hectic in all forms, but she’d caught a few glances at the metal-armed man. He hadn't been in his normal state, with being controlled and tortured by HYDRA at the time, but the kid inside of her freaked out, remembering memories of gossiping with her friends about how hot he was in the textbooks and how much of a hero he was. That man was still in there somewhere, hidden by decades of reprogramming and mind-wiping, and Y/N was finally seeing him in the flesh. She would be working with him daily, living in the same space as him. The thought made her giddy like a middle schooler with her first crush,though his presence was intimidating as well.

“Hi there, I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to be working with you.” Sticking out her hand, she gave a bright smile, already growing out of her nervous state. 

Sam quickly shook Y/N’s hand, giving a warm greeting in response to her introduction. Then she turned to Bucky. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

His cold, dead glare locked onto Y/N, staring straight through her soul. It felt like he could see every insecurity and guilty action she had, and she didn’t like it one bit. “That’s Sergeant Barnes to you.” Without another word, he walked out of the room like a petulant child, leaving Sharon, Sam, and Y/N flabbergasted. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, he’s usually more friendly than that, I’ll go check in on him,” Sharon furiously said with a painfully fake smile. Sam grabbed the new girl by the arm, linking it with his own and led her in another direction as he explained the usual training routine and schedule for the week. 

And while she was completely enraptured by Sam’s comforting words and the exciting compound, her heart still felt heavy from Sergeant Barnes’ cold greeting. 

-

She had tried to be nice. She really had. But after two months it was pretty clear Sergeant Barnes wasn’t getting any better, and Y/N was beyond pissed off. Childish, is what he was being, fucking childish. 

It started off with leaving every room she came into, blatantly ignoring her presence. When she would say hello every morning he’d grunt or even worse, he wouldn’t answer her at all. Y/N had begged Sharon if she knew why the sergeant was acting up, but she didn’t know either and just asked her to ignore him and his “crappy, old-man behaviour”. Sam wasn’t very helpful to Y/N’s cause either, but he was a great mentor and an even better teacher.

Sharon was really the only person Y/N had in her phone, her parents dead and no boyfriend accounted for. The rest of her family had wanted nothing to do with her when she joined SHIELD, but that was okay with her. She knew what she had gotten herself into, and it was an extreme risk to even be acquaintances with her. But now, living with several others in a compound that seemed so large after the great loss, Y/N became part of their family as well. 

It was nice to have friends again, as years of solitude on an island where she knew nobody had made her nearly desperate for more human interaction than with the teenagers who worked the cash registers at the grocery store. Y/N became an integral part of the Avengers (she could actually say that aloud now), going on missions and kicking ass just like she used to. Of course, Sergeant Barnes’ behaviour in and out of missions stayed the same, but she usually tried her best to not take it to heart and move on. After all, she couldn’t have everyone like her.

But one day they both snapped.

Y/N was sitting with Sharon and Wanda, eating lunch and talking over their most recent mission with them and Barnes in Cairo. It hadn’t been a necessarily bad mission, per se, but she had run back into the building to get Wanda out from under a fallen pillar, which apparently was “severely dangerous”. Looking back, she could see how it was, putting her entire team’s secrecy and mission in volatile danger, but Wanda was like her sister and in Y/N’s heart she knew that she had to. Bucky had had to grab them both, nearly dragging her back to the jet before the building had collapsed. He’d been beyond angry with Y/N for the stupid decision, but when they landed he just huffed and stomped away. The redhead was grateful for her and so was Sharon, but lunch was just for a simple stern talking about mission protocols. 

“Y/N, I know that you’re a fantastic agent and even better friend, but when we’re on missions we need that agent. You can’t let your feelings and outside life get in the way of our objective.” Sharon said in a firm voice. Y/N dropped her head in her hands and rubbed her face tiredly.

“I know, Sharon, I’m sorry, Wanda could’ve probably gotten herself out but I just let my instincts act too fast and ran back in without another thought.” She groaned. “Plus, I just caused more damage than anything else. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Wanda and Sharon nodded in understanding just as the Asshole Supreme walked into the kitchen.

“You talking ‘bout how Y/N fucked up the mission yesterday?” Sergeant Barnes grunted. While Sharon and Wanda gasped in shock, Y/N’s eyes were trained at the plate on the table in front of her, not daring to make a sound. She muttered out a sorry and got up to put her dish in the sink. As long as he was here, he was going to make her life a living hell, and as much as she wanted to lash out, it would be cause for her dismissal from the team. While her old, solitary life was what she had once dreamed of, Y/N now saw her future among these people, this family, somewhere she finally felt a part of despite Barnes’ horrid behaviour. “Sorry?” He scoffed, “Sorry doesn’t make up for the fact that I had to run back in for you. Sorry doesn’t make up for the extreme risks we all pull to save your ass out in the field.”

“Bucky, stop.” Sharon yelled.

But he ignored her words and sauntered over to Y/N with a knowing smirk, leaning down to meet her level. His warm breath hit her face and she could stare into his deep eyes, swirling like a raging storm of blues and greys. “You shouldn’t even be out there, L/N. I mean, you haven’t had training in years, it’s not like you were anything special either. Just another agent, hoping to get to work in the big leagues.”

“Shut up.” Y/N whispered meekly. Tears were just barely being held in, her chest feeling empty and hollow with anger and guilt. Is this what it felt like to want to kill someone with so much vengeance? 

“Where were you when Thanos came? Where were you, L/N? We needed all the help we could get, but there you are, in fucking Hawaii, with you little fucking margaritas on the fucking beach-”

“Shut the fuck up!” She screamed. The room went dead silent with her voice. None of the team had seen Y/N look so angry, so sad, so vulnerable, at one time. It was easy for her to hide her emotions and Wanda refrained from trying to toy with her mind, but shame was overwhelming the girl by the second and Sergeant Barnes was right, as much as she didn’t want to say it. She was a coward, thinking she could run away from the “hero life” so easily. They’d caught her, and Barnes was making her face that truth right now. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I know, that I was absolutely scared shitless of returning here, facing all of you after what you endured for so long?” 

Y/N took a deep breath, laughing mirthlessly as tears ran hot down her cheeks. “I’m sorry that I came back, I really am, but I’m trying my damn best to make up for what I did. Being scared is no excuse for why I ran away, I was fucking terrified of having one more thing to lose. My family is dead, SHIELD fell, and I had no one to lean on so I ran as far as I fucking could. But I’m back now, I’m ready to serve up to what I left behind, and you better fucking deal with it because this,” she jabbed a finger into his broad chest, “is not fucking it. I’m not going to live with your shitty behaviour anymore, Barnes.”

He, Wanda, and Sharon all watched as she slammed the plate into the sink, storming out of the room. They could hear her door slam shut, and the two women glared at Bucky.

“What the hell is your problem, Barnes” Wanda hissed in a scarily low voice. Fuck. He knew he’d messed up then, gone farther than he ever dared to with insulting Y/N, and both of the women were severely overprotective of the new Avenger. 

Sharon walked up to Bucky with large strides, delivering a slap to the side of his head. Yeah, he definitely deserved that. It was dead silent in the kitchen, the tension still high strung from the fight seconds before. “You better go apologize, Barnes, I swear to God this has gotten far too out of hand. You two have a mission tomorrow, estimated a month, and wheels are up at 2300 hours. I need you two to go get the intel quietly and undetected and we can’t have both of you arguing the whole damn time, so you better fix things by then.”

The blonde agent walked away, Wanda trailing behind her, but not without the middle finger from both of them. A mission? Tomorrow? With Y/N? This was going to be horrible. Bucky ran a hand over his face and trudged off to his room. 

It was going to be a long month.

-

Y/N stared out of the window as they flew over the clouds above the Mediteranean Sea. Eleven in the morning in Italy gave a clear view of the skies, light blue as far as she could see. They were ready to start their descent into Azzano and the woman glanced to the man beside her, his stormy blue eyes glaring in any direction but hers. The sergeant had avoided her all he could up until they boarded the jet, and even then he only spoke to her when necessary. “Hey, Barnes, we’re starting to descend, go get ready.”

The brunette looked over to Y/N and grunted in response. Oh well, it was better than him yelling at her. His little outburst in the kitchen had her pissed at him more than ever, but the words thrown around still rung true in her head. But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

She paid careful attention to where she was supposed to land, a shaded facility almost five miles south of where they had to get the intel from an old, but rebuilt HYDRA base. The same base where James Buchanan Barnes was once held captive, experimented on and tortured until Steve Rogers came to save him. Y/N didn’t care much for Barnes usually, but she also didn’t know how he’d react to being in a location with such horrible memories attached to it. They had both been at the mission briefing the day before of course, he knew what it entailed and he seemed unfazed, and he was always good at hiding his emotions. As the jet touched down finally, the agent thought back. Well, sometimes he was good at hiding his emotions.

Making sure her comm fit snugly in her ear, Y/N unbuckled herself from the seat, heading back towards the wall of weaponry they kept in the back of the jet. Barnes was already there dressed in hs black kevlar tactical suit, hugging his body nicely and vibranium arm on display. When he was around her he tried to hide it, and she saw him joking around and being comfortable in other’s presence with it out, wondering what made her so different. She personally found it fascinating, the beauty of the gold and black metal with the incredible Wakandan technology, but she respected his privacy and tried to not think too much about it. 

Y/N threw a vest on over her own navy blue tac suit, tightening her combat boots before she fully zipped up. Were they finally ready?

Three guns perched in holsters by her waist.

Two taps to her earpiece and Barnes’ breathing in her ear.

One mutual nod with the sergeant himself, and they were off, slowly making their way to grab the intel, not a trace to be left behind. 

-

Getting stuck in the trunk of a car was not in the plan. It definitely wasn’t. Bucky remembered every single inch and cranny of that meticulously planned out schedule, every move, every kill they had to make, but not once was it mentioned that Y/N was to get stuck in Baron Zemo’s car without any weapons on her.

“L/N, what the hell do you mean you’re in the back of Zemo’s car.” He seethed, already searching frantically around the large remains of the building for her. It had gone smoothly, she was just supposed to quickly check inside his car as he searched the base. It’ll be so much quicker if I do it, L/N, is what he had said, but now he regretted it. Like the incompetent fool she was, she was spotted and ended up shooting out half of Zemo’s goonies before dropping all her weapons to the ground and running when she ran out of ammunition.

“There may have been a slight misunderstanding,” Y/N whispered into her comm, “but nothing we can’t fix! Just come find me, Barnes, and all will be well.”

She could hear his angry curses and jostling, which she assumed he was running to come find her. It wasn’t entirely Y/N’s fault she had run out of ammo. Some of it must have fallen from her pockets during the shootout and when she saw the car she thought it’d be the perfect place to hide. Until she realized that no one else was at the partially burned down HYDRA base besides Baron Zemo, the person who Sharon had told her to avoid at all costs, and she was in his damn car. Practically her death note.

“If you had just listened to me you wouldn’t have been caught!” Bucky furiously whispered through the comms. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t even see her, and groaned. “I did listen to you, Barnes, I checked the damn car, but we weren’t expecting his guards to find me so I killed them and hid. Is that actually so bad?” 

“Yes it is!’ He explained. “Give me your coordinates.” She checked the small watch on her wrist, pushing a button on the side that gave a small holographic image of the time and her coordinates on a world wide map. Reciting them for him, Bucky followed, continuing to berate her as he did so. “And you’re right, L/N, I asked you to check the car, not fucking jump inside it!”

This time Bucky could envision her rolling her eyes as she groaned even louder in very Y/N L/N fashion. “Would you rather I be dead?” She asked. It had been a few seconds, but she still received no response. “Barnes?” Crackling. “Sergeant?” Absolute nothingness. “Sarge?”

The trunk of the car opened as the woman let out a squeak, the broad frame of James Barnes hovering above her, some dirt smudged around the annoyed expression on his face. “Don’t call me that.” He grumbled.

He reached his hand towards her, grasping her own tightly before pulling her to a sitting position. “Why, you had all the ladies calling you that back in the day?” She mimicked a much higher tone, nearly resembling Snow White if the princess were high on drugs and had a Brooklyn accent. “Hey, Sarge, we goin’ dancing? Sarge, you goin’ to give me some sweet lovin’ tonight? Oh, how I’d just love for you to shove your fat, ugly head up your a-”

A loud beeping from his wristwatch cut her off. With a glare, the man let go of Y/N’s hand, checking to see what the problem was. A small red tracker on the map moved, and both of them knew they were in deep shit. “Crap, Zemo’s coming this way. That’s one of the trackers I set up on the ground and we gotta go quick.”

Faint whistling from Baron Zemo made both of them panic as Bucky tackled her back down and quickly shut the door behind him. Footsteps were approaching, the whistling getting louder and a door opening let the two Avengers know that they couldn’t get out anytime soon. Y/N could feel Bucky’s racing heart against her chest, hers beating just as fast. He turned to face her, a lot closer than both of them expected, lips dangerously close and noses nudging against each other. Ther breaths mixed together, the hot air of the car doing nothing to help her current close quarters with the man. 

“Can you bust us out of here?” She whispered hurriedly, rather uncomfortable with the present situation.

“We’ll die if we leave now. He’s much more prepared than we thought and with half his men down he knows something is up. Zemo wasn’t even supposed to know we were here so we’re far too unprepared and you lost your damn weapons. There’s no way we can go out so we’re going to stick in here until he gets out.”

Truth be told, Bucky was terrified and had no clue what to do next. Being stuck in a small confined space with Y/N had to be his worst nightmare, especially after he didn’t apologize for his shitty behavior last night. And the night before. 

And the several months before that.

From his view Y/N seemed to be uncomfortable and as the car started moving, she wiggled around, struggling to get as far away from Bucky as she could. He too was extremely uncomfortable, but as her wriggling continued, his already tight fitting pants seemed to get even impossible tighter as she practically grinded on him. 

“Would you stop squirming around?” Y/N shot him what would’ve been a questioning glance if not for the pitch blackness of the trunk, and heard his loud sigh, warm breath fanning across her face. “I’m sorry, I’m having a situation, uh, down there and your wiggling isn’t helping it too much.”

Her face heated up, not knowing what to feel after he said that. Was he… flustered? Y/N had never seen Bucky Barnes anything less than grumpy or professional before.

When she said nothing, he assumed the worst and thought she saw him as a disgusting and creepy person. Before that moment he’d never had any particular care about how Y/N felt, but he knew that there were still a lot of perverts, if not more perverts than back in his day. With his four little sisters always getting catcalled and the crude men who thought women were their property, Bucky knew it was definitely terrifying to be assaulted or any situation such as this. 

There wasn’t much he could do, but he shifted so they weren’t lying down hip bone to hip bone. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I don’t want you to think I’m a pervert or anything, it’s just been a while since I, well, y’know…”

“I understand, Barnes, but thank you for apologizing.” Y/N said carefully. It was weird to hear the now shy and surprisingly considerate sergeant apologize to her, but she had to admit that her respect for him had gone up. 

He cleared his throat in return, trying to turn in any other direction besides hers as they listened to the tires of the car bumping along the road, heart wildly thumping. 

It was quiet. Far more quiet than it had ever been when either of them were in the same room. As Y/N stared down at Bucky’s head, almost resting on her stomach, she saw the man she’d read about in middle school. For a moment she was able to look past the last few months of fighting and hatred, and see the noble sergeant she’d admired for so long. 

“You can rest your head if you want to, I knew keeping it up like that must be hurting your neck. I promise I’m okay with it.” She reassured him. With a small hesitation, Barnes submitted to his screaming neck muscles and laid his head on her stomach, the vest providing cushion. A few more seconds of silence and gathering courage, and she finally asked him the question she had been wondering since her first day at the compound. “Why do you hate me?”

I’m jealous, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t brave enough to say it. With a small sigh, he managed to get out, “I don’t.”

“Then why are you so cold to me all the time?” Emotions that were borrowed so deep inside Y/N’s chest seemed to come barreling out, seeping into every question that she asked. “Am I really that horrible an agent? Do you not think I’m trying my best? I know I made a mistake, I wasn’t there when you all needed me, but I’m trying so, so damn hard to make up for it. I swear on my life, and every one that comes after it, that I’m-”

“It’s not you, it’s me, God damn it!” Bucky exclaimed angrily. Both of their blood ran cold in fear that Zemo might have heard them, but the radio continued to drone on in the background, nothing seeming to have changed. He took a deep sigh and tried how to best explain it to her. Even though he’d probably never have Y/N’s forgiveness for insulting her so plainly and hurting her so much, he felt as though she deserved as much as his reasoning as to why he “disliked” her so much. It was difficult for him to say, having to also put his pride away for once to just admit it. “I’m jealous of you, Y/N. You got the sweet life for a while, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. When you look at us who remain, not a single one of us was planning to be an Avenger. You were getting the dream home, the kids, the family that I’ve wanted since I was a boy back in Brooklyn, and all you had to do to get it was run away. It was so simple.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, not at all expecting that. “It wasn’t all too much ‘sweet life’, you know? It was my dream when I was younger, I thought being an agent was temporary and then I’d move into a big, old house with a loving spouse and have millions of little carbon copies of myself to occupy my days. But the truth about what we do is that we can only stay away from it for so long, Barnes. With people like us,” she squeezed her eyes shut, letting the final tears roll down her cheeks, “there’s no running away from the hero's life. It's just who we are. We’ve already done too much to change that part of our lives.” 

Y/N felt him nod through the fabric on her skin, sniffles letting her know that he was crying too. They were connected. All the shouting, all the yelling, the pain, the battles, the fore, the blood, the years of torture, all led to this moment. This historic moment in Y/N and Bucky’s relationship where they both waved white flags, wet faces and hearts filled with sorrow for the life they never had. 

“I’m so sorry for the way I dealt with my anger and jealousy, Y/N.” Bucky croaked. 

“I used to idolize you when I was a kid.” Y/N recalled with a faint smile on her face. “In the eighth grade I wrote a history paper on you, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, American hero and inspiration to all. And you know, I always kinda had a crush on you. Wondered what it would be like if you were still alive, if you would’ve gone home after the war, if you would’ve had a family. No matter what wild thoughts ran through my head, though, you were always my hero.” Bucky took her confession in shock, pure amazement and surprise coursing through his body. Maybe a little bit of sadness, longing for that old life, maybe a bit of bashfulness of her having a crush on his as a schoolgirl. “And then I met you and you were this grumpy, irritable old man who seemed to despise me as soon as I walked in the door. Definitely not what I had expected.” He opened his mouth, ready to apologize again, when her next words cut him off. “I want to start over, don’t you?”

How was she so calming? Her words were exactly what he needed to hear and didn’t need to at the same time. Her voice brought back all the old memories of running around New York with Steve as a kid, reminding him of his wise ma in a way. “There’s nothing I’d like more than that, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled to herself, looking towards the top of the car. “Perfect.”

And with the twinkle in her eye and his head resting on her stomach with a small grin, it really was.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Forty-Five) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Dom/sub relationship. Sir kink. Sex toy. Brat taming. Bondage (ropes). Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Oral sex (male receiving). Dom dropping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 11,148

Timeline: Season 6 Episode 24. Three months after part forty-four.

Hotch was always gone nowadays. Between work and running errands for the three of us always stuck at home, he was just too busy to sit and relax. I missed him. I missed us, specifically, and how we used to spend every second together, and how good we were together at work. I missed work. I missed driving to Quantico every day or getting on the jet for a thousand different cases. I missed the bullpen, the roundtable room, Garcia’s office, my desk, throwing papers at Morgan’s head as he worked across from me, or teasing Reid, whose desk was across the aisle from mine. Everyone knew that I was anxious to get back— Hotch most of all. I loved our daughter more than anything in the world, but I loved work just as much. I understood now how Hotch felt about Jack.

“Elle was antsy to get back to work after Garner,” Hotch would always tell me whenever I would sneak into the office to look at some of the cases sitting on his desk. I jumped in my own skin as he caught me snooping. “You Greenaways are all the same.” He laughed and snatched me away from the office, practically carrying me down to the bedroom so that we could cuddle while watching Emily sleep in her crib.

At least we got those moments. They were scarce, but we tried to make as much time as possible, even if most of that time was spent sleeping. When he wasn’t around, though, I still tried to include him as much as possible. It was hard for him to talk on the phone whenever he was gone on cases, but I still sent him pictures and videos of the kids to keep him updated, like when Jack held Emily in his arms the other day and he was making fart noises in her face in order to get her to laugh. He called me immediately after I sent the first video. His voice was shaking on the other end, and I knew that something was wrong, so I asked, and he told me that Haley never sent him videos of Jack when he was young. She sent him one, and after that, they stopped altogether. I realized in that moment that he was terrified that I was going to stop sending him videos of Jack and Emily, and he would end up missing out on everything in their lives, and then I would leave him the same way Haley left him. So, I kept sending them. Every chance I got, I was recording one or both of the kids and sending them straight to Hotch’s phone.

It had only been three months since Emily was born. Sometimes it felt like an eternity, other times it felt like time was passing by too fast. When Hotch wasn’t around, it felt like time was moving at a turtle-like pace where I spent every waking moment counting the seconds until he would come home; but then, when he would be there, holding me in my arms, it felt like it came and went with a snap of my fingers. I wished I could have switched time. I wished that I could have just spent an eternity in his arms, not worrying about when I would see him next or if he would even come home.

I suddenly jolted awake when I heard Emily crying in her crib. “Shit.”

Hotch had called last night to tell me that they were finishing up a case and that he would be home soon, but his side of the bed was empty, and all of his stuff was untouched, which meant that he was going to be later than expected. So, that meant that I had to grab Emily and try to calm her down.

I sighed and sat upright. Emily continued to cry and shriek in her cradle until I leaned in to pick her up. As I cradled her in my arms, leaning back against the headboard so that I could close my eyes and rest for a little longer, I hummed a toon for her. Hotch’s favorite song was Blackbird by The Beatles. Since Emily had been born, he had been singing her to sleep with that very song every chance he could get. It seemed like it was the only way she could fall asleep now. I worried that the tradition and schedule was going to ruin her sleep patterns—and I guess I was right since she kept waking up throughout the night whenever he wasn’t there to sing to her. I kept trying to hum for her, despite that.

I was half asleep when she started calming down. I decided that putting her back down in the cradle wasn’t going to help—and even if it would, I was too tired to move. Having a baby was exhausting. With Hotch gone so often, I was having to endure these long nights alone, and the house was so quiet during the day that it sent a shiver up my spine, not to mention I was so bored whenever Emily would be put down for a nap in the middle of the day and I couldn’t call Hotch because he was busy. I couldn’t wait to get back to work. I knew that it didn’t make sense to do it just yet, but I was practically dying to get back. If anything, I’d ask to go back in a week or two. Hotch wouldn’t like the idea, but I was sick of sitting around with a sleeping baby all day while I was just drained. I needed a case. I needed something to keep my mind busy besides my daughter. As much as I loved her, I needed work, too.

“I could get used to this,” Hotch said. I opened my eyes while perking up to see him standing in the doorway, holding his go-bag in one hand and a bag of chocolates in the other. “Coming home to my gorgeous wife and our perfect daughter…” He set down his bag and hurried over to me on the bed so that he could kiss my forehead. He smelled like the jet. “I brought you your favorite chocolates from Seattle.”

“Mmm… Gimme.”

Just as I said it—not having even reached for them or anything along those lines—Emily started squirming and crying in my arms. There it was. Every time there was a bit of peace with Emily, she suddenly started losing it again. I couldn’t win. So, I sighed and slumped back again, ignoring the pleasant surprise Hotch had for me just so that I could try to focus a little more energy into dealing with my precious, perfect, miracle—No. The truth was, she was all of that, but she was also a little screamer, whiner, and… Oh, I loved her… I just had to remember that.

“Here, you take the candy, I take the baby,” Hotch said. He set the bag down between us, then reached to take Emily. “Oh, listen to our little singer.” He adjusted her in his arms with a bounce while standing up again so that he could bounce on his toes.

I opened the bag and took one piece of chocolate before setting the rest of them on my bedside table. “For the past four days,” which was how long he was gone for, “all I’ve done is change diapers and sit around, waiting for her to start crying again. Nothing helps.” Within an instant, Emily stopped crying, instead opting to start cooing and laughing at him. I rolled my eyes. “I hate you.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” He shook his head at me and sat back down. “Listen, Jack used to cry every time I held him. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t seem to get him to calm down and love being in my arms. Even when he was already asleep and I’d pick him up just to hold him and admire him, he would suddenly wake up, as if he could tell that it was me, and he would immediately start crying. I hated it. The worst part was, every time Haley or Jessica would take him, he wouldn’t fuss a bit. I didn’t understand why. But now I’m on the other end of that deal, and I can tell you, Y/N, it’s nothing you’re doing or not doing. She’s just…” He smiled down at her. “I don’t know… But it’s nothing you can control, baby. I promise.”

I sighed. “One would think after carrying her around for nine months and then staying with her for the last three while you’ve been off at work, she would warm up to me, but nope.”

“She will eventually. We’ve got the next eighteen years at least with her. We’re going to be just fine.”

I smiled and snuggled up against his side, hiding my cold hands under his soft, warm shirt. His abs flexed against my freezing touch for a short moment before he relaxed and shuffled down on the bed somewhat so that I could rest my head on his shoulder, and he could kiss my hair. He inhaled deeply. Despite the fact that Emily didn’t like settling down in my arms anymore, at least we could afford to have little moments like these.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?” he inquired quietly, trying not to disturb me if I really was. I shook my head, though. “There’s something I need to tell you, then.” I hummed a question against him. “Cody and I had a meeting today.”

Uh oh. Personal meetings with the Director were never good during work hours. We had a friendly relationship with Cody, which allowed us to invite him over for dinner occasionally, and for our wedding ten months ago. But meetings during work were never good. Cody meant business while we were at Quantico, and him and Hotch liked challenging each other’s alpha personalities like it was fun for them or something.

“They’re making changes to the department again.”

I groaned, “I swear—”

“It’s okay. They’re just going to be contacting different people in the unit with different offers in order to consolidate their forces into other departments.”

“One of these days, I’m going to storm in there and ask why the hell he keeps sticking his nose in our business when we’ve been his best unit for at least the last ten years—or since you took over.”

“He’s getting pressure from the higher ups, baby. He’s doing his job, the same way we are. I’m just telling you this because if you’re approached by another department, you should tell me immediately.”

“I’m not going to leave the BAU, Aaron. I don’t care what deal it is someone has for me, I’m not leaving the one place that feels like home away from home. For the first time since I graduated high school, I feel like I have a purpose. People care what to hear what I have to say, people trust me, people love me, and people consider me family there. No offer can make me abandon my family.”

Hotch tensed in response to my words. “I think you should consider taking an offer in another department that doesn’t require you to travel as much,” he said quietly. I turned my cheek to look at him. “With Emily and Jack, our hands are so full, but we’ve been making it work because you’ve been at home. What happens when you’re back in the field?”

“Would you take the same job, if you were offered it?”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the field.”

“Exactly.”

“Y/N…” he whispered in my ear, reaching over to lift my chin with his fingers. “You should really consider it. I don’t want you to get hurt out in the field.”

I put my hand over his. “Aaron, if there’s no pressure on you to stay home with the kids, and you just get to stay with the BAU because you love it, then I should be shown the same consideration.”

He kissed my cheek. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

He chuckled lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” I turned to look at him and kiss his lips slowly and passionately. And then his phone started ringing, making Emily squirm before letting out a cry that practically said: “Why have you awoken me from my slumber?!” I sighed. “Aaron—”

“I know, I know.” He passed Emily over to me gently before he started rolling off the bed so that he could answer the call in the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

As he left the bedroom, I adjusted Emily in my arms, bouncing her lightly while cooing against her nose that everything would be alright. I was so done with the shrieking. Someday, I was going to give her a lot of shit for all of this yelling, crying, and pooping. She was going to hate the way I would inevitably tease her about it endlessly, but she was my daughter… my perfect baby girl… I wanted to remember her like this forever and always. When she was big, and maybe expecting a kid of her own one day, I’d tell her about how she kept me up night and day with her shrieking. This would all be a distant memory before I would even know it. I felt my heart break somewhat. I didn’t want her to get any bigger than this. Growing up meant that she would want to explore the world, and I knew just how cruel other people and places could be, and especially to innocent, precious little rays of sunshine like her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. Ever. I wanted to just keep her safe in my arms until the end of the time. I could do that, right? No… But I could cherish this for a little longer, at least.

“They need me in the office for something,” Hotch whispered to me while walking back in. I let my eyes fall shut in order to hide my disappointment. “Here…” He reached out for Emily, offering to help calm her down and put her in bed before he would leave. I let him. As he lifted her and rested her tiny torso against his shoulder, giving him a chance to pat her back while bouncing on his toes slowly, he started humming Black Bird for her. I smiled and slumped against the pillows. “I’ll call Jessica to see if she can stop by later to watch the kids so that you can rest for a bit,” he said after noticing how I was already out of it.

I nodded with my eyes still closed. “Thank you.”

Emily started calming down. Her cries and shrieks slowly turned into pants that turned into coos before she fell asleep in his arms. “And like that…” he whispered, “she’s out like a light.” I heard him shuffle to the crib so that he could set her down. Our bed shifted as he sat next to me. “Baby,” he put a hand on my thigh, “call me if she starts fussing again and your humming doesn’t work.” I nodded. “Y/N, I’ll stay, if you need.”

“No,” I insisted weakly. “Go. I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just… Aaron…” I opened my eyes to look at him. “Promise you’ll let me come back for the next case?”

He stared at me for a moment while registering what I said. When it dawned on him, he shook his head. “I can’t promise that.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’ll see you later tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered, my eyes falling shut again.

Not even an hour later, however, Emily started crying again, and Hotch was already long gone again, leaving me to roll out of bed and lift her up into my arms. I didn’t bother trying to sing to her again. Apparently, that was Hotch’s thing, and I was stepping on his toes by making the futile attempt. So, I just sat there and cooed to her while heading downstairs to make some food for myself and also Jack who would be waking up in a few minutes to start playing video games and watching movies for the entire day. I smiled when she managed to fall asleep after feeding, giving me a chance to make myself a lazy breakfast.

When Jack woke up, he came running downstairs in his pajamas, he begged for me to grab the Cocoa Puffs from the top shelf in the pantry. Hotch and I had to put them up there because Jack was getting addicted to them. He was eating them 24/7. But, on occasion, especially when Hotch wasn’t around, I would let Jack have some. So, I carefully handed Emily over to him so that I could grab the box from the top shelf and pour a fair portion into a bowl for him.

Afterwards, when he had shoveled every single pebble into his mouth and then proceeded to slurp down all of the chocolate-y milk, he put the dish in the sink for me, like I asked, then scurried off to watch TV, like I assumed he would. Only, this time, I decided to join him. With Emily in my arms, I dragged my feet all the way from the kitchen to the living room, where I crashed on the couch. Jack turned on something from Cartoon Network. You know, Saturday morning cartoons. I had Emily sitting on my stomach, letting her little hands play with my fingers up until the point where she started trying to chew on them. I shook my head and kissed her cheeks. At least she wasn’t teething yet. JJ warned me that if I thought Emily’s cries and shrieks were bad now, I just had to wait and see how bad it would get within the next few months or so when Em would start teething. Shit. I was hardly getting sleep as it was, I couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

Halfway through a cartoon, Emily fell asleep against me. Her little breaths slowly turned into hiccups, which made me laugh. JJ used to warn me all the time when I was pregnant that Emily could hiccup in the night, which would keep me up. I guess I got lucky, though, because she only hiccupped once, and it was while I was at work with Garcia. We were sitting in her office, waiting for the team to call for help or with an update. We were ridiculously bored. At some point, Garcia revealed that she had a huge tub of Twizzlers hiding under her desk. Together, we went through all of it, and I supposed that was the trigger for Em to start hiccupping non-stop. It wasn’t annoying, like JJ said it would be. No, it was funny. When it started, I jumped, thinking that something was wrong, but then Garcia started laughing when it kept happening, at which point we realized what was happening. That was the only time she ever hiccupped, though. I almost wished that it would have happened again while Hotch was home, just so that he could have laughed with us.

Finally, when she stopped hiccupping during the cartoons, my smile faded and my eyelids started getting too heavy to keep open. So, I did what felt natural… I slowly fell asleep with the glow of the TV in the room and dumb cartoon sounds ringing in my ears.

----

I woke to the sound of the front door opening. The TV was off, Jack long gone to go play soccer outside, it seemed by the way I could hear the soccer ball hitting the side of the house over and over again as he practiced his passing. I rolled my eyes. At least Emily was still asleep on my chest, no sign of waking up any time soon. The drool soaking my shirt was a downside, though.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hotch whispered.

I shook my head. “It’s okay, baby.” But then I realized who it was that was standing there and why that was odd. I tilted my head in curiosity at him. “Wait…”

Since he had been called away so early and left in such a rush, I was sure that he was headed off on a case elsewhere in the states. Yet, there he was. Standing there in his suit—which he must have changed into either before leaving when I fell asleep, or maybe even when he got to the office if he didn’t want to disturb me—he smiled shortly at me. At first, I didn’t think anything about it. I figured that we were both just tired, and he was probably busy, so I didn’t ponder on his short, yet still sweet, smile that he sent me, and I reciprocated.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah…” He sounded like his mind was elsewhere.

“Is everything alright, my love?”

“Has anyone called with an open position?”

I furrowed my brows. “No.” Why was he asking?

Hotch swallowed hard before moving to approach the couch and sit down beside me, offering to take Emily from my arms. I watched him curiously. He was being awfully quiet for someone who just got home and would usually shower me in kisses and a thousand different ways for him to tell me he loved me. But he seemed like something awful was weighing on his mind, which was so concerning to me.

“Baby, I’m gonna have to go,” he admitted quietly to me while looking down at Emily. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged and smiled with relief. “Okay, so you have another case. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Hotch didn’t say anything. He kept his gaze glued to Emily as she played with his finger using both of her tiny hands. Something wasn’t right. If Hotch was being sent on another case, he wouldn’t have come home, especially not early. He would have stayed at the office and he would’ve just called me to tell me that he wouldn’t be coming home for a few days. This was different. He was acting differently.

Emily kicked against his elbow as she continued to wrestle with his finger. I cooed her quiet before looking back up at Hotch. “What is it?”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “They’re sending me to the Middle East to lead a task force.”

My heart sank in my chest. I let out a breath of disbelief then hid my face in my hands. A task force in the Middle East? What was he talking about? The BAU didn’t handle things like this— especially if it were just him. He warned me that morning about the possibility of reassignments, but I didn’t think this was what he had in mind, and I thought that we were going to talk about it before either of us accepted or declined any kind of offer that would be thrown our way. We just had a baby, and now he was being sent on a mission that was going to leave me alone for months? I didn’t know how to do any of this on my own. I wanted to go back to the BAU desperately, but that was because I was confident that between Hotch, Jessica, and I, we could balance it all. Jessica was struggling to keep up with Jack and Emily as it was… I couldn’t imagine what would happen if Hotch left. There was a strong chance that I wouldn’t even get to go back to the BAU if this actually happened. That didn’t feel fair. Why did I have to give up my dream so that he could lead a task force that he didn’t even want anything to do with? Or… did he want this and he just never told me? If so, when did he decide that it was something he was interested in pursuing, and why the fuck did he not tell me? It suddenly all made sense to me why Haley always got so frustrated with him. Our family was right there in D.C. and Virginia, and he wanted to tuck tail and run off to who knew where in the Middle East. 

“Don’t do this to me, Aaron… Please…” I lifted my head away from my hands so that I could look at him again. He seemed so sad to be leaving, but he wasn’t doing anything to prevent it. This was an opportunity, not an order. He could have turned it down whenever. “I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve already talked to Jessica. She’s offered to move in until—”

I scoffed. “So, you’ve already made up your mind and talked to Jessica about it before you talked to your own wife.” I shook my head.

How could he do this? At first, I was distraught because I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him for so long, especially while our daughter was only three months old, which wasn’t old enough for him to be away from her. He was the only one who could get her to sleep nowadays. The only one. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t get it to happen. I couldn’t do it all alone… I had never spent so much time away from him before Emily, but at least I knew that he was coming back to me every case. Now, I didn’t know anything.

I grabbed his face between my hands and turned his cheek to make him look right at me, though he was fighting to still look away. I was going to make him face this. If he was going to make a decision like this, he had to at least look me in the eye as we talked about it. I pouted at him. “Please stay,” I begged.

He let out a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

“Please.” Shouldn’t that have been enough? Shouldn’t his wife begging him to stay with his family been enough to convince him to never leave again?

“I can’t… The decision’s already been made. I’m leaving in a week…”

I hit at his shoulders roughly, a choked back sob finally escaping me. A fucking week. I was going to lose my everything in a week, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it. Was this fate? Were we always destined to fall apart like this? The worst thought I had in that moment was, what would Haley have done if she were still around and in my shoes? Maybe she would have taken this chance to leave him. Honestly, if she were still alive, I probably would have run to her, of all people, and asked what to do; even though I already assumed that she would tell me that it was time to leave him. But I didn’t want to. I loved him more than anything, and I didn’t want to have to leave him just because he was leaving us. That didn’t seem entirely fair.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m unsure.”

“What will you be doing there?”

“It’s classified.”

I chuckled. “Of course it is.”

“Baby, you know that I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“Is that what you told Haley before you left for that last case before she decided to leave you?”

“Y/N,” he growled with a bitter tone.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.

I knew that was wrong of me. I knew that bringing that up was unfair. Hotch and I always promised to fight for each other, even if it meant fighting with each other from time to time. Haley never gave Hotch the same courtesy. That was why she left and why I wouldn’t. Maybe Hotch should have thought about that before taking this offer in the first place. This offer… How could he beg me to tell him if someone called me with an offer, but he didn’t tell me first when he got an offer and before accepting it? I was so pissed… I couldn’t even bear to sit with him any longer. I knew that if I stayed on that couch with him, my anger was only going to grow, and I was inevitably going to hate him. Not on my watch, though. I just needed time to let this blow over so that I could try talking him out of it again later.

I took Emily from him without asking. Hotch hesitated for a moment, practically reaching out for her again before she was even out of his arms. I shook my head at him. “Maybe you should go talk to your son about why he won’t have a dad for a while.” I stood and left the room with that last stinging line.

----

The next morning, I was still angry. I think yesterday was spent sprinting between depression and denial over and over again while trying to find some kind of acceptance in between, but there was none. So, I woke up in the morning to find Hotch still resting peacefully, as if nothing were wrong, and I was mad. I was fucking pissed. He had fucked up a handful of times in the past—just like everyone else—but this was probably the worst. It felt like we were approaching the end. With our newborn in the cradle next to our bed and our son just down the hallway, I knew that it couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t. But how was I supposed to believe that when he was going to be gone? We were going to both be alone on opposite sides of the world…

Perhaps there was one thing, however, that could remind him of why he married me. Maybe it would even be enough to convince him to stay. But I couldn’t do it while Jack was around. Saturdays were Jack’s relaxing days, then Sundays were his homework days, which meant that he was going to be working down in the dining room all day, which was too open for us. So, it had to wait until Monday. The good news was, that on Monday morning, I was still just as pissed as I was on Sunday. In fact, probably more so now. Yesterday, while I was sitting with Jack to help him with his homework, Hotch didn’t ever approach us. He didn’t ask to talk to me, he didn’t talk to Jack, and he didn’t even sit down to spend time with us or eat meals with us. Fucking ridiculous.

So, while Hotch was dropping Jack off at school, I started preparing my plan. At least, the first half of it, because the rest of it required Hotch to actually be there. When I was ready, I carefully lifted Emily out of her cradle and carried her to her own room to sleep, just in case. Then, I heard the door open. I rolled my shoulders back to fix my posture, as if I were suddenly dawning a new persona, and then I headed downstairs.

“Jessica called, Y/N,” Hotch said from the front door, meanwhile I was still on the stairs, “she said she’s going to be traveling next month, so she won’t be able to look after the kids. We might have to think about getting a nanny since you’re going to be heading back to—” He stopped when he saw me turn the corner. “I…” He chuckled to himself. “What’s this for?”

“Not you.” I turned away from him, the short skirt of my dress flaring up somewhat, revealing how I wasn’t wearing any panties.

I spent most of the morning walking around in that dress, bending down in front of him every chance I got, reaching up for things like the clean towels in the closet or a book up on the highest shelf in the living room. Hotch was silent about it at first. Then, he started testing the waters to see if I was really being bratty or just obvious. He learned quick that I was being bratty. When he asked if I could grab the laundry, I simply said, “No.” When he asked if I wanted any breakfast, I said, “No,” and walked away. Around ten, he asked me if I wanted him to pick up Jack from school later, and all I said was, “I don’t care.”

Next thing I knew, Hotch stormed across the room, held his hand out, and then he pressed his grip against my neck as he pushed me and against the wall. I gasped for air. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Hotch only squeezed tighter, and he pressed his thigh between my legs. He glared at me. His eyes searching mine, I could see the hints of anger and lust brewing inside of him, something that she was trying to hide, to no avail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing, what?”

“Nothing, Aaron.” I was testing him. He huffed before moving his grip around the back of my neck so that he could start leading me towards the bedroom. “No, wait— Aaron—” I started playfully struggling against him because I didn’t really want to escape from him. At least, not yet. “Baby, I’m sorry!”

Hotch didn’t respond to me. He just opened the door angrily, then led me to the bed with him, still careful to ensure that I wouldn’t trip or hurt myself on my way there. As we approached the end of the bed, Hotch pressed on the back of my neck with his palm, forcing my face down onto the mattress. I hissed at the feeling. When I tried to stand up straight, Hotch increased his strength, pinning me down. I finally gave in, my knees buckling in response to the way his aggressiveness made me embarrassingly wet. But before I could get too comfortable, Hotch made another move. While he grabbed my wrists in order to spread my wingspan across the width of the bed, he also kicked his foot between my ankles with a short and stern demand to spread my legs.

When he was sure that I wasn’t going to budge, he carefully stepped away from me, then moved towards the closet. Shit. Shit, fuck, shit, shit, fuck—Hotch had been so careful with me since we found out that I was pregnant. We hadn’t used the black box since the honeymoon. Of course, since having Emily, it was hard to find time here and there to actually get to all of the fun stuff in the box. I mean, there was hardly any time for us to fuck at all—but we managed to find time since it was an important part of our lives and our relationship, and we knew it. But this… I didn’t think he was going to snap like this.

“Do honorifics mean nothing to you now, brat?” he hissed while pulling out two length of ropes.

“I said I’m sorry!”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Stop speaking out of turn,” as he took my left wrist and looped the rope around it. “Got it?” I nodded. He chuckled at how I caught sight of the trap before it could catch me. He kissed my shoulders. “We’ll use Colors.” I nodded again, knowing that he was probably on edge, too, considering this was the first time we were using ropes in a long time. After roughly tying my left wrist to one of the bedposts, he said, “Color, baby girl.”

“Green.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s Red?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With the reassurance, Hotch moved towards my other wrist, which he tied to the other bedpost. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson this way.” Suddenly, he flicked the skirt of my dress up, leaving me entirely exposed to him. I gulped. “Stay like that.”

He stepped away from me to grab something else from the black box, but I couldn’t hear what it was until it was too late. He pressed a vibrator right against my clit. My legs buckled again, the mattress and the ropes barely catching me. When I tried to close my thighs around the toy to try and grind against it, or maybe even to escape it, Hotch pressed his legs between my knees to make sure that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t even think about cumming, slut.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath while hiding my face in the covers.

“Brats don’t get to cum.” He started moving the toy up and down my slit, making sure that every sensitive part of me felt the full force of the vibrations. “I’m gonna keep it right here,” he pressed it directly against my clit again, “and if you cum, things will only get worse. Got it?” I whimpered. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up roughly. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He let go of me and turned up the speed of the toy. I cried out somewhat and tugged at my restraints as hard as I could, as if it would help make him stop. Even if I escaped, he wasn’t going to stop. He would inevitably just pin me down himself and make sure that I stayed there the way he wanted, taking what he had to give me. Fuck. My stomach was already twisting into a knot. I felt so out of practice with all of this. My stamina was suffering the most, which meant that my orgasm was already approaching, and it was going to be damn near impossible to hold back.

“Sir, may I cum, please?” I begged before I could get too close to the edge.

“No.”

I cried against the comforter. “Please.”

“I said, no.”

I tensed my stomach as much as I could in an attempt to stop myself from getting any closer to cumming than I already was. “Please, please, please…” the plea kept escaping me without thinking. I knew that it wasn’t going to do any good. I knew that he was probably grinning behind me while watching me struggle against the ropes that were keeping my arms spread, and at how I was wiggling my hips in protest—even though it was probably just making the stimulation worse. “Sir,” I choked out, “I can’t—”

“Hold it.”

But I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My legs shook as I tipped over the edge, my orgasm washing through me ten times harder than I had anticipated, making me scream into the mattress. Before I even came down, though, Hotch shoved two of his fingers into me and curled them right into my g-spot. I struggled again. It was too painful to keep going, but Hotch didn’t care. I had cum without permission, especially after being a brat all day, and that was a big no-no. Not that he didn’t expect this outcome. He knew exactly what game it was that he was playing by denying my orgasm and then proceeding to force it out of me, anyhow. He was hoping that I would break the rule. He was counting on my broken down stamina betraying me during the one scene where I needed it to help me out the most; because no he had every reason in the world to make my life a living hell.

“Did that feel good? Hmm?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“It felt good to break my rule and cum without permission?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It won’t feel good in a few minutes.”

My eyes widened as I glanced back up at the wall. “No, please, wait—”

“Color.”

“Green,” I answered reluctantly. As much as I hated the thought of what was in store, Hotch hadn’t actually crossed a line with me yet.

Hotch kept the vibrator pressed against me, ignoring the way I was still trying to close my legs and pull against the ropes, and that was when his fingers started thrusting in and out of me at an unrelenting pace. “You want to cum, huh? Fine… Cum. I’m not going to stop.”

My knuckles turned white against the ropes as I kept pulling as hard as I could. “I’m sorry, Sir. Please.”

“Are you sorry? Walking around in this dress all day… Teasing me… How did you think this was going to end?”

“I— Fuck—” I stopped myself when he added another finger inside of me. “Please, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I made an attempt to buck my hips away from the touch of the toy and his fingers, but he moved with me and then pressed harder to make sure I wouldn’t budge. I was too sensitive to keep going. I probably had another orgasm in me, but that was all, considering how out of practice we were with this stuff. If he tried to go any longer than that—

“Fuck!” I cried, shaking against his touch. “Please!”

“Cum,” he demanded when he felt me tighten my walls around him. I shook my head. “Do it. You said it felt good, so do it again.” I kept shaking my head in protest, but my body had decided that his words were enough to convince me to tip over the edge, so I came again, this time with a little less force considering how tired I was getting. “Poor baby…” he cooed when he saw me shaking helplessly.

“Please…” I whispered. “I can’t…”

“You don’t get to tease me and think that there won’t be a punishment in store for you, slut. You know the rules.”

“I was just mad…” I croaked. Hotch slowed his fingers and turned down the toy somewhat. “I just wanted to keep you here. I’m sorry…”

He turned the toy off and carefully slid his fingers out of my wet entrance. “Are you dropping?”

I shook my head, but Hotch was already working on untying me. “I was just mad,” I repeated. I was just mad and thought that I had to do something to make him mad, too… I was just mad…

----

Despite what we had done, I still wasn’t over Hotch’s decision, or the arguments that we were having. I was sore from straining my muscles, and my mind was exhausted. So, I was really just done with being around him constantly. I needed a break, and I figured that the best way to do so was by texting Morgan to see if he wanted to grab some lunch with me, and when I got the go ahead from him, I slid out of bed, got dressed into something more appropriate, and headed out without saying anything to Hotch.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I turned off my phone so that I could give Morgan all of my attention. I approached the hostess’ table to tell them that I was meeting someone. They grabbed a menu for me before leading me through the dining room and to the back door where the patio was open since it was such a nice day out.

“They live!” Morgan cheered from the table across the patio. I smiled and hurried over to him, my arms out to catch him in a hug after he stood. “It’s so good to see you, baby cakes.”

I squeezed his neck as tight as I could. “Freedom’s nice.”

He laughed and released me. “I’m sure.” He pulled a chair at the table out for me, then pushed it in under me slowly as I sat down. “How’s my goddaughter?”

“Always crying.”

“I told you I’d take her today.”

“You had her yesterday.”

“For an hour.”

“You know what, next time, she can just sleepover at your house with you and Clooney, and you can get up every time she throws a fit,” I joked.

“Deal.”

I squinted at him before glancing down at the menu to consider what I wanted. The thought struck me that if Hotch were really leaving, then we were probably going to have to get a nanny, like Hotch said when he came home from dropping Jack off at school, but it would also be nice to have Derek’s help. He always offered, after all. There were a handful of times over the past few months where he kept asking to take Emily to the park, or to introduce her to Clooney—which was a big no-no with me right now since he was such a big dog—and so on. Maybe it wasn’t too far out for me to ask if he’d be willing to help out just a bit. I mean, I didn’t mean that he had to constantly be there or answer my calls every time, but… Since she had been born, Morgan had been hanging out with Emily every Sunday that he was in town, so maybe he’d be interested in hanging out with her more often than just Sundays. Then again, he had his own life. He was still in his playboy phase, so it was unlikely that he wanted to carry a baby around all the time. Though, babies were chick magnets… Hmm…

“Something’s on your mind,” he finally said.

I looked at him. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the menu.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m thinking about what I’m going to get.”

“Mhm. Hey, remember that conversation we had when we talked about how I always know when something’s wrong with you? Yeah… I remember. And it’s still true. So, tell me.”

I sighed angrily, slamming the menu shut, and set it on the table while rolling my eyes. Not at him, of course, but just in general. “Did Hotch tell you that the Director is trying to rearrange the BAU’s funds again?”

“Yeah. He warned the team that we might get offers.”

“Did you?”

“I was offered Kate’s spot at the New York Field Office again.”

“Are you gonna take it?”

Derek immediately shook his head. “No. I love where we are too much. Besides, NYC is too dirty and smelly for me.” Yeah, well, the Middle East was all dirt and sand… Maybe Hotch should have considered that aspect, too. “Y/N,” he began warily, “did you take an offer?”

“No…” I croaked, looking down at the napkin on my lap.

“Did Hotch?”

My lip quivered as I nodded.

Morgan sighed. “What is he—” He stopped when the waiter came over with our drinks. “Thanks.” When the waiter was gone, Morgan continued, “What was the offer?”

“A task force in the Middle East. The rest of it is ‘classified’, apparently.” I shook my head in disappointment while picking up my drink.

Morgan eyed me carefully but didn’t say anything yet. He was waiting for me to find the words to describe how it was that I was feeling about the whole situation, but the truth was that there were no words. I knew that I was angry, I knew that I was depressed, and I knew that I was going to be very lonely for a while because of how this was making me feel and react. I was lashing out at Hotch, and that wasn’t the right thing to do. Some part of me understood that. Some tiny, little piece of my mind was screaming at me to do better, to support Hotch like I normally would because I didn’t want to turn into Haley; but reality took the wheel instead of reason. The reality was that Hotch was leaving his family at a time when he needed to be around more. I just had a baby, our daughter was so young that she still needed her father around, and Jack needed reassurance from his father that he wasn’t being forgotten. But Hotch had decided to run from all of that. He made the choice to leave, and so I got angry, and I wanted him to fucking know it. Not that it would help.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “Is it weird that I just want to go numb?”

“No.”

“Then, why can’t I?”

“Because you know in your heart that you have to solve this—if not for your relationship, then for yourself. I know you, Greenaway, and you don’t like leaving pieces of your life unresolved. Whatever the decision ends up being, I know that you’ll at least end up feeling at peace with it eventually because you’ll know that you did all you could.”

“I want him to stay.”

“What does your life look like if he doesn’t?”

“Dark.”

“No. I mean, really, what would your life look like? How would you make it work, because I know for damn sure that you’re not going to give up on him.”

I hated it when he got all wise on me because that was when he started to make the most sense. “I—”

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” the waiter said while speeding over to our table and flipping his notepad open.

After we ordered and turned in our menus, he hurried away, and I looked at Morgan again.

“Realistically, Jessica would have to help out more, which isn’t fair of me to ask of her, even though, apparently, she’s offered to move in with us while he’s gone. I just don’t want to do that to her. But Hotch was right when we talked on Saturday about it. He’s going to be gone and I’m going to be busy with work. There’s no one around who can rush home if Jack or Emily suddenly need something important. Like, I can’t just drop a case because of it, you know? When Hotch and I were working together, it was easy because one of us could stay at work while the other ran home. But now… That’s not an option anymore. So, realistically, my life is going to boil down to family or work, not family and work.”

“And you don’t want to have to make that choice.”

“Of fucking course not. I’ve been dying to get back to work, Derek. I can’t stay holed up in the house any longer, I swear.”

“So, you need an extra pair of hands,” he said, almost like he was alluding to something.

My eyes widened at the realization. “No—”

“—Yes—”

“—Absolutely not!”

“Why not, pudding?”

I squinted at the nickname. “Because you have a dog, a line of girls waiting to fuck you, and your own life to worry about.”

“Well, Clooney can either stay downstairs all the time because you guys got those godforsaken baby gates—” Yeah, we all hated those because we kept forgetting that they were there, so we kept tripping, but then it was also ridiculously hard to open them while juggling a baby in one hand and trying to get the lock undone with the other— “Or, he can stay with a friend.”

“So, we do musical chairs, but with our babies. You get Emily, and your friend gets Clooney?”

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe…” I started laughing.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to help out. You’re my best friend, and Hotch means a lot to me—and I know how much this opportunity means to him—and Emily’s my goddaughter, so, of course, I want to help out as much as I can. It’s not a big deal. Please, let me help.”

I stopped laughing long enough to gauge just how serious he was. His posture was still straight and unchanged, his eyes were soft like he was pleading, and his breathing was steady, which meant that there was no hint of an act or a lie. He was being serious. When I thought about asking him to help out here and there earlier, I didn’t anticipate this would be the outcome. But how could I say no? I mean, even if I did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Derek Morgan was going to jump every obstacle between him and Emily until I would inevitably just give in to his offer; so, why not just make it easy for him?

“Okay.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

----

When I arrived home, a smile still on my face as I recalled a stupid joke Morgan cracked during lunch, I set my stuff on the table next to the door and hung up my jacket on the coat rack. The house was dark, which was… peculiar. It was Monday evening, which meant that Jack should have been running around or doing his homework downstairs. And there was no hint of Emily crying. Peculiar. Where had everyone gone?

That was when I turned into the living room to see Hotch sitting there, facing the TV, which was off. Odd. I carefully approached him in case he was holding Emily in his arms and she managed to fall asleep. But once I got close enough, I realized that he was just sitting there. He was staring at the wall.

“Hi,” I welcomed cautiously. He didn’t say anything. “Aaron?” He looked at me shortly, anger washing over him before he turned back to face the wall. “Where’s Jack?”

“A friend’s house,” he answered shortly.

“Emily?”

“Sleeping upstairs.”

“And you?”

He didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where were you today?” he asked quietly and calmly, even though there was a bite behind his words that insinuated that he was secretly boiling with rage. I sighed and shifted to take his hands. He moved away from me. “I dropped today.”

I stopped. “What?”

“I Dom dropped, and you weren’t there. I called you three times, and you didn’t pick up. I’ve just been sitting here all day, freaking out, thinking that I actually hurt you this time around, and that maybe that was why you were avoiding me… and that…” He took in a deep breath and looked away from me. “Where were you?”

“Baby, I didn’t know—”

“Where were you, Y/N?” he repeated, this time his anger breaking through.

I swallowed hard, then sucked in a shaky breath, none of which was helping me calm down for his sake. Hotch had never Dom dropped. Ever. I should have known that the one time I would disappear after a scene without a trace and without talking to him, it would take a toll. I should have known. And, yet, I didn’t do anything to prevent this because I was so caught up in the idea of escaping him and our stifling home long enough to just feel my legs again. Realistically, what I should have done was told him initially how I was feeling. I should have told him that I liked all the attention, and I liked what we were doing, and I was okay with the punishment I received for being a brat, but that I needed a break from all of it. I should have told him that I was mad at him. I was mad because he was leaving, and not even the sex was going to keep him home with me.

He would have understood. He would have cared for me and made sure that I didn’t drop, which would have been enough aftercare for him to not drop. But I wanted to see my friend, and I didn’t take my partner’s feelings into consideration. That wasn’t right. Not only did I fail in that moment as his submissive, but as his wife, and as his partner for nearly four long, blissful years. We were more open than this. We didn’t abandon each other’s feelings like this. All I could think was that I was sorry, but I knew that wouldn’t fly in this situation. I needed to do more.

“I was with Morgan, getting lunch.”

Hotch buried his face in his hands. “You could have told me that.”

“I had to turn off my phone so that I could focus on him. I’m so sorry, baby.” I tried reaching out for him again, and this time he let me. I put my hands on his shoulders, then slowly started squeezing, massaging away his tension, releasing all of the anger that was building up inside of him. “How long have you been dropping?”

“Since you left.”

“Okay…” I kissed his bicep. “Okay. I’m sorry. Did you have lunch?” He shook his head. “You need to eat. Do you want a sandwich or a salad or something?”

He moved to put his hands over mine. He brought them over his shoulders, moving me so that I was sitting on my knees behind him, my chest pressed against his back. “Can we just…” He let out a sigh after kissing the back of my left palm. “There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge. I’ll have that.”

I kissed the back of his head. “Alright.” I let him kiss my hand again before I shifted off of the couch and headed to the kitchen.

Once I had the pizza reheated for Hotch, I carefully balanced the plate and a cup of iced tea for him out to the living room. I slowly handed it to him while sitting down. He silently thanked me before setting the glass down, then settling his grip around one of the piece’s curst. I scooted closer to him so that I could rub my hand over his back as a comfort. He melted somewhat. He continued to eat through the two separate pieces before drinking the iced tea. Then, when he was done, he relaxed against my touch, letting me run my fingers through his hair over and over again.

“Baby, if I knew, I would have stayed. If I knew, I would have come back. I am so sorry, I wasn’t here, Aaron. You’ve never dropped, so it didn’t cross my mind.”

He sniffled. “I don’t know why it happened. I’ve just been so fucked up since I found out that I’m leaving, and I’ve been taking it out on you, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve gone that far with you this morning.”

“It’s okay. I was fine with it, Aaron, I swear. I know you think you hurt me, but you didn’t—you never have, and I doubt that you ever could.” I carefully grabbed his hand, but he reached around to hug me. I kissed his neck. “Look at me.” He did so. “How do we handle this in the future? Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll make sure this never, ever happens to you again.” When I offered getting him some food, I had just guessed that was what he needed, but everyone handled dropping differently.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he admitted. I brushed my fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t know what would help…”

“Well, there’s a handful of things. You know me, I like physical touch. Being held by you and loved by you is enough to help me not drop or to stop dropping entirely. But some people like service—like food, or clean, warm clothes or sheets; others like distractions, like movies or exercising; I’ve been with someone who always needed sexual release when she Dom dropped.”

Hotch squinted at me. It wasn’t that he disliked hearing about past partners, but he didn’t like being compared to them. That wasn’t even my intention. I only brought it up because it was hard to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to cum while he was upset. That didn’t make him a bad guy. Even though it was a long time ago, and she and I were young, I could remember vividly how she’d tell me if she felt off after a scene, and I would just know what to do, and she’d immediately feel better. That was how we worked. But I never thought that Hotch would need it, too. I hadn’t seen this coming—which was very much my fault—and so now I needed to find out how to prevent this in the future. His job as my Dominant was to make sure I was in a safe environment before, during, and after play scenes. I neglected my job as his submissive to show the same courtesy. She would have never let that happen because she knew herself well enough to warn me, but Hotch hadn’t seen this coming.

“Just,” I patted his chest, “whatever you feel like you need, tell me. I don’t want you to ever have to go through this again—especially alone. Okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stayed quiet in order to consider all of his options. I continued to brush his hair back out of his face. A thought that was hitting me was that Hotch hadn’t cum before I left, which could have been part of the problem in the first place. He was so caught up in the idea of punishing me that he hadn’t even taken the chance to fuck me, or even use my mouth. And then, like he was reading my mind, he said, “Could you…” He gulped and rolled his hips instinctively. I smiled lightly. “I’m sorry… That’s stupid…”

“No, it’s not,” I insisted, shaking my head. “Just relax.”

I slid off the couch and landed on my knees before crawling my way between his thighs. He was already hard in his pants from waiting with anticipation. The point wasn’t to tease and play with him. The point was to make him relax and have him release the stress and anxieties that came with dropping. So, I immediately fiddled with his belt, buttons, and zipper, then pulled his pants down—with the help of him lifting his hips up, of course. When he was just in his boxers, I grabbed onto his waistband, then looked up at him. His head was already thrown back against the cushions, his arms stretched out over the back of the couch. While sliding his underwear down, allowing his erection to spring free against his stomach, I asked if he was alright. He nodded shortly.

When I took his shaft in my dominant hand, he hissed and tensed. I shushed him quietly to make sure that he would relax again, and I didn’t move until he did so. As his thighs on either side of my body released the tension that had built up, and his hands turned from fists to laid out palms on his chest, I pumped my hand up and down a couple of times before moving to luck my tongue over his tip.

“Fuck, Y/N—” He stopped himself from moaning too loud because Emily was still asleep upstairs. “More…” He tangled his hands in my hair. “Please.” I let him push my mouth onto as much of his length that would fit—and then some. Rather than pulling on my hair, like he normally would, he instead opted to run his thumb over my cheek bone to encourage me. “So good,” he whispered when I started bobbing my head quickly. He held me as I hallowed my cheeks and used my tongue for extra stimulation. The goal was his release, that was all. There was no need to waste any kind of time. “Baby…” He was so breathless, and I could feel him tensing up again, so I snuck my hands under his shirt to feel up his loose abs, careful to avoid the scars that had been there for years and would be there for the rest of his life. He removed his hands from my hair. When I felt his fingers dance over mine through his shirt, I spread mine so that we could interlock. “I’m gonna—” His abs tightened against my touch, a thousand curses and breathless moans escaped him, and his hips bucked around slightly as he came. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— Shit—” He whimpered submissively as he rode out his orgasm. When I was sure that he was done, I slowly pulled off of him and swallowed, and I wiped my lips clean with my fingers. Hotch sat up to slide his pants on. “Come here.” I sat with him, but then he moved us so that we were spooning together. “Thank you.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

I kissed his bicep that was against my cheek. “Good. I’m glad.”

Silence hung in the air for a few minutes as we both caught our breath, and I was thinking about how he didn’t want me to leave today, and I didn’t want him to leave in a few days… It was all so messy.

“We do have to think about getting a nanny,” Hotch whispered. I scoffed. “I’m serious. With me gone and you heading back to work, it just makes sense that we have someone here all the time with Emily who’s not Jessica.”

“Well, maybe if you stayed, we wouldn’t—”

“I’m not fucking staying, Y/N,” he hissed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

“I’m not going to stop trying to keep you home with me, you know?”

He hummed a “yes” in my ear while pulling me closer. “I know.”

“Will it help?”

“Probably not.”

I screwed my eyes shut to stop myself from crying quietly against him. “I love you, Aaron. More than anything in the world. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You always feel like you have to control everything around you, Y/N, I understand that—in fact, that’s a reason I fell in love with you in the first place. But sometimes you can’t control everything… And when that happens, you just have to admit it and try to move on with your day.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re going to have to try if you’re going to get through this.”

I brought his hands up to my face and kissed his knuckles while thinking about how I couldn’t bear the idea of having to get through anything without him by my side. He was going to be gone for who knew how long. He was going to be who knew where in the Middle East, doing who knew what, risking his life who knew how often. How was I supposed to survive that? How was I supposed to sit around in our home or at the office and do nothing? How was I supposed to trust that he wasn’t going to get himself killed out there? I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. For once, I just wanted to pretend like he wasn’t leaving at all and that I had nothing in the world to worry about.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear. “More than anything in the world.”

A tear slid down my cheek. “I love you, too.”

-----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22  @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Two

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

Somehow, Anna had collected quite a bit of jewelry in her twenty-three years of living. She never necessarily went out of her way for it- it would just find its way to her. She was enamored by shiny things. You know, the things that glimmered when you held them in the sunlight the right way. Stones, sea glass, gems. Really whatever she could get her hands on. But she was especially fond of sea glass. She always loved sea glass.

It started off with small things at first, like sea glass, when she was a little girl. Because of this love, Magpie was the nickname her grandmother had given her.

Her grandmother would say things like, be careful, you’ll cut your hands on the sea glass, my little Magpie.

When she got older, more so into her teenage years, she would be gifted with various pieces of jewelry for her birthday or other special occasions. Each piece was beautiful, surely. She couldn’t deny the appeal that came with a pair of diamond earrings, those certainly caught in the light well, but she would’ve been just as happy with a particularly glossy stone from a rocky beach. Jewelry, or whatever stone it was, didn’t have to be expensive, she just liked how they glinted in the light. Like a magpie. She felt quite silly about it.

Nevertheless, she preferred sea glass to anything.

Growing up, she kept her entire collection in an ornately carved hope chest at the foot of her bed. There was no organization, no rhyme or reason for the placement of any of it. Of course, she kept the most expensive pieces tucked away in a separate gaudy jewelry box, nested in swaths of black velvet. The hope chest, on the other hand, was entirely in disarray. Anna liked it that way. It was her big box of things.

She brought the hope chest with her when she went to live with her aunt. It was a nightmare to travel with, surely, but it was hers. For the past year it remained at the foot of the bed she shared with her five other cousins. Living with her aunt and cousins under one tiny roof was an adjustment for her. It was different. The war changed a lot.

The war changed everything.

A family torn apart, and a girl sent packing off to her aunt’s home in an unfamiliar factory city hours from the only home she ever knew.

Anna remembered the day vividly. It was in the middle of summer, 1917, and the trip was dreadfully rainy. She traveled by train and cab to get to Birmingham.

When she eventually arrived at her aunt’s doorstep, she was soaked. The brim of her hat drooped under the weight of the rainwater. She knew her aunt was barely scraping by, she had so much on her plate already, she didn’t need the additional burden of a niece added to that roster. Her aunt had five children of her own, a husband away at war- but Anna had nowhere else to go.

So she stood there, surrounded by luggage and suitcases and trunks full of whatever she had left, waiting for her to answer her pleading knocks. When her aunt did open the door, she quickly ushered her niece in and helped her get settled with all of her belongings.

A few weeks later, word reached them that her uncle died in France. Her aunt was frantic after receiving the news, and understandably so. Not only had she lost her husband, but another source of income for the family. There was no one coming home to work in a factory.

Anna began selling whatever items she could to make extra money to cover the cost of a sixth mouth to feed. She sold dresses, silver hairpins, and combs, shoes, miscellaneous books. She sold almost anything and everything. Her belongings were finite, however, and soon enough, she had sold as much as she could.

Except for her jewelry, except for the hope chest.

She had accumulated enough valuables in the chest to scrounge up a few months rent for her own flat. A shabby little place, not too far from where her aunt lived. She even had a little extra money leftover to tuck away for her family, just enough to help them get by for a little while longer. There would be more space at her aunt’s house now that she was gone, too. More room for her cousins in their bed, one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe.

It pained Anna to look at the chest. It pained her even more to open it. Almost everything she had collected was gone. Of course, she kept a few things, the items that were the most precious to her. An opal ring, a pair of diamond earrings, a golden bracelet, a jar full of sea glass. Each unrelated, but with their own meaning.

There was no point in moping around about it. She could spend another twenty-three years collecting more shiny things.

She was learning to make do with what she had.

Of course, now with her own expenses, she was also learning that her money was finite as well. This made her aunt worry for her terribly.

Finding a job had been difficult, to say the least. She spent hours reading through newspaper after newspaper, clipping away at any job advertisement that she thought she could even remotely qualify for. Most of the time, she wouldn’t receive an interview or would be flat-out rejected on the spot.

It was discouraging- but made sense to her. She really was just a girl, from a village barely anyone had ever heard of before, with a resume that was, to put it plainly, terrible. She never held a job before, and her only experience came from a few accounting courses from a couple of summers back. Truthfully, the courses were something to pass the time, to keep her from boredom while the days were long and hot. She never expected to actually need those skills.

One morning, however, there was a series of frantic knocks at her door. It was no one other than her aunt, giddy and exclaiming that she may have found her a steady job.

“I have a friend from church who can help you,” Her aunt said. “She set up an interview for tomorrow, three o’clock. You’ll be speaking with her nephew. She’ll pick you up from the house. She’s a good woman.”

Anna hugged her aunt tightly at the news, a wave of relief washing over her. Until, she realized, that she wasn’t sure what exactly she was interviewing for. That was when the panic started to settle in.

But alas, when fortune drops something valuable on your lap, it’s best not to question it.

That was where she found herself currently, a few days after the interview, staring at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror while she got ready for her first day. She was brushing through her hair, smoothing out the curls from the rollers she had slept in. The wan morning light made it a soft auburn that curled down past her collarbones.

She had been ready for work since dawn, and truthfully, even before then. She had a hard time sleeping and chalked it up to be a culmination of nerves for the day ahead of her, and the fact that her flat didn’t feel like a home just yet. In time, she hoped it would.

All throughout the night, the floors creaked, and the pipes hissed. She barely had any furniture, except for a wire bed frame and a hand-me-down mattress she had gotten a deal on. She was also pretty sure that the lock on the front door was broken, so she propped up a chair against the knob and hoped for the best.

Despite all of this, for better or worse, this place was her own. It eased the burden on her aunt.

Anna stood by the window while tucking her cream blouse into the waist of her maroon skirt. She spent the better part of her morning ironing out her clothes, desperately trying to ensure that the linen was fine and creaseless. Her iron was one of the things she couldn’t part with. At the very least, she could look her best with it. Or at least try to.

She glanced at the window one last time before slipping her shoes on by the front door, watching as tiny flurries of snow began to fall onto the city below. She smiled.

It was early this year.

Anna promptly knocked on the door to The Garrison at nine o’clock that same morning. The snow was still falling, each flake thick enough to catch in her hair, a contrast of white on red, but soft enough that it would not stick to the ground, instead, it melted on contact with the muddy pavement. Harry, the barkeep, answered the door.

“Miss Caldwell, good morning.” He took a step to the side so she could enter. His face and nose were flushed red, he must’ve arrived not too long ago himself.

“And to you, Mr. Fenton.” She smiled, her breath turning into clouds as she spoke. “Quite the weather we’re having.”

“I’ll say,” He closed the door behind her and turned the lock. “Haven’t seen snow this early since I was a boy.”

“It’s good luck,” She replied while shrugging her coat off. “They say an early snow brings good fortune.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when my toes are freezing off in the morning,” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Follow me, you can leave your things in the back room.”

Once Anna was settled, she stood behind the bar with her own apron tied around her waist, (already stained, mind you) given to her by Harry. The remainder of the morning was another lesson in “making do” for her. The pub wouldn’t be officially open until noon, so this extra time beforehand was for her to get a feel for everything. To put it plainly, it was additional time to practice.

No matter how hard she tried to mask her nerves and keep her composure, it was like she had two left feet. Spilling drinks, forgetting the difference between vodka and gin, pouring a pint incorrectly, and causing the foam to rise over the rim of the glass.

Despite the extra time she had spent on her appearance, smoothing out any wrinkles on her skirt, curling her hair, and flashing a smile at all times- she couldn’t have felt any more out of place, and painfully unprepared. There was so much on the line for her. She had her own place and an aunt who needed financial help. She would keep trying, she didn’t have any other choice.

Harry was kind to her, and as patient as he could be, but it became quite obvious that she was a terrible bartender. Embarrassingly so. Terrible enough that he insisted that she just watch him for the rest of their shift, assuring her that it was for the best.

“It will be a slow night,” He said, wiping down the remnants of the third pint she had spilled. “A good way for you to learn the ropes. Nice and easy.”

Anna nodded, accepting her wounded pride. In the late afternoon and early evening, business was slow. It was quiet, a few patrons here and there ordering a drink or two. She was able to observe Harry interacting with the regulars and took mental notes of what people seemed to like. She thought it was quite pleasant.

Until it wasn’t a slow night.

Evidently, there was a football game earlier in the day, and all of the men came trailing in afterward. The pub became boisterous and loud. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“Just work on collecting the empty glasses,” Harry motioned with his head to the cluttered tables from across the bar. “I’ll take care of everything up here.”

Anna nodded, typing the apron around her waist tighter. She weaved through the crowds, deftly trying to avoid any leering gazes or comments. Of course, she made quite a few spills, and mentally kicked herself for being so clumsy, for letting her composure waver. In the beginning, she was slow going back and forth from table to bar, but eventually, she was able to get into a rhythm.

She placed the last few glasses on the bartop, exhaling heavily. The pub was finally empty. She glanced down at her blouse. This morning, the linen was freshly pressed and the color of cream, but this evening, however, it was stained with splotches of beer and other liquors. She frowned.

It was late.

Harry wiped a forearm across his brow. “You did well.”

“You’re very kind,” Anna wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “I did terribly.”

He laughed, quite loudly.

“I’ll finish cleaning up here,” He nodded. “You go catch a breath in the back.”

“No, no, let me help with the clean-up. I made most of the mess.”

“You had a long enough day today, and you’ll have a longer one tomorrow.” He smiled, waving her off with his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

Anna walked into the back room and sighed, collapsing onto a chair. She held her face in her hands. Her body ached, her feet especially, and her head throbbed. But more than anything, she was embarrassed. She was tired and wanted to weep. It was silly. Her first day of work and she wanted to cry. She swallowed sharply and stood up, untying the apron from her waist and tossing it over the back of the chair.

There was no point in crying, she would make do.

When she stepped back into the main room, Harry wasn’t alone anymore. It was the man who she spoke to a few days before, Mr. Shelby, standing by the bar with a glass in front of him. A cigarette dangled between two fingers, the smoke curling in the hazy lights above the bar. He didn’t notice her at first, and if he did, he didn’t make it known.

It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat, that he tilted his head toward her.

Anna glanced down at her beer-stained blouse and grimaced. She certainly felt like a mess, she could only imagine what she looked like. With a sheepish smile, she combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed it all over one shoulder.

“Miss Caldwell,” He nodded.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, folding her coat over her forearm.

“Heading home?” He turned away from her.

“Yes, just about.”

“Mrs. Gray instructed me to walk her home on these late nights,” Harry quickly interjected. She could've sworn Mr. Shelby scoffed at that.

“Ah, waiting on me then?” The other man raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, of course not Mr. Shelby.” Harry’s voice wavered. Anna noticed his eyes widening, like he was nervous, almost.

“I’m sure you’re both tired,” He finished the rest of his drink in one swig, and then fully turned to her. “First day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anna could feel her face flushing. A disastrous first day, she thought. “Harry was an excellent teacher.” She could see Harry beaming at that comment.

“Ah,” Mr. Shelby nodded, stacking a few coins beside his empty glass. He placed his cap on his head and tipped the brim to the barkeep, “Goodnight.” He paused for a moment, and then he tilted his head toward Anna. “And to you, Miss Caldwell.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, her cheeks growing warm. “Thank you again, for this opportunity.”

He hummed in response, shrugging on his coat as he walked to the door.

By the time Harry and Anna had locked up the pub and were outside, Mr. Shelby was halfway down the street. She watched as he walked away, unable to tear her attention away from his retreating form.

As if on cue, it started snowing again. The little white flecks looked more like the ashes that spewed from the factory chimneys.

“This way, Miss.” Harry’s voice interrupted her musings. She blushed, feeling silly for mooning over a man she hardly knew.

Just as she was about to look away, she saw Mr. Shelby stop short. Anna’s heart skipped a beat when he turned around and looked at her from over his shoulder.

All was and quiet and cold.

[in-tua-deep]

Angsty au idea, five makes it back except he arrives dead and only Klaus and Ben can see him. (What happened to his body? Could be that his body got stuck between space time or he drops off as his thirteen year old sib and thats gonna traumatize the sibs probably) (Ig he could have also either died from wounds because the commision figured that he'd be turning and got strained from the time travel or an error in equations)

me, resurrecting myself over here

okay okay okay i’m going to take your idea and tweak it just a teeny tiny bit and produce:

Time travel isn’t viable.

Not the way five travels. Not without a conduit. Not when he’s essentially harnessing all of time, all of those endless possibilities, within the heart of a human being. It’s so much. It’s too much. Five died the moment he blinked away on that street outside of the Hargreeves mansion. 

But Five doesn’t know that. 

He doesn’t notice that no one gives him a second glance when he appears out of nowhere on those bustling streets. He just jumps again, because why not! He’s excited, he’s proving his father wrong, he’s liberated! And then.

And then.

He’s in the apocalypse.

He doesn’t notice that he can’t interact with anything until he touches his Luther’s corpse and his hand goes right through. And then, his first thought isn’t - I died. It’s - something went wrong with the last jump.

Which makes sense to him. He’s managed to get himself trapped on some kind of in-between plane. And that’s why his time travel powers aren’t working! Because they don’t work right on this plane! 

Five wanders the apocalypse, and it’s a little better than in canon because he doesn’t need to eat.

(Oh, he misses eating.)

He’s a smart boy. A brilliant boy. He’s thirteen, and he thinks he’s invincible. But his powers are jumping, and he can take himself apart molecule by molecule, and eventually eventually after years and years have passed he manages to solidify his hand enough to pick something up.

The first time he turns a page in a book feels like victory. 

He camps out in the destroyed remains of a library. Being solid enough to pick something up is... exhausting. He can’t do it for long periods of time. But he has a little stack of useful books, a little pile of chalk, the store mannequin he likes to talk to (he named her Dolores), and a blanket that has seen better days. He can’t exactly feel the ground when he curls up on it, and he can’t really sleep in this messed up pocket dimension or wherever he’s stuck, but he closes his eyes and pretends with all the power of the child he isn’t.

He’s in the apocalypse for a long time, trying to figure out a two-fold problem: how to get out of his pocket dimension and back into the ‘real world’ and also how to get back to his siblings when he does. He isn’t stupid. Time travel when he was capable of it was a crapshoot, he needs a way to get more exact.

And then the woman comes. Pristine and blond and carrying a suitcase. She frowns when she steps over the rubble in heels that click click click and frowns harder when she presses gloved fingers against Five’s equations written in chalk.

Five hides behind some rubble, but gets brave. Gets curious.

(Curiosity killed the cat.)

He comes out, he says “Hello?” and isn’t sure what he expected when she doesn’t even turn around. Five goes towards her with silent footsteps, footsteps that don’t disturb the dirt and chalk dust of the apocalypse because they don’t exist. 

He doesn’t know who she is, but he’s curious what’s in her suitcase, and waits patiently for her to open it. He’s also planning on following her back to whatever settlement she came from? He hadn’t thought there were any people alive, but clearly she is proving him wrong. 

So when she walks away, he puts his hand on her suitcase so that he doesn’t lose her, because even if she wouldn’t feel it putting his hand on her and watching it go through would be... demoralizing. 

And then she opens the suitcase, and suddenly they’re somewhere else. Except not somewhere else. Its bustling with people and the woman’s heels click loudly against the tile floor and someone walks right through Five and he trails after the woman because everyone seems to give her a wide berth and being walked through sucks. 

Someone addresses her. The Handler. That’s not - that’s not a people name, Five is pretty sure. That’s a title. But no one addresses the woman by name, so the Handler it is. 

Five doesn’t know how old he is, but he still looks thirteen. (He doesn’t feel any different, because he isn’t. His growth is permanently stunted, he will always have died at thirteen-years-one-month-and-nine-days-old.)

So he lives at the Commission headquarters for a few years, invisible and a tiny bit mischievous. He can travel through the walls if he wants, so no door is locked to him. He makes himself a little den in one of the vents where he gets a small collection of office supplies that he steals from the assholes as punishment. He doesn’t do anything major. 

He finds out what the commission does. He tags along with some assassins on occasion. He once distracted Cha-Cha by shoving a glass off a counter and breaking it to try and give a child witness time to flee.

(Hazel found her in the closet, terrified and silent with huge glassy brown eyes. He lifted a finger to his lips and quietly closed the closet door. He yelled “Clear!” to Cha-Cha, and then he and cha-cha and Five all left. Five looks at Hazel differently, after that.)

(Hazel has a soft spot for kids and bird-watching diner owners. This is important.)

Five scribbles equations on the walls of the vents. He gets more data every time he travels with the agents so he starts traveling with them a lot, even though he hates it, even though he sees so much death and destruction and he can’t stop it. He helps, sometimes. As much as he can. It’s not enough.

Five finds something, one day, when he’s wandering around. He finds a picture of Vanya, framed. He recognizes her immediately, from the back of Vanya’s book that he found in the apocalypse. They have lots of pictures of famous people around the commission, and lots of pictures of ordinary people. All of them significant in some way to the ‘preservation of the timeline’.

He goes to the Handler’s office, and among her many souvenirs he finds a cracked violin, and he remembers the background music that made up his entire childhood. 

(He steals the violin and puts it in his vent nook. He flips it over and traces the tiny V that’s shallowly carved shyly into the bottom, the same one Vanya has been putting on every violin she’s ever had since she was seven-years-old, after Diego and Luther broke hers and tried to claim that it was just a random violin, not her violin and it wasn’t their fault she didn’t take care of her possessions -)

(Why is Vanya’s violin in the Handler’s collection of weapons?)

Five is aware of something. He thinks the commission has something to do with the apocalypse. They protect the timeline of whatever, right? And yet the apocalypse happened. Which means it must be planned. 

Five has been trained to fight ‘villains’ since he was tiny, and he recognizes a villain when he looks at the Handler’s shiny smile and too long nails. 

Vanya has to have something to do with it. Do the commission kidnap her? Do they kill her? She’s important, somehow.

(Maybe before he traveled he would have doubted that. Vanya was ordinary. Why would she be important? But Five has tagged along on so many missions where they killed perfectly ordinary people in order to spark a chain of events. In fact, it’s almost always ordinary people.)

Five solves one of his equations on a regular, ordinary day. It’s the time travel one. Not the one about his... unfortunate circumstances.

So Five finds a nice empty room, and he gives it a try. He’s not expecting much, since the pocket dimension bullshit fucks up his time travel anyway (though he can still spatial jump curiously enough) except - it works. He splits the world apart, and it’s hard. Way harder than he remembers it being. 

He chalks that up to the whole pocket dimension effect.

He pushes and pushes and then - something breaks. Like ice shattering for a spring thaw, and he’s through. He’s on the ground, winded. He looks up and - it’s them. His siblings. Older than he remembers, clearly the equation wasn’t exactly right, but they’re here and they’re alive and Five can feel himself tearing up and he lets it happen because none of them can see him anyway and - 

“Five?” 

Two voices, overlapping. Five’s head snaps over, eyes wide with shock and alarm and - 

It’s Klaus and Ben. Both staring at him, equal alarm and shock in their eyes.

“You can see me?” Five demands loudly, patting at his body frantically. Is this it? Did he kill two birds with one stone? Did coming back undo whatever bullshit he put his body through - ?

“Klaus, why would you say that.” Allison scolds automatically, “That was in poor taste.”

Five looks at her, and her eyes scan straight over him, in the way that’s been familiar for - for - 

(Five didn’t bother to keep track of the years. Not when he was unaffected by time, by seasons, by weather. What was the point?)

Five’s eyes snap back to Klaus’s, who hasn’t taken his eyes away. It’s weird, Five thinks absently. His skin crawls under the attention, not used to it.

(Isn’t that strange, in a boy who used to demand attention with every breath he took? Isn’t that odd?)

There’s a hand on his arm and Five just about jumps out of his skin, whirling around and flailing and - oh look, that’s Ben on the ground, looking absolutely shocked. Five is also shocked, because he hasn’t been touched in - in forever. 

“Ben?” Five half-asks, voice smaller than he’d like with a tremble that he kind of wants to kick in the gut. 

“Five.” Ben responds, kind of sounding like he’s been punched in the chest. Actually he might have been, Five was never very gentle when it came to removing his limbs from others grasps.

“Well!” Klaus says loudly, making Five and Ben look over. “If the crisis is over, and we’ve lost a perfectly good fire extinguisher to the void, i’m going back inside!”

Klaus gives Ben a significant look as he turns on his heel and marches back in, and Ben winces. “Come on,” He whispers to Five, getting up and brushing himself off. “It’s better to talk when no one else is around.”

Ben hesitates, and Five hasn’t spoken to anyone but himself in a very long time. It’s been even longer since - well. And Ben looks so lost all of a sudden, that it’s really for Ben’s benefit when Five takes Ben’s hand in his own and tugs him in the direction of the mansion, “Well get a move on.”

Ben looks like he’s about to cry, looking at their joined grip, but nods and leads Five into the building. He gives Five’s hand a squeeze, as though making sure he’s real, and Five allows it gracefully.

Finally, they’re tucked into Klaus’s bedroom, Klaus sprawled across the bed and staring at Five like he’s something entirely alien.

“I don’t understand.” Five says, because the silence is getting awkward. “How come you guys can see me, but the others can’t?”

And Five is very confused when Ben’s face just - crumples. He looks like he’s about to cry. And Klaus, the contrary bastard, starts laughing, just a tiny bit hysterically.

“Take a guess shortstack.” Klaus wheezes out, “What’s my power?”

It’s seeing the dead, of course. But Five isn’t dead he’s just - in between. Right?

Besides, there’s a glaring flaw in Klaus’s theory.

“Uh, Ben can see me.” Five points out, lifting his and Ben’s conjoined hands where Ben’s grip is actually getting a little bit painful.

But isn’t a good kind of pain. Five hasn’t felt pain in - equally long. 

Klaus’s laughter cuts off and Ben makes a noise like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped on. “Yeah,” Klaus says, uncharacteristically serious, “Well. You missed a lot, kiddo.”

“Ben’s not dead.” Five protests, because he’s not. Five can see him. He’s right there, and he’s never had Klaus’s powers. He turns to Ben and - 

Ben envelops him in a hug, a tight one. The kind that Five would never have allowed unless absolutely necessary before he’s left, but now just sort of - melts into. It’s the pressure of it, honestly. Ben’s a good hugger.

“Five I’m so sorry.” Ben whispers, pressing his face against Five’s hair. It tickles a little, where Ben breathes out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He pulls back, and brushes trembling fingers against Five’s hair. “Five, Five. Haven’t you - haven’t you wondered why you can’t - Five. You’re still - it’s been so long and you’ve been alone and - ” Ben breaks into sniffles.

“I’m just stuck.” Five says blankly, trying his best to process, “I’m just - I jumped wrong, and I got - I got stuck in between. I’m not - I’m not dead.”

“You’re deader than a doornail, kiddo.” Klaus interjects loudly.

Five, never one to take that lying down, untangles himself from Ben just enough to pick up a knicknack and hurls it at Klaus’s head with a scowl. “I’m not a kid.”

Except now they’re both staring at Five again, even as Klaus presses a hand against his forehead where Five had whalloped him (his aim was a good as ever, clearly).

“How -” Ben stutters, staring between Klaus and Five with alarm.

Klaus sputters as well, “What the fuck! How did you do that!”

“Well you see, Klaus.” Five says, voice toxic with the sweetness he exuded, “When someone leans down, and picks something up, they can exert a force on it. This force interacts with other forces to form the trajectory of an object - ”

“Not that!” Klaus sputters, “You picked something up!”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Five says dryly.

Ben prods him in the side, making Five look over (up, if we’re being technical. Grown-up Ben is... kind of tall, actually. Compared to Five.) “How did you do that?”

And Five isn’t dead. He isn’t. But - he remembers the early days. How terrifying they were. How he couldn’t interact with the world around him at all. And if Ben is going through the same thing - “It... it took me a while to figure out. Um. It’s - it’s kind of hard to explain? Because like, when I jump it’s - it’s kind of like taking myself apart and then putting myself together somewhere else. And it’s like, like taking that feeling, except instead of putting yourself together somewhere else you like, layer it over yourself as you are? Like, making yourself denser somehow, I dunno.”

“If you can do it, then I can, too.” Ben says ferociously, a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll finally be able to throw things at Klaus when he’s being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Klaus protests, looking very offended.

This is all very nice, but Five did come here with a mission... so he tugs at Ben’s arm. “Ben, what’s the date?”

Ben shrugs, because why should the dead care about the date? He looks at Klaus. Klaus looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Um.” Then he brightens, “Right!” He grabs something from his pocket, it’s rectangular and flat. There were lots in the apocalypse, though Five has never figured out their functions. Except when Klaus clicks his, it lights up. 

“Uh, March 24th.” Klaus says, squinting at the screen.

“What year?” Five asks, leaning forward.

“2019.” Klaus says.

“Fuck,” Five says, with feeling. “A week.”

“What’s a week?” Ben asks warily as Five flails and untangles himself from his grasp to stand up and pace.

“You don’t understand.” Five says, turning to them both, “I haven’t just - just been traveling the world as a fucking ghost. I time traveled. It worked. But - the future - ”

“Five?” Ben asks, all concern and love and it’s painful.

“The world ends in seven days.” Five tells them both, voice cracking, “There’s nothing but - but rubble and ruin and - and - ”

He remembers their bodies, remembers them splayed out in the rubble. 

“You died.” Five told Klaus, “You all died. The whole world died. Everything was - ash everywhere. I was there for - for...”

“The courtyard scene.” Ben realizes, reaching out as something like comprehension dawns on his face. Five dances back a few steps, his breaths coming in funny little pants. “You came back from - the future?”

“Breath, Five.” Klaus advises, sounding a little bit worries himself.

“If I’m dead why do I need to breath?” Five snarls, and Klaus’s face drops and he curls in on himself a little looking pathetic. It’s enough for Five to toss out a mildly panicked “Sorry” because? That’s what you do right?

(Five hasn’t interacted with people who can talk back in decades and it shows.)

And Five tells them everything, in halting uncertain breaths. He winds up curled up on the bed with Ben’s arms around him, steady as a rock, while Klaus manages to somehow sit in the desk chair in a manner that makes Five a little uncertain that his brother possesses bones and ligaments. 

He tells them about the future, about finding their bodies, about learning to - to condense himself just enough to interact with the world. He tells them about the woman, about the suitcase, about following her. He tells them about the Commission, and how he’s sure they have something to do with it - the Handler had Vanya’s violin - 

By the time Five is finished talking, he’s exhausted. The sun has slipped below the horizon already, and he feels like dead weight in his brother’s arms. At some point, Ben had started running a hand through Five’s hair, and the repetitive motion is soothing.

“That’s - that’s a lot.” Klaus says, and something must have shocked him a little bit out of his goofy persona. 

“I just wanted to go home.” Five mumbles.

“You are home.” Ben tells him, squeezing him tightly, “And we’re going to make sure the apocalypse doesn’t happen. Right, Klaus?”

Klaus shuffles, awkwardly. “I mean. I’m not exactly uh, number one choice for team apocalypse you know?”

“Ben’s number one choice for team apocalypse.” Five points out, flopping his head against Ben’s arm. “You’re an okay second choice though, I guess.”

It makes Klaus bark out a laugh, and Five can feel Ben’s snicker through his chest.

“Vanya’s gotta be on the team.” Five mumbles, loud enough for them to hear. “She’s important. Gotta make sure, make sure no one uh, no one kills her or anything.”

Ben and Klaus exchange a look over his head that he doesn’t see.

“We’ll plan everything tomorrow.” Ben tells him gently, “In the morning, okay?”

“Mmkay.” Five agrees absently.

The dead don’t sleep, but they can get - tired. Being in the living world is exhausting, and Five closes his eyes and just. Ignores the world. Just for a little while. The dead don’t dream, but that’s okay, because Five’s dreams have never been anything approaching peaceful.

Five made it back. He might be a ghost, but he made it back. An impossible goal, and he accomplished it. After that, taking on the apocalypse will be a piece of cake. 

(And if Ben and Klaus think Five is going to give up on his idea to un-dead himself, they have another thing coming.)

[bangtan-madi]

noel on ice — kim namjoon

Pairing — Namjoon x Reader, feat. minor mention of Jungkook x OC

Genre — fluff, holiday, minor angst, mental health

Tags — strangers to lovers, figure skater!Namjoon, barista!MC, non-idol au, figure skater au, café au, holiday au

Word Count — 16k

Summary —  After sustaining a crushing defeat at the World Figure Skating Championships, falling from his perfect gold standard to his long-time rival, Kim Namjoon returns to South Korea with an unsure heart and accompanying injury. At the same time, Y/N is as far from home as she has ever been due to a falling out with her family, working as a barista at a café in Seoul while trying to finish her degree. As if by fate, the two meet, and Namjoon makes it his goal to make Y/N see the magic of the holidays -- one Christmas adventure across Seoul at a time. 

Warnings — minor language, brief anxiety attack, mentions of ptsd related symptoms

A/N — This year has been a very difficult one for us all. For my fic in this Christmas collab, I wanted to acknowledge all of that and give a little mental health break for everyone. All of our experiences have been different, but one thing we all have in common is that 2020 was unexpected, painful, and heavy. Please, no matter what holiday you celebrate, let yourself have as much rest and healing as you need. If this little, probably-needs-more-editing-than-I-had-time-for fic can help you get there — even just for the twenty minutes it takes to read — then my job is done ❤️ I love you all, and I know I speak for the others when I say I hope 2021 treats us all so much kinder, and I hope we learn to love ourselves in spite of our worlds around us.

Playlist — Link here.

Christmas Collaboration — this fic is a part of the Christmas Collab by @kooala (link coming soon!)

"Hey—Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Raising your head slightly, your eyes widening as you realize you've zoned out again, focusing on the snowfall outside instead of the next customer in line. The woman waving her hand in front of you is as foreign to South Korea as you are, but her expression is entirely that of an angry American. Her scowl has etched deep lines into her skin, where smile lines should be.

Unfortunately, her face is all too familiar. Usually it pays to be one of the only native English-speakers at your café; however, when Americans come in, you're the one pushes to take their orders and serve them.

Even the most difficult ones.

"S—Sorry, Ma'am," you mutter. Shaking your head, you force a customer-service smile. "I was just admiring the snowfall. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Oh, yeah," she retorts sarcastically. "So beautiful that it's making travel home nearly impossible. Can you please just make my drink so I can leave?"

"I—I didn't hear it, Ma'am. Can you repeat it please?"

While the woman rolls her eyes, she repeats her order swiftly, muttering something along the lines of, "Baristas these days, I swear to god," under her breath. "Make sure to get it right this time. Every time I come in and order a blended cappuccino, you guys end up giving me a latte, which is not what I ordered."

"And every time, we have to explain that all a latte is, is a blended cappuccin—"

"—I don't want to hear it!"

With a sigh, you ring up the total for the "blended cappuccino, not latte" and let the woman pay. From the sidelines, your co-worker Lisa stands with a glare and a tin of heated milk ready to go for your order.

"Ms. Blended cappuccino again?" she asks as you turn towards her with a note written in perfect Hangul.

You nod, running  a hand over your hair in frustration. "I hate being the only native bi-lingual person here. Means I get to deal with her every damn time."

Sensing your downtrodden spirit, Lisa pushes you out of the way, giving you a gentle shove towards the back room. "I got this one. Go take a breather in the back, okay?"

"But—"

"—Ah! No buts. I know enough English to get by."

From the front desk, the woman pipes up again, demanding her drink be made faster. Lisa marches past your, arms herself with the imaginary drink, and says in perfect English, "You're in Seoul now. Speak Korean."

Knowing Lisa can handle the absolute hell-spawn that is an angry American Karen, you turn your back to the drama and shuffle to the break room behind the "employees only" door. An exasperated breath escapes as you revel in the silence, pushing away the muffled café sounds on the other side of the door. Being the only one in the break room, you spot your favorite white chocolate mocha on the side table, with a smiley face sticky note indicating it's from Lisa beside it.

You smile gently at the sweet gesture, and shove the sticky note into your pocket as a reminder to yourself to thank her later.

Taking the mug between your overworked hands, you settle down on the window seat and watch the December sky slowly shift from violet to navy. The mocha is just slightly sweet with a hint of peppermint, just like you like it. It's almost enough to illicit the Christmas spirit lying dormant inside you.

There's something incredibly painful about this particular holiday season, you think to yourself as the cars pass swiftly on the street outside. The glittering lights, the beautiful carols, the crystalline snow — none of it feels the same as last year.  The holidays are supposed to be a time of comfort and renewal, but this year — after moving halfway around the world by yourself — your heart is starting to wonder if that part of you has died.

Maybe it's the loneliness you're feeling, or maybe it's the fact that you're so far away from home. Or maybe it's the fresh-in-your-mind arguments and falling out with your family over the summer. That bitter taste lingers still in the back of your throat, not unlike a dark espresso.  A Christmas season without your parents and siblings; you never thought living your own life and following your happiness could hurt so much. For better or worse, that nostalgic feeling family and friends bring is long gone. And now you're nostalgic for nostalgia itself; what kind of messed up feeling is that?

You've had twenty-four wondrous, magical holiday seasons. Is it part of growing up that your allotment of joyful Christmas days is limited?

Is twenty-five the year that the magic just...stops?

When the night sky becomes unchanging, the door to the café kitchen opens. Lisa peeks her head inside, side-bangs falling in her face. "How's the mocha? Did I get it right?"

You take the last sip with a grateful smile, then place the mug onto the coffee table. "You nailed it. Thank you, I needed that."

Pride swells in Lisa's chest, and her shoulders straighten as she enters the room. "Well, good news. Karen's gone," she announces, "and your favorite customer is here!"

"Who?"

Lisa places her hand horizontally at her hip-level. "About this tall? Loves peppermint hot choco?

Bolting from your seat, all your concerns are momentarily gone. Your co-worker doesn't have to utter another word to get you to exit the back room and reenter the kitchen.

Across the counter, a mop of black hair is barely visible. Dark brown eyes peer over the granite surface; they twinkle and shine at the sight of you. Tiny hands splay on the surface in an attempt to make the small child taller. He's around seven to eight years, you estimate. Nine or ten at the very most. Definitely not out of primary school. And he's your very favorite customer, because unlike most, this child comes in with a toothy grin almost every single day with enough money for a peppermint hot chocolate. He's never late, and he's never unhappy. If the Sun were to bless the world with a ray of sunshine in human form, this kid would be it.

"Ahjumma!" the little boy shouts, a grin plastered on his face.

Instead of having him crane his neck, you walk around the counter, bend down on one knee, and ignore the other customers behind him. Pulling one of the tiny baked goods from your apron pocket, you offer the sweet to the child with a wink.

"You're here awfully late, Yeongu. You're usually here right after school lets out. It's already after dark."

Yeongu digs through his pocket and pulls out several crumpled won, enough for his beverage of choice. "Tomorrow is the last day before Christmas break, so dad picked me up and took me skating. I'm with mom and her boyfriend for the rest of the month 'cause Dad's going to Busan with his new wife. I don't like her that much. She frowns too much. And she smells like soju and taffy."

You exchange the won for the baked treat, laughing softly as you invite the boy onto the corner table nearest the hot chocolate machines. "You don't like taffy, do you?"

He makes a face and takes a big bite of the delicacy. "My teacher tells us that if we eat taffy, it will help us remember things. I ate too much of it last year, and now I hate it. Dad's new wife must always be forgetting things, because she always smells like it!"

After finishing the simple drink, you slide the mug across the table and plop down in the seat across from the small boy. "So does this mean I won't get to see you until after Christmas?"

Yeongu shakes his head. "I'll be by tomorrow after. Mom wanted to visit my cousin before we left. He's back in town for Christmas, and we haven't seen him in a long time."

"Oh? What does he do?"

"Sports."

At that, the boy changes the conversation. "What are you doing for Christmas, Ahjumma?"

"Yeah, Ahjumma," Lisa pipes up after serving the final to-go customer for the night. She flips the sign on the front door and turns back to the two of you, hand on her hip. "What are you doing for your first Christmas in Korea?"

Shrugging slightly, you turn your attention back to the small child across from you. "I'll probably spend the day with Mochi — my cat — probably studying so I'll be ahead in the new year for my next classes." Lisa gives an empathetic look at the mention of your kitten, which causes you to roll your eyes playfully. "Don't give me that look! I'll be fine. Probably best for me to have a relaxed, non-hectic couple of days. This year has been a rough one."

"That sounds sad," Yeongu states bluntly, earning a snicker from Lisa.

"Kid's right. Absolutely dreadful, [Y/n]. What a lame Christmas."

"What about you, then? Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

At the question, Lisa's smirk drops and she perks up. "Well, I'm sure you know, but Christmas in Korea is pretty different from America," Lisa reminds you, and you nod your acknowledgement. "It's more of a couple holiday, so my boyfriend Jungkook and I are planning to take the week off and do a ton of holiday activities together. Mostly outdoors stuff. Y'know, snowboarding, skiing, snowball fights — the usual."

"Sounds like a blast," you laugh.

"Oh, it will be." She gives a wink, then nods to Yeongu. "Are we about done here? I need to head out if you're okay with locking up for the night."

You give a wave of approval as the child nears the end of his glass. "I got this. Say hello to Jungkookie for me."

Lisa flashes a set of extravagant finger hearts before disappearing into the back, where she gathers her personal items and exits out the rear entrance. In her absence, Yeongu tugs on your sleeve and holds up an empty mug.

"Thank you for the hot choco, Ahjumma," he grins, showing the dark stain on his upper lip.

Taking the mug, you use the edge of your apron to clean the mess from his face. "If you come by tomorrow before you leave with your Eomma, I'll make you another with extra peppermint, okay?"

The boy's smile grows, and he hops up from the table with a swift bow. "I'll be here!" He heads for the door with a skip in his step.

"Will you get home all right?" you call after him.

Yeongu turns and grins. "I will, don't worry, Ahjumma!"

And then he's gone, out the door in a rush of energy and giggles towards his home nearby. You merely shake your head; there's no point in going after him now.

Soon after, you're following in his step. It doesn't take you long to clean up. By the time you lock up and exit out the back, snow has begun to fall. You brave the cold, tugging your coat tighter around you, burying your face into your scarf. The journey to the subway is short, and your feet take you quickly. Even still, you stare upward at the snowy clouds in hope that they might spark a semblance of Christmas joy in your heart.

Tonight, like every other night, nothing changes.

You heave a sigh, and the breath billows out as a visible fog as you enter the station. Going through the motions to get to your apartment is easy. A swipe of a card, a short ride to the edge of the neighborhood, and a trek up the set of stairs. Once through the door, you're greeted by a mewing shadow of a cat.

"Hi, my baby girl," you greet with a soft smile, bending down to scratch the tiny fur ball behind the ears. The black cat rubs her chin against your palm and follows you when you waltz to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

As if responding, "Yes!" Mochi speeds up and meows a bit louder than last time.

Her antics bring a smile to your face as you turn on the television for background noise. You find the nearest Korean news station, finding the program in the middle of a report on Korea's favorite rap duo and their upcoming tour: Suga and J-Hope. Your intention with the selection is two-fold — first, to continue to enhance your skills of the Korean language, and two, to continue learning about the culture and world of your new home. While you had extensive knowledge of both before moving to Seoul — despite the process being rather quick due to the fallout with your family — nothing compares to being immersed in the country itself.

As the musical entertainment section ends, you begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard. "What do you think sounds good, Mochi? How about teokbokki?" The black cat perches her paws on your right leg, purring pleasantly. "I agree, sounds great after a long day."

You toss a bag of rice cakes onto the counter as the news changes to sports. Even as you prepare the sauce for the meal, you actively listen to the voices in the background.

"Unfortunately, RM Nam's ice skating season has been cut short due to an unforeseen injury he sustained during practice this summer. At the time, the damage to his shoulder seemed unnoticed by the athlete and his coach. However, as we saw earlier this October at the Grant Prix Series: Skate America, Mr. Nam's mishap on the ice turned out to be far more damaging than originally thought. Thus, the position representing South Korea at the next in the series, Skate Canada, was shifted to his rival, Kim Seokjin, and RM Nam returned home to Seoul to recover."

You can't but help a glance up at the screen. The skater in question has his back turned to the cameras as he heads into the airport. Behind his sunglasses, mask, and beanie, he offers a polite smile and wave to the reporters. Moments later, his coach guides him into the building, out of sight.

"That doesn't sound fun," you mutter to yourself as the report moves onto politics.

After you finish cooking, you plate yourself a portion and move into the living room. Besides the tiny tan sofa and the television propped up on a box, most of the room is bare. There are a handful of boxes strewn across the apartment of the few things you either had shipped from the States or that you bought in your six months since then, but for the most part, you've been putting off all of it. Most of your time is spent at work or at school; you haven't had the time, energy, or motivation to do any of it. Even at Christmas, despite Lisa gifting you with your very own tiny tree and twinkle lights to spread across the home, you've yet to unpack any of it. The tree remains in the slender box beside the TV, and you doubt it will go up this year at all.

Heaving a sigh at the thought, you turn the channel to VIKI put on your favorite drama. This particular one is a reincarnation plot with two male leads played by Korea's golden boys: Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Paired with the bowl of teokkboki in your lap and the kitten curled to your side, it's enough to drag you thoughts out of homesickness and back to the present.

This might just have to be the Christmas you forget and hope that the next year is a kinder one.

A lot changed in your life this year. In some ways, the changes were good. In others, not so much. Most of the turbulent times were in the heat of the summer, but things began slowing down once you moved to South Korea in September. You were now away from toxic family members, away from a life you never wanted, and looking ahead to an uncertain but certainly hopeful future.

In late October, the seasons began changing for the better — and not just in the physical sense of the falling leaves and cooler breeze. Lisa was right about your favorite customer; it truly was little Yeongu. However, there was another that you looked forward to seeing, just as much as the elementary school boy.

This person was older, around your age, with a deeply dimpled smile that made your stomach flutter. Eyes as slender as his body proportions, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't an attractive man. Hair the color of the snowflakes he walked through, eyes the color of the beverage he'd always order, skin the color of warmth in a cozy fireplace. Even his voice was warm and deep; at every conversation, while you are completely fluent in Korean, you find yourself just wanting to listen to the soft timbre.

Over time, this man — whose name you'd quickly learn was Kim Namjoon — became a regular at your little coffee shop. He'd come in at the oddest hours, either super early or super late. Hours you often worked alone, when there were fewer customers. Every time, he'd strike up a conversation as you took his order and crafted his beverage of choice (a heavy coffee brewed dark and bitter, with just a splash of cream and almond whip.) He was sweet, and eventually you opened up. He'd hang around the counter long after the transaction was completed, sometimes until another customer stole your attention away. It didn't take long for you to realize that he was far more than merely a pretty face.

In those weeks leading up to December, you found yourself smiling a bit more. Joking a bit more. Shoulders lightening a bit more. You looked forward to the increasingly insistent days where he'd waltz in — sometimes covered in raindrops, sometimes in crisp leaves, sometimes in snowflakes — always a crystal blue umbrella under his arm and a charcoal grey scarf around his neck.

It's the same person standing at the entrance now, the man currently shaking the rain from his umbrella and platinum locks. Lisa gives you a smirk as she nods her head towards the register and steps away from the counter, as if silently saying, "You're up, m'lady. Holler if you need me; I'll be doing an order in the back."

You brush your hair back into proper place, display a genuine smile, and take your stance behind the register. When Namjoon's eyes meet yours, his smile deepens and creates dimples on either side of his mouth.

After the customer in front of him pays and leaves with his order in hand, you greet him with a simple, "You haven't been in, in over a week. Finally trying to break your caffeine addiction?"

Namjoon gives a deep laugh and shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. I like being able to function as an adult in society, thank you very much." He pulls out several won from his wallet. "I'll have..."

"The usual?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "You remember?"

"Of course," you grin, and type his drink of choice into the register. Taking his money, you add, "How could I forget your order after the hilarious reaction when I suggested a mint mocha?"

The boy thinks back to the first day he walked into the café, and recalls that conversation with a groan. "Oh god, was I that bad?"

Handing him his change, you tap your chin and reply, "Well, maybe a bit. I'd never seen someone so horrified at the idea of mint chocolate."

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. Pretty terrible at hiding my disdain for that flavor combo."

"No worries! Made me laugh."

Seeing that there are no other customers behind him, you turn to the brewing station and usher Namjoon to take a seat on the bar stool across the counter. It's a position you've taken several times before. When the customers are low, as they are at this hour of evening, the platinum-haired man tends to linger and converse far after his drink is finished.

"What brings you in today? Just wanted a pick-me-up or?"

Namjoon heaves a sigh. He watches you closely but casually, silently admiring the skillful way you begin to brew the dark beverage. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, and coming here always helps me de-stress."

"Coffee helps you relax?" You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment.

"And the company."

Heat rushes to your face, and when you glance up to meet his gaze, the warmth only increases. "You're smooth, Kim Namjoon. Very smooth."

Brown eyes widen, and he bows his head so that his bangs cover his eyes. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"Calm down, you're fine. Wanna talk about what's on your mind, though?"

In all your conversations, the two of you have only ever talked on the shallow surface of various topics. You don't know much about Namjoon, and he doesn't know much about you — despite having shared extremely vague information about your year, your jobs, and your education. You feel very open with him, but most of the time, those conversations can't be had in a fifteen minute discussion at a café.

"It's a long, complicated story. I'm not sure you'd wanna hear it." He raises his hands defensively as he realizes how his words might be construed. "Not that you wouldn't understand! I just wouldn't want to be a downer."

You select the cold brew setting on the machine and let the device begin to whir to life. "Well, I've got at least the time it takes to make your drink. I'm all ears."

Namjoon shakes his head as he settles his elbows on the counter. "You're persistent."

"Honey, I've been called far worse."

Seeing your eagerness, your companion heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze from you to the window at his right. As be begins to speak, his demeanor falls a bit. He's not as happy-go-lucky; there's an err of anxiety about him that you can't quite nail down. "I've been thinking about a change in career recently. Things haven't been unfolding this year like I wanted...and I'm starting to think I'm not meant to do what I'm doing now. Maybe I need to retire — from this industry, I mean, and move on to another."

Even with that small confession, you can't help but mirror his emotions. "I hear you. I've felt similar feelings this year."

His gaze shifts back to yours, and he tilts his head in surprise. "Really? How so?"

"I told you I moved to Seoul in September, right?" Namjoon nods. "That's because I wanted a...a fresh start. I enrolled in Yonsei University, got a job here, and just...moved."

"That's pretty brave, and that's really awesome you're at Yonsei. They're a fantastic school."

"Thanks," you grin whilst popping the canister of cold brew out from under the brewing machine. "I needed to get away from certain people in my life that weren't letting me move forward, so moving was the best choice." You pour the dark beverage into a small mixer and pull out the vanilla creamer. "Sure you don't want mint this time? Last chance."

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow as a silent challenge; the expression makes you giggle to yourself as you pour the very non-mint add-ins. "Hilarious."

"Hey! Just offering." After giving the mixture a whisk, your smile falters.

Nothing gets by the observant person across the counter. "I feel like your story has a 'but' after what you ended with."

"You're good," you reply, gesturing to him with the handheld whisk. "I'm not talking too much, am I?"

Namjoon shakes his head adamantly and flourishes with his hand for you to continue. "I mean, we're practically friends now. Please, go on."

Reassured by both his calming nature and genuine interest, you continue talking. "But after getting here...let's just say it's hard to make friends and get out there in a country where you look so different, where your language isn't native, and where you know literally no one. So...ah, this year's been a pretty lonely one, and I know I still made the right choice, but now that the holidays are here..." You trail off and offer a small smile. "All that to say, I know what it's like to second-guess yourself and not have things go the way you thought."

"Seems we have a lot in common," he chuckles, leaning his chin on his hand.

The comment causes the mood to lighten, and you let a laugh slip out. "Yeah, seems so."

Before the conversation can continue, the front door opens. Yeongu enters, a couple of other customers behind him. As if on cue, Lisa enters from the back room and greets the adults with a smile and a swift, "Hi, welcome! What can I get you this evening?"

As the child approaches the adjacent counter where you stand, his grin widens. You perch your elbows on the counter and lean over. "How's my favorite customer?"

"I'm finally free from school, Ahjumma!" Yeongu cheers loudly.

"Congrats! I'm sure you're relieved." He nods affirmatively. "t's freezing outside. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, I promise. But can I get a mint hot choco?" He holds up a crumpled bill with a toothy grin.

"Of course, you can. Extra mint, just like I promised." You nod towards the seat closest to the window. "Sit in your usual spot, okay? After I get this nice man his coffee, I'll get your hot chocolate."

As Namjoon turns to look at the child, Yeongu's eyes widen in surprise. "Namjoon-hyung! I didn't know you were here."

Much to your shock, Namjoon reciprocates the affection and hops down from his chair to bend down to Yeongu's level. "Yeon-ie!" He teases the boy by ruffling up his hair, which Yeongu scowls at him for.

"Um... You two know each other?"

"Yep!" Yeongu grins. "He's my cousin, the one I told you about yesterday."

"Oooh, that makes sense. Didn't realize my two favorite customers were related."

Yeongu laughs at the comment and hops into the chair beside Namjoon. "But I'm your favorite customer, right?"

"Of course," you tease, flashing him a playful wink.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Ahjumma, can I please have mine in a to-go cup? Mom told me to come right home so we can finish packing for our trip."

"Of course, give me just a second to get you a lid." You turn to your first customer with an apologetic smile. "Namjoon, I'm almost done with yours. Just give me a moment."

"Actually, do you mind putting mine in a to-go cup as well?" He jerks his thumb towards Yeongu. "I should probably walk him home. He lives just around the corner from me. I'd feel better if I did."

"Oh, sure, I can do that."

"Would you walk with us, Ahjumma? Pleeeease?"

Your gaze moves to Namjoon. "Do you mind?"

The elder cousin hops up from his chair, shaking his head adamantly. "Not at all! Can you?"

"Sure, I'm about at the end of my shift anyway! Let me grab my coat. I'll come with." You turn quickly to Lisa, murmuring, "Can you watch—?"

She cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "—Go! I can close up for the night. But if you don't come back with a date planned, the invitation to spend New Years with Jungkookie and me is rescinded."

With a playful eye-roll, you peck her on the cheek and run to the back for your coat. Once you return, you find Namjoon scuffling Yeongu's dark locks with a dimpled smile. Looking back up as you return, the expression doesn't falter.

"Ready?"

You nod and follow behind through the exit, trying to ignore the wink and dual thumbs-ups Lisa flashes you as you pass.

Once on the street, Yeongu walks ahead of you and Namjoon. The first few minutes are silent between you two. From ahead, you can hear the small child talking to himself, or perhaps his hot chocolate, and then occasionally to the adults.

As you cross the busy street, Namjoon clears his throat. "So...you have any plans for Christmas?"

You scoff under your breath and shake your head. "Why does this topic keep coming up?"

"Hope I didn't offend," he laughs. "Yeongu said something about a café girl not having plans last night. I figured it was you."

"Trust me, you're good. But yeaaah. Kinda new to Korea. I spent the fall settling in and trying to start over. Between work and school, didn't expect much. Holidays sneaked up on me, I guess."

There's a pause as the trio rounds the corner. Yeongu finishes his hot cocoa along the way and hands the empty cup to Namjoon. The elder doesn't even hesitate to take it, and the boy rushes ahead to what you assume is his home. Over his shoulder, he shouts, "Thank you for the choco, Ahjumma!"

You grin widely and wave. "You're welcome!"

Yeongu turns to Namjoon, sticks out his tongue in a playful manner, then disappears into his house.

"Aaand that's the thanks I get." Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention as the sun sets behind Seoul Tower. "I have a crazy idea."

"Oh, really?" You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. "Those are my favorite kind of ideas."

"Cheesy," he grins. "Well...I don't have any plans either. Maybe we spend it together?"

"No plans, huh? Do I look that pitiful?"

"No! No, it's not that at all, god." Namjoon's smirk falls from his face as a horrified expression drowns out any humor. "Sorry if that's how it came off. I just—You seem really nice, and it's been a while since either of us just enjoyed someone else's company. No strings. No pressure."

Tugging your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffle in your step. "I don't know, Namjoon..."

"Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I hate to see anyone's shoulders so heavy in December. How about this — give me three days to prove the magic isn't lost."

"Three days? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay then, Mr. Kim." You offer a hand in his direction. "Three days."

Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, as does his hand. "It's a deal."

The following weekend you wake to a phone call coming in from your recently-added number. Rolling out from under the covers to grab the device from the nightstand, you answer with voice still groggy with sleep. "Hello?"

"Are you still sleeping?" the caller laughs in a deep timbre.

"Shuddup." Peaking an eye open, the time on the screen reads just after eleven a.m. "It's not that late."

"Really?"

"Did you call me just to make fun of my lack of healthy sleep schedule, or did you have a point?"

"Ouch!” Namjoon exclaims playfully. “I actually did call, and it's actually perfect because I don't need you ready to go until around three this afternoon. So you can totally just go back to sleep."

You curl back under your heated blanket and revel in the warmth it provides. Beside you, Mochi curls closer, nearly sitting on your head. "Mmm sounds perfect. Wait—what?"

"You heard me." There's a hint of teasing in Namjoon's words. "It's Day 1. Be ready for an outdoor adventure by three. I'll pick you up then, okay sleepyhead?"

The butterflies rumble in your stomach at the nickname, and you clear your throat before replying. "Yep, got it. Three p.m. Outdoor adventure. Can't you tell me what it is or where we're going?"

"And ruin the surprise? No way. Just trust me, Jagi."

A squeak slips out, and you throw your hand over your mouth to hide it. "Okay, see you there—I mean then!"

You can almost hear Namjoon shaking his head as he says his goodbyes and ends the call. Despite still being sleepy and warm and cozy in your nest, you lie wide awake in bed for the next half-hour, replaying his voice over and over in your head like a well-loved record.

The day flies by, and eventually it's approaching three. You've dressed to impress while still trying to keep it casual. Despite this being a date, it's still casual. You like Namjoon a lot, and you hope he likes you as well. However, outside of conversations at the café, you haven't spent a lot of time together yet. This is as good a second-first impression as any, and you intend to make the most of it.

Grabbing your winter coat and scarf, you scurry down the stairs and spot Namjoon lingering by the entrance with two cups in his hands. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater with a dark grey jacket over top, his usual scarf looped twice around his neck. A beanie covers his head, but bits of his platinum hair still stick out in places. Slung across his shoulder is a brown leather backpack. He always looks nice, that much you know, but the fact that today he looks nice for you makes you sickly happy.

He flashes a smile as you bound out the door. "You look rested," he teases, then offers you one of the cups.

Taking it with a nose scrunch, you look down at the order on the side, seeing that it's your usual order. "How did you know!"

He shrugs. "I have my ways."

"Was it Lisa?"

"Maybe..." He straightens up and nods his chin towards the nearby station. "Follow me for our first adventure!"

After boarding the train to Itaewon, you can't help but wonder where he might be taking you. Your mind goes through all of the things to do in Itaewon, but the list is lengthy. From his excited and proud expression, you know Namjoon has been looking forward to this all day, just as you have.

After exiting fifteen minutes down the line, Namjoon reaches for your free hand. "May I...?"

Your fingers close the distance, glove-covered palm clasping his. "Lead the way."

Namjoon grins, then tugs on your hand as you exit the station. Once outside in the frigid air, you see your breath come out in puffs of fog. You tighten your scarf around your neck and allow your companion to usher you down the sidewalk, towards a clearing in the colorful buildings of Itaewon-do.

Another block or so, and you see the direction in which he's heading. A large sign along the way reads, "Grant Hyatt Seoul Ice Rink" in bold Hangul. Your eyes widen as the realization hits you, and the excitement inside you grows. "How did you know I've wanted to go ice skating!"

Namjoon shuffles up to the ticket counter, replying over his shoulder, "Um...lucky guess?"

As he purchases your tickets, you take a moment to absorb your surroundings.  The trees are glowing from the lights covering every branch and trunk. They surround the rink and give a glow from within that is so much softer and more intimate than the harsh lighting of the city. The Hyatt Hotel stands as a black silhouette against the horizon. In the opposite direction, you can see N. Seoul Tower already lit up as the afternoon lighting shifts to evening. Projectors shine shapes of glittering snowflakes across the ice, giving another layer of ambient lighting to the rink.

"I haven't been since I was a kid," you add, staring at the exterior of the open-air rink with awe. Namjoon hands you the ticket, which you use for entrance and skates before shoving it into your jacket pocket. "Have you ever been before?"

"Yeah, a...few times. Hey, what size shoe are you?" When you tell him, Namjoon grabs a pair of skates from the shelf beside the ticket booth and gestures for you to sit on the bench across from it. "It can be tricky to lace your skates properly," he commentates as he kneels down in front of you and begins to untie your boots. "It's really something you have to adjust yourself, so let me know when I'm close?"

Not having any words to respond at his sudden closeness, you nod the affirmative and watch in silence as he puts one boot to the side, slips the skate on with ease, and begins to adjust the laces like a professional. After repeating the movements with your other skate, he taps your knee and looks up at you.

"Too loose? You want them to be as tight as you can handle to keep your ankles steady."

Moving your feet, you shake your head from side to side. "A bit more. I'd hate to have Day 1 turn into a trip to the E.R."

"Definitely, nothing says ‘Christmas magic’ like an emergency room visit," he laughs, adjusting your laces as you requested. "How's that?"

"Much better, thank you."

After lacing up your skates as tight as you can handle, Namjoon stands and offers you an arm. He helps you waddle over to the entrance, gently sliding you onto the ice despite your shaky knees and flailing arms. You soon realize that it might be best to hold tight to the barrier and stick only to the periphery.

He doesn't follow you on at first. When you turn and look back for him, he waves you on. "You go ahead. I need to grab my skates first."

"Mmm fine, but if I break my neck trying to catch your ass, you're paying for ramen after. Got it?"

Namjoon gives you two thumbs ups as he lets you go onto the ice. "Loud and clear."

Eventually, you begin tugging yourself along, trying but failing to keep up with the traffic of more experienced skaters. Even compared to those half your age, or even less, you're the child on this rink.

About half-way around the rink, you spot Namjoon making his way towards the entrance. Waving your hand, your smile widens when he sees you. He waves back, nearly bumps into the person ahead of him at the gate, and you murmur to yourself, "This should be good."

Namjoon hits the ice. He's not like the barreling disaster you are, but like a graceful swan. It catches you off-guard; if anything, you expected him to fall flat on his face or tumble over a child on his way over to you on the opposite side. He needs no assistance from the railing, nor does he struggle to cross the center and come to a full stop in front of you. His skates make a graceful scraping sound, and his stance is one of a professional. Even his skates are different than yours; they're custom, and you realize that must've been what he was carrying in his backpack.

You assume the awestruck look on your face is the reason for his smirk and laughter. He does a spin for dramatic affect as he closes the distance between you. "Surprised?"

"For starters! How the hell are you so graceful? You're literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface, and I can barely make a left turn!"

The platinum blond gives you a look like you're still missing the point, then extends his hand. "C'mon, I can help you more than the railing can."

"Promise not to sue me if I break your face by crashing into you?"

"Promise, now grab my hand and skate!"

Your hands in his, you take the leap of faith and separate from the barrier around the oblong rink. Namjoon slowly skates backwards, carrying you the whole way. Your eyes remain glued to your trembling feet, careful not to have the blades deviate too far out to one side or the other.

"Look at you!" he cheers, ever the positive one. "A whole two minutes on your feet."

"Shut up."

You won't deny that your progress surprises even you. Despite having to hold both his hands for the first ten minutes, then eventually one as you skate side-by-side for the following half-hour, you're more adept at skating than you thought you would be.

"You think you can try on your own for a lap?" he inquires.

Giving a hesitant nod, you let go of Namjoon's hand, saying, "Don't leave my side, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Taking a deep breath in, you push one skate out in front of the other and move yourself forward. The other follows after, and you get about twenty feet before you stumble and nearly fall face-first. Luckily, Namjoon keeps his promise and wraps his arms around your waist before you crash.

"Good try!" he exclaims, keeping his arms around your middle even after you regain your balance. "You got pretty far, actually."

You give an awkward chuckle and lay your nervous hands over his at your hip. "Maybe I'm not quite ready for a free-skate yet."

"No worries." He lets his arms drop and retakes your hand to steady you. The dimples appear next to his smile as he adjusts your beanie on your head, which had nearly fallen off in your almost-fall. "But I gotta say, you didn't have to fall for me on Day 1."

"So smooth!" You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a playful shove, only to gasp and reach back for him when he naturally skates backwards at the push. "Nevermind, I take it back. Please don't leave me in the middle of the rink."

Namjoon lets out a loud laugh, nearly doubling over as you cling to him. "You're so cute."

As you skate together, you keep getting the feeling that Namjoon has spent far more time on the ice than you previously assumed. After you get the hang of it yourself and are able to wobble along beside him without a constant hand to hold, he smiles a proud, wide smile.

"See? I knew you could do it!"

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Still nowhere near close to you."

"That's what a lot of people say," he brushes it off.

"Way to brag there, Joon," you snort, then immediately freeze in place so suddenly that you nearly fall over again. "Wait—you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

Namjoon's smile shows his dimples, and they deepen with his reply. "Not a bit." The song changes, playing the symphonic piece "Noel on Ice." Namjoon's face lights up, and he turns back to you with a wink. "Watch me?"

Nodding affirmatively, you release his hand and let him skate towards the center of the rink. His gaze remains on you as he spins to a stop in the middle, then turns his gaze downwards. Arms still at his sides, and his shoulders straighten. You await with bated breath for the next note.

The melody lifts, and Namjoon's arms follow suit. Piano notes drip across the chilled air, and the violin prompts an extension of his hands upwards. Then he moves, gracefully flowing from one movement to the next, as if this has been an ice dance built into his very being. The harp and cello urge him to move faster, spinning like a dancer across their stage.

Namjoon spins into the air, fully coming off the ice. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth out of fear, but he lands it with ease, shifting into his next series of steps like a professional. Flawless and practiced, he's caught the attention of everyone at the rink. As you look around, you see everyone else focused intently on the skater. Some even have their phones out to record. Not just one or two people, either; you see at least a half dozen with their cameras trained on Namjoon.

That in particular has you perplexed. Brows pulling together, you shift your eyes back to Namjoon. The piece is nearing its close, and he's moved back to the center of the ice. Twirling in place, he's moving like a spinning top. Always in a single place, so fast you can barely see, gracefully shaving ice under him so that snowflakes fall around him. He lowers, nearly sitting as he continues to twirl on one foot. The music grows to its crescendo. Slowly, he rises up and extends his hands towards the sky.

And then it hits you.

There's a reason why his face, his voice, and his presence is so familiar to you. You couldn't put your finger on it until just now, but the way he moves on the ice like he's the only one in the room — like it's a second home — brings you back to one of the first days you had in Seoul. That first day, at the Incheon Airport, the man you saw being bombarded with press and fans. Then again on the screens in the lobby of the immigration center. And again a few nights ago on the news.

RM Nam. South Korea's pride and joy, their greatest skater, the man bound for the Winter Olympics until a training injury earlier in the year put him out for the season. You're not into sports, but even you knew him by name and the tragedy that had occurred.

That legendary skater was the one in front of you now. He hadn't mentioned it, and you didn't suspect a thing until today. While definitely a shock, you can't help but be in awe of him even more. He isn't just good on the ice — he's like nothing you've ever seen.

As the music comes to a close, Namjoon skates to a halt. His spin finishes, and he ends with a ending pose bow. Clearly out of breath and shoulders heaving, his gaze shifts to you once again. Your smile widens, and you throw your hands up as you cheer. The others around you begin to clap, but you're by far the most enthusiastic one there.

Suddenly, Namjoon's persona returns to that of a shy and humble one. He bows again in the directions of the viewers, then scurries out from the center and back to you. Eventually, those around you begin to skate once more, ignoring the fact that one of the biggest sports icons in all of Korea is among them.

Namjoon runs a hand over his bleached hair, his smile sweet and his eyes a little nervous as he approaches. You shake your head in awe, letting a surprised laugh slip out.

"Okay, I see exactly what you're doing now. You suggested ice skating because you're Olympic-level! That's totally cheating, by the way."

Namjoon skids to a stop in front of you, as graceful as his takeoff. Without thinking, you reach your hand for his, which he gladly takes. "Figured it out finally, did you?"

"Call me stupid, but I honestly didn't see it until just now." You shove his shoulder with your free hand, only encouraging his teasing reaction. "RM: Guessing that's a stage name?"

He adjusts the beanie over his hair and gives an affirmative gesture. "Yeah, mainly to protect my privacy. Skating world can get pretty intense, sometimes."

You move your chin towards his shoulder, recalling that's where the injury occurred over the summer. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally okay. I go to PT a couple times a week. Mostly healed up, just can't compete for another few months. My coach has made me swear off skating until the New Year, but I figured it was worth throwing a little extra into trying to impress a pretty girl." He tilts his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "Did it work?"

Instead of responding verbally, you curl your finger towards you, a mischievous smile on your face. Namjoon lowers his head and skates closer to you. When he's within arm's reach, you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. A giggle slips out as his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.

"So... Is that a yes?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air and nearly falling over for the hundredth time that night.

Namjoon returns the chaste gesture to your temple as he helps you recover your balance. "Skate with me some more then?" he murmurs, adjusting your scarf around your neck with gentle fingers.

Your face hot and your stomach fluttery, you nod your response and loop your arm around his. "Only if you show me how to do that fancy twirl there at the end."

The idea has Namjoon laughing loudly. "That's my variation on the basic Scratch Spin, which took me about three months to nail perfectly in a routine."

"Then you'd better prepare to be here 'til February!"

After skating for hours, until both of you are exhausted and ready for food, Namjoon takes you to a nearby ramen shop that's close to the train station. It's a hole-in-the-wall, with less than five tables, but with ramen you're able to find a park bench and settle down there with your backs to the city lights and your eyes on the stars overhead. You each mostly in silence, just enjoying each other's company and the delicious food. You make sure to tell your companion how great the choice was, and you insist on coming back again soon.

After wrapping up the meal and seeing the late hour on your phone, Namjoon suggests you both start heading home. "Hate to have to take a bus at this hour instead of the last train," he snickers.

Fully in agreement, you let him take your hand again as the pair of you begin to walk back home. First on the train, then on the sidewalk the short distance to your apartment building.

As you turn the corner onto your short street, your apartment in sight, you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder and sigh happily. "Thank you for today. It was just...magical."

"Christmas magic?"

You nod against his jacket, wistful and content. "Definitely."

Stopping outside your apartment, you turn towards him, not letting go of his hand. Namjoon gives you a content smile as he looks at you, one where his eyes glisten at his coming words. "Then I have a chance."

"At what?"

He reaches yet again for your scarf, moving it from around your lower face so he can cradle it in his hands. "Restoring your hope in the holidays, and your hope in yourself and your choices."

"Ooof, that's getting ahead of it, I think." You bite the inside of your cheek as a small tug of anxiety and sense of being lost pulls at the back of your mind.

But Namjoon is relentless in his pursuit, and for that you're grateful. "That's why I have two more days planned."

"Already?" you laugh.

"You bet!" he exclaims. "In fact, I'll pick you up at nine on Saturday, but don't wear a dress or skirt. Are you free then?"

"For you, absolutely."

His teeth show through his grin, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyebrows. The gesture is gentle and sweet, made even more so by the warmth of his hands on your cheeks through his gloves. Nevertheless, it leaves you breathless.

After a moment of silence, he pulls away and lowers his grasp, but you crave the contact as soon as he relinquishes it. He nods towards your apartment, as if saying, "I'm not leaving until you're home safe."

You take the hint and give a tiny wave as you enter your building. "Have a great night, Joonie," you whisper through the cracked door. "And thanks again."

Namjoon waves back. "Goodnight, [Y/n]. Sleep well."

Saturday can't come quickly enough. You find yourself smiling more often, a joyful feeling in your heart as you go about your work shift and college classes. Even the smallest and insignificant things feel a little easier. The weather wasn't just cold anymore; it was full of beauty and hope and Christmas spirit.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he was helping you turn a corner.

Right before you're ready to head downstairs to meet Namjoon at the entrance, your phone begins to buzz. Lit up on the screen is an international number, but the area code is that of your old home. The butterflies of excitement die almost instantly, shriveling up into tiny balls of anxiety in your stomach.

Even though you ignore the call, you can't resist listening to the voicemail left behind. Putting your phone on speaker, you're shocked to hear your mother's voice wishing you a Merry Christmas, saying that she and the family miss you, and that they wished you would visit so you could clear up everything that went wrong over the summer. Your throat constricts at the sickly sweet tone; her voice always did drip in honey when she wanted something, she she was trying to manipulate her child. Between her conniving control and your father's lack of respect for privacy and personal boundaries, you remember all over again why you left.

You jump as your apartment bell rings, and the small screen by the door shows Namjoon at the entrance. "[Y/n], are you up there? I texted twice...not sure if you got those."

Looking down at your screen, you see that he's right. You have two unread texts from the last five minutes that you missed due to the unexpected caller. Shaking yourself out of it, you shoot him a quick response, close everything out, and head for the ground level.

"There you are!" Namjoon greets with a grin that almost makes you forget your mother's call.

Almost.

Forcing a smile and reply, "Sorry, I don't know why I didn't see your texts."

"No worries." He waves his hand as if to say it's nothing to worry about. "Are you okay? You seem bothered about something."

You glance up at him, unable to deny he looks slightly concerned. You mirror his laissez-faire attitude and brush it off. "Totally good. Heading to the station?"

"Not this time." Namjoon gestures towards the bike parked by the corner of the building. "You ready to go?"

"Both of us, on that? Are you sure that's safe?"

"Oh yeah! Trust me." He kicks the stand down and mounts the bike, patting the extended seat behind him. "I once rode up Namsan Mountain with Seokjin on the back of this thing, and let me tell you, he's a hell of a lot bigger than you."

Knowing he's probably right, you settle yourself on the seat behind him and wrap your arms tightly around his middle. It's probably not the most well-balanced thing in the world, but you trust Namjoon more than you buy into your fear of falling. "No skirts or dresses, huh?"

"Now you get it," he laughs, pulling out onto the bike lane on the street headed into towards the older side of the city. "Unless you'd like a wardrobe malfunction."

He picks up speed and gets to an easy pace down the street. It's fast enough to get to your location speedily but slow enough that you're able to stare at the beautiful buildings and wondrous landscape around you. Even the people have an aura of happiness caused by Christmas. Had it always been this stunning? Or had you been blind to it until just now?

"Seokjin, as in Kim Seokjin, your rival?"

"So you do watch the news," he sighs. "They aren’t portraying us as friends these days, are they?"

You shake your head and rest your chin on his shoulder. "Not really. I didn't know you were friends."

Namjoon shrugs his shoulders slightly, his voice monotone. "Yeah, well, we've known each other since we were seven, got into skating together around that time, and have been friends ever since. While I wish I didn't have to sit this one out, I couldn't be happier to have him representing South Korea at the Worlds — sorry, that's what we call the World Figure Skating Championships."

"Yeah, they're kind of painting you as opposites."

"That's just what the news does, I guess. Gossip and tabloids and fan-wars. I fell on the ice and hit my shoulder pretty hard; it had nothing to do with Seokjin. He and I talked before I left, too. We're on good terms. Most of us from South Korea are friends, actually. We only get represented as enemies because it's a competition. But a lot of times we're on the same flights, in the same hotels, in the same training areas, you get the idea."

Namjoon pulls up to a stoplight at a near empty intersection, waiting silently for it to shift colors. "Is that what you meant by change of career?" you inquire.

"You're observant," he chuckles.

You turn to rest your cheek on his back. "For what it's worth, and keep in mind that I don't know the first thing about figure skating or your injury or anything like that, but as someone on the outside looking in, you're still so talented. Last week, when you were skating alone, I couldn't tell at all you were injured, and you looked like you were really enjoying it. I don't know if that means anything to you coming from a novice, but if you're still in love with skating and want to get back out there, I think you should go for it. You're still spectacular to watch, Joonie."

There's a beat of silence, but then Namjoon glances over his shoulder and winks at you. "Would you come see me perform live if I did?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you state, "Why not?"

He laughs at your silly expression, then begins to move the bike again as the light finally shifts. "That actually means a lot, [Y/n]. Thank you."

The rest of the ride is quiet, at least until you begin to hear the sounds of a bustling outdoor market. Namjoon turns the final corner, and you're elated with the stone street in an older part of Seoul. Vendors in various booths stretch out in every direction. Some sell food or drink, some sell trinkets or clothing, some even sell vintage books or vinyls or movies. Every nook and cranny has something special to offer. The sights, smells and sounds bring an enormous smile to your face as Namjoon steadies the bike to a stop beside the bicycle rack.

You hop off with his help, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement as he parks and locks his bike on the stand. "This is amazing!" Turning to him, you catch him off-guard with a tight embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down to you.

Namjoon seems amused by your eager reaction, and he pulls you closer to him. "I thought you would like it. There's nothing quite like Christmas than a market."

After letting him go, you press a kiss to his cheek as you lower back down to your level. Namjoon's hands tenderly cradle your face, just like last time, only today he's glancing away from  your eyes and down to your lips. As your heartbeat quickens, you pull him back to you, fingers grasping at his winter jacket.

His voice is deep and soft as he asks, "May I...?"

Your cheeks flush as you nod your approval. Namjoon's dimples deepen as he lowers his face to yours, barely brushing his lips against yours in the gentlest kiss you've ever had. You close the distance, tugging at his jacket so he moves closer. He gives a tiny laugh against your mouth, then follows your guidance to deepen the kiss. One hand slips back to your hair; he gently plays with the strands.

A moment later, and you're sighing as he pulls away, both light-headed and light-hearted. Namjoon smiles down at you, gives you a surprising second peck, then pulls back with a chuckle. "You're a really cute kisser, y'know that?"

You drop your head and hide your face in the front of his coat. "Shut up."

Your companion's laughter echoes in the air around you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and places his lips briefly on the top of your head. "Are you hungry? I know where we can get the absolute best Tteok-kkochi."

Eventually you lift your head and nod, feeling your stomach rumble at the thought of rice cake skewers. Namjoon moves his arm from around your shoulders, taking your hand instead, and ushers you into the first aisle of the Christmas market.

If it was magical from the outside, it's even more so from within. Somewhere in the distance, you hear holiday music playing. Not the commercial Christmas songs you're used to, but instrumental music that plays perfectly with the sounds of the market crowds. You're awestruck by every single booth you pass, and Namjoon promises to take you back to all of them after you grab a bite to eat.

Which are well worth the walk into the interior of the market. The Tteok-kkochi are cooked to perfection, drowned in a sauce, and by far the best you've ever had. Even after circling back to the booths you missed on the way, you beg Namjoon to lead you back to get another set.

"I've found heaven," you exclaim dramatically, taking the next two from the cook behind the counter and hanging one to your companion. "I'll never have rice cake skewers this good again."

After paying, you spot a section of the market decorated with lights and colorful orbs, much like the decorations you're used to seeing in the West. "Can we go over there next?"

Namjoon spots where you're pointing and eagerly agrees. The pair of you make your way towards the greenery and decor, amazed at the giant Christmas trees decorated to perfection on the periphery of the market.

"That's a massive tree," he gasps, staring upwards. "Are those normal in America?"

"Maybe at a mall or outside a hotel or something," you reply, equally as taken back. "I've never seen one that big in person in a long time."

As you peruse the Christmas section of the market, slipping from booth to booth as the clock strikes Noon, Namjoon asks, "Have you decorated your apartment at all? I know it can be kinda hard to find stuff in Korea like you're used to."

"Not really," you admit in passing. "Between work and school and, y'know, starting a new life in a foreign country, the holidays kinda fell on the back-burner."

Namjoon taps your shoulder, ushering your attention towards the old, American Christmas movies booth a few spots away. You gasp and rush over with renewed excitement, eyes scanning eagerly over the shelves. They have just about everything, from the classics like "It's A Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" to movies you grew up on like "Home Alone" and "Elf." The more you sort through the outdated DVDs, the bigger your smile gets.

"What's your favorite Christmas movie?" Namjoon asks, casually looking through the Christmas vinyls on the booth next to the movies.

"Without a doubt, Ron Howard's 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas.'"

"The one with Jim Carrey?"

"You know it!"

He laughs. "Yeah, my little sister and I watched it a lot when we were kids."

Your head perks up at the mention of a sister. "I didn't know you had siblings, either."

Namjoon nods. "Yeah, she's in college, too. Studying to be a psychologist."

"She sounds amazing."

"Yeah, the family is very proud. I know I am." He pulls out a vinyl for one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas records. "Do you have siblings?"

At the question, your gaze shifts back to the movies, hands preoccupied with finding the perfect one. "I do. A brother and a sister."

"Older?"

"Yeah..."

"What are they like?"

"A lot like my parents," you sigh, moving on to another shelf, turning your back to your companion. "Which is part of the reason I left, so..."

Namjoon senses your anxiety around the topic and rests a hand on your shoulder as he passes by. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize--"

You cut him off with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no worries, really." Spotting the record under his arm, you ask, "Find one you like?"

While he doesn't seem to buy your act, he lets the conversation go and holds up the vinyl for "Tales of Noel on Ice" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, as performed by the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra.

"You don't already have that one?" you gawk in surprise.

"I don't actually," he admits bashfully. "The title composition is one of my best free skate performances, and I have a record player at home, so why not?" He gestures to the movies. "Did you find one?"

"Oh, I don't need one! I was just looking. I don't even have a DVD player anymore."

"I do, so pick one out and maybe we can watch it sometime."

You shake your head at him, trying to subdue a chuckle. "A record player and a DVD player? You're so odd."

"But to your benefit," he reminds you with a wink, pulling out a single movie nearest him. It happens to be your favorite with Jim Carrey in all his hilarious glory on the front.

Cocking an eyebrow, you give a tiny round of applause at the luck of pulling that film out of all the others. "Well, you're going to have to invite me over sometime then."

"You can count on it."

For the next couple hours, Namjoon and you make your way through the entire market, hitting all the shops that interest and intrigue you. All the while, you talk about a plethora of things and get to know each other letter. For instance, you find out that he was born in Ilsan, not too far from where you are now, and that he hates seafood just about as much as mint chocolate. You also find out that he looks like his mother, who was the one that got him into skating to begin with. And to no one's surprise, Namjoon is actually very funny. Not only is he smart, athletic, and good looking — which alone would have caught your attention — he's got a wicked sense of humor to top it all off.

Likewise, he learns more about you. You tell him about the city you grew up in, the friends you had in high school, what you studied before you came to Korea. You tell him that along with your studies, you're really invested in writing and try to make time for that as well. It hasn't been so easy since the move, but you're hoping to get back to it in the new year.

As you approach mid-afternoon, and the final leg of the market, your phone begins to buzz. Your screen lights up with the same foreign number as before. Instantly, both your feet and your heart stop. Your shoulders tense up, and you turn to a blissfully unaware Namjoon, saying, "Hey, I gotta take this. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" he asks, the person in front of him not the same happy-go-lucky one as before.

You give him a nod of reassurance. "I'll catch up."

Before he can reply, you've turned and moved towards the massive Christmas trees, where there's an opening and the crowds are quieter. Despite what you told him, you don't intend on answering. Whoever is on the other end of that line, be it your mother or father or siblings, you want nothing to do with them. You do, however, want this to be over. You promise yourself to hear the message, block them, and then go run an errand after the holidays to get a new number.

After the call drops, you wait with an anxious feeling building in your stomach. Maybe they didn't leave a message. Maybe it wasn't your family after all. Maybe — 

A soft ping alerts you that you have a new message. Selecting it, you raise your phone to your ear and hear your father this time. He repeats all of what your mother said, only with a layer of frustration and authority that she didn't use. He's borderline cruel as he spouts the same old lies that you're trying to unlearn; it's your fault, it's because of you, you're the cause of it. What it is, depends on the day. This time is has to do with your family not being the same and their world falling to pieces. He uses colorful sentences, well-crafted insults, but all you hear is blame, blame, blame. 

Tears prick your eyes as the voicemail ends, and you realize you should've just deleted the message when you had the chance. A small part of you still hoped they would change, even after all this time, but you see now that it's not possible.

They will never change, and neither will you.

The pit of depression weighs down in your stomach, and loneliness tingles at the back of your throat. Why now? Out of all the times, out of all the days, why are you feeling these things now? You're out having an adventure with a man who you really like, and who you know likes you, in a city you now call home. You're far from any sadness or trauma or family or friends that once brought you down. You've left your past behind. You'd started to feel like there was hope in the holidays and in the future again, like the last year was worth the pain, like everything was starting to turn around.

But suddenly, that snake is wrapped around you again, pulling you back into old habits and old ways of thinking. It's grabbed on tight and is pulling you back into the dark, away from people you care about, away from people who care about you.

Even as you glance up at Namjoon a few stalls away, completely naïve to the painful flickers going through your mind, you feel the need to draw back. Pull away. Stay away. Go back to the security of the known, of the sad, of the lonely. It's warm and comfy, even if it hurts.

Clenching your fists, you try to silence the noise in your brain by shaking your head. The thoughts only grow louder, and the pit in your stomach gets heavier. You haven't felt a depressive episode like this in a long time. You thought they were long gone, especially now, especially with him...

"[Y/n]? Are you okay?"

Looking up, you see Namjoon's approaching you in the clearing. One hand carries the movie and vinyl he purchased for you both, but the other is outstretched towards you. While you don't pull away from his touch, you taste bile in the back of your throat.

"I—I need to go home," you mutter. "I'm starting to feel sick."

"Oh, okay, hold up I'll go get my bike and I'll take you home."

Feeling your breath quicken, you pull your gaze from Namjoon and nod shakily. The walk back to the bike rack is silent, even the crowd outside fades to a low background murmur. Namjoon places the purchased items in his bicycle carrier, then mounts it.

You follow suit, regret beginning to pile up inside you. Running isn't going to help anything, and you know he must be hurt and confused. But to you, the only thing you can do right now to protect yourself is get away from it all and go back to the place where you feel safest.

Tears burn your eyes as you curl up against him. Namjoon pedals speedily to your apartment, making the trip faster than last time. When he pulls up to the curb, you hop off without a word.

"Do you need me to walk you up?" he offers, worry causing his brows to pull together.

You shake your head and put distance between you both. "No, I'm fine. I'll...text you later, okay?"

Without another word, you turn and enter through the front, leaving Namjoon behind on the other side. Trekking up the stairs, through the door, past a mewling Mochi, you curl up on your bed and let yourself finally feel all the sadness piled up inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the waterworks flow when your phone lights up from an incoming text. Knowing exactly who it is, you grab it and text a swift message to Namjoon.

"I'm so sorry I left so suddenly. And that I ruined our day. Not feeling like myself."

"That's okay. I just got home, so I wanted to check up on you. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Do you need anything?"

"No, but thank you."

"Okay... Maybe we can try again some other time? I'd hate to let you down on Day 2."

Unable to reply, the phone turns black and you let it fall onto the duvet.

The days leading up until Christmas Eve were long and full of guilt. You closed the café for the final time the Monday before the holiday, and with no classes to attend, you mainly stayed inside and watched the snow fall outside your tiny apartment window. Mochi kept you company, but even the small fur ball could sense that something had changed for the worse. Even she had gotten used to you being happier this December; you'd taken two steps back while attempting to take a single step forward.

Every morning, you'd spot Namjoon riding his bike past your apartment on his way to the rink where he trains. Every day, he'd stop and gaze up at the building, never sure which frosty window you were behind but melancholy just the same. He'd call and text; the former, you would never answer, but the latter, you did sporadically. Mainly at night when you thought he wouldn't be up.

He usually was.

"Was it something I did?" he asked that Tuesday before Christmas. "Did I move too fast? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No. It's not you."

"Then tell me what it is. I don't want to come across as pushy, but I thought we were getting closer...and then you pull back and hide from me. From everyone. I know I don't know everything about your past or what happened before you came to Seoul, but I promised you three adventures. I still have one to make good on before Christmas."

"Joonie..."

You couldn't bring yourself to write more. The tiny part of your brain that told you that maybe this can work, maybe it's worth trying, maybe things can be different now, it was silenced by the overwhelming majority of your mind. It remembered everything from your past, from the hurt and pain, from the loneliness and fear. Despite your wish to make things right again, it was drowned out by the pure terror of being wronged again.

"Don't shut me out. Please. Let me show you things can be different now. You don't have to go at this alone, [Y/n]. Not anymore."

Pushing down the urge to cry yet again, you move your fingers to type a swift and cold reply. "I'm so sorry I wasted your time, Namjoon. I really am. I thought I was ready, but it's clear that I'm not. Please, spend Christmas with your family. Don't waste any more time on me."

And that was the end of it. You muted his notifications, ignored his calls and texts, and eventually he went silent. The day before Christmas Eve was the first you didn't hear from him, and it was the first day you felt like you'd truly fucked things up for good.

On Christmas Eve, you got an unexpected call from Lisa. Deciding to take a break from staring at an empty Word document with ever-growing frustration, you answered the call, only to be bombarded by Lisa's rambling.

"Oh, thank god! I didn't think you'd answer! I need a huge favor, and I hate to bother on such short notice on Christmas Eve, but this really cannot wait and I'll love you forever if you—!"

"—Okay, okay," you chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

"I need you to run back to the café and grab something for me. Jungkook is on his way there, but he doesn't have a key."

"What could you possibly have left that's this important?"

"My fucking credit card."

"You've been out of town for two weeks and only just now realized you left your card?"

She heaves a frustrated sigh. "Please, just, do me this favor?"

Rolling your eyes, you pull yourself from the sofa and grab your keys on the counter. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Yes, yes, I know."

You leave the apartment in a hurry, taking the next train to the café. In less than fifteen minutes, you're at the front door. Lisa assures you that Jungkook is on his way, only twenty minutes away. After unlocking it, you make yourself at home in the lobby with a fresh white chocolate mocha. It reminds you of Yeongu, and you smile at the thought.

After about a half hour, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Lisa's text has you halting in place.

"I'm sorry to do this. You didn't really give me another choice. I crossed a line, but I think you'll thank me in the end."

Your fingers are swift typing a response. "What did you do?"

"You remember how you gave me a spare key in case you ever got locked out? Or in case you were kept at school too long and needed someone to feed Mochi?" A pause, then she adds, "He came to Busan, [Y/n]. He asked me in person what to do. Do you know how out of the way that was for him? Give him another chance. Please."

"You didn't."

"I did. I'm sorry, but you've talked about how you pull away when you get close to people. It's gone on for almost a week. It's Christmas Eve. You can hate me all you want later, but please. Go home, kiss and make up, then try to salvage Christmas."

A huff of air exits your nostrils as it hits you. Lisa's given the spare to Namjoon. Jungkook was never on his way; this was all a rouse to get you out of your apartment long enough for him to get inside. But to what end?

"He's good for you; I can tell that much already. If you ever were to give someone the benefit of the doubt and place your broken pieces in someone's hands, he's the best you're gonna find."

A pang of truth rocks through you, and while you have still a semblance of willpower, you shoot her a swift text and rush back for the station. "I'm still mad at you, but we'll talk later. I need to get home."

"Go get him!"

The series of stairs up to your apartment never felt so long. Out of breath and winded from rushing home, you find the door unlocked. Pushing through, the place you left less than an hour ago isn't the same as it was before.

The entrance hallway is glittering, multi-colored strands of twinkle lights hanging along the periphery. Fake snow lines the trim, and paper snowflakes are tossed across the furniture. Each one is unique and hand-crafted.

As you venture further, a rainbow array aurora covers your living room and kitchen. There must be at least a dozen lengthy strands of Christmas lights hung across the few items you've unpacked, circled around the sealed boxes, and framing every window and door.  Fake icicles hang on the windowsill, fake greenery lays where curtains should be, and a small Christmas tree stands at your height in the corner.

Jovial, English holiday music plays softly in the background. And humming along to the tune of The First Noel, Namjoon stands with bent-back facing you. He's finishing his final touches on the tree, ensuring that each sparkling orb and shimmering tinsel is perfect. He adjusts the star on the top with a smile to himself, oblivious still to your entrance.

For a moment, you stand in silence and watch him. Your heart is heavy but still beating. If anything, seeing him in the midst of such a sweet and selfless act makes it flutter. Even after cutting his well-planned adventure short, ignoring him for over a week, and telling him to stop speaking to you, he's still here. He came back, and he's trying to prove to you the truth he's been spouting all along.

Eventually, you blink out of your stupor and clear your throat to alert him to your presence. Namjoon turns on his heel, elbow grazing the tree just enough to send it toppling backward. He curses and lunges for it, grabbing it by the star just in time to keep it upright. His characteristic clumsiness prompts a snicker from you, one that you attempt to hide with your hand over your mouth.

Namjoon adjusts the tree and turns back to you with a bashful expression. His lips pull into a side-smile, a single dimple popping out in the process. "H—Hi..."

"Hi," you repeat back to him, letting your hand fall. Your eyes follow suit and drift to your damp, snow-covered shoes.

A beat of silence passes where neither of you knows what to say next. Then the both of you break it at once, words tumbling over each others several times in a row. You laugh to yourself and look back up at him; Namjoon smiles down at you, shaking his head at the awkward reunion.

He gestures silently to you. "Go ahead."

You clear your throat, then say, "I...I wanted to say that I owe you an apology."

He shakes his head firmly, extending his hands in a olive-branch manner. "No, you don't—"

Your feet move back, putting space between you both. "—Can I explain and finish, please? Just...hold your forgiveness until then." At your request, your companion falls silent, letting his hands fall respectfully at his side. Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, you re-calibrate your mind and prepare for your admission.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet," you begin softly. "Ah, shit — That came out super mean. I mean, you know a lot about me. You kinda know why I moved to Korea, the situation with my family back in America, that whole thing. You know where I work and what I'm studying. You know my favorite drink of all time is a white chocolate mocha, and that my favorite customer is barely four feet tall. You know Lisa is my shield at work, and that we've become pretty close in less than a year. You know I'm a homebody and that my favorite thing to do by myself is play with Mochi and watch dramas."

You release a huff of air and raise your eyes to meet his, a wistful smile tugging the corners of your lips. "But there's a lot I haven't told you — or anyone for that matter. I've gone through...a lot of shit this year. When I moved to Seoul, my mental health was in the trash, and my self worth was in shambles. I'd just been shoved from everything I'd ever known into a foreign place."

When you pause for a moment, Namjoon's small and steady voice pipes up with a single inquiry. "I thought you left willingly?"

"I did," you state. "I've wanted to move to South Korea for a long, long time. Since I can remember. But I never thought I'd lose everything before then." Tears prick your eyes, and you lift your sleeve to wipe your nose. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Namjoon gestures towards the small sofa, and you follow his lead. You perch on a single cushion, legs folded underneath you. He takes the adjacent one, far enough to for personal space but still close enough to rest a hand on your knee. This time, you don't push him away as you catch your breath. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, I do, but maybe not now." You take another breath in and focus your thoughts. "I didn't mean to start all that with the intention of being the victim and making you feel bad for me. I...I told you that because I wanted you to know that there are reasons why I push people away. I've been on a journey to heal that trauma all year, but it doesn't happen overnight. But even with that, I never should have just left like that. I never should have ignored your calls and texts. I shouldn't have made you feel like you were the bad guy, or that any of this was your fault, or that you did anything wrong. You were—"

You struggle to find a word that fits what you're truly feeling, one that doesn't feel overwhelming, but the only one that comes to mind is... "You are perfect, Joonie. You're sweet and kind. You treat me like a normal person that's worth something, and I think part of me was scared of that. Especially around the holidays, I feel very fragile, and I run from things I think might hurt me."

"I would never, ever hurt you." Namjoon flashes a soft and empathetic smile. "Can I ask why you got spooked so suddenly? You looked off when I picked you up, and I know you said it was nothing, but..."

You pull your phone from your pocket and play the message for him, the one from your mother. And when he remains silent, you play the second from your father. While he listens, you watch him. The hand on your knee turns to a fist, and his jaw clenches. Part of you is relieved that someone else is reacting negatively to the messages, yet another signal to you that your choice is validated.

"I got the first that morning, but the second right before I left," you murmur. "I didn't respond, and I've blocked the numbers, but I've felt unstable since then. That's why I shut down, and why I left."

He nods, then turns off the phone. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. That's emotional abuse and manipulation. No one should have to go through that."

"I know, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for doing that and for hurting you. It was wrong, and I don't deserve you coming back again and again...even if you concocted this up with Lisa."

At your light-hearted comment, he chuckles and bites the inside of his cheek. The fist on your knee loosens back, his fingers tapping gently against your skin. "She told you, did she?"

"Yep," you chirp. "I'll thank her later."

After a moment, Namjoon's eyes flicker back up to yours. For a moment, he almost looks worried. "Are you mad?"

"Meh." For a moment, you're able to hold your composure long enough for your companion's eyes to widen in horror. "I'm just kidding," you relent, and Namjoon looks visibly relieved. "How could I be mad? Look at all this!" You gesture to the magical space around you. "It looks like a wonderland in here."

A crimson hue fills his face, and he's all of a sudden very shy about the accomplishment. "I wanted you to feel like you had a Christmas, even if it was just for one night."

Leaning your head against the back cushion of the sofa, you stare at him with a bittersweet smile on your face. "Are you mad at me?"

He shakes his head, expression more adamant about that than anything he's said so far. "Not a bit. I was worried, yes, and maybe a little disappointed. I think most of that was tied to the fact that I thought we were on the up-and-up. I saw you slowly opening up and having a good time."

"Gahhh," you groan, eyes fluttering shut with frustration at your past self. "I really fucked it up, didn't I?"

"Not really." His hand slips up your knee, and he weaves his fingers through yours. The squeeze he gives and the gaze he locks gives emphasis to his next words. "I know I don't know everything about you, just like you don't know everything about me, but I'd be lying if I said you aren't the most joyful thing I've experienced in a while. Being around you makes me happy, and the fact that this has you so down makes me want to be there for you — if you want me to. I don't blame you for anything you've done, so you have nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, after hearing those messages and some of what you've been dealing with this year, I know I would've reacted the same way. But, if it helps your peace of mind, then I forgive it all."

"Thank you," you whisper, trying to blink away the tears pricking your eyes.

Namjoon's gaze softens, and he tugs on your hand. "C'mere." You scoot closer, and he pulls you the rest of the way onto his lap and into his arms. Your legs dangle off the side of his thighs, and your head nestles in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. One hand holds tightly to yours while the other circles your waist, dipping under your sweater to rub soothing circles on your skin. Your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him even closer than before.

"Sometimes terrible, inexplicable things happen to us and it takes us months — even years — to process." Namjoon's timbre is quiet and deep, rumbling against your ear as he speaks. "Everyone goes through that, even me. But it's so much harder to face it alone. Sometimes it takes a lonely, awful Christmas to see just how out of sorts you are. I don't know everything, but if you'll have me, I'd like to stick around to find out."

"You'd still be willing to get to know me more, even after seeing me at my worst?"

"Jagi, if this is your worst, then I would hate to introduce you to sixteen-year-old Kim Namjoon. That boy was a train-wreck."

Letting a watery smile show as laughter escapes your lungs, you reach upward and wrap your arms around Namjoon's neck. He pulls you closer, hands splayed on your back and waist. A sense of relief, and something like home, floods through you. Burying your face in his neck, you allow yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. Ever patient, your companion just holds you close as you come back around.

"Enough with the heavy," he breaks the silence, pulling back and wiping his thumb across your cheeks. Nodding towards the front of the space, where your television is, you follow his line of sight. "I brought your movie and the player. If you're okay with me staying over, do you wanna watch it?"

Leaning forward, you bring your face closer to his, murmuring, "I'd love that."

Namjoon closes the final distance. Both your eyes and his flutter shut as your lips meet in the middle. You tug on the collar of his sweater, encouraging him closer as his arms tighten around your waist. In a burst of bravery, you run your hand through his platinum hair and nip at his bottom lip. He inhales abruptly, and you giggle in response.

"You're gonna be the death of me, [Y/n] [Y/l/n]," he laughs, eventually pulling back to catch his breath.

You grin mischievously at him, biting your lower lip. "Still sure you wanna stay?"

"Definitely. Oh! And I placed an order for takeout, which should be here any minute."

You burst into laughter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as joy fills your body. "You really put all your chips on me coming to my senses, didn't you?" When he shrugs, you add, "What if I had said no?"

"Then I would've been eating for two alone in my apartment," he groans.

You shake your head at his antics and playfully poke the dimple in his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

His smile deepens at your words and gesture. “Merry Christmas, [Y/n].”

Just as he promised, food arrives at the front of your apartment a few minutes later. Namjoon hops up and volunteers to get it from the entrance, and you pop the movie into the player. Silencing the music on his phone, you select the "Play" option from the menu, and the credits begin to play over Anthony Hopkins' narration as your companion returns.

He serves up the food and delivers it to you on the sofa. With a rumbling stomach, you take it gratefully. Just as the singing begins, Namjoon settles into the seat beside you, hooking your leg over his so you maintain closeness as you devour the takeout. Neither of you have seen it in so long, and thus both of you are laughing whole-heartedly at every joke and hilarious mannerism.

After the meal is finished and the dishes are on the makeshift box side-table, you find yourself slowly slipping closer to your companion. Namjoon gladly pulls you closer, and by the middle of the movie, you're back in his lap. With the blanket wrapped around you both, his chin on your head, his arms around you with one hand tracing absent-minded patterns on the skin above your pants, you know you've never been more at home in Seoul than you are right now.

"I'm sorry I ruined your grand plans for Day 3," you murmur after a while.

Namjoon's hand on your waist halts, then changes to a reassuring, tapping pattern. "Be glad you did; this is way better than anything I had planned."

"While I have to agree, what did you have planned?"

You can hear his smile in his voice. "Well, honestly I hadn't decided between Lotte World or Seoullo 7017. You said you hadn't been to either of those, and at Christmas, they're magical. All the lights, the music, it's an absolute winter wonderland."

"Well, if I get to see you skate live, then we can definitely go to those after the solar New Year. Maybe...Maybe even call it a date?"

Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, one that makes you grin to yourself and sigh peacefully. His reply is loud and clear, a promise reverberating through his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."

As the movie continues, you relax and think back on everything that's happened this year. All your concerns and worries you had a few weeks prior, at the beginning of December, they all seem so far away now. Even those anxieties brought up recently feel as if they're resolved. he sense is comparable to that of a chapter ending and a new one is being written. And this time, you're the one holding the pen.

At the resolution of the film, you realize that what Namjoon set out to do over a series of adventures truly did come to fruition. Be it luck or fate or whatever you want to call it, he really has given you that spark of hope in the Christmas season. It's something you thought you'd lost, or perhaps you'd left it in America along with many other things. He's brought it back to life, and so much more along with it.

All that magic, all that wonder, all that love and hope and joy — Namjoon is right. It hasn't disappeared from the world, and you haven't outgrown the things you used to feel during the holiday season. It's all still right here, in front of you and around you, waiting to be taken with grateful hands and heart. Maybe it's not in the form it used to be, nor is it in the place it used to be, but neither are you. Both you and your home have changed this year. But despite it all, you are still here, still striving to love yourself and your new life, still trying to let the magic find you.

And this year, because of a wonderful person named Kim Namjoon, you had all the love and magic you could ever need.

[penguintransporter]

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part I

Here it is my ladies and gents! I hope you like it, and I apologise if it’s too long, but I got carried away. Please let me know if you like it because I am always up to work on my writing, so don’t hesitate to write me DM or send in an ask (I promise, I am the friendliest person out there). This one is dedicated to @bitchforaesthetics. Anyway, read, enjoy because part II is coming out very soon...

P.S. There is no covid-19 in this story :D

_____

If one asked anyone at the Arsenal Training Centre to describe Aida - the young brunette behind the reception desk, nine out of ten times one would hear the same answer:

Bundle of positive energy. 

It didn’t matter if one was a know or less-known footballer, coach, manager, medical staff or just a random fan touring the grounds - Aida, with her smile and positive energy, could chase away whatever dark cloud was looming above one's head. Yet, despite her contagious smile that was just loud enough and genuine curiosity, as any other human being, Aida wasn’t able to chase away the real dark clouds that seemed to clutch Hertfordshire sky in a tight embrace on that Monday morning. 

Seated behind the desk and waiting for her laptop to turn on, Aida observed the gloominess outside the building and all she saw was heavy blots of grey that seemed to carry all the weight accumulated during the month of December. 

Her last month at Arsenal FC, doing the job she enjoyed more than anything.

If it only had snowed; just a little.

 She would be lying if she said she liked freezing cold, and if anyone, she would be the absolute winner of “the worst balance on icy pavements” competition - if there was one - but Christmas had a different feel to it when everything was covered in fluffy and pillow white cover. And even if she wasn’t religious or celebrated Christmas as the majority of the people, she was a firm believer that snowy Christmas made that cup of hot cocoa, as she sat in her tiny studio under her favorite blanket, just a tiny bit better. 

Aida glanced at the small card that sat next to her laptop - red and golden swirls decorating the backside of it, and with a sigh she averted her gaze back at the laptop screen that had already turned on and was humming quietly - red Arsenal FC logo staring back at her. The large and Christmas decorated lobby was still quiet, but not for too long. In just a few minutes, most of the footballers and some other employees will start pouring into the building, either for training or for their 9/5 job, and with that the building will start buzzing with contagious energy. 

All except Sead. He was late on most of the days.

Aida looked at the clock in the corner of her screen before looking up expectantly at the door, and as if on cue, Alexandre Lacazette walked in through the door, talking to his fellow countryman Thomas who worked as a medical assistant. Both Aida and Thomas, along with some others were shortlisted for the layoff, but in the end it was Aida who pulled out the shorter straw. 

She shook her head, refusing to create unnecessary tension.

 Aida knew that she gained nothing from sulking and sadness. She still had to sit behind the reception desk for another few weeks, smiling and giving the best first impression to everyone who came in. So, with a deep breath, Aida lifted her chin high and looked at the two men in front of her. 

“Bonjour lads,” she grinned - the dark thoughts disappearing as soon as she spoke, leaning on the till in front of her. “Lovely weather outside, no?”

“Good morning indeed, sunshine,” Alexandre responded while still walking across the lobby, “I am actually wearing my bikini on underneath this outfit, what about you?” he added as he disappeared through the hallway that led to the changing rooms while Aida only laughed after him.  

“What a ridiculous man,” Thomas commented, stepping in front of Aida’s desk, smiling at her. “It is so cold outside. How did you travel?”

Aida sighed defeatedly. “Clio took four tries and a bottle of warm water to start this morning, despite the lack of snow and ice. I was really chuffed for this winter, but so far it has only been disappointing.” 

Her soon-to-be ex-colleague nodded, agreeing with her words before his eyes landed on the shiny invitation on Aida’s desk. “Oooh,” he mused, running a hand through his ginger curls. “Who’s date are you? Is it David? Please say it’s not him?”

“Nope!” Aida replied, giggling. There was nothing wrong with David Luiz - he was in fact a genuine sweetheart, but also notorious around the building for his charm and flirting action. Whether it was Aida at the reception desk when he needed an excuse for being late for the training or if it was Simone in the kitchen when he wanted another round of hash browns - he didn’t pick his victim nor his weapon. “Actually,” Aida started, “it was Finn from HR. He thought it would be a nice gesture since I do not get to stay here.”

“I don’t have to tell you again how sorry I am that you have to leave,” Thomas mumbled and Aida shrugged, hiding the disappointment. 

“Oh well,” she trailed off as few of the other players walked into the building and she made sure that she smiled at each one of them. She also made sure to high-five Calum Chambers as she did every morning for more than a year. “There is nothing that you can do really… Post?” she asked, trying to change the subject, and Thomas nodded, leaning over the till to grab the signing pad that rested on Aida’s desk while she shuffled some envelopes before pulling out a big, mustard yellow one. “There is something from Miami. I am assuming it is for Michael,” Aida spoke, exchanging the signing pad for the envelope. “Just tell me if there—  ,”

They were cut off by  the upstairs’ doors slamming shut with a force. Both her and Thomas looked up, watching Mikel Arteta walk downstairs with a risky speed - phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in a very quick and heavily accented English. Thomas quickly cast his eyes downwards, but Aida kept her eyes locked at the dark-haired man, waiting for the manager to notice her. When he finally did, she gave him a bright smile - ignoring the fact that he looked as if he was angry with the whole world - including Aida.

To Thomas’ surprise, Arteta returned Aida’s gesture with a friendly grin and a small wink before putting his agitated face expression back, walking away towards the training pitches.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” Aida’s colleague muttered, and she responded with a childish giggle. 

She was about to add something sarcastic, but the main entrance doors opened, letting the gust of cold wind trail in with force as Héctor Bellerín walked in with confidence that he mastered so well. He was dressed in clothes that resembled every outfit of Aida’s dad in the family photographs from the nineties, looking the only way Héctor Bellerín could -  both ridiculous and extremely cool at the same time.

“Want to watch me how I fail?” she whispered before clearing her throat a little, following their vice-captain with her green eyes. “Good morning, Héctor!” she called out, raising her voice so he could hear her perfectly. “Bollocks weather, innit?”

Nothing.

Not an eye-contact, a simple shrug, or any kind of motion or face expression that showed a tiniest bit of interest. 

Aida was aware that her friendliness sometimes caused people to recoil and shy away from her, and that her behavior could be overbearing at times, and she often wondered if people in the modern world, including Héctor, forgot how to be friendly and appreciate an honest smile. Aida was confused and a slightly bit hurt because it has been more than a year since she started working  for the club, and they only spoke two times - morning of her first day, and that time when they accidentally slammed into one another as they crossed their paths in the medicals. 

She wasn’t sure if she was doing something wrong because to Aida, he seemed like a nice and down to earth lad, and occasionally when she would observe him interact with his teammates and other staff members, she felt a pang of jealousy because she never got more than a cold stare across the room or occasional roll of his eyes.

“Maybe he’s just not a morning person,” Thomas commented, breaking Aida’s train of thoughts. He placed the envelope under his arm as he stuck his woolly hat inside the pocket of his puffer. “Anyway, I have to go. I have meeting in ten minutes. I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, good luck with your day,” Aida responded, watching Thomas walk towards his office on the ground floor. 

She sat back in her comfy chair with an itch of confusion mixed with some foreign feeling of sadness that started to tickle her. She couldn’t pinpoint what she was doing wrong when it came to Héctor Bellerín. They barely interacted, and yet he wasn’t giving her a chance. It didn’t help either that out of all people that Aida interacted with on a daily basis, he was the only one who made her heart both flutter and break at the same time. 

Her eyes glanced at the small calendar taped on the inside of her desk before resting on the party invitation again - her heart soaring with that familiar feeling.

**

Aida nodded, forcing a smile at some of the guests who passed her by. She wasn’t sure who they are or what their names were, but judging by their expensive clothes and blinding jewelry and watches, she figured out they must be very important people with lots of money.

The evening of the charity party has arrived quicker than she expected; quicker than she wanted, and even if the party was for a good cause, and she was meant to have a good time, she couldn’t shake off the tension that slowly accumulated over the past few weeks - her last weeks as the club’s employee. She didn’t want to leave, but despite talking with the HR department once again, there was nothing that she could do. Official answer was that the previous season was really bad for the club both, in terms of injury and finances, and that they had to cut the cost when it came to everything, including staffing. 

“Ada!” a boy’s scream rang out over the classical music they played, making Aida look up from where she was standing, and observing her pointy loafers and tiny specks of water residue from the drizzle of rain she caught on the way from the parking lot to the party.

Aida’s eyes connected with the small boy, dressed in a mini version of the official Arsenal FC suit as he ran towards her - his curly and unruly hair giving him a few extra inches in height. Despite feeling anxious and a bit sad, Aida smiled greatly at him, crouching down to his level before catching him in a tight embrace. Over his shoulder, she noticed his mother Alysha giving her an apologetic smile, but with a small nod, Aida reassured her that it was okay. She spent a lot of time with the boy on more than one occasion - in fact,  whenever Pierre-Emerick brought him to the centre, Pierre Jr. spent half of his time, sitting behind Aida’s desk as he talked in delight about his favorite cartoons and toys. 

“My God, look at you! You are so handsome tonight,” Aida mused and the boy giggled, embracing her once again, silently asking her to lift him up, and Aida obliged. Letting out a puff of air, she straightened up with the boy in her arms - it always surprised her to learn that he was heavier than he looked. With a smirk, she pulled at this red tie jokingly. “Has your daddy helped you with your tie?” she asked, tickling his stomach.

Pierre Jr. let out a loud cackle, squirming in her arms. “No, it was mamie. She also tied daddy��s.” Aida smiled at the boy’s mix of using French and English words, but as soon as the boy started telling her something about minions, Aida, as much as she hated to admit, stopped listening. 

The fact that she was going to be without a job occupied her brain and wasn’t something she was able to push away easily. Where did it go wrong? Obviously, like everyone else, she had her fair share of personal problems over the year, but she managed to keep them away from work - being nothing but professional and friendly the entire time. Aida always tried to give her best, treating everyone with nothing but respect, and even ran a couple of successful campaigns with the fans touring the grounds, but it was all in vain. 

Aida loved the club and being part of it. She loved the mornings when she would be one of the first to arrive, she loved that cup of coffee with Simone in the empty canteen, listening to all the anecdotes that happened since the older lady started working in the kitchen, fifteen years ago. Aida enjoyed the silly banter with footballers and the staff - heck, she even liked when Granit mispronounced her name and she had to correct him every day. She experienced so many nice moments during the past fourteen months and it felt so strange knowing that soon enough those moments will just be a nice memory.

“—so I told Curtys to stop hitting me with the pillow, but he didn’t. So I ate his hobnobs.”

Aida blinked quickly, reverting back to the reality from her thoughts and looked down at the little boy who was proudly explaining his hobnob revenge on his older brother. 

“Great job,” she answered, ruffling the boy’s hair before looking away from his glinting eyes and cheesy grin. Various groups of people mingled around her, and Aida moved her gaze across the room. Manager Arteta was talking to the club president while Claudia, the girl that was going to take her job along with being Arteta’s assistant was chatting excitedly with Naomi from PR. Everyone seemed to be in a better mood than she was, and Aida hated it. 

“Papa!” Pierre Jr. cried out happily and Aida followed his gaze. She spotted Pierre-Emerick, surrounded with some of the teammates and their significant others. 

“Do you want to go there?” Aida asked softly. Pierre Jr. nodded rapidly, and Aida craddled him before making her way through the well-dressed crowd.

**

Héctor Bellerín wasn’t exactly a man of few words, and everyone who knew him privately, knew that fact. The young Spaniard with an extraordinary London cockney accent loved to talk, appreciated a silly joke and banter, but also enjoyed discussing serious subjects and matters at any given opportunity. He was no stranger to a good book or a documentary, but also loved playing CoD with his teammates and just chill around his house. 

He considered himself polite, trying to treat everyone with respect, and most of the time he kept his cool - except that one time with Richarlison, but the lad deserved it. Yet, despite it all, the behavior of the girl behind the reception desk, for some reason, annoyed the shit out of him.

Héctor found her behavior tiring and utterly insincere. Ever since she started working, she would greet him with that smile that couldn’t have been a real one, asking him about the weather - day in and day out. It tired him to the point that he just decided to ignore her. 

On the other hand, he didn’t think that there was something wrong with her - moreover, he did agree with some of his teammates the first week she started working that she was actually pretty, but after another few weeks, her “eager beaver” behavior became a huge turn off. To Héctor, she seemed to be a type of girl that had no rest nor knew how and when to keep it down, and in his head, he used to paint this picture of her where she is making cupcakes every day, talking to fluffy animals and farting rainbows.

So, when she approached their group at the party, wearing a teal-coloured dress that wasn’t really a proper fit for her height or body type, carrying Aubameyang’s son in her arms, he waited for that bubble of overbearing happiness to burst in front of them. 

But it never did.

Instead, she greeted everyone with a short “hello” before reaching the little boy back to his father. “I apologise for interrupting your fun, but the best dressed man in this room wanted to go back to his daddy.”

“Excuse me—” Calum started, clearing his throat loudly as he smoothed down his tie. “What about us? We look decent as well, no?” 

His hand went towards Héctor’s shoulder, brushing the invisible dust from Héctor’s suit. 

Héctor swatted his hand away. 

“You look good too,” she replied, followed by a brief silence as Héctor took a sip of water, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. 

Wasn’t she a walking chatterbox? 

Has she already asked about Calum’s mother's wellbeing?

“Only good?” Alexandre pressed, but she sighed in defeat. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy your evening…” she trailed off, breaking the banter that his teammates started. “I have to go back to—” she bit her lip, looking behind her shoulder, “—I have some stuff to do.”

Only a few seconds later, Héctor watched her walk away through the crowd of men dressed in black suits and red ties. 

Part II