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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

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Wheels Up

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader (Y/N), Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, Emily Prentiss, Elle Greenaway, Tara Lewis, Jennifer Jareau, Matt Simmons, Luke Alvez

Summary: JJ goes on maternity leave, Spencer falls in love with her replacement that he's supposed to be mentoring, Emily Prentiss and Elle Greenaway work a case together that brings Simmons and Alvez in for help...

Warnings: Genius!Reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, star gazing, lots of fluff, mentions of past assault, grooming, drug addiction, spencer's trauma, Abductions, Rape, Murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 9.4K

a/n: this is for @starry-eyed-spence and @simmonsmilf CM fanfiction week, Day One: Favorite Character... only I couldn't pick just one.

To say Spencer fell in love at the least opportune time was a bit of an understatement. Everyone he’s ever come close to admitting his love to has either left him or died. Now he’s stuck with loving someone in secret, keeping it to himself and hoping that one day she’ll love him back.

He fell in love with a co-worker once again… which wasn’t the worst thing, office romances happen and it’s quite frankly all Rossi’s fault that they even had to worry about fraternization policies. The part that makes liking Y/N so difficult is that he’s supposed to be her mentor, he’s 5 years older than her, and if he was to ever make a move she would feel inclined to reciprocate in order to keep her job because that’s the unfortunate truth behind office relationships with significant differences in positions.

And worst of all… she doesn’t like him that way at all. She’s called him the brother she always needed, a best friend, the best mentor ever. She wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

“And why would she be?” He’s said this to everyone who knew about his crush on her. “I’m old and boring and she’s so cool?”

But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that every time she asked him to hang back to help her file something, or when they would buddy up in hotel rooms to discuss cases all night and end up down some star trek rabbit hole instead, every time he talked to her she was falling in love with him right back.

It once again all circles back to Rossi, if it wasn’t for him, Spencer wouldn’t even know her. She wouldn’t have ever been introduced to the unit, he wouldn’t be attached to her at the hip and he probably wouldn’t be as happy as he is with her in his life. Even if she wasn’t his girlfriend.

He’ll never forget the day Rossi asked him to meet her, to help her settle in…

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a minute?” Rossi called him into his office.

He sighed, putting his book down and walking up the stairs to his office. He closed the door behind himself and smiled awkwardly, “what’s up?”

“Sit,” he gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, where Spencer pulls one out and proceeds to sit down, anxiously. “As you know, both Kate and JJ will be out of the field in the next few months to have their babies and we need to bring someone in to fill the void until they return, so I reached out to the academy to see if they have any up and coming Dr. Reid like agents that they could loan us.”

“Why?” Spencer laughs at the choice of words.

“Well, honestly, why get new 2 agents when we could have two Reid’s? JJ will be back after a month or 2, it’s better to have more brains than brawn.”

“So they found someone and you want me to be their chaperone?” Spencer clues in. “Who are they?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, she’s a wonderful agent, but she’s pretty quiet, I don’t know much about her personally.” Rossi prefaces. “She’s a genius, high IQ like yours and just a plethora of knowledge inside that mind of hers. You’ll like her.”

“Alright,” he nods. “When do they start?”

“When JJ’s water breaks, but I’d like you to meet them and maybe even have them shadow you for a day?” Rossi asks, “I’ve actually arranged for you both to get dinner at a friend's restaurant?”

“Is this an arranged date or purely business? Don’t send me in there blind,” he worries. “I need at least a week's prep before I go on a date again.”

“It’s not a date, kid,” Rossi laughs. “She's just a lot like you were when I met you, and I know from watching you all these years that it’s not easy to do it alone, so can you just walk them through it?”

“Of course.”

That first dinner Rossi set up for them was more exquisite than either of them prepared for.

They spent the whole night discussing dissertations and their independent journeys through becoming a genius. He understood perfectly why Rossi and the Academy would think she was a lot like him, she was a genius, but she was awkward. It took a while for her to break out of her shell and open up, but by the end of the night, he already knew they were going to be friends.

“So,” she smirks, “would you mind telling me honestly how hard this job is?”

“Why?”

She sighs, “I’ve heard a lot about Thee Doctor Reid and how you were the youngest hired to the BAU and all the shit you’ve been through.”

“What are the rumours these days?” He awkwardly smiles back, rolling his eyes slightly.

“That you were brain dead in a cemetery from an overdose and yet you’re so smart you came back from the dead to kill the unsub and escape…” she looks more and more disappointed in the rumour as she tells it.

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth as he opens it to speak, making a tsk noise as he shakes his head. “Well, I did OD but it was the unsubs main personality that resuscitated me.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

He nods, “what about you? I’m sure you have a reputation based on a rumour?”

She presses her lips together the way he always did, just as awkward. She sighs, huffing the air out of her nose and looking fed up. “I was groomed and assaulted by an older boy who then told kids I had a stalkerish crush on him so if I was to ever tell anyone what happened, then no one would believe me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer knows the words don’t make up for what happened. “I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to get into profiling?”

She nods, “I got away with some PTSD and trust issues, most girls go through much worse… they deserve someone who gets it to look into their cases.”

Spencer nods. “That’s how I felt after my kidnapping too. It took a while for me to look at crime scene photos and not think about how they felt, and wonder why I lived when so many die?”

“I’ve never been a religious person,” she prefaces. “But I do believe we are here for a reason. Whether you choseto be here after your last life or this is some learning opportunity, or God is actually real? And you’re supposed to do good.”

“In narcotics anonymous, they reference god a lot, it’s helpful for the addicts, but I never get into it,” he opens up with her more than he’s ever opened up with any friend. “If my Devine purpose is to suffer in order to relate to those I’m supposed to help that’s a load of bullshit… honestly, I can get pretty angry thinking about why I’ve gone through what I’ve gone through doing this job, but it’s not as bad as what happened to me growing up, and it leads me to believe that I probably wouldn’t have had an easy time no matter how I live.”

She nods, “I know, I get that.”

“Sorry,” he snaps out of it. “I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

“It’s exactly what I asked for actually,” she reminds him with a soft smile. “If you can still come to work every day, after all that, you must be incredibly strong— and if I’m anything like you the way people say I am, I guess I can do it too.”

He had no idea she would end up being his best friend.

She shadowed him just once in the office, picked up everything right off the bat and immediately made a name for herself in the unit. Derek tried multiple names on her before one stuck, and they knew it stuck when even Hotch called her Baby Genius.

She brought a different knowledge base to the team, similar to Spencers but visibly younger. She fit in with the crowds of kids they had to interview, she understood why kids reacted the way they did to trauma and abuse, and she was still a kid at heart. It was the reason Spencer fell for her.

She allowed him to feel free again. They went out together outside of work, going to events he always wanted to go to with a partner but never had a chance. She loved all the same things as him, and she takes him to places he’d never imagine enjoying before her.

Like laser tag… that was an afternoon he’ll never forget with her.

When JJ went into labour, that’s when Y/N started full time and Hotch hired Tara Lewis in the same week. The team barely had time to adjust to being undermanned before they were restocked.

Joining Spencer every morning for every case, she waited out front of her apartment for him to pick her up most mornings, sticking to his side throughout the long days and nights until he drove her home again. Even at work, they were partnered up for everything: heading to the M.E. together, bouncing facts back and forth at the precinct, playing good cop bad cop with perverts, and her personal favourite… Making the geoprofile.

And Spencer liked doing that part with her as well. Because it typically meant they were completely alone in a room, spreading out a map and leaning in close to each other as they placed every sticker and marker. Brushing hands, bumping shoulders, longing glances as they made connections… he also just liked to watch her hands move.

She was delicate and careful and precise… and he was falling in love with everything about her as the days went by.

Everyone on the team had noticed. It was really hard not to when they’ve all known Spencer for almost 11 years now. He was so different with her in his life, he was happy and giddy and dressing even better than before. His hair was perfect and he was glued to Y/N’s side. Or she was glued to his.

Even though they were mentally similar, physically they were polar opposites. Y/N wore all black and was a lot more outgoing than they expected. Rossi thought she’d be quiet… But she was constantly talking. To Spencer, to other officers, to witnesses, she never stopped talking and starting conversations, and thank god she did because she’s cracked 4 cases that way.

The biggest surprise the team learned about her happened on a case in Florida, a shooting in a local park in broad daylight with lots of witnesses meant the whole team was on the boardwalk asking questions. She went out to do her thing, talking to the local skaters, asking them if they knew anything but they didn’t want to cooperate.

They were too cool for the feds.

“Can I see your board?” She asks, “if I do some tricks will you answer some questions for me and Doctor Reid?”

“Knock yourself out,” one of the boys laughs as he hands her his board.

She hands Spencer her gun and shoots him a wink before taking off to do a few tricks. The whole team watches in awe then as Y/N showed off. Cruising along the halfpipe effortlessly like she was a professional.

“Okay Tony Hawk,” Morgan teases her, “where did that come from?”

“Skateboarding is easy, it’s just physics,” she shrugs. “I can figure skate too…”

“What do you want to know?” The boy takes his board back. “We always see some sketchy guys around here.”

Morgan pats Y/N on the back with a smile, applauding her ability to get anyone to open up before leaving her to take the statement.

“Agent?” One of the girls pulls her aside just before they are about to leave, “how did you do that kickflip? I’ve been trying to learn and the boys won't help me.”

“Sure thing,” she takes the girl's board and demonstrates a kickflip first.

“So, you see as I start the kickflip I bend my knees?” She shows her another kickflip all while explaining it. “Much like the with an ollie, I’m building pressure so I can apply it to the tail, making the board pop. The one thing that makes this trick different from the ollie is that instead of sliding my foot up, I just flick my toe out to the right of the board, by doing this, the board flips in a 360-degree motion.

She demonstrates again and it’s another flawless kickflip, and a huge smile on her face as Spencer watches her.

“How fast the board spins depends on how much force I put into it when I flick it out. As soon as the board flips in a full 360, your feet should connect and drive the board back to the ground.”

She hands the board back to the girl, “your turn.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her nerves out before taking off on her board, looping around and carefully bending her knees, she follows every step and it’s a flawless kickflip.

“Flawless!!” Y/N claps. “Those boys better watch out, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you,” she wraps her arms around Y/N and gives her a hug, “it’s taken me so long to be able to do that, you’re so cool.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. “Good luck out there.”

She waves as she takes off on her board, leaving Y/N with a smile as she turns to Spencer. “I miss being that age and thinking everything is so cool.”

“You are really cool,” he agrees. Smiling softly as a blush fills his cheeks. “You’re always surprising me. Is there anything you can’t do?”

She laughs, “yeah the one thing I want to do the most.”

“Which is?”

She sighs, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

—

He’s sitting beside Penelope and Savannah, watching Derek and Y/N get drinks for what’s left of the group as the night drags on.

“When are you going to tell her?” Savannah asks.

“What?” Spencer pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You have a crush on the new girl…” she pokes his cheek as he blushes and gives it away. “Tell her, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could feel forced to say yes because I’m a supervisory special agent and she isn’t and she wants to keep her job so she feels like she needs to,” Spencer worries. “I want her to like me back because she fell for me and I want her to initiate it because then I’ll know it’s not just a power dynamic issue.”

“Have you tried asking her, genius?” Penelope teases. “Because if you asked her then you’d know she has a crush on you and she’s afraid you’ll turn her down because you’re an SSA and she isn’t.”

“When did you hear that?”

Penelope pretends to lock up her lips and throw away the key, making Savannah laugh loud enough to get Derek's attention at the bar. When he and Y/N return, that’s when the questions start.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Spencer gets up and leaves the booth, walking out towards the smokers' exit at the back of the bar, getting a moment of semi-fresh air to think about what Penelope said.

“Spence?” She calls to him from the door, “are you okay? Can I come out here?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, I needed some air, it’s nothing.”

“Do you need a hug? I read it helps the most when people are stressed out,” she plays it off with a shrug.

“So you do have a crush on me?”

“She told you?” Her face lights with fury, “what the fuck, Penelope?”

“She didn’t mean to,” he tries to cover it up. “It was only brought up because I have feelings for you as well.”

Her eyes widen, her brows raise and her mouth slowly opens as she freezes.

“Y/N?”

She blinks a few times and shakes her head, “impossible. There’s no way.”

He laughs, “I’ll take that hug now?”

She lunges for him and wraps her arms around him so tight. Breathing him in, her hands wander his back as she takes in every second if it and he does the same. He can’t believe she’s that close to him, her hair smells nice and she’s so soft in his arms.

It’s quiet outside, they can hear the music behind the door, the people in the ally talking and the crickets in the night. It’s just them outside, holding each other in the smoking section with smiles on their faces, amazed that it’s finally happening.

“Can we keep this between us?” She whispers into his ear. “Just for a bit? I don’t want to go through all the paperwork and have to separate in the field if it doesn’t work out?”

“Wait,” Spencer pulls back. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

She nods, “well yeah isn’t that what happens when two people have a mutual crush? They date?”

“Okay,” he smiles, staring at her lips and then flicking his gaze back to hers with a blush. “I have more than a crush on you, I really, really like you.”

“Prove it,” she teases, “let's go on a real date soon?”

“You know what, let’s get out of here. I have something I want to show you,” he takes her hand and waits for her to nod.

“Take my lead okay? You don’t feel good and you’re going to wait outside while I say goodbye,” she has a plan right away

“After you,” he holds the door open for her and lets her inside first.

—

“I’m taking Spencer home, he’s not doing well,” she’s a much better actress than Spencer expected, patting his back and watching him leave the bar before her like she asked him to do. “He’s really anxious?”

Penelope looks worried, “oh no, I fucked up. I told him you like him.”

She just shrugs, “if he didn’t know that already then I guess he’s not as smart as he pretends to be.”

“See,” Derek looks at Savannah. “I told you everyone else also thinks he’s faking being that smart.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him and turns her attention back to Y/N. “Go make him feel better, he’ll like your company.”

“I’ll see you guys at work on Monday,” she waves them goodbye, surprised they bought it as she rushes her way back outside to Spencer.

He’s already in his car, engine running and waiting for her with a smile. “Come on,” he hurries her inside and is taking off down the road before she even has her seatbelt on yet.

“What’s the rush, Spence? It’s only 1 in the morning I’m sure tones of places are open still?” She teases.

“You’re going to like this, I used to go here all the time when I started with the bureau,” he explains, leaving the main road to take a back root, and eventually they’re driving on gravel.

“If you’re taking me here to murder me this is a dumb way to do it because they all know I left with you,” she teases. “At least when you go to get rid of me, do yourself a favour and dig 6 one-foot holes instead of one 6 foot hole…”

He laughs, “would you really give your murderer tips?”

She nods, “my goal would be to piss him off so much he either lets me go or murders me quickly. I don’t want to go through all the pain.”

“It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” he shrugs it off but she knows it hits too hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching her hand out for his to hold by the gear shift. “I think you’re like the strongest guy in the world, you know that, right?”

“Why?” He asks as if that's a preposterous thing to say.

“I think if I got kidnapped and tortured at 24 I wouldn’t still be working in the FBI,” she admits. “I barely made it through the academy, I know this job is intense but I don’t think I could handle being in that situation.”

“If it’s up to me,” Spencer squeezes her hand tighter and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “You’ll never experience anything like that.”

He’s so good at making her feel safe that she almost believes he has the power to do that. He would do anything and everything to move fate for her safety.

He turns down another back road then, around the edge of a lake and towards a clearing. He follows old tire tracks and parks by the dock. “I found this spot one night on a random drive to clear my head.”

“I thought you hated driving?” She quizzes him.

He shrugs, “I like to drive at night when no one else is on the road because then I don’t really have to worry about anyone else. I hate driving because I can’t always anticipate other drivers' movements. If I could read minds, then I’d drive more.”

“Valid,” she nods, “now why is this such a special spot that you needed to show me right away?”

“Well, I have a telescope and it’s been in my trunk for the last 13 years so that every time I come here, I can look up at the moon…”

“You brought me here to look at the moon with you?” She swoons, “that’s so cute.”

“You think?” He looks like his heart is doing the same swelling as hers.

She gets out of the car before she can lean over and kiss him the way she wants to. In his trunk, he does have a telescope, and a blanket, which they set out on the dock and sit upon.

The sound of the lake, the loons in the distance, frogs and crickets and music travelling from somewhere down the lake. The moon was big, the stars were amazing, and this was the closest she has ever seen them. It's amazing, and of course, it was Spencer showing her everything.

He was everything to her.

And it didn’t take long for him to become everything to her either.

Joining the BAU was a dream to many at the academy, but Y/N never thought that she would get the job, overjoyed that she did. They were a family unit; they got the job done, they protected each other, and it was a wonderful environment to be a part of. She obviously liked Spencer the most out of everyone. He took her in, he made her feel comfortable and safe and she opened up more with him than she has with anyone she’s labelled a “best friend” in the past.

She liked everything about him. The way he talked with his hands, how his sweater, vest, shirt and tie always match, his gun looks a little out of place on his belt, like it’s too big for him, but it’s cute. His hair’s been getting longer too, sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes if she’s lucky, he doesn’t shave every day.

She can’t take her eyes off him when he’s busy and won't notice, just to then move her focus away when he stared at her. She only wishes she could see the way he stares at her in awe, because if it’s anything like how she looks at him, he must love her.

She keeps her hand in his, trading the telescope back and forth in turns, her face was close to his every time they switched and she kept getting bolder with each exchange. Letting Spencer look, she kept her face close to his, kissing his cheek softly as soon as he was busy peering up at the moon.

He turned to her with a gasp, “what was that for?”

“You’re cute,” she shrugs. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“How long?” He teases, leaning in closer and kissing her nose to make her laugh.

“Since you dropped me off at my house after that first dinner…”

“So this is me,” she nods out the window, “thank you for the ride, I appreciate not having to be in an Uber all by myself.”

“Anytime you need a ride, you can give me a call?” He asks. “Seeing as we’ll be going to the same place anyway.”

She nods with a smile, “I’d love that, do you live close to here?”

“Just up the street,” he nods. “So we could carpool?”

“I can drive some days if you want?” She asks, “I know you mostly take the subway, and I know that because I’ve seen you reading on there before.”

He can’t help but smile, “so you never thought to say hello?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “you looked peaceful, and I’m sure you don’t get many moments like that in your line of work.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. “If it ever gets to be too much for you, please never feel like you have to pretend to be okay? None of us expect you to be stone cold, none of us are either. The job gets to us, just tell me if it gets to be too much?”

She looks from his lips back to his eyes and over again, “thanks, Spencer.”

He does the same to her, “anytime. Should I walk you to your door?”

She shakes her head, “that’s okay you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “Have a good night Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” she smiles before she exits his car, smiling at him from her porch before he drives away.

“So it’s been mutual this whole time?” He shakes his head at the absurdity. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and then I found you and you make me feel like I don’t need to be alone anymore.”

“You complete me too,” she makes one more comment before connecting their lips.

It’s like the world stops then. It’s silent and serene and everything she thought kissing Spencer Reid would be.

She pulls back with a smirk, “oh no.”

“What?” He worries.

“I’m going to want to kiss you all the time now…”

“Good,” he mumbles the words against her lips before reconnecting them.

—

At work on Monday, it’s very hard for them to look at each other without remembering that they’ve kissed. Spencer’s practically glowing with admiration for her that he gives it all away. He’s overly happy, offering to do things for others, standing way too close to her and bringing her coffee all morning.

“Okay, pretty boy,” Derek takes him by the scruff of the neck and redirects him into his office. “What’s going on with you today, I know you’re not this happy for JJ’s return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get laid or something?”

Spencer laughs, “no, you know I don’t get laid. You actually remind me of that fact quite often.”

“You’re so happy I’m worried you’ve moved to crack,” he says it. “Okay, you were acting weird on Friday, you missed brunch on Sunday and now you’re waaay too happy.”

“I’m not on drugs again,” Spencer assures him. “I’m just letting myself enjoy my time with Y/N, if she falls in love with me in the meantime that would also be nice.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this to get laid,” Derek teases him again. “That’s good, I’m sorry if I triggered you by asking, but I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, no,” he places his hands on Derek's shoulders, “thank you for caring.”

“Always—“

“Guys!” They hear Hotch yelling from the bullpen, cutting the tender moment short, saving Spencer from spilling the truth.

Rushing back, he sits beside Y/N at the briefing room table. “We have a bad one,” Emily Prentiss of all people walks in the door, followed by Elle Greenaway.

“We’ll have time to mingle in a minute, right now there is a woman who needs our help,” he announces.

Spencer quickly reads over the case files, recognizing Elles handwritten notes, she was a private investigator now. “With Penelope’s help, I’ve been able to set up alerts in College chatrooms in the area so that I can help to missing and assaulted women right away.”

“She’s alerted when someone reports a missing woman and she has advertisements for people to reach out to her for help,” Penelope explained.

“I’ve been working on these cases for the last 9 years,” Elle announces. “This morning Aasia Desai called me saying her sister Bahni never showed up for lunch and it’s not like her, we know she went clubbing last night and so far Penelope’s tracked her down an ally and then she’s gone.”

“Her parents are British diplomats so Interpol has asked me to join, luckily I was just in Ontario so it was a short trip over,” Emily adds. “JJ will be here in half an hour for her first day back, and we will celebrate when we can, but I see we have some new faces here?”

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” she waves, still glued to Spencer’s side. “I’ve heard a lot about you both from Doctor Reid.”

“Doctor Tara Lewis,” she stands and shakes Emily’s hand, and then Elles.

“So it says here that the first missing case was in 2006 just after you left the BAU?” Spencer changes the subject before anyone can pry into why he would be telling her about the women who worked there before her.

“I did,” Elle nods. “I was too late for her, by the time her parents realized she was missing and called me in the case was cold. I started this as a way to get ahead of it.”

“How long has she been missing?” Tara asks.

“She was last seen at 1:07 this morning,” Elle confirms. “We have 25 hours, maybe, to beat the odds.”

“Reid,” Hotch cuts in, “I would like you and Elle to go check out the street she was last seen on, find any private cameras or anyone who might have seen something.”

He turns to Y/N who just shrugs in silence; “it’s fine.”

“Tara and Derek, I’d like you to interview Aasia when she and JJ get here, Garcia can you do a deep dive into Bahni’s spending and academic records?”

“Sure thing,” she starts clicking away on her computer immediately.

“And Y/N,” Elle looks at her. “I need you to go over the footage of the man who followed her to the alley and get familiar with his face. We’re using you as the face of the investigation to hopefully draw the unsub out.”

“How would she be able to do that alone?” Spencer gets defensive, a way he used to with JJ when she was the media liaison.

“If she goes on the news and makes Bahni seem like a person while describing the unsub as someone who can help solve the case, it will draw him out,” Emily explains for Hotch, who is glaring at Spencer for second-guessing the plan already.

“And she’s college-age,” Elle adds. “If that’s who he’s been going after all this time he will want to come in and talk IF he can talk to her.”

She places her hand on his leg under the table, “it’s a good plan.”

“It is,” Hotch agrees.

“What do you not have a saying to replace wheels up when they stay in town?” Elle teases him.

“Wheels away?” Emily joins her, “that works?”

“just get to work,” Hotch tries not to smirk at them.

Spencer stands up to leave with Elle, “can I just talk to Spencer before he leaves?” She carefully asks Hotch.

“Make it quick,” he agrees reluctantly and lets her follow him down to his desk.

Spencer rests his hands on the back of his desk chair, holding it tightly in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m going to be fine,” she assures him. “I don’t think the guy on the tape took her, we’d see him leave if he did.”

“Unless he lives in the alley,” Spencer combats. “Can you ask Penelope to do a background check on all the cars coming in and out of the campus and that street between midnight at 2 am?”

She nods, placing her hand on his gently. “Good luck out there, okay?”

He nods, “it’s been 2 days they’re going to know by the end of the week.”

She laughs, “so be it.”

He says fuck it right then and there, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing the top of her head as the team watches in the briefing room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will,” she smacks his side as he lets her go. “If you’re going to make a scene at least give me a real kiss.”

“Hmm,” he teases. “No cause then I’d have to sign some paperwork and I’ve got to go…” he starts to back away.

“Coward,” she teases.

He just shrugs, meeting Elle by the door and heading towards the elevators in silence.

She doesn’t ask, not even when they get to the garage or inside the SUV. They’re driving down the road for maybe 2 minutes when Elle finally brings it up. “So—”

“What do you want to know?”

“It's that easy now? What happened to you?” She teases. “You’re so different from the baby Spence I left.”

“Well you missed my drug problem, my dad being a possible child molester, getting shot in the knee, getting shot in the neck, my girlfriend dying, and now my mom might have Alzheimer's so you know… I had to grow up a bit,” he lays it all out for her to ask any question she wants.

“Why don’t you ever call me? I would have been there for you through anything,” she reminds him.

“I know that,” he reaches over for her hand, “thank you. But I was a big fan of suffering in silence… and now I have Y/N and she makes me feel normal?”

“That’s good, you deserve some fraction of normal in your life and she’s really cute,” Elle smiles back at him before returning her focus to the road. “How old is she?”

“27,” he smiles. “She’s the best.”

“You love her,” Elle notices it.

He presses his lips together to fend off a smile as he nods, “I think I do.”

“Tell her, you deserve to hear that someone loves you back.”

—

She’s anxiously tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator to arrive with the suspect, Rossi standing just behind her. Only 15 minutes after being on the news, the man that was in the security footage contacted them. Making his way over for a voluntary interview.

He looks Y/N up and down with a smile, “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I sure was,” she plays along with it, smiling and making him think she’s interested as well. “I knew you’d get the message, we just need all the help we can get right now.”

“Of course,” he has his ego stroked so well that they can roll with it.

“Would you mind coming with me and Agent Rossi to talk about everything you saw?” She batts her lashes at him, really selling it.

“Sure,” he follows them down the hall.

Rossi opens the door and lets them in first, letting her get him settled and a glass of water. “So you can tell me everything from that night?”

“Sure,” he nods, explaining his taxi job, his run for the night and his alibi.

“So why did you step back into the doorway?” She asks as she sits in front of him. Straight-faced as she catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You stepped out of the way to let her pass and then followed her, she made no motion to say she wanted your services, so I’m just wondering why you would follow her before she disappeared?”

“Huh,” he suddenly feels played and his personality switches. “I thought this was just a chat?”

“I’m simply asking you questions? If you don’t have answers that makes you suspicious. An innocent person would have given me an answer,” she fights back.

“She’s right, you got very defensive very fast,” Rossi finally speaks up.

He shakes his head with a huff. “I was going to ask if she needed a ride, she looked pretty messed up. And then some guy came over and wrapped his arm around her and they walked off. They seemed to know one another. I thought she was safe in his hands.”

Only his tone doesn’t match the words. He sounds jealous— It’s not like she would have been a large tab, he wasn’t jealous because he lost a customer. No, he’s jealous like someone stepped in and prevented him from snatching an easy victim.

“Fair enough,” she pretends to believe him. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“I can go now?” He changes right back to confused.

She nods, “I’ll escort you down if you’d like?”

“Thanks,” he stands and follows her to the door where Rossi stops her.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I’ll be back up shortly.”

She catches up with him by the elevators, “did you have to drive far to get here?” She makes small talk.

“Not really,” he shakes it off. “I like your necklace.”

She touches her necklace and her face drops, “thanks.”

“Necklaces are my favourite.”

“You don’t wear any?” She notices in the form of a question.

He shakes his head as the elevator opens at the ground level. “I think they’re nice gifts.”

She nods along, pretending that didn’t set off every ret alert and alarm in her mind, “well here you are. Thanks again for all the help.”

“No problem,” he goes to leave, turning to stop and block the doors from closing. “If you want, later tonight I can show you everything I saw at the alley?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agrees with no plan to go.

“8 pm? At Cafe Linda?”

“See you then,” she agrees and he steps back letting the door close and then she loses her cool.

Feverishly smashing the floor 6 button, and begging to make it back up to Hotch to tell him everything. But she also just wants to cry but she holds it in as she makes it to their floor matching past Rossi and right into the briefing room.

“He may not be our unsub but that man is a creep,” she announces. “He not only complimented my necklace but he asked me to come to the alley tonight so he can walk me through what he saw.”

“You’re not going,” Hotch announces.

“I didn’t plan to,” she snaps. “I think we need to look into him because he’s either giving little girls necklaces to keep them quiet or he’s taking necklaces after he kills women.”

“Kathy’s parents said she was in a necklace when she went missing,” Emily adds. “His connection to this case and being at NYU right before she went missing gives us enough probable cause for a search warrant.”

Hotch sighs, “fine. I’ll call a judge, you and Y/N can go and search his place.”

“So shouldn’t we arrest him before he leaves the building?” Morgan asks.

“He’s still in the garage, I’ve let the security know to stop him and arrest him at the gate,” Garcia adds, listening in and planning in advance.

“Thank you,” Hotch smiles at her, “you’re always reading my mind.”

Garcia smiles back at him, “always, sir.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she looks at Emily and waiting for her to turn to leave the room.

“Let’s,” she motions for Y/N to take the lead and follows.

The drive to his house is so weird… she doesn’t quite know how to talk to Emily, knowing only slightly about her and her knowing nothing about Y/N.

“So how long have you and Spencer been dating?” Her first question just gets right to the point.

She laughs awkwardly, “3 days…”

“Oh…”

She hums as she nods along, looking out the window and avoiding Emily’s eye contact. “It’s new, we’re both pretty infatuated with each other but we’re taking it slower than most people because I’m afraid to let my feelings change how I do the job.”

“Makes sense,” Emily replies. Her voice is so sweet, she has an aura of calm that follows her and lets Y/N feel safe. She gets why Spencer said she was his best friend on the team before her.

“The necklace comment… why did it make you so wary of this guy?”

“When I was in middle school a guy gave me a necklace while he was grooming me,” she whispers. Looking out the window and pretending it doesn’t bother her now. “It’s fine, I don’t have it anymore, but I knew this guy had that same vibe.”

Emily put her hand out, letting Y/N interlock their fingers and hold it. “I know I just met you, but you’re family now. I’m here if you’re ever suddenly not fine with it anymore…”

“Thanks,” she smiles. “Let’s get this fucker.”

—

By the time the warrant went through, Spencer and Elle had joined them to search the first suspect's house while Emily left to help the rest of the team with suspect two. Tracking all the license plates in the area like Spencer suggested lead them to a Chinese food delivery driver in the area.

That didn’t stop Y/N from destroying her suspect's house. They tore the house apart, searching every nook and cranny for any answer that would make sense. She was tempted to lift the floorboards up, call in SCSI to run ground-penetrating radar and search the fucking walls if they had to.

But then she found it.

A small metal box in the laundry room contained some tools and when she lifted up the fake bottom, she found 5 necklaces.

“Elle!!” She yelled through the house.

They both came running down the hall to her, “is this Kathy’s necklace?”

“Oh my god,” she whispered with a nod.

“I want to kill this guy,” she mumbles under her breath as she places the necklaces back in the box and closes it up.

“Spencer doesn’t need another girl he has a crush on to murder someone and get kicked out of the bureau,” Elle teases.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Way to go,” Spencer nudges her.

Y/N stands up with the box and slides it into a large evidence bag before taping it up. “I guess he has a type then.”

“I don’t,” Spencer tries to cover up. “I mean, if I do then it’s people who are nice to me…”

She smiles at him, unable to even pretend to be jealous or mad. “It’s hard to be mean to you when you’re so cute.”

“Ew,” Elle announces her disgust as she leaves the room.

“Let’s get out of here before I end up kissing you in a murderer's laundry room,” Spencer teases, taking her hand and leading her out of the house as the rest of the forensics team takes over the bagging of evidence.

“Guys,” Elle rushes back to them with her phone pressed to her ear. “We have a bigger problem than we thought with Bahni.”

They rush into the SUV, putting the team on the speaker to hear the most unthinkable. “So I did what Y/N suggested and searched every single driver coming in and off-campus and the last street she was seen on,” Penelope explains back. “And I came across a man who was delivering Chinese food under the name Tom Larson… and it’s ironic his name is tom because he has a plethora of peeping offences and general creepiness alongside a metric shit-ton of abuse from his dad and dead mother.”

“Okay?” Elle follows.

“Tom Larson lives near Bahni,” Emily explains, “I was just at his house where I found him and his father had been murdered.”

“So we have not 1 but 3 creeps in this case, and none of them are who took Bahni?” Spencer rubs his eyes. “Please tell me we know who was in Tom’s car last night.”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Penelope says with the doles tones of keys clicking behind her words. “We were just contacted by the fugitive Taskforce because they believe one of the murderers they’ve been tracking took Bahni… but he has ties to a much larger scale global sex trafficking ring.”

Elle flies through the streets with their lights on, pulling back into headquarters and right up to the security check. “So who is this guy?”

“Once you get back up here, Agent Simmons and Alvez will explain everything,” Hotch confirms. “I’m taking Derek to see Cruze, we need to tell him what’s going on.”

“Sounds good,” Elle hangs up and throws the SUV in park.

Y/N hesitates, staying put and taking a few breaths as Spencer watches. Elle’s left the car and is already on her way to the elevator. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I just have a hug real quick?”

“Yeah,” he wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “Are you okay?”

She nods against him, “yeah it’s just good to have at least 8 hugs a day.”

“Hug me whenever you need to,” he whispers against her hair, kissing the side of her head before she pulls back.

“Kisses are helpful too?”

He smiles, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, mumbling against them, “how many?”

She hums, “10?”

He pecks her lips 10 times and counts each one, making her giggle, it takes so much effort to hold her smile back to keep kissing him but she feels much better.

“Thank you,” she beams and she can swear Spencer's eyes sparkle as he smiles back.

She pulls him into another hug, “I hate that we have to go catch a killer right now.”

“Come on then, as soon as we get him we can go on another date somewhere?”

She shakes her head, “after this case I think we should take a nap together… I’m exhausted and I don’t want to let you go.”

Spencer shakes his head in amazement, “you really like me?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” she teases him. “You should get used to it because it’s only going to get more intense and I will smother you with love.”

He just shrugs, “it’s about time—“

They’re startled with a knock on the window, “we get it you’re in love, can we go now?”

“Sorry!” Y/N calls back with a giggle, pulling him in for one last kiss before getting out. Spencer follows with a deep blush that everyone will see when they get back upstairs, but it looks cute on him.

Luke Alvez has been trying to catch one criminal for the last 2 years. Simon Garrett has been a pain in the ass for the FBI, the CIA and DEA. He first showed up on their radar when his DNA was found on 14 women’s remains, all of who had been missing for at least 5 years.

His DNA was then traced to his son in the foster system, who’s been off the radar for the last 10 years. Everette Garrett.

“Now he’s interesting because I’ve been investigating his sex trafficking ring between Canada and the United States,” Matt adds. “All 14 women his father's DNA was found on were thought to be in his ring, which means when they get too old he hands them to his father to take care of.”

Y/N shakes her head as she listens, “so if you’ve been looking for them for this long what makes you think we can find them in time to save Bahni?”

“We’ve been tracking him for a while, we knew that he had a new girl on his radar and when we heard it was Bahni Desai we knew it was time to get you guys,” Matt explains.

“So far we know that she has to be taken to this warehouse in Alexandria before she goes any further, we’re going to intercept them before they make it to the warehouse and then use their car to gain access to take the whole thing down,” Luke rolls out a map of the facility then.

“We need to have the place surrounded for any runners, SWAT is getting prepped, we’re going tonight at 3 am,” Matt adds. “Morgan, Hotch, Prentiss, Alvez and Myself will be running a team at each of the 5 exits. Once inside, each team's swat unit will deploy gas to carefully knock everyone out, from there we need someone to cuff everyone at least until we know who is a victim and who is working there.”

“We’re taking everyone alive?” Spencer makes sure he hears them right.

“We need to know what the step after this warehouse is if we want to rescue more victims,” Luke’s voice is gentle yet stern as he explains. “I’ve seen this man take too many women from good homes and ruin their lives, I’m not letting him slip out of my fingers.”

“We’ve had this planned for months, we just needed to wait for the next confirmed drop-off.”

“Who’s driving?” Y/N asks, having a feeling it was her and Spencer.

“He’s Reids age,” Hotch announces from the door as he walks in with Cruze, “so we’ll replace Everette with Reid and Bahni with Y/L/N.”

“Rossi and Elle will be there to apprehend Everette, we’re setting up a fake traffic spot to irritate him and inhibit him from running. You two will be in a duplicate car arriving at the warehouse at the arranged time,” Emily confirms. “We just have to prep SWAT and then we can leave.”

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

—

Pretending to be kidnapped in the back of a car driven by her boyfriend was possibly the weirdest way to spend a Tuesday morning. Driving the exact make and model as their unsub, her heartbeat was loud enough to cover the sound of the engine and distract her from the long drive. She was overly anxious, and rightly so, it was her first sting.

And she was doing it all without coffee. Tired but full of adrenaline, she wanted to close her eyes and drift off but she knew she needed to be ready to apprehend the men at the gate with Spencer.

She feels the large bump, indicating they just went over a speed bump and she knows what that means. The car slows and she can hear the muffled talking before swat steps in, soon enough Spencer is cracking the trunk open and reaching in for her.

“Are you okay?” He helps her to her feet and makes sure her bulletproof vest is on right before handing her, her gun and watching her clip it on.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“The guards are down, Swat moved in as soon as we arrived, now we have to stand here and wait for them to clear the building,” Spencer explains as they walk to the front of her car.

She draws her gun and keeps it pointed low, guarded as they watch the front entrance for anyone to escape. “Do you know if Bahni is okay?” She whispers towards him.

He nods, “they radioed in that they got her, she’s being airlifted to the hospital with JJ right now.”

She nods with a deep breath, “okay good.”

“It’s going to be fine, we have enough SWAT here to take the government,” he tries to joke, getting a laugh from one of the officers… very strange to see someone laugh while holding an assault rifle.

One of the swat side steps towards Spencer, “I’m hearing on the line that they’ve cleared every room. They’re cuffing everyone, you’re free to enter.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replies.

The high-pitched screech rubber gripping asphalt in an attempt to stop draws their attention backwards. Elle and Rossi jumping out with their guns drawn, ready to join even though the exciting part is long over.

“No runners?” Elle asks, holstering her weapon. “Aw man, I was excited.”

“Not a one,” Y/N adds, watching the front entrance for the rest of the team to start funnelling out with the unsubs.

Luke exits first with a big smile on his face, Simon Garrett cuffed and barely stumbling out the door in front of him. He finally got him.

“well done,” Elle congratulates him. “Let me help you get him in SWAT van.”

“I think she has a thing for Luke,” Rossi leans into Y/N to gossip. “she wouldn’t stop asking about him on the drive…”

“Ooo,” Y/N teases, getting more and more tired as her adrenaline drops. Her eyes are heavy and Rossi can tell.

“Why don’t I bring you and the good doctor home, I don’t think they need all of us for the wrap-up,” Rossi pats her back. “You’ve had a long night, kid.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, holstering her gun and turning with him towards the SUV. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Well you’ve been on the job for almost 24 hours now, you’ve officially made it through your first overnight sting op,” Rossi congratulates her like he’s her grandpa.

She turns back when she doesn’t hear Spencer following her, “Spence? Are you coming?”

“Um,” he has something to ask as he follows then but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, come sit with me in the back?” She asks, sliding in beside him and resting her head on his shoulder as soon as their seatbelts are on.

“Did you still want to have a nap together?” He whispers, feeling her nod against his shoulder before she pulls back.

“Come here,” she tugs him in against her chest, snuggling in as best as she could in their sitting position. Holding him close and feeling him drift off in her arms. She has no problem following suit.

When she wakes, Rossi is parked outside of her apartment, “here you go, Y/N.”

She hums as she comes to, shaking Spencer awake too, “Spence, come on, let’s get to bed.”

“He’s going with you?”

She nods, “don’t tell Penelope. She’ll have a field day, I just want a nap.”

“You better get more than a nap,” Rossi orders. “You guys need to actually rest before you come back to work on Wednesday.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she teases him. “We will.”

“Bye Dave,” Spencer whispers as he gets out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime kid,” Rossi waves them off, waiting for them to enter the building before driving away.

“Finally,” she sighs, dragging Spencer down the hall and towards her apartment. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“me too,” he barely says.

He follows her inside like a lost puppy, taking off his vest and shirt, slipping out of his pants until he’s in an undershirt, boxers and his mismatched socks. She’s amazed by how comfortable he is with her, but she has known him for 3 months, it’s enough time to fall in love with someone… right?

She’s loved him since she started working with him. When she realized he valued her opinions, he looked at her as a person and he genuinely loved her company. She felt a real connection with him, not just childish infatuation. He was everything to her.

She slides into bed beside him and snuggles in, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

“I guess I really can do everything,” she smirks.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She pokes his chest and giggles away the awkwardness, “the thing I wanted to do most, the thing that I couldn’t do… that was to fall in love with you, but I did it anyway.”

“Well, then I guess I can do everything too.”

She pulls away to look at him, “I love you, Spencer. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I’ve loved you for a while.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, shocking her as he breathes her in and holds her there. “I love you, more Y/N.”

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christowhore · 4 years ago

Text

Making You Mine

pairing: chris evans x professor!fem!reader, chris evans x oc!female (brief)

summary: you and chris have your first date.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: !!! 18+ minors dni !!! slight smut, fluff, age gap (reader is 28, chris is 39) suggestive conversation, two dorks in love, alcohol consumption, heavy making out, dry humping, orgasms, rpf

notes: ngl to y’all i didn’t even mean to make it include some smut, but i ended up getting carried away. this is the second part of the ‘Pining for Professor’ series. i hope you all enjoy it and make sure to let me know what you think! *i do not give consent for this fic to be reposted or translated*

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MAIN MASTERLIST • SERIES MASTERLIST

The next few days that passed after your encounter seemed to fly by. You were busy working on your dissertation while Chris was attending ASP interviews.The two of you would text from time to time, just keeping the other updated about your life.

Chris had planned the evening out. Before considering what meal he wanted to make you, he made sure to ask you about any dietary concerns or allergies that you might have, and he was thankful that he did. You informed him that the only food allergy you had was apples. Part of him thought you were joking because he never heard of that being a restriction one could face, but after sending him a photo of one of your allergic reactions, he trashed every single apple he had stored in his fridge. A dramatic reaction, yes, but he wanted to make sure you were both completely safe and comfortable.

He decided on making a simple pasta dinner, something easy that he believed he couldn’t possibly mess up. It wasn’t until he was googling wine pairings when he remembered the woman he was supposed to have this same evening with just a few days ago; Lindsey.

Chris had been so preoccupied with you that he completely forgot about the woman. Looking at his phone and opening their messages, he saw that he had been accidentally ghosting her for the past three days. Not knowing how to deliver the news, he decided it would be best to break things off over the phone than through a text.

Clicking on her contact, he dialed her number and listened to the dial tone ring in his ear. He was pondering on what to say when he heard her voice through the phone. “Hey stranger, I was wondering when you were gonna call me back.”

“Hey Lindsey, sorry I got a little busy with life. Can we talk?”

For about the next five minutes, Chris tried his best to not give the cliche ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse, but in the end he had to explain to the woman how he met somebody else, you, and that he didn’t want to string her along any longer. The call ended with some harsh words from her which he expected. Even though he hated that he hurt her feelings, in the end all he kept thinking about was you.

A couple miles away from his home, you were at your house going through your entire wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. Did you want to go the fancy route and wear a nice dress or something casual like jeans and a blouse? Even though Chris told you the plans he had scheduled for your rendezvous, you were still feeling nervous about the whole affair.

Thankfully with the help of your friends, they were able to ease your worries and help you out with your ensemble.

The night before the planned evening, the two of you lay awake, plagued with nerves. Worried about messing up and ruining the chance to be with the other.

With how his morning started the day of his previously planned affair, Chris made sure that nothing could stand in the way of tonight. He had his suit pressed, the ingredients needed for the meal prepped, and a bouquet of red roses bought fresh from the florist resting in a vase of water. Scott went with Dodger over to his sister Shanna’a house, leaving the home to himself.

The day proceeded quickly and soon enough it was time for the date. You agreed to drive over and meet him at his home, arriving there around eight in the evening.

Walking up to the home and knocking on the door, you kept cracking your knuckles, a nervous tick of yours whenever you got anxious. Once the entryway was opened and Chris stepped into your sight, all of those pesky jitters suddenly left your body.

Chris was clad in a tailored black suit that clung to his frame. The white button up he donned was crisp and clean, you could make out a few of his tattoos peeking through the material. Accessorizing his attire, he wore a black and silver watch, the silver in the band matching the Saint Christopher medallion clasped around his neck showing through the opening of his top. His hair was perfectly gelled, making him look fresh out of a photo shoot.

He looked absolutely delectable and part of you didn’t even care about the meal, you just wanted to know how the material of his clothes felt against your skin.

When Chris opened up his door he knew you’d be there, beautiful as ever but he didn’t expect the sight that he was met with.

Your regularly curly hair was straightened, cascading off your shoulders and perfectly framing your face. The makeup you applied made your features light up. He took notice of the lipgloss you put on and all he wanted to do was grab you and taste the substance that was lucky enough to touch your lips.

Looking your body up and down, he noticed your black silk dress, a tie in the middle cinching the material together. The material stopped at your mid thighs revealing your velvety smooth legs and high heeled shoes. Thoughts of him trailing his hands up the sides of your calves while he pinned you below him flashed in his mind. Quickly he shook the image out of his mind to put back all of his attention on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered in awe.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As you entered his home, he placed a hand on the small of your back tugging your frame into him so he could place a kiss on your cheek. The same butterflies you experienced when he pecked you that night in the parking lot reappeared by the dozens.

The smell of sautéing onions and garlic filled your senses, instantly making your stomach lurch around. “Whatever it is you're making smells amazing,” you commented to the brunette.

He bashfully smiled, “Thank you, I’m almost finished, though I should let you know I’m not the greatest cook.”

You laughed at his comment, unconsciously placing your palm against his upper arm. “It’s alright Chris, at least you have your looks right?”

It was his turn to laugh, your playful matter had him buzzing.

The two of you made your way through the kitchen, him to the front of the stove while you sat in the high chair behind the counter top. Before he returned to cooking the vegetables, he grabbed the bouquet of red roses he had ordered and handed them to you, a smile instantly appearing on your face.

You thanked him for his generosity and the two of you continued on in lively conversation while he focused back on finishing dinner.

Laughter filled the room while you two chatted in his living room. You two had finished dinner, Chris making a wonderful shrimp scampi that even he was surprised tasted good.

Even though you spent three hours talking that evening in your office, you two didn’t have any difficulty finding new topics to explore.

You spoke about your family and how life was growing up without siblings. How it felt being at an advanced academic level at such a young age, which allowed you the opportunity of being employed at the university at 21. Surprisingly, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around the man, something that you had never done before. It was something about his demeanor. His presence was inviting and captivating, and all you wanted to do was continue to be around the actor.

Chris was at a loss of words with how to describe how you made him feel. You had such a hypnotizing way to yourself. He would listen to your laugh and drink it in as if it were the last time his ears would be blessed with the sound. Your smile was so genuine, stretching from ear to ear and all he wanted to do was keep that look on your face till the end of his days. He didn’t know he was staring at you until you waved in front of his face, regaining his attention.

“Earth to Evans. Are you okay there?” Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed while you stared intently into his eyes, waiting for his response. He didn’t even think about the next words that came out of his mouth when he spoke.

“I know that we just met last week, and this is only our first date, but would you do me the honor of being able to call you my girlfriend?”

The statement that was rushed out of his mouth had you choke on your glass of wine. Regaining your composure, you set the drink down and looked up at Chris.

There wasn’t any humor in his eyes, just determination as well as a bit of trepidation.

You were about to speak when he started up again. “Usually when meeting someone, I go on about two to three dates with them. Get to know them and go through the ‘what if’s’ possibilities. But with you I realized I can’t wait that long. The only thing I care about is being able to see that smile on your face, and have the melodic sound of your laugh ingrained in my life. And I don’t want to waste another second trying to determine ‘what if’ we’re not a match when I already know that you’re the one for me.”

This time you were the one at a loss of words. Emotions wrangle throughout your body. You were nervous, but the nerves that stood on end were due to the fact of being scared of how quickly you were falling for him.

Without saying anything but donning a beaming grin, you nodded.

Chris immediately leant forward and molded his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and delicate. His right hand slightly cupped your cheek, and in that moment you felt safe, you felt at ease. There was no other place the two of you wanted to be than right there in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away it felt like time was at a standstill, nothing else mattered but the two of you being together. Even though he wasn’t a photographic person, Chris felt this overwhelming need to document this moment.

He quickly pulled out his phone and asked you if it were okay to take a photo of the two of you, a personal keepsake so to speak. You nuzzled into his side, shoulders touching, breaths fanning across each other’s face. Chris extended his hand with the camera app open and aimed towards the two of you. Though you were looking at the screen, a beaming grin stretched across your features, he was only looking at you. Admiring you as if you were his entire world, which you were slowly but surely becoming. Snapping the photo, he locked his phone and tucked it away back into his slacks.

With the close proximity you two shared, he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss you again. He was desperate to feel you, touch you, taste you. The flavor of your strawberry lip gloss inviting him in.

You melted into him, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket pulling him closer into you. He leaned into your touch, causing the two of you to lay back against his couch.

His hips were slotted in between your legs, crotch rubbing against your warm core. The friction drawing out a low moan from your chest.

He continued to feverishly attack your mouth. This kiss was different from the first. This was pure hunger. You two were desperate to feel the other. His tongue slotted into your mouth, tasting the leftover remnants of the Pinot Grigio you consumed. Notes of grapes and honeysuckles on your tongue made him push deeper. The intoxicating taste and the effects of the alcohol had him unconsciously grinding into you, rubbing his cock against your covered mound.

You ran your hands across the expanse of his body. Rubbing his arms, slightly gripping his ass, tangling your hands into the brown tuffs of his hair, you couldn’t get enough. He felt amazing against you. The rubbing of his hips were drawing out moans that you didn’t even try to suppress due to the unwavering desire you felt towards him. You felt him lift your leg up, giving himself more room to rut against you. The movement caused your dress to hike up, showing the lace of your black thong to your now boyfriend.

The two of you continued with your actions. Tongue slapping against each other as you sloppily tasted the other. The movements of his hips against your cunt accelerated to a rigorous pace when he felt a wet patch growing on your panties.

You felt like honey teenagers, dry humping each other like a pair of desperate virgins, but in that moment it was perfect.

Drawing away from each other, Chris nestled his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shockwaves of arousal straight to your core.

You were both close to reaching your respective peak, your moans were getting wilder and his hips were becoming unruly.

It only took a few more bumps of his crotch against your covered clit for you to gush in your panties. An erotic moan left your lips and filled the room while your back arched, pushing your breasts against his chest.

Hearing the near pornographic sound that left your body, while feeling your peer nipples press against his front allowed him to reach his release as well. Biting down against the column of your neck, he came in his pants, filling his boxer briefs with his seed.

Chris collapsed on top of your panting body, the two of you trying to regain a steady breath. He lay there in your arms, your nails dragging along the nape of his neck.

When he finally regained composure, Chris raised up on his palms and looked down at you. And as if your minds were synced up, you both erupted in a fit of giggles.

After coming down for your laugh attacks, you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

You stood in front of the mirror, examining your reflection. There was still some adrenaline flowing through your bloodstream causing your hands to slightly shake. Your lips were red and swollen due to the attack on them moments prior. But what you couldn’t ignore was the dopey smile that seemed to take permanent residence on your face. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl, though you weren’t complaining.

Your recently ended relationship with your ex Justin was not great. The reason for the break up was due to the fact that he didn’t make you feel special. Looking back at it now you don’t even know why you agreed to start dating him in the first place. But you were thankful it concluded, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon and placed every star in the sky yourself.

Back in the living room, Chris paced around the living room for your return. Happiness surged through him, making him pump his fist in the air like he was John Bender in The Breakfast Club.

He's been with plenty of women throughout his life, even getting engaged to one, but it was in this moment he realized he had never been so infatuated with someone until you entered his life. You made all of the hairs on his body stand up just by looking at him. It elated him but also scared him. It scared him due to how fast he was falling for you. But he didn’t care. Though this feeling was foreign, he had no problem welcoming it with open arms.

After a few moments consisting of composing yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back to Chris. You two stood there, just smiling at each other like idiots. It was him who finally piped up.

“So that was some first date.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment.

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you conversed some more before it got late and you decided to call it a night. Making sure you had all of your belongings, including your roses, he escorted you to your car.

Resting against the door, you couldn’t resist temptation so you pulled him into you, attaching your lips to his once more. This kiss wasn’t the apprehensive one you first shared, or the hungry and desperate one that came after. This kiss was full of passion. It was the type that made you breathe out a sigh of relief into the other's mouth, glad that your bodies were in union in such an intimate manner. Neither of you wanting it to end.

When you finally pulled apart, Chris rested his forehead against your own, trying to savor the moment a while longer.

“I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

Repeating the actions yet again of your first meeting, he went to open your door, waiting for you to slide in before shutting in. After turning on the engine, you rolled the window down allowing Chris to rest against the frame on his forearms.

“See you later, girlfriend.”

“Right back at you, boyfriend.”

Giving you a fleeting kiss goodbye, he stood up and watched as you pulled out of his driveway and back to your home.

Chris stood there in his driveway for a while. He thought about how the date went twenty times better than any other one he’d ever been on. How you made him feel like the greatest man in the world. The way your lips met his and how it was like they were made to be caressed by his. The smile that crept on your face when he called you his girlfriend. And he thought about how now nothing else in this world mattered except for keeping you in his life and making sure that wonderful smile never left your features.

A/N: so the song True by Spandau Ballet is the song i envisioned when Chris opened the door. it’s that one slow 80s song they play in movies where it’s goes like ‘ah ah ah ahhh ahh’ it's all romantic and what not, y’all know the song i’m talking about, that one. cheesy i know, but i works.

anyway baby, i know there’s not a lot of dialogue, i’ve come to the realization that it’s one of my weakness but i’ll be working on it.

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if you enjoyed this, please make sure to reblog and comment, feedback is much appreciated!

* dividers credit: @firefly-graphics *

#chris evans #chris evans series #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans one shot #chris evans fluff #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #pining for professor

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leiawritesstories · 3 years ago

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Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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xjoonchildx · 3 years ago

Note

Hi Ana! I know you said you were having stressful times, I hope that’s better. Sending you lots of positive thoughts! I’m dealing with a lot of stress too. I like to escape to my little delulu BTS land and I figured maybe you’d wanna join me there? Or just listen to my nonsense and maybe get a break from your stress. Maybe even a little laugh? So here’s where I’m at right now…

I was spiraling after Jimin’s birthday live with vivid Jungkook thoughts. Obviously this isn’t my fault since, I mean it’s Jeon Jungkook and he dare show up looking extremely boyfriend. The look and just JK in general stuck with me, but also had me spinning. Because all I could see in my head was that beautiful tattooed hand landing on a booty cheek and pulling that person into him for a sweet kiss. Now maybe I’m in a fic drought and that’s why my mind is falling down this rabbit hole idk, but I honestly started wondering about how the members would reveal their significant others? Now I know, these men more than deserve their privacy. And I hope like crazy that they’re getting it and thriving. Again we’re deep in delulu land over here just to escape stress so I’m not talking seriously seriously, you know? I’m talking hypotheticals.

Would someone be super open? Would someone be sick of hiding their love and just randomly share? Maybe someone wants to share but the label doesn’t want them too. Maybe they do it anyways? Idk, idk.

Would you wanna maybe make a list? Maybe just a random fun headcanon type of thing? Or am I wrong for thinking about this stuff? Anyways I hope you’re doing well.

oh, boy anon. i am sure you were not expecting the dissertation i'm about to give on this topic so let me just say sorry in advance.

so i'm answering this ask on the heels of tae having to come onto weverse to take shots at the dating rumors surrounding him. i'm in my feelings on mr. kim's behalf in this situation 🤣

i sincerely hope that each of the members is already in a relationship that brings them some comfort/relaxation/happiness. i could not imagine living under the kind of microscope they do, having to be as careful as they do, not being able to just leave my house and go to CVS to buy chocolate and tampons or whatever the hell i want without having a serious concern about being watched and/or my safety.

that's a lot of freakin' pressure, y'all.

it's hard as hell to live at that level of paranoia for an extended period of time. and as BTS has gotten more and more famous, the list of places where they can go without being recognized/photographed/potentially mobbed has started to shrink.

i can't imagine how isolating that can be.

i think yoongi has been the most open about his struggles with this particular part of fame. i remember him saying what's ordinary to us is what's special to him and what's ordinary to him is what's special to us. that's a lot to process for any individual and i think all the members have been able to handle this pressure with a hell of a lot more grace than i would be able to.

SO. all of that to say:

i hope they keep the private details of their relationships as private as possible for as long as possible. that is something that should only belong to them. whoever that person is in their lives should be someone they enjoy only to themselves -- far and away from the spotlight, the pressure, and YES, the delulus.

because of the very intense speculation/interest in their personal lives, i could not imagine any one of them voluntarily outing their relationships. unless they're exposed by tabloids or other means, we probably won't hear about the people into their lives until they're celebrating wedding anniversaries.

and i think that's the way that it should be 💞

ALSO!

thank you for the well wishes my friend. i'm doing okay. prepping this kanalia update for sunday and i hope you guys like it!

#anagrams 💕

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arcturusreads · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Whiskey Part Two - Merhayes

@merxmac asked for a part two to this fanfic so I hope this doesn't disappoint. Also, if y'all have prompts please send them my way, my dissertation is killing me and I'd love a distraction

Cormac wasn’t surprised when he got home on Christmas Eve to find his boys still awake playing video games and Irene in the kitchen prepping the turkey. He’d managed to draw the boys’ attention from their game long enough to propose the idea of dropping in on Meredith and her family during their walk.

He wasn’t at all surprised at Irene’s eagerness to the suggestion. His sister-in-law had been wanting to meet Meredith since her own visit to the hospital. Once she’d found out that the General Surgeon was out of her coma and back on her feet, she’d kept asking Cormac when they could meet. So far, he had managed to put her off by saying that Meredith was still recovering and that everyone’s schedules at the hospital were still crazy as they came out of the peak of the pandemic. What Cormac had been surprised at was how easily the boys agreed to it, Austin even saying that he was looking forward to it.

***

Christmas morning had passed. By the times the boys had woken up, it was more like afternoon. They’d opened presents, lit a candle for Abigail and the boys messed around with their presents, which included a new set of goalposts in the garden that were a bit studier than the ones that Cormac had put-up when they had first moved there, and a drone. Cormac and Irene spent most of their time in the kitchen sorting out Christmas dinner. Afterwards, they’d all sprawled out around the living room, half comatose, wondering why they decided that a second helping was a good idea.

It was 5pm by the time the four of them had managed to haul themselves out of their seats and change out of their pyjamas. As he shrugged on his jacket, Cormac couldn’t help but feel slightly jittery at the thought of seeing Meredith today. He had texted her that morning to wish her a merry Christmas and ask if they should bring anything over to hers. She’d said that there was no need, they had enough food to last them until the end of January but said she was looking forward to seeing him.

“Mac, you ready?” Irene nudged him with her elbow. “What are you smiling about?” She teased.

Cormac hadn’t even realised that he had been smiling in the first place and quickly replaced his expression with a more neutral one.

“Probably thinking about Dr Grey again,” Liam joined in on the teasing as Austin made kissy faces behind his brother.

“You know it’s not too late for me to take those drones back.” Cormac threw an arm over each of his sons’ shoulders and began walking towards the door.

***

There was a large park that happened to be smack in the middle of the route between Cormac Meredith’s houses. After taking a long walk around it and having a kick about with the football the boys had bought with them. They began to make their way to Meredith’s.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought anything with us?” Irene asked him for the 20th time as Meredith’s home came into view.

“We’re bringing Da, I’m sure that will be more than enough.”

Cormac groaned, a red flush crawling up his neck. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his family. “Can I trust you all to behave when we go in there?” He was praying that they wouldn’t make any comments in front of Meredith, or he would be mortified.

“I’ll have you know that me and my nephews are the best-behaved people you know.” The smirk on their three faces told him otherwise and he shook his head and he began walking again.

“Heathens, the lot of you. Don’t know why I put up with it.”

He was responded to with snickers and rolled his eyes. As the Hayes family walked up to Meredith’s door, Cormac cursed at the butterflies in his stomach. Damnit, he was a grown man with two teenagers. He should be past this stage of feeling nervous about seeing a woman. It wasn’t like this was a date. She’d invited him over as a friend, their kids were going to be there.

Cormac continued trying to convince himself of this as he knocked the door. It didn’t work though because the moment Meredith opened the door to his family an entire zoo erupted in his stomach. She wasn’t dressed up to the nines, in matching white loungewear and hair half pulled up but it was the flush on her cheeks that caused a wave of feeling to wash over Cormac. The grin on her face, the glint in her eyes and the ease of her shoulders. She was radiant.

“Hey, sorry it took a while to get to the door. We’re used to people just walking in and out. Come in!” She ushered, Cormac, his boys and Irene into her home.

Before Cormac was able to say anything, Irene stepped forward with a grin on her face. “Meredith, I have to say it’s nice to finally meet the woman behind the name. I’m Irene, Mac’s sister-in-law.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Irene. Sorry we couldn’t meet sooner.”

Irene waved off the apology, “I hear you were a bit tied up, so no worries. Thank you so much for inviting us to your home.”

“I have an open-door policy at this house, you guys are always free to drop in if you need anything. Most people do. Austin, Liam, feel free to hang your coats up. You guys have a good Christmas?””

Mer turned to the boys who were slightly surprised that she had managed to identify them both correctly. They’d only met two or three times and they hadn’t even expected the surgeon to have paid much attention to them.

The boys nodded and launched into how their Christmas had gone so far. Cormac couldn’t believe with how much ease and comfort the boys spoke to Meredith. Sometimes he found it hard to get two words out of them when he got home from work.

Meredith began to herd the four of them into the living room where everyone else was lounging around. Cormac realised he hadn’t actually said anything to Meredith since he had gotten there, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him.

“Hey?” Meredith looked at him, slightly confused.

Cormac quickly let go of her arm, “Uh, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”

“The same thing you text me this morning?” Meredith teased, arching a brow. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hayes” She grinned at him, seeing him slightly bashful was a new thing. Cormac was usually a lot surer of himself.

“Come on, let’s head in.”

Meredith found that there was no need to make any introductions to the kids. Austin and Liam and sat on the floor with them, which was covered with blankets and cushions. Liam had started to chat with Zola and Bailey whilst Austin was taking a keen interest as Ellis showed him what she had gotten for Christmas.

As Cormac said hello to the other surgeons in the room, Meredith headed into the kitchen and began to heat the milk to make the hot chocolate. Whilst she was never going to be the next MasterChef, hot chocolate was one thing that she could manage.

Stirring the pan of milk, Meredith looked out onto the living room. Seeing the way both Cormac and Irene had settled into conversation with everyone else. Seeing both her and Cormac’s kids getting along so easily. A feeling passed over her that she had not felt in a very long time. Not since Derek had been alive.

She’d always felt at home here, a sense of belonging but now there was a feeling of completion within her. There was nothing missing, her heart didn’t feel as though it was yearning for anything. It was like something had just clicked into place.

“Can I help you out?”

Meredith had even seen Irene approach her, “You’re our guest! Go and relax.”

“You wouldn’t let us bring anything, the least I can do is help you with the hot chocolate. Where can I find the mugs?”

Knowing that Irene wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Meredith directed her towards mugs. “They’re in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

“You know, I haven’t seen Mac like this since before my sister died,” Irene placed all the mugs on the counter next to the stove and began to spoon the cocoa powder in there. “When he first moved back to the states, I was excited to have him and the boys here but he wasn’t himself. Not that I was expecting him to be after everything he’s been through.”

Irene sighed, placed the spoon on the counter and turned to face Meredith. “Ever since he told me that you were awake again and leaving the hospital, there’s more light in his eyes. He’s more playful, like he was before. His tread isn’t so heavy anymore.”

“I, uh,” Meredith wasn’t quite sure what to say. She knew that things had changed between her and Cormac, but she didn’t think that any of the changes that Irene had mentioned were down to her. “I mean, work has gotten a lot more manageable lately with the Covid numbers going down so that’s probably helping.”

Chuckling, Irene began to stir the hot chocolate and Meredith poured milk into the mugs. “We both know that isn’t true. My brother-in-law has started to fall hard for you, Meredith. I just don’t want to see him hurt if you don’t feel the same way but from the way you’ve been looking at him, I’m going to guess that you do.”

With that she picked up two mugs and walked into the living room with them. Meredith stood, mouth agape as she watched Irene walk away. Her own sisters had only danced around the topic about Cormac and her, teasing her and making the odd comment when they were seen together. They definitely had not been as forthright as Irene had just been with her.

“Momma! Hot cocoa time!” Ellis’ voiced pulled Meredith out of her thoughts as she took as many mugs as she could carry into the living room.

Eventually there were only two mugs left and as Meredith made her last trip from the kitchen, there was only one person, other than herself left without a mug.

“Hot chocolate?” Meredith offered the mug to Cormac who took it gratefully, their finger brushing against each other.

“Thanks, Grey.”

Looking around for a place to sit, Meredith found that the only place left was next to Cormac on the two-seater.

“Do you mind?” She asked, motioning to the seat next to him with her head.

“That you sit on your sofa in your house?” The glint in his eye made simultaneously made Meredith’s stomach flip and made her want to punch him

“I don’t know why I bothered asking…” Meredith muttered under her breath, but Cormac managed to hear and laughed.

From the other side of the room, Irene kept an eye on them the entire night. Now 100% sure that Meredith Grey did feel the same way about Cormac and come hell or high water, she was going to make sure that they both did something about it.

#merhayes #grey's anatomy #cormac hayes #meredith x hayes #mcwidow #meredith grey #mcwidows #cormac x meredith #excuse me whilst i rearrange the alphabet

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

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Wip Wednesday

Untitled fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. We are now months into this... tentative thing that is beyond friendship, beyond flirtatious, they still don't know much about each other on paper... but this feels a lot like dating. And then one day, Hotch abruptly stops answering his phone.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

(Set in season 6, unbeta'd, still the first draft, text/email templates are temporary)

((Notes: Spencer's POV this time, he is 29 and working at CalTech, Hotch still doesn't know how old he is though he does know that he's at least younger than 45 now. Hotch has been MIA now for about 18 hours.))

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch is working. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be apart of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking.

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]You're going to get me in trouble.

[][]Did I make you smile?

[]I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[][]Then why are you checking your phone?

[]You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague.

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules.

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, and Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath.

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes realize he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call.

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it.

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

Please let me know of his well-being.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s.

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

His morning routine progresses as usual, to start. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well.

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling.

He becomes even more distracted when his email pings, a response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen, right in the middle of his department announcements. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is hurt, he’s in surgery, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a faction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted.

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

The reply is almost immediate.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. But then his mind sticks on something from the email.

Boy Wonder.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch?

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or lables as official.

It’s easy to see, now why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean.

Except, every victim has elevated potassium rates.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?”

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “... Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

tbc...

#THIS IS JUST A SNIPPET #I s2g it is but it is also long af #legit this ended up being 1900 words i just didn't feel like stopping you know?#so yall get like... 25% of the entire chapter basically #sorry not sorry #expect a wip every week now #wip wednesday #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting #don't ask about the dots tumblr and I are in a formatting fight and aren't on speaking terms rn

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

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I love you (not) - Chapter 9

Tackling two prompts of @marichatmay again ('take a break' and 'cuddles'), it's probably not going to help much with catching up on the schedule but it's okay.

We are now a little over a third into the story, and... Are those real feelings that are emerging in the fake relationship? Perhaps... Still quite a bit of oblivious dumbassery to go, though, else it wouldn't be fun :D Hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 9: In which Marinette gets mixed up in her checklist

"I'm sure I'm missing something…" Marinette mumbled as she read through her extensive to-do list of the day, tapping her pencil against her chin.

School

HomeworkFrench: Dissertation Maths: exercises 5,9,12 p.132 Science: Lab report English: Act III, scene 1 Hamlet History: revision test Extra last minute?

ALYA’S BIRTHDAY PREP: coordinate surprise party + finish gift

Kitty section: costume prototype for single 2

Art project: finish dress

Picnic Alya, Nino, Adrien

“I swear there was a seventh thing I needed to do today.” She squinted, scanning her surroundings in the hopes that it would jog her memory. There was so much going on these days that things kept piling up, but today she was determined to catch up with everything. She didn’t have much of a choice, anyway; most of the items on her list had a set deadline, and it was coming at her faster than she liked. She preferred not to get hit by the truck head on.

Her eyes landed on Chat Noir’s blanket, which she’d draped over the back of her chaise after he’d left on the night of his birthday, over a week before.

“Right! Chat Noir - Ask Chat Noir to take a break, ” she mumbled, scribbling down the last point, before setting the list down next to her computer keyboard. She'd abandoned the idea of full on breaking up with him given how their relationship was dragging on; a break seemed softer to ask for first, and it could easily be followed up by a breakup.

It was going to be a long day, but with a bit of rigour, and thanks to her early start, it would all work out.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much for one day, Marinette?” Tikki peeked over her shoulder, letting out a small yawn.

“Well, maybe for a normal girl, but not for Ladybug.” She yawned reflexively, and her kwami shot her a pointed look. “I know, I know. I have to power through, though - it’s not my fault I got sidetracked so much these past few days. I honestly wonder what Hawkmoth does as a living, the man has too much time on his hands.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a tiny bit more sleep? To help with your productivity?” Her Kwami asked, looking slightly worriedly at the bags beneath her eyes.

“It’s 6am, Tikki, not the crack of dawn. I’ll have to be up by the time I fall back asleep again.” She waved her concern away. “I’ll just let the stress adrenaline work its magic. It’s going to be fine, don’t worry.” Tikki pouted doubtfully. “Now, would you mind reading me the Hamlet scene while I finish sewing up my project?”

---

This is a disaster , Marinette thought as the formulae she read on the page danced in front of her eyes. It didn’t matter how many times she went through them, they just didn’t compute.

She looked at the time: 6:45pm. She had fifteen minutes before her picnic, and she had to finish her maths homework, her dissertation, her History revision, the Kitty section prototype, and send out individual messages to remind everybody of their tasks for Alya’s birthday so it wasn’t too short notice for the weekend.

She tried to ignore the palpitations of her heart; maybe she’d overdone it on the coffee during the day. It wasn’t like she had a choice, anyway.

She’d discovered as she'd walked into class that she had a class president meeting with Mr. Damocles over her lunch break, which had been when she’d planned to squeeze in some of her work.

Then, while she’d been packing her bag at the end of her classes, ready to leave, an Akuma had emerged. It had been a tricky one, too; Chat and her had spent about an hour chasing it around Paris before finally catching it.

Adding to that the fact that her 6am rising had left her exhausted by the second period of the day, she really hadn’t been the most efficient anyway.

“I think you know what you need to do, Marinette,” Tikki said apologetically, as if reading her mind, floating up to her with her phone in her flippers. Alya’s number was already dialled on the screen.

Marinette sighed and took the phone from her, pressing the green button before lodging it between her shoulder and her ear.

“Hey girl!” Alya’s excited voice sounded on the other end of the line. “Nearly ready to go? We really picked the right night for a picnic; the weather’s super nice.”

“About that…” Marinette winced. “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it.”

“You’re kidding, right? You ’re passing up on an opportunity to have a picnic with Adrien? Are you ill?” Alya said after a small beat.

“Trust me, I surprised myself.” Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just feel like I have a bit too much on my plate right now, and I wouldn’t be great company if I came. I hope we can find another time to go out again, but I think studying and going to bed early is what’s best.”

“It’s true that you’ve seemed kind of out of it lately,” Alya said compassionately. “Don’t worry about us, take care of yourself! I promise I’ll take loads of pictures, it’ll be like you were here. And I’ll bully Mr Agreste with you after our exams to get Adrien out again if needed.”

“Thanks for understanding Alya.” Marinette smiled.

“That’s what best friends are for!” She could almost see her wink. “Now, get back to work and then go to bed! We’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a bit of chatter on the line before Alya hung up, as she met up with Adrien and Nino.

“Wait, Marinette isn’t coming?” Adrien’s almost disappointed voice was the last thing Marinette heard before the communication ceased.

She found herself quite immune to it. She decided not to dwell on it.

---

Adrien enjoyed the picnic very much, as he did any opportunity to hang out with his friends, but his eyes kept drifting to the empty space next to him, where Marinette would undoubtedly have been sitting, were she with them. He hoped she was alright; Alya had told him that the reason why she wasn’t coming was because she was studying, which was fair considering the amount of homework they’d been given in the past few weeks, but he did feel like she was overworking herself a bit.

He didn’t doubt her ability to take on all of her projects, but he wished she’d slow down a little, for the sake of her health. What would he do if his everyday Ladybug burned out?

He wondered what Alya’s curious gaze meant when he voiced his thoughts about the situation. He panicked a little when she said that maybe a boyfriend could help get her mind off of work - firstly, because Marinette technically had a boyfriend, which he was surprised Alya of all people didn’t know. He thought the two girls told each other everything. Was Marinette keeping their relationship a secret on purpose? Was she confused about their status, which, he had to admit, he wasn't sure was himself? Was she (the thought scared him) ashamed of him?

Secondly, he found his heart squeeze peculiarly at the thought of Marinette having a boyfriend other than him . He decided not to dwell on it.

He couldn’t help but take the long way home, passing at the bottom of her building, after the picnic, though. And, seeing that there was still light in her room at past 11pm, he decided that he should probably do something; for her well being, not as an excuse to see her, of course.

He transformed in a back alley, then extended his baton so he could peek through the window closest to her desk. Maybe she was already asleep, but had forgotten to turn her lights off.

The sight of her bent over a sheet of paper, hands buried in her hair as if ready to tear it out of her scalp made him knock.

Marinette jumped at the unexpected sound, and looked up, looking quite haggard. Her features softened when her eyes met his.

There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she opened the window. “Hey Chat, what are you doing here?” She yawned.

“Bedtime patrol, just making sure that citizens are going to bed at a reasonable time,” he smiled, stifling his own yawn.

“That’s nice of you. But, does that mean that I’m in trouble?” she drawled out, leaning forward to boop him on the nose. Her exhaustion was clouding her better judgement.

“Depends, are you nearly done with your studying?”

“When will I ever be nearly done,” she snorted, turning around to take a look at her checklist.

Her feet caught in the straps of her backpack and she wobbled forward, but Chat pounced inside in time to catch her before she could tumble down.

“Woah there, little lady… Your spatial awareness is worse than ever,” he said fondly as she clutched his arms. “Sorry, but I’m not letting you get back to work.”

“But I need to finish something…” Marinette protested.

“What you really need is to take a break.”

Marinette paused to think about it. Taking a break with Chat Noir… she seemed to recall that was on the list.

“Okay.” She shrugged.

“Good. Come here, then.” Chat Noir sighed in relief at her lack of resistance and started to lead her towards her bed, but before he’d let out his whole breath, Marinette was already trying to make her way back to her desk.

“Wait, I actually still have so much to do…” She reached for her flashcards, which tumbled at their feet.

“Okay, tell you what.” He kept hold of one of her hands as he picked the flashcards up to avoid her escaping. “Why don’t you take a small nap, and I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the time. I’ll wake you up in an hour, and when I leave I’ll turn a blind eye on your choice between going to bed and getting back to work.” She looked at her doubtfully, and glanced at the cards in his hands. He took a closer look at them; their content was that of the test they had the next day. “I can read you these while you fall asleep so it’s not too much of a waste of time, if you want.” He waved them in front of her face, hoping she’d say yes. He really needed the revision, too.

Marinette nodded and he led her to her chaise, helping her lie down on it. He started draping his blanket over her and was about to go and sit in her desk chair when she grabbed his free hand and pulled on it, a lot more strongly than he would have expected from her, especially in her exhausted state.

“Take a break with me.” She shifted to her left and patted the newly formed space. “Please?”

Her pleading bluebell eyes were difficult to deny.

“Okay,” he said as he sat next to her. Marinette snuggled up against him and sighed contently.

Chat’s heart skipped a beat. He wrapped a tentative arm around her and cleared his throat before starting to read. “The Hundred Years’ war actually lasted one hundred and sixteen years, from 1337 to 1453…”

His own tiredness hit him like a truck after a couple of pages, when he heard her soothing, gentle snoring. He lowered the flashcards to watch her sleep. She looked so tranquil, a peaceful smile drawn on her lips as her body slowly followed her breathing.

He felt his eyes close, and soon the both of them were breathing in sync, holding on to each other.

Needless to say, Chat left a little later than anticipated the next morning, woken up by the rising sun. Neither of them complained, though; both had had one of the most restful nights in a while, and both aced their History test.

Each wondered if they weren’t onto something in terms of revision technique.

Adrien almost gloated to Alya about how maybe Marinette didn’t have a boyfriend who took her mind off of work, but she had one who took care of her while she studied. Almost.

#marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ml ship month #marichat #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #day 11: take a break #day 12: cuddles #elle writes #love you (not)

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)

a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo

***

Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.

She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.

Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.

It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.

A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.

(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)

Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.

Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

***

A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.

A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.

(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)

But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.

The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.

Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.

A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.

She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.

It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.

(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)

There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.

Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.

“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”

“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”

Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”

“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”

“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.

“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.

“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”

“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”

Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”

“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”

“Joshua. Joshua White.”

Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”

“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.

“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.

“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.

Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”

A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.

Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”

“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.

***

Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.

Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.

So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.

It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.

Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”

Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”

“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”

Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”

“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.

A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”

“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”

A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”

Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.

It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.

It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.

But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.

It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.

“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”

Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.

“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.

“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.

“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.

Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.

***

This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.

The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.

The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.

Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).

And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.

A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.

Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.

“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”

A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”

“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.

“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”

“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”

Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”

“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.

“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”

You do have that person. I’m that person.

A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.

Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).

She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.

“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”

A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.

“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.

“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.

“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.

But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.

Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.

When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.

She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.

The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.

“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.

When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.

“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”

“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”

Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.

“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”

“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”

Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.

However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.

“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”

When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”

A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.

“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”

“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.

A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.

“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.

Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.

“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.

When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.

When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.

“I love you too.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #i don’t know how i know (but I know)#ortega #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #british au #lesbian au #teachers au #fluff

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tuanhood · 4 years ago

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alpha

pairing: frat!im jaebeom x reader

genre: lil bit of everything. lil smut, lil angst, maybe lots of fluff, established relationship

warnings: language, cringey frat stuff, public(??) fingering

word count: 4,200+

summary: your boyfriend’s frat doesn’t allow dating outside of greek life. hence the reason you two have had to sneak around for ten months... and hence the reason you’ve somehow found yourself stuck and hiding in a closet.

a/n: wow long time no see! sorry for the delay, I’m really busy/stressing about dissertation stuff lately so updates and writings aren’t going to be frequent. but I really wanted to write this for ya’ll real quick to have SOMETHING, but yeah it’s not edited and NOT very good bc of the quickness. But I hope ya’ll will forgive me :)

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When you woke up this morning, you really didn’t think you would end up in a closet at the Alpha Sigma Phi house.

The space is cramped, dark and a little smelly. Judging by the odor, you guessed that this was the closet that the boys in the house used to throw garbage in whenever they had to “clean” the house. Maybe this situation would have been a little bit better if you had been pushed into the closet that’s on the second floor – that way there would be less garbage and less boy smell. But who were you kidding? There would be a boy smell regardless.

In theory though you really shouldn’t be stuck in a closet at a frat house thinking about which closet you’d rather be in. What had your life become lately?

“Just a little bit longer, okay?” You heard Jaebeom utter through the door. It instinctively made you roll your eyes. The tone of his voice was so nonchalant, as if you weren’t stuck in a small space. But of course, he was on the other side of the door in fresh air, with as much space to roam around as he pleased – he didn’t understand “just a little bit longer” was triggering.

As much as you lo- liked Jaebeom… you weren’t sure if you would be able to hide in small spaces for the entirety of your relationship.

Babe it’s not for our entire relationship… Just until we graduate.

When he had first said that you didn’t really think about the bigger picture. All you had thought about was how happy he made you and how much you loved being with him. And that was the most important thing to you. But lately the sneaking around and the hiding had been a little too much for you – you weren’t sure if you could keep it up for another year… It had already been 10 months and you were at your wits end. Every time you wanted to sit down to have the conversation with Jaebeom – the one where you tell him it’s either the end of hiding or the end of your relationship – he’d give you those eyes, that smile and it would be completely wiped from your thoughts.

Damn Im Jaebeom. You think you fucking love him.

“Jae…” you grumbled, hitting your head against the door a bit. It had already been what… a half hour?

You heard him shush you and another voice emerged from the other side of the door. “Hey man, any particular reason you’ve been standing here?” Jaebeom’s nervous laughter is a giveaway, you just hope that Yugyeom doesn’t pick up on it. “No reason… just… like the space over here… It’s good party watching space.”

There’s silence and you pressed your ear up to the door further, hoping to hear something. You jumped back when you heard your boyfriend’s panicked voice, “what are you doing?”

Yugyeom snorted, “Dude chill… I’m just getting more cups from the closet.”

“Uh… Let me! I’ll get them!”

“What?”

“Yeah no worries dude, I didn’t really do anything to help prep for the party so I might as well get some fucking cups from the closet,” Jaebeom chuckled, his voice shifting to a more normal tone, “to be honest I didn’t really even know this was happening tonight… otherwise…” He drifted off, mumbling the last part to himself. You know he’s referencing the fact that the two of you thought the house would be empty – many of the guys typically going out to a local bar on Thursdays, but to your surprise as you crossed the main foyer in the house, the front door opened with most of the guys in the frat piling through. That led to your push into the closet.

“Yeah well… Red Room was closed because apparently they have a rat problem. I feel like that’s a bunch of bullshit. I mean we go there every week… we would have noticed if there was a rat problem.”

“Maybe they were just good at hiding it.”

There’s a lull in silence and Yugyeom clicked his tongue, as if he thinking deeply about something, “but I guess you wouldn’t know… You really don’t go out with us on Thursdays anymore…” As much as you liked the guys in Jaebeom’s frat – from stories you’d heard through your boyfriend of course – it seemed like they were often pretty slow when it came to certain things. If Yugyeom was starting to get skeptical and began piecing things together then surely the rest of the guys would too.

“Let me get you guys those cups.”

Taking a small step back, you turn to the shelf on your right, finding the red cups almost immediately through the dimmed closet. As the door cracks open slightly, your boyfriend’s long arm appears in the small space, gesturing around – clearly looking for the cups.

“Dude what are you doing?” Yugyeom asked.

“I know where the cups are so why should I go in all the way and get claustrophobic?” You have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at Jaebeom’s fake explanation.

Yes, because why would anyone ever want to be stuck inside of a closet? Rolling your eyes – happy he can’t see – you thrust the cups forward into his wandering hand. You swear you hear him grunt at your force.

The cups and his hand disappeared along with the small sliver of light that comes from the door being open. “Well… here you go… the cups you wanted.” There’s another pause and you wished you could see what was going on – to know if Yugyeom was buying how uncharacteristically strange Jaebeom was being or if he was still suspicious.

“You should leave your creepy party watching spot and actually join the fun, ya know? Some of the girls from Theta are going to be by soon and I know Amanda’s been asking a lot about you lately.”

Yugyeom’s mention of another girl makes your skin crawl and you’re almost ready to pounce out of the closet and call it a day, but instead you clenched your fists and waited to hear your boyfriend’s response.

“Nah man… I’m good.”

“Come on… how long has it been since you last had any action? I’m pretty sure Amanda would be down to hook up tonight.” Instinctively you felt your hand go to the doorknob, gripping it tightly.

To your dismay Jaebeom says nothing in response and your mind starts running wild thinking about possible nonverbal responses he could have communicated to Yugyeom – perhaps one of them being “yeah I’ll totally bang Amanda tonight.”

And you know what… maybe he should. Maybe it’d be better for him to be with someone he can actually walk around campus with. To be with someone he could actually introduce to his friends. You weren’t any of those things.

The circumstances of your relationship with Jaebeom had been complicated from the beginning. The two of you had met in a random general ed class you were both forced to take for a stupid credit. Never in your life did you think you were going to meet your next boyfriend in “Comparative Post-Communist Politics.” The two of you had the lowest scores in the class and found yourselves bonding over your almost failing midterm grades, but luckily the two of you had passed the course. Thank god for the grading curve.

It had started just that simply – two people who were “class friends.” Nothing more, nothing less. You’d sit next to each other every lecture and laugh over how dumb you both were, but never made efforts to hang out after class or even study together in preparation for exams. It wasn’t until the final day of class that Jaebeom had asked you to get drinks. His request shocked you as you had figured that just like most “class friends” you two would part ways and never see each other again except for the occasional pass by on campus where each of you would squint and wonder how do I know that person? Were they in that one class I took that one time?

You were perhaps even more shocked when you agreed to go.

From then on, the two of you talked about things besides class and got to know each other on a more personal level. You had already known some very basic things about him – such as his affiliation with the Greek system – but soon enough Jaebeom was pouring his heart out to you, and you to him. Both of you admitted that you had never felt this comfortable with someone before.

It was probably you fifth- or sixth-time getting drinks at a secluded place downtown when Jaebeom revealed to you how much he liked you. You felt your heart leap out of your chest and just as you were about to reveal your own confession, he hit you with a “but…”

“but… I can’t technically date you. My frat’s chapter is really strict about dating outside of Greek life. When I was a pledge, they told me that they’ve kicked guys out for going out with girls who aren’t affiliated.”

In any other situation you would have gotten up and said “no thank you” to whoever the guy was, not wanting to waste your time on anything or anyone who prioritized some stupid brotherhood over their feelings for you. But this was Jaebeom… The Jaebeom that you had grown close to over such a short period of time and had told you how much Alpha Sigma Phi meant to him. He had grown up an only child and spent much of his younger years feeling lonely, which was what made him want to rush the frat. He wanted the close experience and to have strong loyalty and ties with the other members – just like with real brothers.

“We can make it work. I really like you too Jaebeom… I’m willing to try this and figure something out…”

At the time… you weren’t sure what “figure something out” really meant – especially since you weren’t supposed to be seen together by literally anyone. Most people on campus knew someone who knew someone that was in Alpha Sig and if anyone saw the two of you together, you’d risk it getting back to the guys at the house. Which was why for 10 months the two of you had been dating in secret – him coming over to yours almost every night and you sneaking over to the house every Thursday when the guys were usually gone until the early hours.

You felt like you were fighting back tears at the thought of Jaebeom with someone else, but maybe it was what was right. You deserved to not be a secret forever – you were in a closet for godssake – and Jaebeom deserved to be with the perfect sorority girl that he could take wherever he wanted without the risk of getting kicked out of his second home. Tightly shutting your eyes, you attempted to stop yourself from crying, but somehow it makes it worse with the first drop rolling down your cheek slowly.

“Baby? Are you crying?”

It’s then that you realized the door had been cracked open once again, Jaebeom looking behind him before slipping in with you, shutting the door tightly. It occurred to you how pathetic you must look, crying in a dim, cramped closet at a frat house.

Quickly, you tried to wipe the tears of your cheek and hiccupped slightly, “N-no I’m not crying. It’s just my allergies with all the dust in here.”

“You don’t have allergies…” He positioned himself closer to you, bringing his own hand up to your face to rest it on your cheek, feeling the wet trails your tears had left behind, “what’s wrong?” Biting your lip, you don’t say anything in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject. Jaebeom knows you well enough to know when you want to move on and not address a topic, but this time he can’t find it in himself to just let it go.

“Y/N tell me.”

The way his thumb continued to gently caress your cheek back in forth, makes you want to close your eyes and pretend you’re anywhere else besides here in this closet having this conversation. You’d rather be with your boyfriend in a place far away from here where you don’t have to hide and you don’t have to worry about perceptions.

“I was just thinking about what Yugyeom said about the girl from Theta.”

“Baby… I would never go behind your back and do something with her-”

You sighed deeply and felt your stomach drop as you kept wedging your way further and further into the conversation you had once been wanting to have. Not seeing his sparkling eyes and that look in bright light made the words somewhat easier to get out. “I know you would never do that… I just think sometimes maybe it’s best if you had someone you could actually be seen with.”

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything, because it’s at that moment he feels his own stomach churn and feel sick. Making out your saddened face in the dark closet and listening to your words he realizes what he’s done. The way you had said “if you had someone you could actually be seen with” as if there was something wrong with you. As if you were less then. He wanted to kick himself for making you feel like that when it was in fact his fault and his own issues that stopped the two of you from being together publicly. Was brotherhood really so important to him when he was at risk of losing the person he loves?

Loves.

Reality hit him again.

“No,” Jaebeom finally said shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you and I’m sorry for making you feel like this. You’ve been so willing to hide this just because I’m a fucking idiot… because you understand how much this all meant to me.”

“Meant?”

He delicately brings his hands to rest at your waist, leaning close enough forward until you can feel his breath on your face, “I have something in my life that’s more important than getting kicked out of a stupid frat. I-I love you Y/N.”

You don’t answer him for a moment and he feels like he’s going to collapse at first from your lack of response. He wonders if maybe he had read the last 10-months completely wrong or if you had finally had enough with his bullshit and he was just too late. Jaebeom feels all of these worries and doubts fade away when you lean forward to press your lips against his. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips and you felt your boyfriend smile, his grip tightening on your waist and bringing you even closer to his body until you’re flush against one another.

You felt one of his hands drift down from your waist to the hem of your skirt, slowly caressing your thigh and slipping itself underneath the material until it’s hitched up above his hand. Removing yourself from his lips, you let out a lustful sigh to let him know how much you want him to do what he’s thinking about doing. As he rests his forehead against yours, he looks down between your two bodies, his hand going to your panties, gently playing with the waistband – snapping it back and forth gently to tease you.

“Do you want me to take back that I love you?” You asked playfully.

Jaebeom laughed, “you wouldn’t dare.”

Just as you’re about to respond with a bratty “try me,” you feel him dip his hand underneath the now damp material. He smiled at your caught off guard reaction. His fingers brushed your core, his index finger moving along your slit as he gathered your juices on his finger before he brought it to his lips and sucked them gently. You watched him in the dim light and felt yourself somehow grow more wet than before. He moved his fingers back down, his thumb pressing up against your clit and you felt yourself suck in a breath at the feeling, before two of his digits pushed into your completely. With the small amount of space, you had, you lifted your hips in an effort to get more of him inside of you and he chuckled at the action.

“We have all night baby girl, don’t worry. I take care of you, always.”

You exhaled at the feeling of his thumb massaging your clit and his fingers began to pump into you at a slow rhythmic pace. He watched you for a moment wondering how he got so lucky before returning his lips back to yours.

A groan arose in your throat and against Jaebeom’s lips as he curled his middle finger into you, hitting that spot that always made you so weak and you feel your thighs begin to twitch as you near your high. Sometimes it amazed you how quick he could make you reach your release, but he already knew everything else about you so well it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he would excel at this as well.

When he picked up the pace of his fingers fucking into you, continuing to hit your g-spot each time, you felt yourself quickly come apart and your walls clench around his fingers tightly. You dropped your head down to his shoulder and felt like there wasn’t any breath left in your body as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, Jaebeom making sure not to overstimulate you and slowing his fingers down. When he finally removes his hand from you, you feel so empty almost like your body just wants to be that close to him all the time – not even in a sexual way.

When you finally feel strong enough, you bring your head off of Jaebeom’s shoulder and wrap your hands around his neck tightly, bringing him in for another kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I never want to stop saying it and I never want to stop hearing it.”

With arms still around his neck, you gently play with the hair at his nape. You feel happier than you’ve felt in a long time – which was saying something considering how happy your boyfriend had made you the past 10 months.

“Should we get out of this closet?” Jaebeom asked with shut eyes, feeling relaxed every time he’s under your touch.

“Now? You want everyone to see us now?”

He shrugged, “They’re going to find out either way so might as well just do it now. I just hope they give me time to get my stuff before they kick me out.” You feel yourself frown at his candor and the thought of Jaebeom losing the sense of belonging he had gained from being in Alpha Sig, but you remember his previous assurances. You had one another and everything was going to be fine.

Just as you’re about to respond to him, you’re interrupted by a sudden emergence of light into the closet signaling the opening of the door. You and Jaebeom both freeze when you see Yugyeom and some of the other brothers behind him.

“Can you two just come out already?”

It’s almost as though both you and your boyfriend had forgotten all of your words. Instead you stare at one another with wide eyes.

“We’re tired of all this waiting. Just come out and introduce us to your girlfriend already man,” Yugyeom whined.

This was embarrassing. Had they been… listening?

“Listen ‘Gyeom I know you chose today’s date in the pool, but that doesn’t mean you win the bet,” one of the guys from behind him said.

Yugyeom lets out a large groan and turns to the member, “what? Why not? I chose today and he was going to do it today! I swear!”

“Yeah but you ruined it by opening the door! You pretty much made the whole thing void… Haven’t you heard of like… not ruining the controlled variable in the experiment or whatever the fuck?”

“The controlled variable was the door? That doesn’t make sense. You’re as dumb as a bag of bones dude,” Yugyeom snorted, turning back to you and Jaebeom. It’s then that you feel relief as Jaebeom finally cleared his throat to say something to the many pairs of eyes fixated on you both, “can you guys please explain to me what’s going on here?”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at Jaebeom as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to understand, “we had a bet going for when you would finally tell us about your secret girlfriend… Who to be honest isn’t really a secret. I sit next to Y/N’s friend in Econ… class friends ya know.”

You felt your mouth go dry. If they knew about Jaebeom dating an unaffiliated girl this entire time why did they let it play out for so long? Why didn’t they say something to him and make him break up with you or kick him out of the frat? Were they trying to torture the two of you for the longest amount of time possible?

It’s then when you really take in each member of Alpha Sig’s face and you see no malice or disgust at the fact that you’re not a non-affiliate. They almost seemed… happy.

You felt Jaebeom take his head into yours and he sighs once more before looking back to the guys, “listen… Y/N is my girlfriend and has been for the last 10 months… I’ve put her through so much shit and made her sneak around which she did willingly because of how amazing she is. I’ve never felt so loved and cared for by someone before and I can’t put her through more shit that’s going to make her feel less then she is. I love her and I’m sorry you guys can’t accept that. I can be out of here by tomorrow.”

As Jaebeom goes to move the two of you out of the closet, Yugyeom places his hand up causing you both to stop in your tracks.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jaebeom looks to you and then back to Yugyeom, “the rule… that we’re not allowed to date anyone who’s not affiliated. When we were pledges they told us they’ve kicked guys out for breaking the rule… remember?”

The boys in front of Jaebeom all look at him blankly until Yugyeom begins to laugh, the rest of the guys following him until you have approximately 6 frat guys laughing in your faces. Looking at your boyfriend his eyebrows are furrowed. You can’t tell if he’s confused at their reaction or annoyed.

It takes a moment for Yugyeom and the boys to finally stop laughing, “Jae… are you joking? Is that why you haven’t introduced her to us? Because of that stupid rule?”

“Yeah…”

Coming closer, Yugyeom placed his hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder, “Dude… that rule is not real. They’ve never kicked anyone out over dating someone who’s unaffiliated. Sure, the upperclassmen then didn’t want us to date someone not in an org, but they would have never made us leave… That kinda goes against the whole brotherhood thing. Besides, now we’re the upperclassmen and we just care that we’re all happy. You included.”

You felt like you could run a marathon at the amount of energy and feelings coursing through your body. You wanted to hug all of the semi-strangers in front of you, but also you wanted to hit Jaebeom for thinking that rule was a real thing when it was in fact… apparently not. In the back of your head, you make a mental note to lecture him on next time it never hurts to ask questions before you get into a secret 10-month relationship that might not need to be a secret.

“Thanks guys,” Jaebeom smiled at his brothers, with his hand still holding onto yours, caressing your smooth skin with his thumb.

“Now let’s continue this party, shall we?” Yugyeom yelled loudly as the rest of the guys cheer back in response, most of them heading back to the main living space until it’s just you, Jaebeom and Yugyeom.

The younger boy shakes his head, “I still can’t believe you were in that closet the entire time… which reminds me. I am never going in there again after the actions that occurred in there,” you felt your face grow hot at his admittance that he had heard or at least knew what had happened in the closest just moments before his grand entrance.

“I still can’t believe you knew the entire time and didn’t say anything!” You whined.

“I was expecting you to jump out as soon as I mentioned Amanda… That’s why I brought it up. Which by the way man,” Yugyeom turned to Jaebeom, “none of the girls at Theta give a shit about you.”

“That’s totally okay. There’s only one girl I want to give a shit about me,” Jaebeom smiled proudly placing his arm around you in front of Yugyeom and everyone else at the party. He relishes in how comfortable it feels to finally be like this with you in front of some of the most important people in his life. Besides you of course.

You hummed in delight and nuzzled your head against his arm, into his shoulder, “She doesn’t just give a shit about you. She kind of loves you too.”

“Just kind of?”

“Nah with her full heart.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #got7 #jaebeom #jaebeom fanfic

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gradschoolstyle · 6 years ago

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How I prepped for the academic job market

I am by no means an expert on academic jobs just because I now (miraculously?) have one. But I have been told that I am organized, and, yes, that is because being an anxious person sometimes means having a system for everything. So before I totally bury all memories of the academic job market, I thought I would put together a timeline of some of the things I did to get ready to search for academic jobs…

My to-do list started very informally in the first year of my PhD program. I know that sounds over-the-top-early but the job market takes a lot of work. Checking things off one at a time helped me to feel in control. Here’s how I prepared for the academic job market as a PhD student:

Year 1

Do research that excites you: Enthusiasm for my research ended up being my momentum through a lot of the hard stuff that came later. Try to set yourself up to do the research that you want to do right away. This might include some trial-and-error and trying out different topics until you find the one.

Read The Professor is In: My MA advisor insisted I read this the summer before I started the PhD and, as always, she was totally right. When I told other grad students I had read a book about how tough the job market is they either said “I don’t need to read that yet” or “I don’t want to know how bad it is.” Ummmm…denial is not a good strategy. Knowing what you’re getting into is a good strategy. Even though the information about prepping job market materials was not yet relevant, having a framework for what would be evaluated helped me to define my grad school goals.

Year 2

Write papers that help you figure out your research area: I was pretty bad at this in my MA (I wrote papers about everythingggg). It’s ok to spend some time exploring topics, but once I had a topic area, I tried to use grad seminar papers to narrow in on that topic. This involved writing some papers that ended up being duds, and some that ended up being important parts of my dissertation. This leads to…

Ask about publishing: In seminars, I tried to have meetings with professors where I told them I wanted an academic job and needed experience publishing. They were usually willing to help develop seminar papers that had (somewhat?) original arguments in them, which is necessary for publishing. I was also not afraid to ask for lots of publishing help–how does it work? where should I submit this? can I use a cover letter you have written as a template? Publishing is confusing and took me a while to get used to.

Network smarter, not harder: This was the year I realized that going to giant conferences and hoping to meet people who did similar things was just not working. I reassessed and submitted to several smaller conferences that had the explicit goal of having senior faculty mentor grad students. It was amazing! First, these conferences were genuinely helpful, second, they were genuinely…genuine. I didn’t feel that I had to do any super fake networking anymore because I was really there to have conversations that developed my research.

Year 3

Read job postings: If your discipline has a listserv, subscribe, if not, check out the InsideHigherEd job postings. Note any trends in hiring. I don’t think you can totally pivot toward every job (duh) but you can think about how to make your application more friendly to what everyone seems to want. In my case, people who teach organizational communication were often also being asked to teach several other classes, so I made sure to ask to teach one of those so it would be on my record before the job market.

Submit, submit, submit: This is the year I got the most journal submissions under review. Some got accepted, some got (mega) rejected. Most needed several rounds of hardcore revisions that took 12-14 months. Submitting in year 3 gave me time to do those revisions so that I could use the articles as writing samples on applications.

Year 4

Prep materials: I drew on as many resources as possible to prep my job market materials–career services helped with my CV, our graduate teaching program on campus helped me writing my teaching and diversity statements, I asked recent graduates for example cover letters, my advisor read and edited cover letters, my DAD read and edited cover letters (what can I say he loves helping with grammar). It takes a village. Use the village. Oh, now is also a good time to reread TPII book for tips on writing decent materials.

Get organized: I had a spreadsheet where I put all of the relevant job information, especially deadlines, keywords, and information about each department.

Ask your letter writers: I did this in August. I also made them all a “job application digest”–just a word document with all of the jobs I submitted to and some notes about what I had said in my cover letter, so they could tailor rec letters.

Throw yourself at your dissertation: Every interview asked how I was planning to finish the dissertation. Making real progress made this question much easier. I definitely lost myself to the job market for a solid month in November. Then, I realized that my dissertation was the only thing I had control over. So I got back to work.

And here are some other resources that I also enjoyed reading:

Thoughts on diversity statements: What the heck even are they?, plus thoughts on the hidden curriculum of college and designing inclusive teaching on campus (Ps don’t just use these to write a diversity statement use them to actually do work in your classroom and campus environment so that what you write on your diversity statement is genuine).

A breakdown on cover letters

Another great post on the job hunt

Campus visit small talk

This post originally appeared on my WordPress

#gradblr #gradblogging #academic job market

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ladyreapermc · 5 years ago

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Fic: This isn’t a rom-com (1/?)

Author’s notes: So this was basically the first thing I started writing when I got back to Keanu fandom after Parabellum, but it remained sitting on my files because it still felt weird to write and share rpf. But after so many rewrites, I think I’m finally ready to do it. I’ll be posting new chapters every Monday and I’d love some feedback. The entire thing is set in 2013.

Wordcount: 2174

Warnings: none for this part

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

As Lilah stood outside the address given to her, she took a deep breath and asked herself for the third time what was she thinking when she let Isaac talk her into doing this. She had so much to do.

Sure, she had the morning off since her advisor was out of town for a conference, but Lilah still could have been prepping her Monday class or even reviewing her paper.

But Isaac knew her too well. He argued that it had been ages since she had taken a day to herself and as soon as the words movie set came out of his mouth, she dropped everything else and came running. The prospect of since the cinema magic working up close was too good to pass up.

So, she waited outside the set, waiting until Isaac finally showed up, dark curls sticking to his reddish face, probably from jogging through the building. He flashed the security staff a quick bright smile, before ushering Lilah inside, guiding the way through a maze of corridors, walking so fast Lilah barely had the time to take a proper look at everything.

“Thanks so much for doing this, Lih! You’re a lifesaver,” he commented over his shoulder. “One of our extras just didn’t show up today and we’re behind schedule already.”

“It’s fine,” she said as they stopped by a table where an agitated looking brunette sat with a clipboard and walkie-talkie. She checked Lilah’s ID, before collecting her contact information and telling Isaac to take her to the wardrobe department to change.

Before Lilah could even finish shoving her ID back in her pocket, Isaac was whisking her away.

“So, what kind of movie is this?” Lilah asked as she exchanged her street clothes for the costume, a beautiful red dress, and some killer heels. “It’s not a rom-com, is it? Izzy, I’ll kill you if you’re making me play extra in a rom-com.”

“It’s an action flick, relax,” he replied, and Lilah could actually hear the eye-roll in his tone. “I will never understand your hatred for rom-coms.”

“What’s to like about them?” she asked stepping out of the dressing room. “They sell women unrealistic, almost pathological expectations for love and romance, also…”

“Lih, this isn’t your dissertation. You don’t have to always take it so seriously.” Isaac said cutting her off as he led her to the hair and makeup chair.

“I mean, one can appreciate all the clichés without really thinking it’s gonna happen to them. I mean, how many couples do you know that started as two unlikely people that are perfect for each other having that first meet-cute then moving on to silently pinning over each other. Then having the classic love triangle that might lead to the epic conflict and break up so they can have a heartfelt reunion later, with the grand romantic gesture, the speech and finally their happy ending…”

And even though Isaac’s words pointed out the improbability of it, his dreamy tone told Lilah he still hoped it could happen to him someday.

Lilah rolled her eyes fondly because he was such a hopeless romantic.

She, on the other hand, prided herself on being pragmatic. She believed in love, of course. She wasn’t that jaded at twenty-nine; but to Lilah, love wasn’t something that just happened. You didn’t just stumble on the love of your life by accident someday.

“You look smoking, honey!” Isaac declared, snapping Lilah out of her thoughts. “Come on! Chad and David are already on set and ready to shoot.”

Lilah only had time to grab her bag before he was leading her once again through the maze of corridors to and ample room that looked a lot like a speakeasy, from the jazz band on the stage, to the smoky air, dim lighting and leather booths.

“Now all you have to do is sit still and look pretty.” He flashed her a teasing smile and ignored her eye-roll. “I’ll check on you during lunch break.”

Lilah waved her goodbye and watched as he moved to a pair of men standing by some monitors talking. They exchanged a few words, before Isaac disappeared again, probably off to run another task.

They filmed for around two hours straight. Lilah couldn’t see much of was going on because her table was facing the band and away from the area the camera seemed to be focused on and she couldn’t exactly turn to see, even if she really wanted to, but she managed to sneak a couple of glances whenever they called cut.

“Ok everybody, let’s take 15,” one of the directors announced.

Lilah stood up, stretching her back to work out the kinks of being sitting still for too long in an uncomfortable chair.

She took a few moments to search for Isaac, but he was nowhere around the main room and Lilah didn’t want to risk getting lost in the building. Instead, she picked a water bottle and a protein bar from craft service and looked for a quiet place to wait for filming to resume.

Lilah found a hidden corner in of the set, out of the way from most of the staff and quiet enough that she could pull out her book. She settled on one of the free chairs to read a little. Soon, she was absorbed by the text, shutting off everything else until a passage caught her attention, and Lilah couldn’t help but snort at it and offer a counterargument under her breath.

“Are you pro or against dualism?” Someone asked from just outside her line of vision, probably catching the cover of her book when Lilah held it closed while digging for a pen in her bag.

“Against obviously,” Lilah replied with a small snort as she looked up, her eyes going wide at the sight before her. Shock making her drop her pen and book, which he picked up.

“Really?” He asked with a curious frown. “Why?”

Lilah as she stared at him, she couldn’t get her throat to work.

He was so much taller than he looked on the screen, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His dark hair was slicked back with gel, the tips touching his nape. He was spotting a well-trimmed beard, some fake bruises, and a black three-piece suit. Lilah didn’t think anyone could be this handsome, but she was obviously wrong.

“Where are my manners…” he said offering a hand. “Hi. I'm Keanu.”

The gestured kickstarted Lilah’s brain again and she shook his hand with a quick, embarrassed laugh.

“I’m sorry! Hi. Lilah,” she rushed to say. “I’m Lilah.”

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” he said with a warm smile.

“So, you don’t believe in the mind…” he commented, handing her pen and book back and Lilah did her best to smooth the wrinkled edge.

“As an immaterial entity that exists apart from our bodies like Descartes proposed? Not really. I mean, let’s face it, he just gave it a pseudo-scientific look to the idea of a soul.”

Lilah looked up from her book, catching the way he was watching her with a smile.

“Sorry,” she huffed a breath with an embarrassed smile. Was she really babbling about dualism to Keanu Reeves?

“No, no,” he assured, taking a seat next to her. “Go ahead.”

“Uh… well,” she hesitated, glancing at him again. “I mean, it’s been what? A couple of thousand years? Probably more, but we still can figure out what the mind is.”

“I always thought of it as what makes us human. Theoretically, of course.”

“Ok but wouldn’t that be more like what it does than what it is?” she pointed out. “But let’s run with it, anyway. How does a mind make us human?”

“Well, for one, isn’t it supposed to give us a conscience, intelligence, all that…” Keanu trailed off with a hand gesture and Lilah smiled.

“But those brain functions. Are we saying the mind is the brain?” she couldn’t contain the way her smile widening even more. This was fun.

She loved talking philosophy, but Lilah rarely had the chance of doing it outside a classroom. And here she was actually talking dualism with fucking Neo!

“If it was the same thing, why would we need two concepts?” he inquired, brow furrowing in a small thoughtful frown.

“You just made my point for me,” Lilah said, and Keanu chuckled. “And it can’t be part of the brain either, because theories seem to agree that the mind isn’t material and our brains are very material.”

“Maybe there’s another dimension out there,” he offered with a shrug, leaning forward on his elbows which brought him closer to Lilah.

She bit her bottom lip to suppress the urge of making a Matrix joke.

“Ok, but then how is something that is immaterial influences our very material selves?”

Lilah watched as Keanu paused, considering her argument, that thoughtful frown returning, and Lilah took that time to admire him. If her teen self could see her now, she would probably have a heart attack. Keanu had been her movie crush for as far as she could remember, ever since she watched the Matrix for the first time.

And here he was, in the flesh, just talking to her. It was almost surreal. Was this a dream? Was she going to awake any minute in her bed?

“Alright, you got me,” he said with a smile, catching her attention. “I have no idea, but don’t you think there should be something there? Shouldn’t a man be more than just atoms and chemicals? Something more transcendental?”

“What? You’re a Kant man?”

The words were out of her mouth before she could contain herself. Her tongue slipping on the pronunciation, making it sound like a completely different thing and Keanu busted out laughing, turning bright red.

It took a second for Lilah to realize how it sounded, but when she did, she covered her face with her hands, mortified.

“Oh my God! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok,” he assured, still chuckling. “It’s fine. Really. I am not a Kantian, no but I can see the value in his transcendental man theory.”

Lilah tried to make her mouth work, to say something else but all she managed was an embarrassed chuckle. She could feel her cheeks burning.

“I’m so, so sorry…” she managed, voice coming out muffled. “I just…”

“Sometimes you forget to double-check what are you saying before putting it out there?” He asked with a soft smile and she nodded. “I do that all the time. Don’t worry.”

“Is there a way to fix that?” she asked, finally lowering her hands.

“I’ll let you know when I find it,” he replied with a little smile, before he ducked his head, letting out a small chuckle.

For a moment they just sat there, still chuckling together, cheeks red and awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze, until someone cleared their throat behind them and making both turn around to look.

Isaac stood there with his hand pressed to the earpiece he wore and a clipboard in hand. Lilah could see he was barely containing his smirk as he looked between her and Keanu and she winced, wondering how much he had heard.

“Sorry to interrupt. Keanu, Chad needs you.”

“Thank you,” Keanu said getting up and turning to look at Lilah. “It was very nice to meet you, Lilah.”

“You too,” she replied with a small smile, watching as he walked away before turning to look at Isaac with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you worked with Keanu Reeves?”

“I don’t work with him, I work around him,” Isaac pointed out with a frown. “Also, that was the nerdiest flirting I’ve ever seen.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t flirting.”

“Yeah, right!” Isaac snorted in disbelief. “Come on. Break’s over.”

Lilah followed Isaac back to the main area of the set and the same table from before. This time, she caught a glimpse of Keanu chatting with one of the directors. She thought his lips quirked into a smile when he saw her, but she was probably just imagining as she sat down again.

“Shit! I should have asked for an autograph. Or is that too weird?” Lilah asked Isaac.

She was doing so well, but that Kant thing threw her off and she went right back to that strange awkwardness she usually had around people she found attractive. Lilah really thought she had outgrown that.

“It’s not weird. Extras ask for autographs all the time,” Isaac said with a shrug. “And maybe while you at it, you can ask him out.”

“Haha.” Lilah rolled her eyes at the way Isaac wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Isaac, no! It’s Keanu Reeves. Are you nuts?”

“Fine,” he replied with a huff, but the glint of amusement in his eyes didn’t fade. “But you do know what that felt like right?”

Lilah frowned in confusion and he flashed her an excited grin.

“It felt straight out of a rom-com.”

tbc

Go to part 2

Taglist (give me a shout if you want to added.)

@poisonedjoinery @ringa-starr @curly-minnie @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

@caryled @beyond-antares @kathorax @krazycags01 @meetmeinthematinee

@red-pill-blue-pill @baphometwolf666

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x ofc #fanfic #this isn't a rom-com #series #original character

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lemonjoonah · 6 years ago

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Artificially Inclined - Pt 3

Title: Artificially Inclined (A.I.) Word Count: 6K Rating: M Genre: Android AU, Assassin AU, Scifi, Romance (smut), Drama, Thriller Warnings: Violence, Disability Discrimination, Drug Use, Sexual Reference Pairings: Maknae Line x Reader (Primarily Jungkook x Reader) Pairings (in this chapter): Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Summary: You took Jungkook on as a project, something to help you pass the time in your exile. How could you have known that he would become such a big part of your life? That he would see you as his entire reason for existence, and the only method for his survival. When an outsider, V, is forced into your life, after learning of the secret that keeps you hidden away, relationships shift and tension grows high. After all, how can you expect Jungkook to share your attention when he’s held it for so long?

A/N: Just a forewarning there is going to be a major tone shift two thirds of the way through this chapter. It’s a POV switch, which is written in true first person (as opposed to the modified version I sometimes write in). I considered splitting it off into another chapter but in order for you to get the full view of what’s happening I decided to keep it all together. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 - Execution Flaw

Present 9:40 am December 4th, 2054

POV (Y/N)

“I would like you to ask me Noona. If it happens again, I want to help you.”

You find yourself repeating, ‘he doesn’t know what he’s asking,’ over and over in your mind until you find a way to resolve his request. ...Jungkook what do you feel towards me? When you see me what is your first reaction?...

“I want to assist you.”

...Would you ever deny me a request?...

“Of course not Noona.”

...Then I’m sorry but I can’t ask you to help me. I know you say that you want to, but you do not yet possess the components that equate to consent in this matter... The explanation you give is formal but it’s the best you have.

“And what are those components?” Jungkook’s eagerness weighs on you, it’s as if he expects to receive a simple answer that will clarify everything.

...There are a few but I suppose the basics would consist of love, desire, and the ability to refute...

“The update that Hyung gave you, will that not solve these issues?”

...I’m not sure Jungkook, I need to look at the coding first. I don’t want to walk into this blindly...

“May I look at it?”

...I think it’s best if I hold onto it for now...

“It would be more efficient for me to examine the software.”

...Jungkook, it would make me happy if you dropped the subject... You cringe internally as you write those words but you find yourself unsure of how else to get him to change the conversation. You don’t want to even risk him even seeing the coding in case he begins the update unintentionally after viewing the programming. He has a habit of latching on to so much information and then integrating it into his system. If he feels like something will improve his capabilities he will seek to upload it.

Jungkook goes silent, but watches your expression closely as you head towards the dining room for breakfast. Your plate is set at your seat stuffed to the edge with your favourites, while the rest of the table remains bare. Jungkook takes the seat next to you as your mind continues to dwell on his proposal.

“You’re not happy.”

You look back to Jungkook, confused by his statement.

...What do you mean?...

“You said that if I dropped the subject you would be happy.”

...Sorry, I was just thinking about tonight... Such a bold face lie, you scold yourself while taking a bite of an apple. Not wanting to meet his eyes you look to the toast rack next for a slice of whole wheat but today you find it empty.

“Would you like to discuss the schedule for the day?”

...Yes please anything to distract me...

“Your brother should arrive home in just over an hour. Followed by your meeting with him regarding your dissertation. Your parents will get in just before the party which will start at 8pm and then fly out again at 11pm. It appears they have also just sent you and Seokjin a joint email wishing you a Happy Birthday.”

Jungkook abruptly stops the rundown while his head tilts in the direction of the kitchen. This behaviour is nothing new, with his improved hearing he can often listen in on things that might be impossible for you to pick up.

He stands up from his seat and moves in the direction he was staring off into. “I’ll return shortly Noona.”

When he opens the door to the kitchen you can briefly hear the ruckus inside, before the door slams shut behind him again.

Jungkook returns a minutes later with an appliance in tow.

...Jungkook why do you have a toaster?...

He looks down at the small device he’s cradling in hands. “I can fix it Noona.”

After giving you the vague answer, he sits back down and looks ominously at the door, until your head chef bursts forth to address you.

“Keep that mechanical pet of yours out of my kitchen!”

...Jungkook is allowed to go wherever he wishes. If he enters your kitchen there is obviously a reason for him to be there...

“He stole the toaster!”

...Jungkook why did you take it?...

“She was yelling at it and hitting it, I wanted her to stop. I can repair it.”

...If Jungkook wishes to fix the toaster I see no problem here...

“Fine he can keep the damn thing, I’ll just get a new one that actually works.”

As the cook returns to the kitchen you shake your head. You wish that occurrences like this were rare but unfortunately Jungkook has a habit of rubbing some people the wrong way. It’s not his fault, he’s just trying to help them. Why can’t they see that?

“She was going to throw it out Noona.” There is such distress in his voice that your frustration crumbles. You know that he worries that he will be treated the same one day. He only wants to show people the value of technology... even if it is a simple toaster.

...I know Jungkook...

“Why do humans dispose of things so quickly?”

...Because they don’t understand. They feel that it’s not worth their time fix something that’s broken...

“Why are you different Noona?”

...Because to them I am broken too... You identify far more with the appliance in Jungkook’s hands than the women who was trying to dispose of it.

“You are not broken Noona. You are living within the parameters of how you were made. You cannot give fault to the device, only the creator.”

...Thank you Jungkook...

...

After breakfast you begin prepping for your discussion with Seokjin, while also taking a glancing through his correspondence from the past year.

Dec. 7th, 2053

...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I left you there. I just couldn’t stay, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the house where we were lied to our whole lives for even a moment longer. I was selfish, I hadn’t considered what you might be feeling. Please let me know that you’re okay. I won’t be coming home for a while but I just need you to know that you are still my sister, my very brilliant sister.

- Seokjin...

...

Dec. 31st, 2053

...Sorry I haven’t been able to visit. I’ll see if I can get some time off for the Lunar Holiday. I’m glad to hear that you are doing well. I have some fantastic news to share. The first of the new defence model units are coming off the production line. I am taking a couple semesters off from grad school to be involved with their development but they should be ready to go within a year! They never would have made it this far without out your insight, I just thought you, my brilliant sister, should know the incredible work you’ve done.

-Seokjin...

...

Feb. 8th, 2054

...Happy Lunar New Year! And again I must send my apologies. They’ve been keeping me busy here. One day I’ll bring you to the international factory to show you what you helped create. I know that I haven’t been home to discuss your work, trust me when I say that I miss those times too, but you can always send anything you wish to discuss to my dropbox. You may have to explain it to me though because there is no way I could ever live up to your brilliance.

-Seokjin...

...

June 23rd, 2054 (Message has been decrypted by JK0901)

...I’m sure you’ve guessed by now the reasons for the lack of communication, especially with it being all over the news. But I figured you would want me to confirm. There has been some push back with our new units from two extremist groups. The first is a religious organization called S(e)oul First, I would almost enjoy their cleaver name were it not for their antics. They claim that we are playing god, and taking innocent lives with our soulless creations, so their recourse has been to attack out our factories. We have managed to secure our production lines in classified locations but contact in and out must be limited and heavily encrypted, for fear of discovery.

The second group, known as Asimov's Law, has been trying to push that we bind all androids to rules set in popular fiction. I mean really, can you believe that? They have been relatively quiet recently, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they make their strike too. So please, I am begging you, stay by JK0901, and stay safe. I’ll contact you when I can.

-Seokjin...

...

Nov. 25th, 2054 (Message has been decrypted by JK0901)

...Thank you for all of your messages and updates. I can finally make a short trip back home for our birthday next week, although I suppose there will be some business mixed in too. I guess that party that our parents are throwing will also be the official public announcement of the military line, there will be several government officials in attendance. So much for our celebration right?

But with this trip I’ll finally be able to discuss your progress with you in person. I must say I was surprised to see the direction you are taking your work. My flight gets in just after 10am so I’ll probably make it home around 11 shall we take some time then to discuss your findings then?

-Seokjin...

...

The second that Seokjin steps in the door he wraps you in a tight hug. You can hardly contain your excitement so see your brother again after so long.

“I guess you missed me too?” He laughs as he pulls you away slowly. “After what I did I don’t deserve such kindness.”

You shake your head to convey that all is forgotten.

“Come on I know you’re anxious to show me what you’ve been up to.”

With your annual report due to the research team in a matter of days you are looking for some initial feedback. The subject matter is so unusual that the lens through which it is presented becomes essential to its reception.

As Seokjin looks over your final paper you watch his expression closely. His brow furrows several times as if in confusion.

...What’s wrong?...

“It’s good I’m just a little perplexed as to how it will benefit the direction in which the company is currently going. You’re discussing possible advancements to affective computing but we already have a good baseline for emotional recognition. It’s expensive research to conduct and I worry that we would see little return if we continued to invest in that area.”

...It could be improved. I spend most of my time with Jungkook and he still struggles to determine some emotional expressions. But this isn’t just about androids seeing and understanding emotions but possibly even feeling them...

“What benefit would that give to the military defense units?”

...You said it yourself that people are having difficulty accepting them. This might help bridge the gap...

“We are not going to cater to extremists, they will never be happy.”

...Then at least for household droids. If I can work with Jungkook to the point where he is able to develop his own emotions. We could apply that to assistant units and such, it could make their productivity increase if they can apply emotional intelligence...

“I was worried about this....” It’s with a sigh that Seokjin continues, “We are not trying to make them human (Y/N).”

You feel a sense of embarrassment as he simplifies your work so bluntly. You can only assume he wants you to see the error of your ways, but why? Why is it so wrong to want this for them? Jungkook makes you feel more human than anyone else, yet you can’t give him the same experience.

...No but I would like them to understand. They should understand what they are fighting, and what they are protecting...

...

“I’m sorry Noona.”

...For what?...

“I’m sorry that Master wasn’t impressed by our work.”

...He just doesn’t find value in it yet. I’m sure once we are successful he will...

Jungkook is currently helping you with your dress for tonight. You didn’t realize when you ordered it that the back consisted of intricate laces that the wearer would need assistance with. But of course Jungkook was more than willing to aid you. You watch him in his progress through the mirror in front of you. He himself had already changed into the same black suit that all of the security units would be wearing.

As his fingers threaded the ribbon through the notches in the fabric they would occasionally brush the skin of your back. After each loop he tugs on the lace cinching it together. This causes you to lose balance several times during the process but he stops to brace you when it does.

...Did you manage to fix the toaster while I was with Seokjin?...

He beams back at you through the mirror, “Yes I did.”

...What was wrong with it?...

“User error. She did not maintain the appliance, she is not like you.” He yanks on the strings of the gown one last time pulling you into him. Jungkook’s face now right beside yours, you watch through the looking glass as he looks at you intently, whispering into your ear, “You take such good care of me Noona.” His fingers trail along the boning of the dress, pressing down and smoothing out the fabric on your skin as they move along. “How does that fit?”

Reluctantly taking your eyes off him, you test the bodice with a tug. ...I think it could be a little tighter...

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

...You won’t, I won’t be wearing it for long. I am just worried about it falling...

“Formal attire seems so unnecessarily complex.”

...Yes, yes it is. It’s amazing what we’ll do to look pretty...

“You are already pretty Noona.” You inhale sharply as he tightens the gown further. “Based on the standards of society you are considered attractive.”

Your hand hovers over the tablet as you ponder if you should press him further. ...What about your standards?...

“I don’t have standards of beauty, but I suppose it could be considered my drive to observe you. If that’s the case I consider you very beautiful.” His hand comes to find your wrist. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt, your heart is racing again.”

You nod to him, flush with embarrassment.

...

The party is contained to a separate building on the property used for entertaining guests. On one side there is a large elaborate ballroom and on the other there is a corridor filled with smaller rooms, including your refuge in the form of a piano parlor. An evening such as this often becomes a test on how short you can make your appearance without it seeming odd or rude.

Without your tablet in hand you feel empty and anxious. Clinging to Jungkook's arm as if he is a crutch. You have done this so many times before but each spectacle makes you nervous wondering if this will be the time someone figures out your secret before you can leave. As you enter you nod to the several people who recognize you. You find yourself fortunate for your brother, all of the guests have their sights set on him for discussion not just because of his position, but due to his affable nature. Jungkook quickly ushers you to the corner occupied by Namjoon.

One of the temporary wait staff hired for the evening approaches to offer you a glass of champagne. Jungkook turns them away for you to avoid any issue. Namjoon eyes the waiter as he leaves, waiting until the staff is fully out of sight before addressing you.

“You look stunning.”

You cock your head and glower at him. Namjoon says this every year.

“What? I’m still not allowed to say that?.”

“Not to my sister.” Seokjin steps up to your side.

“Seokjin.”

“Namjoon.”

You look between the two men letting out a huff at their cold acknowledgment of each other. Namjoon and Seokjin have never quite seen eye to eye. Namjoon hates him for labeling your work as his, while Seokjin loathes him for not paying the respect his title demands.

Seokjin leans into you while taking a sip of champagne. “They've really outdone themselves this time haven’t they. Our parents thought it would be smart to invite all of my old school mates to make it seem like an actual party, not a publicity event. Pathetic isn’t it? I haven’t seen half of these people for more than 10 years.”

You nod noting that the room looks more full than usual. You scan the ballroom taking a pause for a moment as you see a familiar face in the crowd. It couldn’t be, is it really him?

Seokjin takes note of your distraction following your gaze. “Is that V? That’s a surprise. Do you remember him too? I heard there was an accident, and lost a good portion of his memory. I’m shocked to see him here, rumors are that he likes to keep to himself now.”

You lock eyes with the guest from your past, for a brief moment you consider that maybe, just maybe he remembers you too. But he turns his head away quickly and without acknowledgment, dashing any hope for you to reunite.

“I have to give the announcement soon. You should be good to leave after that.” Seokjin turns to Jungkook, “JK0901, I’ll leave her to you. I can at least trust that you won’t run off with some frivolous tart while on guard duty.” He smirks at Namjoon after issuing the order, with the obvious attention of giving offense.

“Someone sounds jealous. I could give you a few pointers on how to attract people, but that would require you to be a decent human being.” You elbow Namjoon in the ribs for his comment, but he continues to sneer at Seokjin. “Go ahead, run along now, go take credit for work that isn’t yours.”

As Seokjin leaves you glare at Namjoon, but he only scoffs at your expression. “You know it’s considered rude to give your tutor such a look... you’re lucky I find it amusing.”

...

A herd of people begin to congregate closer to the stage for Seokjin’s speech. You find a couple of them looking to your direction, they seem curious of you but intimidated by Jungkook's presence.

“My sister and I would like to thank you for coming this evening to celebrate our birthday. We also must pass along the apology that my parents are unable to join us at the moment as their travel plans were delayed, they hope to arrive as soon as possible. But that leaves me with the pleasure of sharing official news of the progress we have been making. As of today, we have just shipped out 500 new military units equipped with state of the art programming that will keep us safe for years to come. Human soldiers will become a thing of the past, and soon conscription will no longer be necessary.” There was an uproar of applause. “This has been the goal of our company for a long time but of course we couldn’t done it without your support, so please enjoy yourselves tonight!

As sound of the ovation comes to an end you have your cue to leave. For some reason after a speech the environment always becomes palpable with excitement and people will often try to embrace you with conversation. Hiding yourself behind Jungkook, he edges you to the hallway with several androids guarding the entrance to make your exit.

You are only too happy to be lead back to the parlor by Jungkook. He guides you to your favourite spot in the room, the piano bench. Your tablet already there and waiting for you.

“May I give you your present now Noona?”

You look over to him with a curious interest. ...Jungkook you aren’t required to give me anything for my birthday...

“Neither is Hyung, but you accepted his gift. Will you receive mine too?”

You nod expecting him to pull something out from a pocket but instead he places his hands on the keys in front of you. The ivory presses beneath his fingers in the form of a familiar melody. It’s an accompaniment, the perfect fit to the first piece he had ever heard you play.

...You learned how to play?...

He nods, “Your music is essential you, I want to be part of it too.”

...But this song, you remember it? I haven’t played it in so long...

Jungkook looks to you as he continues, not even missing a beat. “I can recall everything you do Noona, but the memory of this song keeps repeating for me. At first I thought it was an error, but I believe this is what humans experience when a memory is important to them, is it not?”

You nod to confirm, a tear escaping you as you are overwhelmed with emotion. Jungkook’s fingers pause on the keys to address your tears ...No, keep playing, these are happy tears I promise...

“Will you play it with me? Can I hear your voice with mine?”

The small piano bench encourages you to press your side against his as you take up position. Your fingers quake slightly as they join his on the instrument, matching Jungkook's slow soft tempo allowing your fingers to roll over the instrument's keys.

His hand nudges yours as your notes draw closer together. His sound is a little more forceful than your own, especially for such a piece. This time you place your hand on his, guiding him to caress the keys, showing him how feather light touches can convey just as much. Wondering if he can see how it changes the emotional impact of the song.

Jungkook looks to you again with another question as the piece comes to a close, “Noona that man Master was referring to earlier, V, did you know him?”

You finish off the last few notes before responding. ...I did. A long time ago, before I met you...

You were upset that V did not recognize you when you met eyes, but Jungkook more than makes up for that now. He will never leave you, he will never forget you. So why is it so hard to wipe the boy with the boxy grin from your mind?

You find Seokjin standing in the doorway with a coy grin on his face. “Mom and Dad just arrived if you want to see them?”

You shake your head and lowered your eyes, “Yeah I felt the same, luckily they’ll only be here for an hour or two and then they are heading out with the Prime Minister.” He nods at Jungkook, “So now you’re training it how to play the piano too?”

Seokjin paces closer to see your answer ...He is acting off his own impulses. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, they are more than just assistants or soldiers...

“For our company to thrive they can’t be, we need soldiers who are going to take orders not question their leaders. This is for the greater good. You heard what I said, with these units we can save lives, we can end conscription.”

Seokjin’s phone suddenly starts to blare out, he looks at the display with apprehension “Why would they risk a call from there? This line isn’t secure.” He mutters quietly before answering the phone.

“Hello, yes why are you... what... what the hell do you mean it never arrived? How can 500 units just go missing?... Do you know what that shipment was worth?” Seokjin’s anger is overflowing, it’s terrifying to see him in such a rage. “Have them send the jet to Seoul I’ll leave right away.”

He gives out a sigh as he hangs up. “Sorry sis, I’ll have to cut this trip short. I’ll send word soon once I make sure that we can have a secure conversation. It looks like our friends have decided to act out again.” There’s a swift kiss to your check before he exits out the back.

While Seokjin takes his leave, Jungkook stares at the other door that leads to the long hallway and ballroom.

...What’s wrong?...

“One of the guests has passed out, possibly do to an allergic reaction. The units on site have sent out an emergency signal to respond.”

...You should go, they might need your help...

“You’ll be okay Noona?”

You nod and wave him off out the door.

In his absence you returning to your piano calling up a different piece from your past, one you learned and played before Jungkook's time. The song you played for V so many years ago. The song he loved to listen to as he sat by your side... the one that prompted him to give you your first kiss at the age of 13. Seokjin might think V a distant memory, but for you he still holds strong.

You had keep your friendship secret from Seokjin, from your family. For fear of what they would do if they found out he knew of your disability.

V would always tell the guards he was coming to visit Seokjin as a child when really he was coming to see you. It had broken you deeply when he and his family moved away in your yearly teen years. You had heard about the accident too. The one that took his family and many of his memories. You wonder how much he could remember. If he can recall you or your time together, does he know of your friendship that grew despite your defect?

The door pushes back open, you keep playing knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t want you to stop on his account. But It’s not Jungkook who comes to stand by your side...

“Sorry to interrupt.”

It’s Kim Vincent... V.

Maybe it was the song you just played, maybe it was the fact that you were reliving the memory, you couldn’t help but toss aside priority for once, leaping up from your piano and pulling him into a hug.

...

Asimov’s Law safe house, Seoul 12:00 pm December 4th, 2054

POV Taehyung

“Fuck!” I curse out as our captive’s vomit spills all over my shoes.

Yoongi enters the room chuckling once he sees the reason for my swear. Calling out to the one who should have been in my predicament. “Hoseok get your ass out here! It’s your job to keep him alive until tonight.”

I look back to the man tied to the chair, Kim Vincent. He’s high as a kite with bile now dripping from his chin. I still can’t shake the eeriness I feel when I look upon him. I know that the whole plan relies on our likeness, but having someone who resembles me so closely is unnerving.

“Did you get everything you needed? I just got the confirmation to proceed for tonight.”

“I think so, we should try and keep him at a better level though, he’s too far gone. I might require any last minute information he can remember but he’s useless like this.” I push the man’s head back proving my point when I release it to lull forward again.

“When we found him he wasn’t much better. You either get this or serious withdrawal symptoms. No one wants an irritable drug addict.”

“Ugh gross.” Hope finally enters the room to look after his charge. “Leave the shoes Tae I’ll find you some other ones. Is Jimin back yet?”

“From his pre-op ritual? No he was out all night, someone must have kept him busy.” I respond with cynicism. The lock on the door begins to rattle and in stumbles Jimin. “Speak of the devil, cutting it a little close aren’t you? Were you out enjoying your walk of shame?”

“I have plenty of time, and he was worth every step. I was sad to see he already left the hotel when I woke up though, I could have gone for another round.” Jimin gives a smug look as he examines the state of the room he’s just entered. “You should join me next time rather than stress here all night. I can find you someone to help relax.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Jimin strolls off to his room with a hum.

“Yoongi where you able to find any more information on our employer?”

“Nothing. Although I expect they are involved with the S(e)oul First movement. They must be part of something big for the amount they’re paying us.”

“Even if they are as close to the family as they boast?’

“That could have been their motive to get so close, we can’t be sure. Their wish to remain anonymous is not surprising, they’re giving us our chance and letting us choose between the two targets so we shouldn’t complain.”

“I’ll take out both if I can. They may just want to send a message, but I want to win this war.”

“Don’t risk it if you don’t have the window though, the male heir is the priority. She will inherit a large fortune, but he is in line to receive the company. This is going to be more dangerous than you anticipate. With so many units around, your time is going to be limited and our communication almost non-existent. Their security is impossible to hack, you’ll be blind, other than what the informant has given us.”

“Just be ready with the switch once I send the green light.”

...

As I hand over my invitation to the staff they compare my face to the image they have on file, directing me thought the metal detector and into the ballroom once they confirm my identity.

It’s hard to believe the number of people of importance that they’ve stuffed into one room. It’s like they are asking for us to make a move. For god sake even the Prime Minister is here. I tug the collar around my neck pulling it forward, countering the weight of the carbon fiber blade tucked into the back of my vest.

The family’s son is making his rounds as I enter. Not wanting to engage him just yet I move to the opposite end of the room confirming guards and exit points. The memory loss from Vincent’s past accident is a decent alibi but if I can avoid all possible conversation I will.

I soon spot Jimin in a wait staff uniform and have to cover a snicker. He always hates these support roles, preferring to be the one to make the strike, but that assignment falls on me today.

After a long wait I watch as the heiress steps into the hall. I had expected her to be just as exuberant as her brother but there seems to be something different about her. Instead of greeting guests she simply confines herself to a corner with her date... no wait, that must be her guard. I almost didn’t recognize him for the android that he is, had it not been for the suit that he’s dawning I might have continued to think him human.

Now that I know him to be a unit I can see the additional signs, how he stands perfectly still, how his eyes dart about the room. But when he looks to the heiress, that is when he appears almost human again. I’ve never seen that expression before in an android, it’s almost as if his whole existence relies on her. He watches every move she makes, and clings so desperately to her side. This could be a problem, what if he doesn’t leave with the others...

I step over to Jimin and grab a glass of champagne from him. “Restroom, two minutes.” I can’t be seen talking with him out on the floor unless I want to draw suspicion to him after my task is done.

I check under the stalls to find it all clear. This is the only spot I can be sure I won't be recorded or overheard.

“That unit...”

“I know, bold of her to bring her sex toy into public don’t you think?”

“Jimin, if he’s not on the security programming he won’t leave her.”

“He’ll leave, he has to be linked to the system in some format.” Jimin pauses in consideration before continuing the assessment of our situation, “That other man though, do you think he’ll follow them?”

“The tutor? No I’ve been told he usually stays until the end of these parties, despite the fact that the heirs always take leave early.”

“She seems like a piece of work, doesn’t she?” Jimin chuckles darkly, “Maybe we should change targets. The son at least thanked me when I offered him a drink, she didn’t even bother to say a word, just turned her head away like I was nothing.”

“I would look away too if a flirtatious brat offered me a drink.”

“Fuck you, she would be so lucky.” Jimin bites back before letting out a long sigh, “This is exhausting waiting on these people, we should have just poisoned them, we’d be done by now.”

“Too risky, and too many variables.”

Jimin moves back to the door. “Fine we’ll stick to your plan Once both of the heirs leave I’ll send out the package, watch for the recipient and then give you a three minute warning.”

...

The son’s speech was cringe worthy, but not as bad as the crowd's reaction. I watch as they are enthralled by him and this perfect family. The end to conscription, that’s their goal? I highly doubt that.

I observe the daughter leave surprisingly early since she was the last to arrive. Exiting down a hall with two guards posted at each side preventing guests from entering the private area.

A half hour later the son takes his leave too. With the arrival of his parents he is relieved from his social duties, exiting down the same hall that his sister had gone.

With his departure, Jimin works quickly to deliver his distraction. When the the bait is taken he gives his signal by offering me another drink.

I station myself close to the hall’s entrance as the minutes pass. A women at the far end of the room begins to cough and gasp as if she’s choking. Just as planned, just as programmed the units leave their post. Prioritizing the health and safety of the guest, but there's still one more I am waiting on. The heiress’s personal unit that left with her, in the seconds that pass my anxiety increases. When the android finally steps out into the ballroom I steal off behind it down the now vacant hall.

I can hear music different from the tone of the ballroom I had just left. A dreary piano melody playing from my intended destination. Clair de Lune, well if that’s the last song he wishes to listen to I can’t deny it to be a good choice, it seems that we at least agree on something.

My hand pauses on the panel as I put an ear to the door. I find it odd that there are no words exchanged between the siblings only the notes of the tune. I push open the door slowly as to not draw attention immediately. The daughter is the one playing the piano, but where is the son, where is my ideal target?

She keeps focused on the music as I draw closer. I stop once she looks up at me a grin spreads throughout her face, but nothing can prepare me for the hug that follows.

V is Seokjin’s friend so why is she having such a reaction to me? None of this makes any sense.

I quickly pull her off of me, “Sorry I was looking for your brother Jin. Is he still here?” I’m careful to use his nickname that he went by in school to maintain the act. It was one of the few things that I had managed to drag from Vincent about him.

She looks absolutely broken after hearing my words. Her mouth hangs open ever so slightly her lips trembling as she shakes her head.

“Can you tell me where he went?”

She remains silent much to my dismay, a sadness continues to fill her expression. I begin to curse her out in my mind, if she tells me I will leave, if she tells me I don’t have to fucking kill her instead...

She takes a step back knocking over the piano bench in the process.

My time is running short, that drug that Jimin had someone serve the women will soon wane.

With no other option she will have to do. “May I wait here with you until he returns?” I try my best to remain cordial as I taking a step towards her, I reach behind to find my concealed blade. Why isn’t she answering me? I notice her eyes dart over to a tablet resting on the piano stand. I thought it would display music but it looks to be half of a conversation.

...What’s wrong?...

...You should go, they might need your help...

My hand stops before I draw the dagger out into view. Why would she type out orders? Why isn’t she saying anything? Is it... is it because she can’t? This is not what I expected, she is not what her family presents her to be. She is not perfect... she is not without flaw...

...

A/N: Whew! Lots to digest in that part, if you have any questions, about the world building, or characters, feel free to send me an ask!

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