Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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157. Aaron Taylor-Johnson 4

~Two years. One-hundred and four weeks. Seven-hundred and thirty days.
That’s how long the flowers had been showing up. Every Monday, you’d go into work to find a vase of fresh flowers on your desk. Working at a PR firm had some strange perks at times, but this was definitely unusual. Sometimes there was a ribbon tied around the vase, others there was a note. The notes were always hand-written, very neat and legible. More often than not, they were endearing, bidding you a wonderful week and the like.
Your boss refused to let you review the security footage, and your co-workers dare not speak of the man who continually brought you flowers. The whole situation was strangely comforting, especially after your boss gave you full assurance that the man behind the weekly gifts was wonderful. She’d specified that he was wildly attractive, soft-spoken, and unbelievably charming.
This mysterious man had boldly gone all out for your birthday, ensuring that you couldn’t even see the top of your desk. He’d gifted you twenty-two red roses, to coincide with your age, on a blanket of white tulips that spanned every inch of the top of your desk. The following year, however, he kept it simple. You were hand delivered a box of chocolates, a dozen roses tied together with a black ribbon, and a letter. Typically, he never sent more than five or six words, so you were a bit taken aback by the sudden gesture. The letter had not been hand-written, per the usual, but rather type-written. Clearly, someone had done their research in regards to the things you enjoyed. Still, everyone refused to even give you a hint as to who had done this, but Donna, your boss, suggested reading the letter, as it may have been signed. Without a second thought, you hooked your thumb under the flap on the back and tore into it.
To You:
I feel as if I need to apologize profusely for the secrecy. I’m so often on-the-go that I, regrettably, am unable to make these deliveries in person. Hopefully soon, I’ll be able to. I’ve been reliably informed that my gifts are well-received and you don’t find me to be particularly frightening. I appreciate that to no end. Perhaps when I have a big enough break in my schedule, I’ll be able to drop by and properly introduce myself.
The first day I met you (and I assure you, we have met), you had flowers delivered to you. Donna mentioned that you’d just earned a promotion and the flowers were from her. When the florist walked through the door and stopped at your desk, your entire face lit up, and I’ll admit, I was speechless. The smile on your face was absolutely breath-taking. At that point, I realized that, while I didn’t even know your name, I wanted to be the one bringing about that smile.
Happy birthday.
Sincerely,
Me xx.
Without notice, a solitary tear slid down your cheek and the widest smile possible spread over your lips, and of course, Donna had recorded the whole thing.
That had been three months ago, and still, the deliveries had not ceased. You’d spent those three months revisiting client logs, trying to track down the list of people who’d come in on that particular day. All that work was to virtually no avail, though, considering that there were over thirty male clients in Donna’s office alone that day. To say you were getting frustrated would be a vast understatement.
“My dear, would you be so kind as to join me in my office?” Donna asked softly, leaning against your desk. You nodded and stood, pushing your chair in. You followed her into her spacious room and she pressed the door shut behind you before asking you to have a seat.
“Is there something wrong?” you inquired, unsure as to what was going on. She shook her head vehemently with an ever-growing smile.
“No, no! Not at all, sweet girl. I just wished to tell you that your birthday wish has come true!” You raised a skeptical eyebrow and shot her a questioning look. “I’m giving you a long lunch break today. I’ll need you to run home and gather up a nice outfit and anything you may need to get yourself gussied up. You, my darling, have a dinner date tonight.”
Your lowered eyebrow shot up to meet the other, both high on your forehead. For a second, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from speaking out of turn. She paid you no mind and continued.
“He’ll be here at six o’clock sharp. Poor fellow has been running amok lately, and this is his only free week for months. I promised him that I’d make sure you were comfortable with it, though with how excited you get every Monday morning, I suppose it’s hardly an issue. The suspense is winding down, and he’s positively over the moon on the matter.” You hesitated, your nerves utterly shot. “You do trust me, don’t you? I’d never allow a man to take you out if I didn’t firmly believe you’d be safe.”
You nodded, thanking her softly. She gave you a wink before telling you how enthused she was that you were finally to know the man who had been sending you flowers for two long years. Admittedly, you were quite motivated yourself. She dismissed you with a kind smile, and you returned to your desk. When you sat down, there was a small white card, folded in half, on your keyboard.
Miss, would you do me the kind honor of accompanying me to dinner this evening? xx.
The handwriting matched the other non-typed notes you’d received.
You hadn’t even been away from your desk for ten minutes! Your eyes scanned the area around you, trying to identify any possible person who could’ve left this behind, but saw no one other than co-workers and a pair of female clients. Obviously, no one visible could’ve been the perpetrator. Your gaze migrated to Donna’s office window. She was peeking between the blinds and gave you a smile and a thumbs-up once she saw the paper in your hand. You grinned back, all uneasy feelings disappearing. Donna was right. If she weren’t absolutely sure that you’d have a great time, she’d never have allowed this…
*
Since you were off work by five o’clock most nights, Donna had allotted time for you to get ready at the office. It had been planned as such, because he did not wish to delve into your personal life. Apparently, he’d urged Donna to allow him to pick you up from work, rather than your apartment, so that he didn’t come off as stalkerish. Donna admitted that she’d initially put up a fuss, but considering how well she knew you, eventually she relented.
Currently, it was a quarter to six, and your nerves were a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight and kept fidgeting, twirling your hand or checking your make up again, just to make sure nothing had been messed up in the two minutes since you last checked. Fifteen minutes prior, Donna sat down with you and gave you a description of the man you were meeting. Her words encouraged excessive use of imagination, considering just how vague her details really were. She didn’t want to give away the surprise.
“Well, he’s tall. Quite a bit taller than you, dear, with blue eyes and dark hair. He’s a total charmer. You’ll know him the second he walks in.”
Much to your surprise, you did know him. The second he walked in the door, you recognized him. He fit Donna’s loose description to the letter, and you sat there, hoping and praying that he was your secret florist.
He was taller than you, standing at an almost staggering six foot. The shade of blue in his eyes wasn’t quite the blue you’d imagined. It was even better. They were flecked with a faint grey, and they seemed to have a life all their own, vibrant and shimmering. His cheek bones were well-defined, drawing lines towards the tip of his narrow nose. The corners of his full lips were twisted into a sly smirk, and the stubble on his jaw line gave him an air of trouble, though he was clearly far from it.
You weren’t paying attention to anything other than his face, not until you realized he was right in front of you, and his lips were moving. Blinking, you drew a blank. He chuckled, and good god, what a beautiful sound that was. You cocked an eyebrow, and he repeated what he was asking: your name.
There was an affirmative nod, and you stood up. He offered out his hand, which you took timidly into your own. You went to shake it, but he instead drew your hand to his mouth. The heat of his breath on your flesh sent a welcomed shiver up your spine, and he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“Wonderful to finally meet you again. I’m Aaron,” he grinned, voice muffled by your skin.
“I know who you are,” you replied breathlessly. Your heart was racing, and you feared that it may just beat itself right out of your chest. The rate of contracting in your lungs made you a bit dizzy. He moved around the side of your desk after releasing your hand and shoved both of his into the pockets of his jacket.
“Donna said you were pretty pleased with all the flowers, yeah?” You nodded emphatically, gesturing to the vase on the corner of your desk. They’d arrived on schedule, before you did, on Monday morning. Despite three days ware, they were still holding up impeccably. He’d gotten your favorites, of course.
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” He thumbed his nose nervously.
“I apologize for not coming in sooner. Filming has been a right zoo up until now.” Again, he chuckled, more so at himself. “I’m sorry, but do you… Is it alright if I hug you?”
You snickered a bit, then held out your arms. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down. The somewhat bulky mass of his arms encircled your rib cage and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He squeezed you tightly, pulling your entire body against his.
There was something comforting about the way he held you. It was a firm but tender grasp, like he wanted to be closer but was afraid of unintentionally hurting you. Until someone cleared their throat behind you, you stayed wrapped in his arms. But with Donna’s new interruption, you felt the need to part from him. He clearly didn’t get the same feeling, but allowed for a minor gap to form between you.
“You two have fun tonight. Don’t forget to lock the door behind you on your way out, dear!” she chirped, making her way towards the front. Aaron chuckled, his arms still planted around you.
“Suppose we’d best get going if we’re going to make our reservation, huh?” he snorted, unmoving. You nodded, but couldn’t tear your stare from his eyes. “I meant to say this earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”
His voice had dropped to just above a whisper. You mouthed back a quick thank you. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips and bounced back and forth hesitantly. Unconsciously, the pair of you were both leaning into each other more. To this day, you still don’t know what exactly came over you, but you froze scant inches from him, eyes locked on one another’s.
“Do you… Is… Is it alright if I kiss you?” you asked, somewhat mockingly. A lopsided smirk cracked his intense exterior, and the nod he gave you could’ve easily been missed, had you not been anticipating it. You leaned up a little further, allowing your lips to drift slowly across his. His shoulders shuddered under your arms, and his hands shifted to grace your ribs. One of your hands migrated from his tense shoulder to his cheek. After a moment in the same position, the tip of his tongue traced your lower lip. When he retracted, his teeth grazed the same lining. You adjusted the other hand to the side of his neck, dissolving any space that remained.
Finally, you needed to take a breath. You pulled back just barely, leaving your lips to rest against his.
“Two years… Two fucking years, I’ve waited for this,” you sighed, trying to calm your breathing. His chest rumbled with laughter, and you felt the reverberation in your bones.
“You happy with it, then? Glad it was me?” You nodded, letting the nail of your index finger trace circles on his neck. He placed a sweet, gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth. “I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a creep.”
I’m yours, sincerely me.

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