#middle school trauma will stay with me forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

000-pawz · 9 months ago

Text

mission p.s.h is a-go! (p.sh) ˚ · .

park sungho x fem!reader (she/her), college au, art major! reader, art major!sungho, reader is so lovesick, sungho is a nervous wreck, ft. lovingly-bothersome sidekick jaehyun + mom friend roommate yujin, shy extrovert sungho, not so shy extrovert reader <3, mutual pining, puppy love, first kisses, jaehyun has a lot of piercings because why not, the world is your wingman, a story about friendship and first loves!!!!, romantic comedy

warnings: suggestive scene (mdni pleek), some sex jokes, cursing, drinking

wc: 11.3k+

playlist ⋆｡˚ "a girl like me" by flowerovlove, "wishlist" by txt, "stylish" by loona, "blooming in the morning" by spool, "serenade" by boynextdoor

a/n: i have been working on this for.... forever..... >3< but it's finally here!!! <3 happy bonedo first anniversary to all who celebrate! also tysm for 100+ followers!!! ^___^ ur support means everything to me. i had so much fun writing this and i hope you guys have even more fun reading!!!

DEAR DIARY

11:44 a.m | weather: partly cloudy

dear diary,

so today has already gone to absolute shit!!!! i missed my morning lecture because i forgot to put my phone on the charger so it fucking died in the middle of the night and then i realized that my period started 4 days early and i ran out of pain killers and i didn’t have any time to stop by the health center and get some but even if i’m physically dying and rotting away, i HAVE to get my usual chai tea with three pumps vanilla and 1 pump brown sugar but THEN i dropped my chai tea with three pumps vanilla and 1 pump brown sugar in the middle of the courtyard and i was already late to my next class so i didn’t have time to go back and get another one and then i finally make it to fucking studio arts and my usual spot is taken by some sleeping rando who ISN’T EVEN IN THIS CLASS. WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE??? so then i was forced to sit in the back of class and use that stupid squeaky easel that literally wobbles when you BREATHE on it and all of this happened BEFORE 12 O’CLOCK!!!! now i’m—

“watcha writing?” an all too playful voice sounds right behind you, way too close for comfort and you don’t even bother to look up—you already know who it is by the irritating jingle of his dangly jewelry and the snicker that bubbles out of his throat at your annoyed expression.

“fuck off, jaehyun,” you mumble as you continue to recount your horrible day while you wait for the first layer of paint on your easel to dry, the obnoxiously hot pink pen in your hand scribbling ferociously against the white page of your diary. you hear another irksome laugh leave his body before the chair beside you squeaks as someone pulls it out.

“shh, don’t disturb her. she’s poetically releasing her emotions...” out the corner of your eye, you see yujin glance down at your page before slightly wincing, setting her watercolors down on the table slowly. “or something…”

jaehyun takes a seat at the table in front of you, sitting backward in his chair to take a closer look at what you’re writing—any semblance of privacy was long dismissed once you became friends with the two at the beginning of the school year. freshman move-in day had been possibly one of the worst experiences of your life, all thanks to the maltipoo puppy jaehyun tried to sneak into the residence hall and yujin’s immense fear of dogs. you guys have been inseparable since.

trauma bonding, you think.

jaehyun flicks some of his brown hair out of his vision as his face contorts into something sour. “woah, when did the grinch take over your body?”

yujin scoots away and jaehyun raises his hands in surrender as you suddenly slam your diary shut, mentally rolling your eyes at their antics.

“woah, when will you learn to stay out of my business?” you shoot towards jaehyun with the straightest face ever, his lips frowning as you slide your diary off of the table and into your bag.

“hey, don’t take your anger out on me, grumpy pants.”

and that just so happens to be your final straw—like those mundane moments where you’re having the worst day known to man and then all of a sudden your key doesn’t want to fit in the keyhole and now you want to rip your door off of the hinges—and jaehyun is now that door. you lunge at the pierced man, going straight for his jugular, but yujin is quick to wrap her arms around your waist, pulling you back down into your seat as she shushes you.

“breathe, y/n, breathe,” yujin speaks in her exaggerated yoga instructor voice, the deep one that makes her sound like she’s high on shrooms. you close your eyes, forcing yourself to think of kittens and rainbows as your shoulders slowly untense. “there we go. smell the tulips and blow out the candles. that’s right. smell the tulips and blow out the—”

“why can’t they be roses?”

your eyes immediately snap open like a vampire at the smell of blood, meeting jaehyun’s highly entertained and highly aggravating expression.

“jaehyun, we talked about this. tulips smell better than ro—”

yujin’s voice is drowned out in your ears once a tall, raven-haired figure strolls into the studio. everything in the background fades to a blur as he makes his way to his usual sketching table, just a few seats away from where you reside. from here, you have a perfect view of his side profile, the sunlight streaming through the open windows lighting up his face heavenly.

any anger in your body dissipates on the spot.

he’s wearing a baby blue knit sweater—the same sweater he wore on tuesday last week (...not that you remember or anything!)—with baggy light-washed jeans that adorn a little eevee pokemon charm hanging from his front belt loop. the black converse on his feet match yours and you try not to squeal at the slight prospect of a couple's outfit. slung over his body is the green satchel that he seems to take everywhere with him, filled to the brim with notebooks and art supplies.

his black hair is messy and a little longer than the last time you have seen him. it curls over his eyebrows and down his neck, some tucked behind his naturally flushed ears. his eyelashes are so full, and even though his eyes are slightly obscured by the thin, circular glasses that sit on his nose, you can still make out the delicate shadow they cast onto his doughy cheeks. you wonder if he has a skincare routine from how smooth his skin looks, almost picture-esque as the sunrays illuminate a halo above his head. you swear a chorus of angels begin to sing in your ears.

he’s taking out his sketchpad now, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses ever so slightly before lining up his charcoal pencils in order of point size next to his page. you’ve never gotten to see his art up close, but you’ve picked up on the fact his medium has always been a pencil of some sort—let it be graphite, pigmented colors, carbon—and you crave to see what his nimble fingers can create. his lips are pressed into a thin line as he completely submerges himself into that little bubble you notice he goes into when he starts to draw.

you think he looks the most handsome when he’s immersed like this.

you don’t realize you’re staring until you blink and register that park sungho, aka the man of your dreams, aka the most gorgeous person to ever walk these streets, aka an angel from above, is staring directly at you. with this new angle, you can fully see his pouted heart-shaped lips and slightly puffy face—he must’ve just woken up. he’s so perfect, in every way possible. your heart nearly crawls up your throat as he sends a tiny smile your way, his eyes bunching up cutely at the corners. you almost raise your hand to wave back before a voice cuts through your dazed state.

“hey, sungho!” jaehyun calls, waving his hand frantically, the many bracelets on his wrists jingling with the movement; and said sungho waves in response, contained and shy, before turning his attention back to his sketchpad. while you’re slightly disappointed that sungho hadn’t been looking at you, you mentally thank jaehyun for saving you from could’ve-been detrimental embarrassment.

you slightly deflate, slumping back down into your chair with a tiny huff—and jaehyun watches you from beginning to end, a knowing look in his eyes.

“look, y/n’s upset her little boobie bear didn’t—”

this time, you grab your barbie-esque pen and chuck it squarely at jaehyun’s nose, the plastic clinking against his nose ring. you hear yujin giggling from beside you, jaehyun shooting her a hopeless look of betrayal.

“you set yourself up for that one, myung,” she speaks before she gets up to fill her paint cup with water. jaehyun rolls his eyes with a scoff, quickly turning his attention back to you—much to your dismay.

“you should try to talk to him. he’s really nice, trust me,” jaehyun suggests with a little wiggle of his eyebrows, not-so-subtly nodding his head in sungho’s direction. your eyes can’t help but trail back over to the tall man’s frame, nearly swooning at the way he pushes his glasses up his nose with his pinky finger, squinting his eyes slightly despite the lenses as his pencil glides across the paper like a ballerina.

fuck, he’s so cute. you want to die.

“i don’t even think he knows my name,” you sigh, almost dreamily as you spectate from afar. the way he readjusts his grip on the pencil every few seconds, and the way his knee bounces unrhythmically under the table, his pokemon charm shaking with the movement. his bottom lip is caught in between his teeth now and you’re sure you might pass out as he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, the fluffy locks falling back into place slowly as they nearly defy gravity.

oh, park sungho. you don’t know how perfect you are.

“girl, you look like a stalker,” yujin appears beside you once again, multiple watercolor brushes knocking against each other as they swim in her now water-filled cup. it’s your turn to glare this time, crossing your arms over your chest as you manage to slump even further in your seat—you aren’t sure how you haven’t fallen to the floor yet.

“i can’t help it! just… look at him,” you whine pitifully, trying to keep your voice down as you glance at him one last time. yup, still gorgeous.

jaehyun groans loudly from his spot, his bracelets clanking as he grips his hair with both hands.

“i am going to bash my head into this table if you don’t speak to him. i don’t know how much more sungho mushy-gushy talk i can take,” he complains, his eyes wide and faux-crazed as he lightly tugs his hair. he looks stupid as hell—you’ve always thought jaehyun resembles the annoying orange.

“that’s if sungho doesn’t decide to run away before she can even open her mouth.”

and there it goes. the real reason why you’ve never gotten the chance to speak to your puppy-love crush.

it’s a strange phenomenon actually, the way park sungho seems to avoid you like the plague. at first, you thought he was just incredibly shy. maybe he had chronic social anxiety, in which, you wouldn’t blame him at all—you were the exact same way before you got to college, so it would make perfect sense. he’s just a shy, shy guy who doesn’t intend on making small talk; and that would’ve been just fine with you.

but then you saw him interact with like… everyone else in the entire world, and decided to rule out that option because—what? he shows up to every single birthday party he’s invited to, says hi to all of his friends as he passes them on campus, and he even complimented your brooding english professor’s tie once! so there’s no way park sungho doesn’t know how to interact with other humans.

it’s just you. he doesn’t want to interact with you.

not to be selfish and arrogant or anything, but it’s truly a huge blow to your pride. you’ve always considered yourself to be a pretty likable person—maybe a little off-kilter, but not to the point where it literally makes people pack up their things and leave as soon as you enter the room. and yes, sungho has done that before.

so now you’re stuck in this predicament where you can’t go one night without falling asleep to the idea of holding park sungho’s lovely hand and kissing his squishy cheek and touching his luscious hair, when—in truth, horrible, horrible truth—this exact park sungho doesn’t even want to see your face.

once snapped back into reality, the realization rebirths all of your anger—at the world, at yourself, at sungho “loml” park. yujin mumbles out a little half-assed apology that you completely dismiss and jaehyun snickers as he rises to a stand, throwing something over his shoulder about how he all of a sudden has a sculpture he needs to get started on before he disappears from your sight.

he doesn’t even know how to sculpt.

when you look up, you see jaehyun giving sungho a little goodbye pat on the back, in which sungho returns with a little “see you later” and a smile that bunches his cheeks up like bread rolls. damn you park sungho and your adorable, adorable cheeks.

this is definitely going in your diary tonight.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

or at least you thought it would be going in your diary tonight.

because currently, as of 7:28 pm local time, you can’t seem to find that sparkly pink journal anywhere.

you checked your tote bag, yujin’s bag, jaehyun’s giant pockets, under your seat in the art studio, the cafeteria, and even asked around hoping someone’s heard of it through word-of-mouth—and yet, nothing. no sign of your journal at all.

if you were thinking rationally, you would have maybe thought to check your dorm room. you did end up having lunch in there with the blinds closed after your shitty day and the overwhelming need to disappear from society. or, you might have left it in your french language class because you had pulled it out mid lecture to complain about your horrible view from the very back row. it might have even fell out on your bus ride to the small dimsum restaurant located on the outskirts of your campus.

but you have been on the edge of snapping since the very moment you woke up this morning, and if you thought jaehyun’s little quips earlier brought you to your limit, then losing your diary now broke the meter.

you glumly take a seat on an unoccupied bench outside of the arts building, trying your best to hold in your tears at the absolute wreck this day has become. no chai tea, early period, squeaky easel, park sungho not even knowing your name—

“um, y/n?”

as soon as the first tear rolls down your cheek, your hear that all too familiar voice in your ears, a tall shadow blocking the slight rays of the moon in the distance. everything feels unreal, almost hallucinatory as your lift your head to see the man of all your dreams standing right in front of you with a shy smile on his perfect, perfect face.

as soon as he locks eyes with you though, his smile falters, his lips turning down into one of the softest frowns you’ve ever seen grace such an angelic face. snapping yourself out of your mini daze, you reach up with the sleeve of your jacket to quickly wipe your eyes.

not now tear ducts! the love of your life is in your vicinity! and he knows your name!

“hey, sungho! hi,” you rush out in one breath, hoping your voice isn’t too shaky.

“are you…” sungho’s question starts off as a small mumble, but he quickly cuts himself off with a tiny shake of his head. “n-nevermind. i just wanted to give this to you.”

you watch him as he digs around in his green satchel for a second before pulling out something bright pink, the street lights reflecting off of the sparkles. you feel your heart leap in your chest at the sight, jumping up from your seat.

“my journal! oh my god, thank you! where did you find it?” you quickly speak as sungho passes you your journal.

“it was in the art studio. i promise i didn’t read any of it so… yea.”

his fingers lightly brush yours for a split second and the end of his sentence falters a bit. you try not to read into it, but this moment is definitely, for sure going in your journal tonight. your first ever, longer-than-30-seconds encounter with the love of your life. totally disregarding the fact that he saw you crying…

you clutch the notebook to your chest as you give him a bright beam, trying to keep all of the squealing and fawning locked away in your mind. sungho looks incredibly gorgeous in the low ray of evening lights, strands of his shiny hair tucked behind his ear and falling over his forehead. as the wind blows, you’re able to get a whiff of the sweet cologne he always wears, vanilla and another hidden tone that mixes perfectly.

“thank you, sungho. really, thank you.” your voice is soft as you meet his sparkling eyes; they’re deep and mesmerizing, glittering with stardust as he mirrors your smile. he nods ever so slightly before gripping his satchel strap with both of his hands.

“um, yea. it’s no problem,” he speaks through a small puff of nervous laughter. you’re surprised you haven't melted to the ground in a puddle of love-ridden goo yet. “have a good night.”

“you too!” you say a little too enthusiastically. sungho simply nods again before he turns on his heel to leave towards the direction he came in. suddenly, he stops, turning back around to face you.

“i… my dorm is that way,” he rushes out before speedwalking past you without giving you a second glance. you hold back a giggle at his cute slip up, covering your mouth with your hand.

he. is. so. cute. you want to scream the words to the sky. as soon as sungho disappears around the corner, you wip out your phone, your heart pounding in your chest.

to: dumb and dumber

guys. you’ll never fucking guess what just happened.

MISSION P.S.H

6:15 a.m | weather: clear skies

dear diary,

i dreamt of him. again. please kill me already.

“...and then i was like what? because that was the same guy i hooked up with last week!” yujin spills as she dramatically reenacts her encounter at some party she went to last night. you’re having lunch with your friends in the courtyard, the chatter of students, bikes, and overhead planes mixing with the warm breeze.

“i told you he was a fuckboy. and then you called me an annoying virgin,” jaehyun deadpans as he takes a bite out of his sandwich, shrugging his shoulders. you laugh at their bickering from the other side of the table, looking back down at your journal where you are currently doodling the scene in front of you, but with yujin and jaehyun as cats.

yujin rolls her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, but she stops herself as her eyes catch onto something over your shoulder. you watch as her eyes widen toward you, immediately catching onto what that stare means.

‘park sungho incoming. act normal!’

you sit up straighter, trying to act nonchalant as sungho strolls up to your table. as naturally as possible, you lift your gaze toward him, your breath catching in your throat as soon as your eyes lock onto his figure.

today, he’s in a simple white t-shirt, zip-up, and jeans with his classic green satchel, but to you, he looks other-worldly. the sun shines brightly above his head, casting a spotlight onto him as if he were standing solo on a stage. you envision red rose petals falling around him in slow motion as he blinks, his long eyelashes tickling his cheeks with the movement. his skin is slightly flushed from the humid air, his lips full and plush as a smile stretches across his perfect face.

he’s going to be the death of me, you think, holding back a dreamy sigh.

“i brought those references you asked for,” sungho directs towards jaehyun with his silky smooth voice, reaching into his satchel to pull out a blue folder of papers. you get deja vu, recalling the way his fingers brushed yours last night (and yes, you recapped the moment to yujin and jaehyun at least three times since then.)

“oh, thanks bro! i totally forgot about these,” jaehyun speaks, grabbing the folder from sungho’s perfect hands. “hey, are you still going to riwoo’s party on saturday?”

“yeah, i’ll be there. see you then?”

“yup! i’m dragging these two along with me.” sungho nods with a small smile before his eyes catch onto yujin.

“your shirt is dope, yujin. i love that band,” sungho compliments and yujin quickly jumps into a recap of how she went to their concert last week. sungho says something about him also being there with a friend and all of it goes through one ear and out of the other. “anyways, i’ll see you guys around.”

sungho gives your table one last smile, his eyes catching onto yours for a split second before he merges off into the crowd of students. the table is silent for a few beats and both of your friends turn their eyes to you, just waiting for you to say something. you sigh as you stare off into the direction sungho disappeared in, resting your cheek in your palm.

“is he avoiding me? he has to be avoiding me… like he talks to you guys but pretends like i’m not even there!” you speak through a dejected pout. yujin eyes you with something akin to pity, completely contrasting jaehyun whose face is decorated with an annoying smile.

“it’s ‘cause he’s afraid that if he looks you in the eyes, you might eat his soul.”

you completely disregard jaehyun’s comment, running through all of the possible explanations for his behavior in your mind. does he have a secret partner? or maybe he doesn’t like the smell of your perfume? what if he thinks you are butt-fuck ugly and a pain to look at? no… it’s definitely not that. you remind yourself to give your reflection an apology when you get back to your dorm.

your eyes slowly increase in size as you sit up, a eureka moment taking over your train of thought. the gasp that leaves your lips is a little too loud for a public, communal space, but it doesn’t even register in your brain.

you’ve got it all figured out.

“guys…” you start ominously, smiling widely at your friends as you brace your hands on the table. “i think he’s playing hard to get.”

jaehyun and yujin stare at you half-incredulously and half-amused, a puff of laughter even passing through jaehyun’s lips while yujin has to turn away to muffle her giggles.

“yu, i think she’s finally lost it.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no, guys, it all makes sense. i caught him staring at me in class once—”

“anyone would stare if they saw a free-roaming demon in a college art course.”

“jaehyun, i will literally cut your tongue off.”

jaehyun pouts his snakebite-accented lips, turning to yujin with pleading eyes as he gestures towards you on the other side of the table. “did you hear her? that’s actually a threat this time. a real threat.”

yujin sighs, half-heartedly patting jaehyun’s shoulder twice to console him before giving her full attention to you.

“y/n… i think it’s time to have ‘the talk’.”

you blink blankly at yujin before glancing over at jaehyun who is nodding along to said woman’s words, a playfully solemn look on his face.

“what ‘talk’?... look, if this is about sex, i already know how babies are made so…”

“no, no, not that talk. the park sungho talk,” yujin explains, reaching across the table to place her hand on top of yours. this feels like some weird group therapy session, and to be honest, your best friends are really starting to creep you out in the way that they seem to communicate silently through their eyes.

what the fuck is going on?

“let me explain it to you in simple terms,” jaehyun sits up straight before dramatically clearing his throat. “park sungho plus girlfriend equals no-no. nada. never happened. park sungho plus crush equals ‘AHHHHHHHHH! THE WORLD IS ENDING!’. park sungho see you. park sungho ‘AHHHHHHH!!!!’”

jaehyun shouts in a high-pitched girly voice before doing a little running away motion, covering his eyes as he pretends to tremble before going back to normal.

now it’s time for both you and yujin to stare blankly at jaehyun—the latter looks incredibly proud of himself nonetheless, his chest puffed out confidently after his little performance. you slowly turn your gaze to yujin’s figure, motioning towards jaehyun next to her.

“can i get a translation or something…?”

yujin sighs before flicking jaehyun’s nose ring, resulting in a drowned out complaint about the both of you “teaming up on him” or whatever. you both don’t pay him any mind though—you have bigger things to worry about, such as—

“basically, what he’s trying to say is that sungho has a crush on you, but he’s scared because he’s never had a girlfriend before and he freaks out around you. so he… flees like a little baby rabbit when you’re near him,” yujin concludes with a bright smile, clasping her hands together.

okay.

this is not what you were expecting to hear during your wednesday afternoon lunch break. everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve forced yourself to believe comes crumbling down all at once.

park sungho has a crush on you.

wait.

“and no one has thought to tell me this until now?” you breathe out, your eyes as wide as saucers. jaehyun shrugs, picking up his sandwich to take a bite.

“well, it’s kind of something we found out like today,” jaehyun speaks through a mouthful of lettuce and bacon, yujin nodding along next to him.

“you know han taesan from our literature class?” yujin asks, leaning towards you as she lowers her voice. you search your fried brain for any familiarity, humming in thought for a second before it clicks.

“the one who dresses like a wannabe kurt cobain?”

“yes, him. so basically, sungho confessed to him about his crush on you. and jaehyun and i, who were magically sitting behind mr. han, just so happened to accidentally see their text messages. so. yeah,” yujin explains.

the silence is loud.

“so what i’m hearing is you guys violated someone’s privacy and now you’re telling me their classified business?” you speak, blinking blankly between then.

“...yes?” jaehyun replies slowly with a guilty smile. you look at them for a few seconds before reaching your hands out for highfives.

“i knew i could trust you guys,” you affirm as you double highfive them both, jaehyun letting out a little woop woop. “so, what do i do now? i obviously can’t just walk right up to him and ask him out. i’m gonna need a plan if i’m ever going to get him to willingly talk to me.”

“oh, i’m already ten steps ahead of you, babygirl. mission p.s.h is a-go,” jaehyun declares, pulling out his phone. you tilt your head in pure confusion and you’re sure the crinkle between your brows is apparent.

“mission p—what?”

jaehyun sighs with exasperation—as if you were the cause of all of his troubles in the world—before placing his phone on the table. “mission park sungho. come on, let’s use our head, idiot.”

“i will smash your head into—”

“you will do none of those things,” yujin interrupts with a stern motherly glare before turning to jaehyun. “now can you explain this mission park sungho thing because…?”

jaehyun rolls his eyes before leaning back in his seat with a sly smile on his lips.

“i began working on it last night and i was going to show you guys when i finished, but we’re in a dire, dire situation.” jaehyun sends you dramatically sympathetic eyes and you stick your tongue out at him in return. “it’s simple, really. we just set the bait, and like the little baby rabbit he is, he’ll bite the carrot. then, once our handy work is done, y/n and sungho will live happily ever after in their fairy princess castle. it’s foolproof.”

jaehyun concludes with a triumphant smile before he slowly slides his phone over towards you like a suspicious dealer. you raise a brow at him, but take the phone anyways.

“phase one, get his attention. so just like… get him jealous?” you ask, cocking your head. jaehyun nods quickly in response, his hair bouncing like an overly excited puppy.

“mhm, yup! i know a guy who’s perfect for this.”

“that sounds… sketchy… but a good idea nonetheless.” you squint your eyes a bit as you continue reading the almost illegible notes app ramble. “and then phase two…”

“get him alone. he’s going to be at riwoo’s party, right? right?” you and yujin nod in response. “so we find a way to get him and y/n alone so they can… you know…” jaehyun does some weird, obscure motion with his fingers and yujin gently places her hand on top of his to stop it immediately.

“this is literally phase two, myungjae. slow down,” yujin chastises before turning to you. “what do you think, y/n?”

“we may need to tweak phase two a bit, but this looks… surprisingly safe…” you mutter as you read through the plan once again. “why is phase three just a bunch of question marks and thinking emojis…?”

“i didn’t get to finish it. i had more important things to tend to last night,” jaehyun smiles menacingly. yujin gags and you groan, rolling your eyes.

“i don’t even wanna know,” you say, trying to clear your mind of whatever the hell he meant by that.

“i guess we’ll just figure something out when we get there?” yujin suggests, looking between you two for approval. you nod in agreement because, well, you’re running out of options here. sungho is one of the world’s most desirable bachelors! you can’t just wait around for another girl to come by and woo him. you need to get to work asap.

“don’t worry. i’ll come up with something. they don’t call me myungstein for nothing,” jaehyun runs his fingers through his hair cockily, trying to subtly flex his nonexistent muscles.

“literally no one… no one calls you that…” you trail off but keep the rest of your words to yourself. you owe it to him for making up this plan in the first place.

at this point, you’re going to run out of pages in your journal before the year ends.

PHASE ONE: GET HIS ATTENTION (easy enough, right?)

11:37 a.m | weather: sunny with a nice breeze

dear diary,

i’ve decided to listen to myung jaehyun for once. i apologize in advance to my future self. i’m desperate okay?!?!?!

“remember what we practiced?” jaehyun whispers to you as you stand outside of the campus cafe where sungho works. yujin is already stationed inside of the cafe to make sure everything goes well. through the big glass window, you see her sitting in the corner with a comically large newspaper and sunglasses sitting low on her nose. not suspicious at all.

“yes. flirt with that guy with the luscious hair and make sure sungho hears,” you recite the exact words jaehyun had told you on your walk here. jaehyun gives you an affirmative hum, dropping his hand onto your shoulder.

“okay, let’s practice right now. pretend i’m luscious hair guy,” you open your mouth to argue, but jaehyun is already getting into character, dramatically running his fingers through his hair, slipping a cartoonish shmoulder on his face. “hey, pretty lady.”

“jaehyun, that’s gross. no.”

“who’s jaehyun? is he your boyfriend? of course a beauty like you would already be taken,” he speaks in a low voice before biting his lip in the least seductive way possible.

you try not to gag at his words, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder. “i’m going in now. bye.”

drowning out jaehyun’s objections, you open the door of the cafe, the little bells above the door jingling with the movement. your eyes scan the cafe for a second before they land on a familiar figure making small talk with some guy as he serves him coffee. he looks so handsome in his work uniform, a white button-up and brown slacks with a matching brown apron. his hair is a little curlier than usual and he has on his glasses again today.

you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing this every day. maybe you should come to this cafe more often.

you try to calm the frantic beating of your heart as you give yujin a curt nod. she gives you one back before ducking behind the newspaper again. it’s go time.

it doesn’t take you long to spot “luscious hair guy”, seeing as he’s currently working the front register. he’s tall and attractive, the perfect bait. honestly, you have no idea what jaehyun bribed him with to get him to go with your plan, and honestly, you don’t really want to know.

you quickly adjust your clothes as you walk up to the counter. luscious hair guy’s eyes lock onto yours and you offer him an affable smile.

“hi!” you greet brightly before leaning in to quickly whisper the code word “p.s.h”. luscious hair guy nods quickly in recognition before the both of you get into character.

“hello! what can i get for you today?” he asks with a glimmering smile, leaning forward in interest. you pretend to think, tapping your lips as you glance up at the menu.

“hm… i’ve never been here before… what do you recommend?” you ask with a (hopefully) flirtatious smile. just then, you notice sungho slip behind the counter to put some dishes away, his eyes widening once he sees your face. it takes less than two seconds for him to duck his head away, turning his back to you as he frantically begins organizing some mugs.

“the vanilla caramel latte is really good,” leehan suggests, shooting you an award winning smile. someone get this guy a oscar!

“then i’ll get that,” you dramatically glance down at his name tag. “thanks, leehan.”

over the tall man’s shoulder, you notice sungho inconspicuously walk over to the front counter, his eyes flickering over to the both of you for a split second. he busies himself by adjusting the pastry display, but you can see him definitely listening in on your conversation.

“i’m sorry if this sounds odd, but you have a really beautiful smile,” leehan compliments shyly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. you gasp before letting out a small giggle.

“wow, thank you!” you breathe out, blinking up at leehan coyly. “you’re pretty cute yourself.”

“that means a lot coming from a pretty girl like you.” in your peripheral, you see sungho slightly tense up, his entire body stilling for a moment. “i’ll get that right out for you.”

at those words words, sungho abruptly stands up, nearly slamming the display shut before going to wipe down tables. leehan smiles at you once sungho’s back is turned to the both of you, trying to hold in his laughter.

“he’s upset,” leehan mouths, nodding his head towards sungho who is currently aggressively scrubbing an already stainless table. perfect.

you head over to a vacant table, a few away from yujin, but still close enough to whisper “i think it’s working”. yujin lowers her sunglasses with a manicured nail, glancing over at sungho who is aggressively scrubbing another table; his lips are pouted and his eyebrows are slightly furrowed. she turns back to you with a knowing look, nodding her head.

you scroll on your phone for a bit, making sure to update jaehyun who had a presentation this afternoon. you’re sure that if he were free, he’d be in a wig and spectacles, adorned in a trench coat and briefcase right there with yujin. maybe his absence is for the better.

a few minutes later, you hear that all too familiar, lovely voice flow through the quiet buzz of the cafe. you look up from your phone to see leehan moving to plate your order with sungho hot on his heels.

“leehan, i can take that order for you,” sungho speaks, his gentle voice a little sharper around the edges. you see leehan brush him off with a warm smile, adjusting the mug on the tray.

“oh, it’s okay, i’ve got it,” he says, but sungho quickly cuts him off.

“no, no, i insist. really.” sungho gives leehan a tight-lipped smile before shooing him off to take another order. your eyes widen, quickly turning toward yujin who’s wiggling her eyebrows at you over the newspaper.

“it worked!” she mouths. you hide your smile behind your hand as you nod quickly before looking down at your phone to text jaehyun.

to: dumber

the fish has landed in the hole. or however that goes

when you finally look back up, sungho is making his way over to you, his bottom lip cutely caught between his teeth.

“oh, hi sungho!” you greet when he stops at your table, awkwardly holding the tray in front of his chest.

“hi, y/n. uh, here you go.” sungho gives you a shaky smile and you resist the urge to coo. he’s so cute, in the way his hands shake slightly as he lowers the mug and a slice of strawberry cake onto the table.

“oh, i didn’t order the cake!” you say, meeting his eyes. sungho nervously laughs as he tucks the now empty tray under his arm.

“it’s… um, it’s on the house,” he messily motions towards your table before gluing his arms back to his sides. “everything is.”

“really? you’re so sweet, sungho. thank you.” you think you are going to float out of your seat. he quickly looks away from your gaze after your compliment, redirecting his eyes to his shoes. his ears are slightly blushed on the tips, his circular glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

“don’t mention it,” he mumbles, his cheeks dusted an apple red that match his ears. “also, your um… your outfit is really nice.”

yup. you’re definitely floating.

“thank you so much! you look nice, too. i mean, you look nice in everything,” you giggle, watching the way sungho’s wide eyes shoot up to yours. he looks like a surprised kitten with the way his black curls fall into his face at the sudden movement. you get the sudden urge to gently brush them away, but you remind yourself of proper etiquette and keep your hands to yourself.

“that’s… that’s not true, but thank you,” he speaks quietly. you open your mouth to rebuttal, but sungho simply gives you a quick nod and scurries off back to the counter. you can’t even be disappointed this time—that little interaction was enough to feed your delusions for the next month and a half.

as soon as sungho makes it back behind the counter, you see him drop his head into his hands in embarrassment, shaking his head. leehan comes up behind him to give him a pat on the back, trying to hold in his laughter. the luscious haired guy gives you a thumbs up over sungho’s shoulder and you shoot him one back with a wide smile. mission accomplished, you guess as you take a bite of the fluffy cake.

so sweet.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

5:14 p.m | weather: ANGELS SINGING FROM ABOVE

dear diary,

park sungho wrote his number on the napkin. i have park sungho's number. he gave me his number. we're sooooo back.

PHASE TWO: GET HIM ALONE (and not in the creepy way!!!)

if there was one thing about your best friends, it would be how hard they party. it’s not like you were a prude or anything—definitely not that—but these two took parties to a different level. you aren’t sure how long you’ve been dancing in between jaehyun and yujin, squeezed between other sweaty bodies as the music thrums through your veins. jaehyun’s hands are on your hips and yujin’s arms are wrapped around your shoulders as you laugh with your head thrown back, letting loose. there is no room to be shy when it comes to partying with them.

your friend riwoo went all out for this end of the semester party, it seems. he rented out a beach house that sits right along the shore and you’re pretty sure he invited more than half of your entire university. you already greeted the host with hugs and small talk before you went straight for the drinks. as the song playing through the speakers comes to an end, the dj announces that fireworks are going off at the beach at 2 a.m, so people start stumbling and filing out of the house to see the pretty lights and colors.

“you wanna get another drink?” yujin shouts into your ear and you nod quickly. you definitely aren’t drunk enough—especially for what you guys have planned tonight. phase two.

“i’m gonna go find sungho,” jaehyun manages to say in his already drunken state before disappearing into the crowd, greeting at least 3 people as he makes his way through. you grab yujin’s hand to tug her toward the nearly vacant kitchen. most of the drinks are outside at the beach, but this is all a part of the plan. you rummage around in the fridge hoping to find anything to calm your nerves.

“calm down, y/n. you look like you’re going to explode,” yujin laughs from behind you, leaning against the marble island.

“because i am. i’ve never been alone with him before. what if i say something stupid?” you whine, still searching for anything that isn’t soda or juice.

“...like you always do?” yujin quips back quickly. you pause to give her a tiny glare over your shoulder before you deflate, turning back to the fridge.

“...fair. but still! i really don’t want to mess this up,” you sigh. as if the fridge itself has begun to pity you, you end up finding something tucked away near the back, though you’re freaking out too much to even read the label. with a shrug, you uncap it and drink straight from the bottle.

“you got this. remember, he already likes you. i don’t think he can be saved at this point.”

“you’re right,” you say, looking down at your heels, but once her words fully process in your tipsy mind, your head snaps right back up “wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means that all you have to be is yourself. we’re all rooting for you!” yujin rushes over to plant a kiss on your cheek before patting your head. “now, i have an appointment upstairs, so i’ll see you later! keep me updated!”

“wait, yujin!” you call, but she’s already slipped right through your fingers. you huff as she disappears around the corner, her menacing giggles fading into the music like an evil villain. whatever. you have more important things to worry about right now—such as sungho entering the kitchen not even a beat later looking otherworldly.

your fingers nearly slip on the neck of the bottle as your eyes lock onto each other’s. sungho looks good. and by good, you mean you-want-to-jump-his-bones-right-here-right-now good.

his usually messy hair is pushed back and out of his face, a few strands falling onto his forehead. he’s ditched his glasses and his eyes look even more sharp and enticing like this—as if he’s staring straight into your soul. he’s wearing a cropped black tee with jeans, adorning multiple silver necklaces that shine against his skin. his soft lips are glossy from the drink in his hands, his cheek slightly flushed from the alcohol.

you’ve never seen him look like this before. the cute park sungho you’re so used to is somewhere dead in a ditch right now. god.

you can’t even speak as he shoots you a smile, his eyes softening with familiarity.

“hey,” he says, his gaze flickering to the bottle in your hands. “you alright there?”

you look down at your hands, quickly moving to place the bottle on the counter behind you with a guilty smile.

“yeah—yeah, no, i’m great. perfect, actually.” you find yourself stumbling over your own words. if you thought you weren’t drunk enough to handle this before, now you think you are too drunk to even process the sight in front of you.

“why’re you in here alone? everyone’s heading down to the beach,” sungho says as he rounds the island.

he has to be drunk, if not for the way he so boldly rakes his eyes over your body without shame. you swallow, blinking up at him. you can see him very obviously checking you out, his eyes running up the expanse of your exposed legs to the hem of your mini dress. he’s not too close, but you can still smell his vanilla-and-something-secret cologne with the proximity. you feel yourself grow weak in the knees, reaching back to hold onto the counter behind you.

“i could be asking you the same thing,” you shoot back, trying to regain your confidence as you catch his eyes. sungho lets out of a puff of laughter, dropping his gaze for a second before looking back up at you. you feel your heart catch in your throat at the way his eyelashes flutter so beautiful, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip absentmindedly.

“i guess i was looking for you,” he speaks quietly, so sincerely that you aren’t sure if he knows the effect he has on you right now.

“well, i’m here now,” you mumble back.

“yeah. you are.”

the silence in between you guys is incredibly heavy, dripping with unsaid words and you can’t seem to find any of them. they all feel stuck in your throat as sungho’s eyes flicker in between yours. for once, he’s not the first one to break eye contact—and you even watch as he takes a few steps closer to you until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“y/n…” he whispers, leaning down so only you can hear him. his hair tickles your face and you find yourself frozen, unable to move. “can i… can i kiss you?”

okay, he’s definitely drunk. but so are you, so you have nothing to lose.

“yes. please,” you whisper back and he’s on you before you can even blink.

sungho’s lips are as plush and sweet as you imagined them to be. he tastes of the fruity alcohol that sits in his now abandoned cup,your stomach flipping as he gently works his lips against yours. one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, and you notice his fingers slightly shaking against your skin. even when he’s like this, he’s still so cute, it drives you crazy.

you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you until your bodies are pressed flush against each other. you tangle your fingers into his hair and at your actions, he softly sighs, falling into you even more. you swallow all of his noises as you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip for permission; pliantly, he parts his lips for you, a quiet moan leaving his lips when you slightly tug on his hair.

you feel his strong arm circle around your waist, his fingers splayed out against the fabric of your thin dress. you’re wrapped up in his scent, an all encompassing mantra of sungho, sungho, sungho filling your brain. he handles you gently, but so desperately as he licks into your mouth, his teeth grazing over your lips.

you can’t help the noises leaving your mouth as he subconsciously slips a leg in between yours, holding you impossibly closer to him. you can feel his rapid heart beat through his shirt, and you’re sure your own heart is pounding just as fast. he’s addicting in all sense of the word, your mind growing foggy as you grind up into him. he guides you with his arm, his other hand rubbing soothing circles onto your cheek. it’s everything and more, and when he finally parts for air, you find yourself chasing after his lips desperately.

“is this—is this okay?” sungho stutters through a whisper, referring to the position the two of you are in.

you nod quickly, biting your lip as you look up into his eyes. his pupils are fully blown out, his lips bitten red, covered in a thin layer of your saliva. his chest rises and falls quickly as he looks down at you and something akin to pride fills your chest at the sight. you made him like this. he’s so perfect.

“fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out before capturing your lips again. he’s a little more feverish this time, moaning against your lips as you grind against his leg. he seems to be getting off on you getting off, and the thought alone is driving you crazy.

you don’t even think about how you both are still in plain sight, right up against the kitchen counter where anyone could walk in at any time. and the little bubble that the two of you have built comes crashing down as a familiar voice breaks through your muddled haze.

“i’m gonna puke. need water,” jaehyun shouts as he runs into the kitchen before getting dizzy, moving to sit criss cross on the floor with his head in his hands.

“oh my god,” you groan as sungho hesitantly pulls himself away from you. “i’m so sorry, sungho.”

he’s clearly disheveled, his shirt slightly riding up exposing the smooth expanse of his lower stomach. his hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips are bruised, and it’s almost impossible to not notice the obvious bulge in his pants. despite it all, he’s still an angel, offering you a gentle smile.

“i’ll get him water, don’t worry,” sungho says, his face flushed red as he goes to grab a cup. you turn your gaze to the shitfaced jaehyun on the floor—you hold back any and all urges to cuss him out because 1. he’s incredibly drunk so the words won’t hurt him enough and 2. sungho is right there.

you walk over to crouch down in front of jaehyun, placing a hand on his shoulder. “keep it in, myungjae, or i swear…”

jaehyun mumbles some incomprehensible gibberish and you sigh quietly. as much of a cockblock as he is right now, your friends’ wellbeing always comes first.

“here,” sungho says from above you. you look up to see him holding out a cup of water to you with a tiny, awkward smile on his lips.

you already want to kiss him again.

“thank you,” you reply softly, returning the smile. “myung, you awake?” you shake jaehyun’s shoulder a few times before he finally slurs out more gibberish. “i’m gonna need words, hun.”

“i think… i think i’m drunk…” he mumbles before groaning again, slumping forward against you.

“yeah, no shit,” you deadpan. you place the water down next to you so you can lift his head up with both hands. jaehyun’s cheeks squish together like a chipmunk as he sleepy blinks at you. “wake up. where’s yujin?”

“she left with someone… i didn’t see…” he trails off before slumping forward again. “i’m gonna puke.”

“no, you’re not. drink this.” you try your best to help him drink the water, even though most of it spills onto his shirt. whatever. “i’m taking you home.”

jaehyun doesn’t respond other than a hiccup and another incomprehensible mumble.

“do you need some help?”

oh, right. sungho is still right here. you feel half-embarrassed and half-disappointed at the prospect of leaving him high and dry right here, but jaehyun needs your help right now. you wave sungho off with a small laugh and a shake of your head.

“i got him. we’ll call a driver.”

“are you sure? i can go with you guys.”

“it’s okay! enjoy the party.” you insist, trying to get jaehyun to drink more water. sungho nibbles on his lip in thought, watching the scene in from of him.

“i’ll wait outside with you guys at least.”

“you really don’t have to…” but sungho cuts you off with an insistent look and you find yourself giving in all too quickly. “okay. can you help me get him up?”

with much struggle and some extra hands from angel sungho, you guys manage to get jaehyun on his feet. you throw his arm over your shoulders and wrap your own around his waist to hold him up straight. sungho helps you steady him from the other side and you mentally thank him a thousand times over again because you’re sure jaehyun would’ve already crushed you by now if he wasn’t here.

“carry me like a princess,” jaehyun mumbles, lolling his head to the side, his entire body complete jelly.

“i’m not carrying you like a princess, jaehyun,” you speak blankly as you make your way to the front of the beach house.

“sungho, carry me like a princess.” all sungho does it laugh lightly and take more of jaehyun’s weight from you.

“come on, myungjae. left foot, right foot… there you go. you’re actually walking now, good job.”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

sungho waits with the both of you on the steps, jaehyun half asleep on your shoulder. what a way to end your night. sungho is eerily quiet as he watches the party-goers in the distance, the fireworks painting the sky in an array of colors and light. it’s beautiful you think, and as you turn your head to gaze at sungho, the lights reflecting in his dark eyes, you think he’s even more beautiful.

“are you… are you sure you’ll be okay?” sungho suddenly asks, turning his head to face you.

“i’m sure. i don’t want to ruin your night,” you reply with a small smile, though sungho frowns at your words.

“you could never ruin my night,” he says so seriously, you think you might’ve misheard for a moment. sungho’s gaze is heavy on you and you’re at a loss for words again, your mouth clamping shut. you feel your stomach do flips at his words, so simple yet so perfect. everything he does makes you fall for him even more.

you don’t speak for a few minutes after that and you don’t need to. the silence is calming this time. of course, there are a million things you want to say to sungho, but now doesn’t feel like the right time. not when jaehyun is a zombie next to you, mumbling in his half-asleep daze. sungho seems to be keeping his words to himself as well, glancing over at you from time to time.

finally, a black car pulls up in the driveway and you get a notification that your driver is here.

“i—i think that’s our car. thank you for your help, sungho,” you speak as you go to shake jaehyun awake.

“yeah, it’s no problem,” sungho sheepishly smiles, tucking his hands in his pockets. “um, y/n…?”

“hm?” you ask over your shoulder as you help your mumbling best friend to a stand. sungho watches the scene in front of him before shaking his head.

“...nevermind. get back safely, okay?” when you meet his eyes again, they’re sparkling with something unsaid. and somehow, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

“will do,” you affirm with a small smile before shushing jaehyun as he begins to whine about needing to puke again. “goodnight, sungho!!”

“goodnight, y/n.”

your clingy, drunk best friend drops his head onto your shoulder again as soon as you manage to get into the car, cuddling up to your side like a koala. with a sigh, you gaze out of the window and back toward the house. none of this feels real yet, but you’re sure it’ll all hit you once you’re completely sober.

as you begin to drive off, you notice a figure with black hair softly banging his head against the front wall of the house before regaining his composure, making his way back down to the beach.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

12:47 p.m | weather: chilly

dear diary,

we kissed. we actually kissed. but he was drunk, so i don’t know what any of this means. did he mean to kiss me? does he regret it? he hasn’t texted me, or called me. should i text him first? i’ve never been this nervous over anything before. maybe because it all feels too real now. i like him a lot. i don’t want to ruin this.

also jaehyun puked in my dorm last night. great.

PHASE THREE: UH… NOT SURE YET (never let myung jaehyun plan anything)

you usually aren’t one to bed rot, but it’s been two days since riwoo’s party and you’re sure that you are absolutely done for.

you had finally gave in and texted sungho asking if he got home safe that night. he replied with the driest message you’ve ever seen, and left you on delivered after you asked him what his plans were for the week.

and yes, you called for a best friend night so you could cry and tell you friends everything that happened. yujin had suggested that maybe he just needed some time to process things—it wouldn’t be out of character for him to avoid you in the first place, but you really thought you had made some semblance of progress that night.

jaehyun suggested that maybe he realized you are a bad kisser and never wants to see you again. you chose to flick him on the forehead and proceed to attempt suffocation with a pillow (which did not work. sadly.)

now you’re laying in your bed hugging a plushie as you sadly scroll through your timeline at 4 p.m on a sunny sunday afternoon. yujin is out probably seeing the world why you are here hoping to disappear from it. you would’ve never thought that being ghosted could hurt you this bad—probably because you have never liked anyone as much as you like sungho.

your heart physically hurts, but you try your best to not think too negatively. maybe yujin was right. maybe he just needed to sort things out by himself first. jaehyun, on the other hand, can go to hell.

you continue to scroll through funny cat videos until you suddenly get an incoming call from “p.s.h <3”.

the speed that you sit up at could beat lightning, your eyes comically widening as the caller i.d fills the screen. your fingers answer the call before you can even run through the possibilities of delusion and hallucination, pressing the phone to your ear.

“hello?” you speak, trying to sound as normal as possible. there’s a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line before sungho’s voice flows through.

“hey, y/n. are you free right now?” sungho asks, his voice half-unsure and half-hopeful. you bite your lip to suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

“right now…? i guess i have some time,” you exaggerate. what? he ghosted you for two days! you can’t seem too available!

sungho lets out a breath from the other end of the line, shuffling around again. “um, sorry if this is sudden, but can we meet up? i… i need to see you right now.”

you have to physically clutch your blanket in order to stop yourself from jumping with joy. park sungho wants to see you. park sungho wants to see you right now! it seems as if all of your wishes have been granted. fuck you, myung jaehyun!

“yeah, we can meet up. where?”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

you notice sungho’s messy black hair as soon as you turn the corner to the flower garden situated in the middle of the large park across the street from your campus. he’s wearing a black long sleeve and jeans with a belt, his green satchel resting on the bench next to him. his glasses hang on the edge of the nose and he seems to be sketching something, his brows slightly furrowed as he focuses intently on his page.

those familiar fluttery feelings fill your chest when he looks up at the sound of your footsteps in the grass. his gaze softens when he meets your eyes, closing his sketchbook as you near him.

“hi,” you start with a shy smile. you suddenly feel self-conscious with his heavy gaze on you, looking down at your shoes. you realize that you’re both wearing converses again today.

“hi,” sungho says before motioning to the empty spot on the bench next to him. “sit, sit.”

you nod once, cautiously taking a seat next to him. your heart pounds in your chest at the close proximity, which is ridiculous considering the fact that you two were much closer just a couple of days ago, but for some reason, everything feels a little different this time.

late spring flowers bloom around you, pinks and yellows mixing with the green shrubbery. it’s sunny out, but a a cool breeze combats the bright sun rays. it’s a perfect day and sungho looks even more perfect. he’s back to his usual self it seems, unable to meet your eyes as he clears his throat.

“so, um… i just want to start off by saying that i’m sorry.”

you make a small sound of confusion, tilting your head at him. “sorry about what? you didn’t do anything wrong…”

“no, i did. i haven’t spoken to you since the party and i just… i don’t know. i got stuck in my own head,” sungho explains softly as he peeks up at you. his leg is bouncing slightly with nervousness and you want to reach over and comfort him. “i thought that maybe you only kissed me because we were both drunk. or maybe you felt pressured to… i don’t know. it’s stupid.”

he shakes his head before looking down at his lap, wringing his hands nervously. this time, you actually do reach a hand out, your fingers resting atop his. his hands immediately still as he lifts his head to find your eyes. they’re completely vulnerable, all of his guards lowered around you.

“it’s not stupid. i didn’t feel pressured to do anything. i kissed you because that’s what i’ve wanted to do for a whole year now.”

sungho’s eyes widen at your words, his mouth dropping open a bit in shock. “a whole year?”

“sungho, i have liked you ever since that introductory art class in freshman year. i thought that you didn’t like me,” you finally confess. sungho frowns at your words, his fingers calmly moving to lace with yours. his hands are as soft as his gaze on you and you feel yourself settle at his touch, relaxing a bit as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand.

“i’m sorry that i made you feel that way. i just get really nervous when you’re around, as you can see,” he laughs, looking down at his bouncing leg. “i don’t know why it took me so long to say this, but i’m not going to wait any longer. my friend, taesan, kinda knocked some sense into me yesterday.”

you mentally thank kurt cobain, trying to conceal the sun-shaming smile threatening to appear on your face. sungho looks incredibly nervous as he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second—and when he opens them again, they drip with so much sincerity and affection, you feel all of the air leave your lungs.

“y/n, i like you. i like everything about you, and i’m sorry i’ve been such a coward this whole time. i guess i just never thought that someone like you, someone so beautiful, and talented, and sweet, would like someone like me,” he speaks, laughing a bit at himself at the end. you quickly shake your head, squeezing his hand.

“you’re also beautiful, talented, and sweet, though…” you mutter through a pout because—how could he ever think he was anything but all of the good things in the world!

“i’m also an idiot for waiting this long,” he adds and okay, that you can agree with, but…

“i guess i am too, then,” you respond through a tiny smile. this moment is all you could’ve asked for. “sungho, can i kiss you?”

the words leave your slips before you can catch them, but sungho gives you no time to back track. with a small smile and a tiny nod, he reaches up to cup the side of your face and you get deja vu as soon as his skin touches yours.

“please,” he whispers with pleading eyes.

you are so down bad, it’s insane.

this kiss feels like your first some reason; the your heart flutters as he delicately presses his lips to yours. now that you’re fully sober, you’re hyper aware of everything.his fingers tremble with nervousness and you smile into this kiss. there’s no reason to rush as you take him in, all of him, from his vanilla cologne, to his careful hands.

his entire body melts as you rest a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the pads of your fingertips. you can’t help but giggle a bit as you feel just how fast his heart is beating, somehow even faster than last time. sungho slowly pulls away, looking at you with pink dusted cheeks.

“why are you laughing?” he asks cutely, cocking his head like a curious kitten.

“you’re just so cute. i can’t help it,” you smile before quickly pecking his lips again. sungho’s cheeks brighten at your words, reaching up to cover his face with his hands.

“you can’t just say things like that!”

“oh? i can’t?” you ask teasingly. he drops his hands and shakes his head at you with a pout. “what about if i were your girlfriend? can i say it then?”

“only if i get to be your boyfriend,” sungho says back, a tiny smile climbing onto his lips. you pretend to think for a second, tapping your finger on your chin.

“hm… sounds like a fair deal to me.”

“then a deal it is.”

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

“guys. guys. it was so amazing. we confessed to each other, and then we took a walk together and held hands, and then we got lunch together before his class, and then we…” you ramble on about your day with sungho as you sit with your best friends on a blanket in the field, sighing dreamily as you reminiscence about his soft lips and cute smiles. he’s so perfect, in every single way. you can’t believe you can call yourself his girlfriend now.

“were the flowers pretty?” yujin asks from where she’s laying on her back, looking up at the multi-hued sky. jaehyun chuckles from his spot in between you guys, his arms folded behind his head as his eyes follow a passing bird.

“of course they were! and they even—wait. wait… how did you know i was at the flower garden?” you ask, looking in between the both of them with accusation. they give each other another one of those classic communicating-with-eyes looks before turning to you with knowing smiles. “oh my god. you guys planned this, didn’t you?”

“yup! i perfected it last night,” jaehyun smiles, throwing an arm over your shoulder. "phase three? let nature take its course. i managed to get some help from kurt ‘taesan’ cobain yesterday.”

“you are actually insane,” you speak dumbfoundedly. there’s nothing else you can say though because at the end of the day, sungho is now yours and you are his. albeit, the way you got here was a little iffy.

“myungstein, i’m telling you. the nation’s #1 matchmaker,” jaehyun speaks cockily, folding his hands behind his head as he turns to you with a cheeky smile.

“nope. still not calling you that.” you roll your eyes at his antics, but you can’t stop the smile from slipping onto your lips as the three of you watch the sunset. you’re content, the soft breeze drifting across your cheeks, the scent of vanilla and blushed cheeks soothing your mind.

｡‧˚🍞⭒₊˚🍎˚ · .

5:51 pm | weather: clear skies

dear diary,

park sungho is my boyfriend now :) <3 yay

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3 x

masterlist

375 notes · View notes

fem-the-artist · 6 months ago

Text

I don’t know why, but I have just such a specific HeadCanon for Timmy’s dating history as he grows up, technically it’s related to my magic future AU, but it can also just be taken as not

So I guess here’s all his past relationships in order of when I think they happen as well as the reason they broke up and how long they dated for

1. Cindy vortex. I count the times they hung out and went to the dance and all that stuff during the Timmy Jimmy power hours as of them dating. It was long distance, but trust. Anyway, incredibly short-lived. Because even though they were both interested in each other for a little bit they were so young and immature that that interest only lasted for so long A great example is in the third Timmy Jimmy power hour and all interest they pretty much had for each other had dissipated.

2. Chester Mcbadbat, hear me out Chester is gay as fuck especially for Timmy, they dated in late elementary school for only two weeks and then broke up because Timmy forgot they were dating in the first place. and Chester didn’t talk to him for a week after that but they’re cool now.

3. Remy Buxaplenty, the whole relationship was a Yiiikes. I like to think this was around Lake middle school early high school so about 13-ish , they got along. They had a great time but Remy has a pension for jealousy and envy, and the two of them we’re just not good together. They broke up and it was messy.

4. Trixie Tang, started dating around 15. she started to get less dependent on her friends approval at this point which is how this happened. And although Timmy isn’t popular, he does throw awesome parties, so I feel like this is part of the reason she gave him a chance, because like who doesn’t want to be invited to his parties there infamously awesome every time. But aside from that, they got along surprisingly well the reason they broke up is because a trixie realized she was a lesbian and at that point Timmy’s egg hasn’t cracked yet. so no real room for argument he was really happy that she figured this out about herself, but also incredibly heartbroken because he really liked her. He went on a little bit spiral after this because depressed teen angst.

5. Remy again. within the following summer after his break up with Trixie. He would date, break up, get back together with Remy three times. also, Remy has a tendency to love bomb. so whenever a break up was his fault he would pretty much shower Timmy with gifts until he took him back. not at all healthy but they’re teenagers, so what are you gonna do

6. Tootie (I realize she doesn’t have a last name). They’re 17 during this one. dated for five months which to Timmy’s credit is the longest relationship he’s had so far. broke up because they realize they were acting the exact same way they were when they were friends, and they realize neither of them actually have romantic feelings for each other. (cough cough a little bit after this tootie realizes she’s aroace and only thought she had a crush on Timmy because early 2000s if girl like boy it Hass to be romantic cough) They are however, trauma bonded, and stay best friends

7. Jimmy neutron. young adults at this point took forever for them to get together because Jimmy couldn’t except his feelings for the longest time, and Timmy didn’t realize he had any. dated for two years broke up because their lives were going in different directions and work got in the way.

To elaborate a little more this is when Timmy started his training to become a fairy warden, and that took up a lot of time that he couldn’t expand on hopping between dimensions

They mutually agreed to try their relationship again when they have more of their lives figured out

As of within the AU in the current timeline, a.k.a. new wishes taken place

Timmy and Tootie still best friends got platonically married because they both wanted children and they trust each other more than anyone else, and now we have Tommy and Tammy as a result, they’re more like roommates than husband and wife, but they do coparent

(Timmy might be potentially casually seeing Jimmy at this time, but I haven’t fully decided)

Oh yeah also Timmy’s egg officially cracked at 18 and he came out as bi gender he/she pronouns

#fairly oddparents #fop #timmy turner #remy buxaplenty #trixie tang #Multishipping technically?#jimmytimmy #jimmy neutron #chester mcbadbat #cindy vortex #Tootie #text post #magic future au

91 notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 4 months ago

Text

Tonight, you're on my mind, so you'll never know...

Chapter One Out of Four (Possibly Five!)

Masterlist || Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 8k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical themes, sexual themes, hurt/comfort, angst, pining, mutual pining, spoilers for Criminal Minds seasons 1-12, friends to lovers, first-time, loss of virginity, grief, trauma, timeline of 8 year old!Hotch---Post CM!Hotch--please let me know if I am missing anything!

Sypnosis: Years have passed since you and Aaron Hotchner first crossed paths, but the connection you shared has never truly faded. In the wake of personal loss and career demands, your lives have taken different directions, leaving unresolved feelings and unspoken words lingering in the background. As fate pulls you back into each other’s orbit, you must navigate the delicate balance between duty, grief, and the possibility of rekindling something you thought was lost forever. In a world of danger, distance, and emotional walls, will you and Aaron finally confront the past—or let it slip away once more?

Aaron Hotchner was eight years old when he first met you. You were the new kid in Mrs. Parker’s third-grade class, standing nervously at the front of the room with your backpack clutched tight to your shoulders. From his desk in the middle of the room, Aaron gave you a small, encouraging smile, and something in your anxious expression softened.

As the weeks went by, Aaron made it his mission to make sure you felt welcomed. He was always the one to offer a smile, a joke, or a helping hand when you needed it. He'd pass you notes during math class, full of silly drawings or clever ways to remember formulas, making you laugh when you felt like you didn’t belong. You and Aaron became inseparable, spending recess huddled together, planning your next science project, or making up games on the playground.

When the science fair rolled around, there was no question who your partner would be. You and Aaron stayed up late at each other’s houses, surrounded by cardboard volcanoes and school supplies, arguing playfully over who got to make the 'lava' erupt. Those late nights were filled with whispered secrets and quiet giggles that only the two of you understood.

But just as life seemed to settle into a pattern, everything changed. Aaron’s parents decided he needed a different kind of education—a stricter environment to hone his potential. He was being sent to boarding school, far away from your small town and the life you both knew. The news hit like a punch to the gut, the kind that left you breathless and aching.

On his last day of school, you both sat on the swings, silent, the words you wanted to say trapped in your throat. Aaron finally turned to you, a sad smile on his face, and handed you a small note—his handwriting neat and careful as always. You opened it to see the words, "I’ll come back someday. Don’t forget me."

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "I won’t," you promised, squeezing his hand one last time before he let go. You watched him walk away, carrying that promise with him.

Time passed, and life carried you both in different directions. Aaron went off to boarding school and then to college while you buried yourself in your studies, eventually finding your passion for medicine.

Aaron hadn’t crossed your mind in years—not in the way he used to, back when every recess felt like a lifetime you spent together. Time had a way of making memories feel softer like they belonged to someone else.

You heard bits and pieces about Aaron over the years, mainly through the grapevine. You knew he was still with Haley Brooks, the sweet girl who lived a block away from where he used to live. It seemed inevitable that they would end up together; she was the familiar face, the constant in his life when everything else kept changing.

It was a complete surprise when you walked into the library on your first day at college and saw him. Aaron Hotchner, sitting at a table with law books piled high, his face buried in a notebook, scribbling furiously.

He looked different—older, more serious—but when he glanced up and saw you, his entire expression softened in that way it always had when he looked at you.

“Aaron?” you called out, tentative, like you weren’t sure if he would remember you.

His eyes went wide, and then his lips curved into that same slow smile you remembered from so many years ago. "I can’t believe it’s you," he said, standing up, his voice tinged with both disbelief and a quiet joy.

You two fell into step as though no time had passed, and soon, one cup of coffee turned into hours of catching up, late-night study sessions, and long walks across campus. You'd spend those evenings beneath the soft glow of street lamps, talking about everything and nothing, like you were making up for all the years you'd lost.

One night, during a quiet moment on a bench outside the library, Aaron turned to you, his eyes filled with a kind of wonder that made your heart skip a beat.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you again,” he said softly, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “I thought that part of my life was over, and then you just… walked back in.”

You gave him a small, shy smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over you.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again either,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But I’m glad I did. It feels like fate, almost.”

He reached for your hand, hesitating for just a second before his fingers laced through yours.

“I don’t think I realized how much I missed this—how much I missed you,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand. “You always had this way of making everything feel... right. Even when everything else is falling apart.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, feeling like you were standing on the edge of something that could change everything. “You know,” you said, your eyes flicking up to meet his, “you’re different with me, Aaron. Softer, somehow. Like you’re letting me see the side of you that no one else gets to see.”

He smiled at that, a slow, tender smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “That’s because, with you, I don’t have to pretend,” he said quietly. “With you, I can just be... me.”

You knew why that was. You knew about his family, the chaos he rarely spoke of but never seemed to escape. His father’s harsh words, the impossible expectations, and the way Aaron had been forced to grow up too fast. He’d always been the parentified child—the one who had to hold it all together when everything around him was crumbling.

With you, he didn’t have to be that. He didn’t have to be the protector, the caretaker, the one who was always in control. With you, he could just breathe.

Slowly, those study sessions turned into something more. There were late-night conversations that turned into soft laughter, the kind that echoed in the quiet hallways of the library when everyone else had gone home.

Aaron started to lean closer, his arm brushing against yours, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your lips. And then, one night, he finally closed the distance.

It was a gentle kiss, innocent and tentative, as if he was afraid to break the fragile moment you’d both created. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you again,” he whispered, his voice filled with that same vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. “I just... didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

You laughed softly, your fingers still tangled in his. “You’re definitely allowed to,” you said, your voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that, too.”

Aaron looked at you then with an expression that you’d never seen on him before—like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face, like he couldn’t believe you were real. He cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly. “You make everything feel a little less... heavy.”

It was a warm evening, the kind where the world felt impossibly still, as if time itself had slowed just for the two of you. Aaron had walked you back to your dorm, his hand loosely clasped around yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to rush—that this moment was yours, untouched by the outside world.

He kissed you again, the same gentle, tentative way he had the first time, his lips brushing against yours like a secret only you two were allowed to share. But tonight was different. There was an unspoken sense that something more was waiting—something both of you wanted, but neither of you was certain how to name.

In the dim light of your room, surrounded by the stillness of night, Aaron’s hands found yours. He held them carefully, as if they were made of something delicate. There was a nervousness in the air, but it was the kind that comes when something sacred is about to be shared—when the weight of the moment is felt by both people, heavy with meaning and laced with the vulnerability of first love.

You were both so young, still discovering the world and yourselves, yet in that moment, everything felt beautifully simple. He kissed you again, this time with more confidence but no less care. His touch was light, and reverent, as though he wanted to be sure every movement was one you welcomed.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, your heart racing beneath your skin. There was no shame in the confession, just honesty, the kind you knew you could share with him because Aaron made you feel safe, like there was nothing you couldn’t say.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand.

“Neither have I,” he admitted, his voice low, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t heard from him before. His eyes, normally so guarded, were open—vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache with affection.

He kissed you again, slow and deliberate, and this time, it felt like you were crossing a threshold together, one you both understood was important. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet wonder of the moment. His hands traced the outline of your skin with a gentle reverence, as if he was trying to memorize every curve, every inch, not for possession, but for the deep respect he held for you.

When the time came, it wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It felt natural, like an unspoken promise made long before this night. Aaron moved with the same care he’d shown you in every other moment—thoughtful, kind, attuned to you in a way that made you feel like he was giving you all of him, not just physically, but in every sense.

There was no awkwardness, no fear—just warmth and quiet intimacy. Every touch, every soft sigh between you felt like a conversation, like a love letter written in the language of gentle movements and shared breath. It was the kind of first time you always hoped it would be—filled with tenderness and respect, with Aaron looking at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real, as if he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to share this moment with you.

When it was over, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you close, your bodies tangled together, his forehead resting against yours, his breath soft against your skin. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the kind of peace that comes from knowing you’d just shared something sacred.

“I’m glad it was you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet certainty that made your heart swell.

You smiled, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too,” you replied, and at that moment, you knew—no matter where life took you, this night would always be something you carried with you. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real.

But even in those moments, when it felt like it was just the two of you against the world, you could see the shadows that lingered in his eyes.

Traces of Haley, the girl who had once been his entire world, the love he wasn’t sure he could ever let go of. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well. You saw the flicker of doubt, the unresolved feelings that haunted him.

One evening, as you both sat on the steps of the library, your fingers still intertwined, you knew you couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. You turned to him, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Aaron,” you said gently, your voice tinged with a sadness you couldn’t quite hide, “I need to know that you’re sure about this—about us.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at you, confusion and fear flickering across his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

You forced a smile, trying to be brave even as your heart felt like it was breaking. “I know you’re here,” you said, squeezing his hand. “But I also know that part of you is still with her—with Haley. And I don’t think I can keep doing this if you’re not completely sure.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you gently placed a finger against his lips, stopping him.

“You deserve clarity, Aaron,” you said softly. “And I deserve someone who’s all in—someone who isn’t torn between two loves.”

His eyes filled with something that looked like pain, like he knew you were right but didn’t want to admit it. He reached up to hold your face in his hands, his touch trembling slightly.

He sat silently for a moment, his fingers brushing over yours in a quiet, subtle gesture. There was no outpouring of emotion—only the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. His gaze dropped to the ground, jaw tightening slightly as if he were battling something deep inside.

“I’m not good at this,” he said quietly, voice low and measured. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady but guarded, the calmness in his tone hiding the storm within. “I never have been.”

You held your breath, waiting. He didn’t pull you closer, didn’t let his voice betray the depth of whatever he was feeling. Instead, he allowed a small, rare vulnerability to slip through, in the only way Aaron Hotchner ever would.

“I made choices,” he continued, his voice carrying a quiet resignation. “And I’ll always stand by them.”

There was a pause, heavy with the years of unspoken history. His eyes softened, but his words were deliberate, cautious, as though each one had been carefully chosen before he spoke.

“But there are moments,” he admitted, barely above a whisper, “when I think about the path I didn’t take.”

The confession was understated—so much so that you almost missed it. But the weight of it was unmistakable. He didn’t need to elaborate. In his world, actions and silence often spoke louder than words.

You felt the familiar ache settle in your chest, knowing how difficult it was for him to even hint at such a thing. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, nor was he asking for anything at all. This was Aaron’s way of telling you the truth, as much as he ever could, without unraveling the layers of control he’d spent a lifetime building.

“I’m not losing you,” you said softly, echoing his restraint. “I just need you to be sure.”

Hotch gave the smallest nod, his fingers brushing yours one last time before he let his hand fall away. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince you otherwise. It wasn’t in his nature to ask for what he thought he couldn’t have.

“Take care of yourself,” he said quietly, the walls slowly coming back up. And then, without another word, he stood, leaving behind only the lingering sense of something left unsaid.

Time flew by, but it also remained very still.

Aaron sat at his dorm desk, the bright glow of the bulky computer monitor reflected back at him. His finger hovered over the “send” button on an email he had drafted to you—an apology, a confession, something to explain why he had been distant these past few weeks. But the words felt hollow, weighed down by a decision he wasn’t even sure he had made yet.

The memory of late nights with you, laughing and sharing secrets, tugged at his mind, but it was Haley’s voice he heard on the phone, her quiet concern as she asked when he’d be home for the weekend.

He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. The truth was, he didn’t know how to do this—how to love two people at once, how to give pieces of himself when all he ever knew was how to give everything.

With you, things were easy, and natural, but Haley was his anchor. She had been with him through every transition, every change, and she made sense in a way that was rooted in the stability he so desperately needed. She was safe, familiar. And in the midst of law school deadlines and the ever-present pressure of his father’s expectations, safety was all he could cling to.

In the end, it wasn’t just about Haley. It was about the life he was building—one with clear lines and fewer unknowns.

The future with her was already mapped out, and his career was beginning to demand more of him. With each step he took toward becoming the man everyone expected him to be, the further you seemed to slip away, like a path he couldn’t walk anymore.

So, he stayed with Haley, not because the choice was easy, but because it was necessary.

As the years passed, you poured yourself into your medical career, using the long hours and the intensity of trauma surgery to distract from the parts of your life that felt unfinished. The grueling schedule left little time for anything else, and that was just the way you preferred it.

Each day in the hospital was a whirlwind of emergencies—broken bones, life-threatening injuries, and critical surgeries that demanded your full attention.

The moments of quiet reflection, where Aaron’s face would drift into your thoughts, were few and fleeting, quickly swallowed by the next crisis.

Your dedication earned you respect among your colleagues, promotions you hadn’t even sought, but with every success, there was a growing realization that you had built this life to keep yourself too busy to remember the one you left behind.

There was a fire lit under you, one that the long hours and, at-times, gruesome themes of your day seemed to fuel. There was an intensity in your line of work, one that you knew if Aaron was still a part of your life, would understand and want to soak up every aspect of each detail.

You would occasionally bump into each other over the years—at alumni events, around town, or at the rare social gathering you both happened to attend. The encounters were always polite, your smiles a little too tight, the conversations clipped and guarded.

You both kept it surface-level, never daring to dig deeper into what you truly wanted to say. You’d ask how each other’s studies were going and exchange updates about life, but never once did you talk about what had happened between you, about the unspoken feelings that still seemed to linger in the air. Haley often would be by his side, you could tell she was supportive of his dreams and choices.

The hardest moment was one evening at a crowded bar, the air buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses. You were there with friends, trying to unwind after a long week, when you saw Aaron walk in.

For a split second, your heart leapt at the sight of him—until you noticed Haley by his side, her arm looped casually through his, her smile bright and untroubled. The sight of them together was like a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of the choice you’d made to let him go.

What ached even more was the glint of matching gold bands on each of their ring fingers. It felt… final. The kind of final that left no room for second chances or what-ifs. You couldn’t help but think about the moments you’d shared with Aaron—the late-night conversations, the way he used to look at you like you were his safe harbor in the storm of his messy life. And now, here he was, seemingly settled, with someone else wearing the title you’d never been brave enough to claim.

Before you could make a quiet escape, they spotted you. Aaron’s eyes met yours across the room, widening slightly in surprise, and then he offered you that familiar smile—a smile that was polite and practiced but carried a hint of something you couldn’t quite read. Regret, maybe. Or a sadness that neither of you would ever speak aloud.

“Y/N, it’s so great to see you!” Haley said warmly, her voice genuine and open. She didn’t know, of course—didn’t know about the brief, intense history you’d shared with Aaron, didn’t know how much seeing them together was breaking your heart all over again.

You exchanged pleasantries, smiling and nodding at the right moments, trying to keep your composure even as your insides twisted into knots. Aaron’s smile was there, polite and distant, but in his eyes, you saw something different—a flicker of the past, a glimpse of the man who had once held your hand like he was afraid to let go. He looked like he wanted to say something, like there were words caught on the edge of his tongue that he couldn’t let fall in front of Haley.

Haley, ever the gracious host of the moment, excused herself to grab their drinks from the bar, leaving you alone with Aaron for a brief, excruciating moment. The noise of the bar seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, fragile bubble of shared history.

Aaron’s gaze held yours for a second longer than it should have, his expression softening as if he were letting his guard down, if only for a heartbeat. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he hesitated, his jaw tensing slightly. It was as if every word he wanted to say had gotten tangled in the space between his heart and his voice.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. There was a distance in his tone, but also a trace of something he couldn’t quite hide—something raw, something aching. “You look… happy.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“You too, Aaron,” you said, your voice faltering just a little. “You and Haley… you look perfect together.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to protest, to say something real, something that wasn’t covered in layers of politeness. But instead, he just stood there, looking at you with eyes that seemed to carry the weight of everything left unspoken.

Haley returned with their drinks, her presence snapping Aaron back to the moment. He turned to her, his expression shifting instantly to something softer, more familiar—a version of himself that you hadn’t seen in a long time. As they walked away, laughing at something she said, you felt the sharp pang of regret settle deep in your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder—did you make a mistake all those years ago? Letting him go when you still had so much left to say?

Later that evening, in the quiet of their home, Haley turned to Aaron as they got ready for bed. Her smile from earlier had faded slightly, replaced by a hint of uncertainty that she tried to mask with a casual tone.

"She’s really beautiful, you know," Haley said, her voice light but carrying an edge that Aaron didn’t miss. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze fixed on him as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Aaron paused, his movements slowing as he met Haley’s eyes. “Who?” he asked, though he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Y/N,” Haley said, her voice a touch sharper now. “You two seemed close tonight. It was... almost like I was interrupting something.”

He let out a small sigh, more to himself than to her, and sat down next to her, his hands resting on his knees. "Haley," he started gently, “it’s not like that anymore. We’re just old friends.”

Haley turned to face him, her expression a mix of vulnerability and something else—fear, maybe, or insecurity.

“Old friends?” she repeated, her voice barely masking the doubt. “Aaron, the way she looked at you—it didn’t seem like just ‘old friends.’ And I know you, Aaron. I know when you’re holding back.”

Aaron didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his hands, the silence between them heavy and complicated. He’d thought about this moment before wondered what it would be like to confront these feelings.

“We had a past,” he admitted quietly, finally looking back at Haley. “She was important to me, and part of me never really let that go. But I chose you, Haley. I always chose you.”

Haley’s eyes softened for a moment, but there was still a flicker of pain in them, a hint of doubt that wouldn’t quite fade. “I always felt like I was competing with her, even when she wasn’t there,” Haley said, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Like you were with me because it was easy and safe, but with her... with her, it would’ve been something else.”

Aaron didn’t deny it; he couldn’t. He reached out and took her hand, holding it firmly.

“You were never second best to me, Haley,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “But back then, I wished—part of me wished she’d fought harder. I might have chosen differently if she’d asked me to. If she’d really asked me to stay,” Aaron paused, “But it never would have worked��it would have been a rash--impractical choice.”

Haley looked at him, a mixture of relief and hurt crossing her features, her grip tightening on his hand, like she was afraid to let go.

And in that moment, Aaron knew that while he had chosen Haley, a part of him would always be haunted by the path he didn’t take, the one where you had asked him to choose you. And he would always wonder if you were the love that got away.

Years later, you found yourself deep into your medical internship, pulling grueling shifts at the hospital that left you bone-tired but determined.

The last thing you expected was to cross paths with Aaron Hotchner again, especially on a day as monumental as the birth of his child.

You were on your way to check on another patient when you noticed a familiar figure pacing outside one of the maternity rooms. It was Aaron, but not as you remembered him.

He looked different—older, more tired, but also lit up from within like he was holding the entire universe in his hands. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his tie was loosened around his neck, but there was a brightness in his eyes that you hadn't seen in years.

He stopped short when he saw you, his face a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something softer—like he was relieved to see a familiar face in the chaos of the moment.

"Y/N?" he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were standing there.

“Aaron,” you said, offering him a gentle smile.

The last time you’d seen him was under such different circumstances, and now here he was, a thousand emotions flickering across his face.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours as if he needed to anchor himself to something real.

“Haley just had the baby,” he said, his voice filled with awe and a hint of disbelief, as though he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. "It's a boy. His name's Jack."

Your heart softened at the mention of Jack, imagining Aaron as a father, this new role that seemed to suit him so perfectly. You knew how much he’d always wanted a family, how much he valued loyalty and protection, and now he had both those things wrapped up in this tiny new life.

A genuine smile spread across your face despite the tightness in your chest. “Congratulations, Aaron,” you said, your voice warm and sincere. “How’s Haley? How’s Jack?”

“They’re both perfect,” he said, but even as he said the words, you could see the turmoil beneath the surface—the way his mind was racing, already thinking of everything he needed to do to be the best husband and father he could be. He was still Aaron, always planning ahead, always trying to protect those he loved.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. For a split second, you worried he might pull away, but instead, he let out a shaky breath and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

His grip was firm, like he needed this moment of connection as much as you did, like he was drawing strength from the familiarity of your embrace.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Aaron,” you whispered softly against his shoulder. “Jack’s so lucky to have you.”

He held you for a moment longer, and you felt the way his shoulders relaxed, just a bit, as if the weight of the world on them had lightened for a second.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go immediately. His hands lingered on your arms, his eyes locked onto yours, and there was something in his gaze that made your breath catch—a mix of gratitude, vulnerability, and something unspoken that neither of you dared to voice.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at you like he was memorizing the moment, like he didn’t want to forget the way it felt to have you close again.

You gave him a small, sad smile as he finally let his hands drop, the connection between you two still lingering in the air. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed, like you were the only two people in the world standing in that hospital corridor.

“I need to get back to them,” he said, his tone shifting instantly to the steady, composed one you were so familiar with. “Haley and Jack are waiting.”

The moment was gone, and his focus had returned to where it always was—his family. Even as you offered him a small smile, knowing that this was the man he had become, you could see that his world revolved around something far more important than any lingering emotions between you two.

He gave you a nod, something unspoken passing between you—an acknowledgment of the past, but nothing that could shift the priorities of the present. Without another word, he turned and left, his strides purposeful as he made his way back to his family, to the life he had chosen to protect above all else.

As you watched him walk away, you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he slipped back into his role—the one that mattered most. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a man to be distracted, not when it came to the people who depended on him the most.

As you stood in that empty corridor, you tried to tell yourself that letting him go all those years ago had been the right choice—that he was exactly where he needed to be, with the family he’d always dreamed of. But even as you reminded yourself of that, you couldn’t shake the feeling of bittersweet longing, the ache of knowing that sometimes, the right choices still hurt the most.

A few days later, after yet another long shift at the hospital, you found yourself alone in the on-call room, your mind still buzzing with the image of Aaron holding his newborn son. The way he looked at you, the way his touch lingered—it all played on a loop in your head, refusing to let you rest.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you powered on your computer and began typing. You weren’t sure what you hoped to accomplish by reaching out to him, but the words poured out of you as if they’d been waiting all this time.

To: [email protected] Subject: It Was Good to See You

Hi Aaron,

I know it's been a while since we last spoke, but seeing you at the hospital the other day brought back a lot of memories. I just wanted to say that I'm so happy for you and Haley. Jack is lucky to have you as his dad—I always knew you’d be incredible at that.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say here, or why I’m even writing this, to be honest. Maybe it’s just that seeing you again reminded me of a time when things were simpler, or maybe I just wanted to reach out because I didn’t get the chance to say everything I wanted to that day.

I know our lives took us in different directions, and I’m glad you’ve found so much joy with your family. But I guess a part of me will always wonder what might have been if things had turned out differently.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well, and that fatherhood is everything you hoped it would be. I won’t keep you, I just—well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m really glad we crossed paths again, even for a moment.

Take care, Aaron.

Best, Y/N

You hesitated for a long moment, staring at the words you’d typed, debating whether to hit send. There was a part of you that was terrified of what this email might mean—how it might complicate things, reopen old wounds that had never fully healed. But there was another part of you, the part that had seen that familiar look in Aaron's eyes at the hospital, that knew you couldn’t keep silent any longer.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, you clicked "send" before you could second-guess yourself. As the email disappeared from your screen, you felt a strange mix of relief and vulnerability wash over you, like you’d just opened a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through.

You didn’t know how Aaron would react when he saw your name in his inbox, or if he’d even reply at all. But you knew that at that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You had to reach out, even if it was just to say that you hadn’t forgotten, that you never really let go.

What you didn’t know was that when Aaron read your message later that night, sitting alone in his dimly lit office, the weight of your words hit him harder than he expected. He read each line with a mix of longing and regret, feeling the past rush back to him in a way that made his chest tighten.

He wanted to respond, to tell you that seeing you again had stirred up all the emotions he’d buried for the sake of moving forward. But he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, because he wasn’t sure he could say what he really felt—not when his life was still so complicated, still so tied to the promises he’d made to Haley and Jack.

There was a part of him that completely shamed himself for even wanting to keep the door open with you. It was not if he was still waiting by the open entryway, but something was comforting knowing it was ajar.

But he knew one thing for certain: seeing you at the hospital that day had made him realize that some doors never really close. And no matter how far life pulled you both apart, there was always a part of him that would find its way back to you.

And so he saved your email, tucked it away in the corner of his heart where he kept all the things he wasn’t ready to face. But he kept it, just like he kept that old photo of you two on his bookshelf at the BAU—a reminder of the love that never really went away.

And though he didn’t reply, he knew, deep down, that one day he would. He had to.

Because this time, he didn’t want to let you go.

Time passed and you’d finally established yourself as a respected doctor, life had taken you far from the familiar places where you and Aaron once crossed paths.

You were working at a renowned hospital across the country, building your career in a place far from the echoes of your shared past. You'd settled into this new life, convincing yourself that the memories of Aaron Hotchner were just that—memories locked away in a chapter you’d closed long ago.

But late at night, when the world was quiet, and you found yourself alone with a few too many glasses of wine, the memories would come rushing back.

You’d think about Aaron—about the way he used to smile at you, the warmth of his touch, the late-night conversations that felt like they could change everything. You’d wonder where he was and what he was doing if he ever thought of you the way you still thought of him--why he never answered your email.

In those moments, you couldn’t help but feel like the universe had let something slip through your fingers, like you’d lost a piece of yourself you could never entirely replace.

It had only been a few months since his divorce was finalized, but Aaron Hotchner’s mind wasn’t just on the past he’d left behind with Haley. It was on you—the email you’d sent, the memories that kept resurfacing late at night when the world went quiet.

One evening, after hours at the BAU, Hotch found himself in Garcia’s tech-filled lair. She looked up, surprised to see him, especially at that hour.

“Sir?” she asked, her cheerful tone softening as she picked up on his serious demeanor.

He hesitated, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of her desk. “Garcia... could you look someone up for me?”

Garcia blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Of course. Just name the person.”

"Y/N L/N," he said quietly, the name falling softly from his lips. “We went to college together. I’m just... curious where she is now.”

Garcia’s hands hovered over the keyboard, her usual enthusiasm tempered by the weight of his request. She could tell from his tone that this wasn’t a casual inquiry. “Got it, sir,” she said, quickly typing the name into her system. “What do you want to know?”

“Just... how she’s doing.” His voice was quieter than usual, laced with an undercurrent that hinted at more than mere curiosity.

A few moments passed as Garcia sifted through information, her screens flashing with data. After a beat, she spoke, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “Looks like she’s doing really well, actually. She’s a doctor now. Trauma surgeon. She’s worked at some big hospitals.”

Hotch’s eyes flickered, something tightening in his chest. You were no longer close by--off across the country, living a completely separate life. One he was fully realizing he knew nothing about.

Garcia continued, sensing the weight of her words. “No social networking accounts, but a few mentions in medical journals and hospital reports. Seems like she’s been doing some important work. Looks like she’s running the show over there.”

Hotch nodded, trying to process the flood of information. A part of him felt a strange sense of pride at how far you’d come, but there was also a quiet ache—a reminder of how much time had passed, how much you’d both changed.

Garcia glanced up, watching him closely. “I could dig deeper if you want,” she offered gently, unsure if she should ask more.

“No,” Hotch said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s enough. Thank you, Garcia.”

As he turned to leave, Garcia watched him, biting back the questions swirling in her mind. She’d never seen Hotch so affected by a simple request. Whatever history the two of you shared, it was clear it still lingered in the quiet corners of his life.

“Sir,” she called after him, her voice softer than usual. “If you ever need to talk about it... you know where to find me.”

Hotch gave her a small nod, acknowledging her kindness but not yet ready to let his guard down. “Thanks, Garcia.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t shake the thoughts of you from his mind. You were close—closer than he’d ever imagined—and yet, the years between you felt like a chasm he wasn’t sure how to cross.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon when he walked into your life again. You were deep into your rounds when you saw him standing at the end of the hall—tall, composed, his FBI badge clipped to his belt and his expression sharp with focus.

He looked different now—older, more world-weary, with a gravity about him that spoke of everything he’d seen, everything he’d endured. He’d been through a divorce; you knew that much. You'd heard whispers about it through mutual acquaintances, the news traveling back to you like a ghost from the past.

He was there to interview one of your patients, a victim in a high-stakes investigation, the kind of case that left a wake of devastation.

You watched as he spoke to his team, his words calm and precise, every movement controlled. But then his gaze shifted, and when his eyes met yours, something in his expression softened.

For a moment, it was like you were back in college again—two people who once knew every secret of each other’s hearts.

“Y/N,” he said, the sound of your name on his lips pulling you out of the haze of memory. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, relief, and a warmth that chased away the storm clouds that seemed to follow him everywhere.

“Aaron,” you replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “What brings you to this side of the country?”

He let out a small, almost rueful laugh, a sound you hadn’t heard in years. “Work, as always,” he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. “Seems like it never stops.”

You nodded, searching his face for traces of the man you used to know. “You look... different,” you said softly. “Older. Tired, maybe. But it suits you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s not exactly a compliment, but I’ll take it,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with the faintest hint of mischief. Then, more seriously, he added, “You, on the other hand, look exactly the same. Like time hasn't touched you at all.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, and for a second, the years seemed to fall away.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you said, shaking your head slightly, but there was a softness in your voice that hinted at something more—something neither of you was quite ready to name.

There was a moment of silence between you, the kind that was heavy with words left unsaid. He looked like he wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between the person he was now and the person he used to be when he was with you. But then, just like always, duty called, and he had to turn back to the demands of the case.

When the investigation finally wrapped up, you found yourself alone in the break room, the hum of the vending machine the only sound in the otherwise quiet space. You were reaching for a cup of coffee when you saw it—Aaron’s business card tucked carefully under your mug.

His number was scribbled on the back in neat handwriting, with a simple note: Call me sometime if you want to catch up. –Aaron

You stared at the card for a long time, tracing the letters of his name with your fingertips, the feel of the paper grounding you in a reality you hadn’t quite expected. Your mind was a whirl of memories—of late-night study sessions, of the way his hand felt when it held yours, of every stolen glance and every smile that hinted at something just out of reach.

You felt a pang in your chest, a longing you’d tried to bury long ago but was now resurfacing with a vengeance. You knew that if you called him, it wouldn’t just be about catching up. It would be about opening doors that you thought you’d closed for good. It would be about facing the fact that, even after all these years and all the distance between you, some part of you had never really let him go.

As you slipped the card into your pocket, you felt a mix of hope and fear, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that if you jumped, there’d be no going back. You looked down at the number, knowing that one call could change everything, that this could be the start of something or the end of whatever you’d been holding onto all these years.

Before you could overthink it, the door to the break room opened, and Aaron walked in, his eyes locking onto yours like he was searching for something—some kind of answer.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate in the small space. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving your face. “I meant it, you know. About calling me.”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “You think about the past often?” you asked, your voice gentle but with an edge of vulnerability you couldn’t quite hide.

He looked at you, the kind of look that seemed to strip away all the years, all the distance between you. “More than I probably should,” he admitted, his voice a little rough around the edges. “I think about you more than I should.” His words were simple, but the intensity behind them was anything but.

You felt your breath hitch, your pulse quickening at the confession. The yearning in his eyes was unmistakable, a mirror of your own feelings that you’d been too afraid to voice. And in that moment, you both knew that this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning of something that had always been waiting for the right moment to come to life.

It was now, when the world was so chatoic for Aaron--Haley and Jack in protective custody and a killer out there tormenting his every move, he could use an anchor like you. He meant every word he said. He wanted you to call. He couldn’t share this information with you, but he hoped this card was the olive branch…the white flag waving for where he couldn’t place words.

Before he turned to leave, he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Take care, Y/N,” he said softly, and the way he said it felt like a promise, like he was telling you that this wasn’t goodbye, not really.

You watched him walk away, and this time, you felt different. This time, you knew you held his number in your pocket, the promise of a future that might finally align with the pieces of your past.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #kiwriteswords #tonightyoureonmymind

92 notes · View notes

annamaystudios · 2 months ago

Note

What oc of your's do you share the most traits with, or the most important/special to you traits with, and how does that affect the way you write your character? Also, It's your turn now. Here's your chance to talk about Wraith. Go for it. (P.S. What's /your/ favourite soda, and why?)

Explanation lmao: I wouldn't say I share traits with my ocs, at least not anymore. My ocs more represent people or things I've dealt with as I grew up. Cyro was my first Undertale oc & I originally made him in middle school. Middle school Anna was depressed & angry at the world so I just loaded Cyro up with all kind of trauma. Sorry my son ToT Emma's original creation was an ideal version of myself if I was 'perfect' so she was born out of my insecurities. She is now her own character & I'd like to think she's a gray character (not purely good & not purely evil) She has made mistakes that she's not proud of & has let her emotions get the better of her.

Aabid started off as just a fun ship child with no real weight, but over the years I have made him representative of toxic/abusive spouses. It has helped me resolve some left over trauma but still keeping his fun character. I wrote him as Cyro's ex. Aabid is a caring person but only to certain people. If he can manipulate you or use you for his own gain, he will. There's more story to explain this but I'm keeping this short for now. Let me know if you want to know more.

Spirit. My beloved precious bean. I made Spirit with an old friend but over all he was made to represent my love for Halloween & paranormal/creepy things. He's a lil gremlin who is kind hearted but over all has no emotional attachment to strangers. He would turn you into a frog with no hesitation.

Apollo started off as a laid back pirate vibe. He loved the sea. But of course I traumatized him & gave him anger issues cause fire boi.

Lastly on this list Apex. Apex is just, what if I gave every dark intrusive thought an outlet. Apex is a soul eater. He goes on mass murder sprees often. But also just hot killer boi. Do I need to explain? lol

As for my beautiful wife~

she's a rat. JK lmao But for reals, @wr-n or Nighty, we have been friends for like 8+ years now. She's my BEST friend. We talk about the most silly & unhinged things & both of us are still obsessed over cartoon skeletons. Like how could I ask for a better wife? lol She's a silly goober who has seen me at my worst & has helped me through a lot. She is so kind & everyone is drawn to her cause of it. I would beat up so many people for this woman.

You know you are close with someone if you bicker like an old married couple & can laugh through the entire thing cause you know it isn't serious. AND you know who wins 9/10 of these arguments, me. cause I'm always right (inside joke) omg I love this woman guys. She's the best. I can't really put into words how much I love & respect her. I know she was being a feral lil animal when you asked the same question. So sorry if this simp(me) caught you off guard with my more...not chaotic response. I just love my short feral crazy wife & I hope she stays this silly forever. I hope you all can find your own nighty somewhere in this world. She would totally divorce me for Gaster though. She likes them dilfs

Also my favorite soda?

I am type 1 diabetic so I can only have diet soda. BUT I really like Diet Dr.Pepper if it is in a CAN. Fountion diet Dr.Pepper is trash. Other wise I drink Diet Coke Also unsweet tea...so good.

#my-art #asks #undertale #undertale oc #oc

32 notes · View notes

siren-141 · 7 months ago

Text

shame on me ✤ final

sorry it took so long, I've been busy with vacation and school. I probably would not have made this into a four-part miniseries without all of the support and requests, so I thank each and every one of you 🥰 here's the final part/epilogue! I hope you all enjoy 🖤

It had been two years.

Paris, Athens, Morocco. You had gone everywhere. Hell, even New York City.

That was maybe the hardest location you had stayed since your disappearance from the Avengers Tower all those years ago – what had been your home for the past few years. Where all of your friends had been, where Bucky had been. Where the two of you had built a home together.

Walking the streets, memories flooding back in every corner you looked…it was rough. It was rough when you’d sit on your fire escape and watch Bucky down below, look in back alleys and knock on doors asking if anyone had seen you. It was rough when you’d look out the window of the coffee shop you were sitting in, sipping on hot tea in the middle of a cold February, and watch Bucky across the street sit in the bar the two of you would frequent when you wanted a night out. It was funny though, watching him look for you in all your frequent places.

He looked for a couple of months, apparently. You hadn’t stayed in NYC for long after you had left the Tower, only staying long enough for your connections to make you a new passport and secure you a house in some other country that was far, far away. But you had kept tabs for the first three months of your escape. Bucky looked and looked, going from state to state and country to country to check out all of the safe houses. Following your normal patterns. But he never came close to finding you.

After a while, he had given up. He had sat slumped in a conference chair with this dead look in his eyes, everything that had ever mattered to him completely gone. His friends tried to console, but it never helped. He blamed himself for your disappearance – and he was right to do so. He finally came to understand that his actions bore the consequence of you leaving not only him, but everyone you loved, probably forever.

He went on missions and acted erratically, got drunk on Asgardian Ale every night that he could. His hair had grown back out, he had become more violent on his missions. Turning into a shell of himself, any reason he had to exercise self-restraint and maintain his humanity now gone. He thought he had healed from the decades of torture, trauma, and brainwashing, and he had: there was no turning back into the Winter Soldier. But he didn’t like who had become without you. Nobody liked who he had become. He was still a damn good agent, but too hot-headed for his own good. Too willing to sacrifice himself. He was on a path of self-destruction, and it seemed like nothing would help except for groveling at your feet if you had ever come back.

You, on the other hand, had it better. You had your horrible nights, of course – nights where you cried and screamed and regretted that you had ever left your friends and only family behind. You just wanted to go home on those nights, but you realized that your home wasn’t in that apartment with Bucky laying next to you anymore: your home would be on that 16th floor of the Tower, waking up every morning and going down the elevator to fix a cup of coffee or tea, never really leaving work since you lived there again. Back to the beginning. You couldn’t do that to yourself – you owed it to yourself to have a fresh start.

But those horrible nights ended about six months into your disappearance. You let yourself grieve a life once lived, but you also realized that you could be anywhere, do anything you wanted now. A true fresh start. You still had all of your aliases with you, but you only went by one now – one that nobody knew of. You supposed that keeping connections outside of the Avengers was one of the smartest things you had done, in the event that you needed to run. In events like these.

So here you were, two years later, sitting outside at a table in Barcelona. You sipped on your coffee, watching over the crowds in the streets. Teenagers out from school during the summertime, walking arm in arm with their friends, laughing and smiling. Couples with their babies, walking down the cobblestone roads with strollers. There was a time that it would have triggered something in you: thoughts of that should have been me. Those thoughts were long gone, though. They had been for a while.

You had moved on. You had moved on from fighting the powers of the world and living life as a civilian. Of course you couldn’t help yourself if you were walking late at night and a thief tried to rob a group of young women – that had happened a year ago, and you had casually walked past and brought the thief down with a few swift moves, before casually walking off in the direction of your flat. But for the most part – you had moved on. You stopped looking for trouble. You stopped being self-destructive and allowed yourself to let the happiness and the joy in of traveling the world under better circumstances than normal. Sure, you had left your old life behind, but you had also begun a new one. You had left and said goodbye to everyone who mattered, effectively bringing everything to a close and not leaving anyone hanging with much more than speculations of how you had disappeared.

Basking in the soft sunlight, you sighed to yourself, content with life. You brought the mug up to your lips, taking a small sip. Setting the mug down, you spoke.

“I was waiting for you to speak, but I was about to ask for the check. Didn’t want you to miss your opportunity.”

Natasha smiled behind her newspaper, having missed the sound of your voice. Putting the paper down, she got up from her seat at the small table behind you and instead sat across from you.

You smiled, having missed your best friend.

“It’s been a while,” she said, small smile still playing on her lips.

“It has,” you smiled back. She hadn’t changed a bit. “I’ve missed you, Nat.”

“I missed you too. We all have,” she replied. “I know you told me not to come and find you, and trust me – I didn’t. I never came to look for you before these past three months. You deserved that kind of peace – you still do.”

“But..?”

She sighed, taking off her sunglasses and setting them gently down on the table.

“We need you. This isn’t a personal visit, unfortunately. Only Tony knows that I’ve come to find you…it was actually his idea.”

You looked at her, almost in shock. A million thoughts flooded your mind. You had made so much progress, lived such a nice life ever since leaving…did you really want to go back?

“You don’t have to. It’s optional – we can find a way to do this without you. I’ll tell Tony that I just ran into a dead-end. Never found you – and I can leave, and we can pretend that this never happened.”

“What’s the mission?”

Natasha paused, hesitating to continue. When you met her eyes, she knew you were serious. “Our files. Our aliases, our covers…everything is in the hands of a man who goes by Typhon. He’s selling it to the highest bidder, which is every single enemy we’ve ever had and everyone who plans to be one. It’s all compromised.”

You thought about it. You didn’t have much time to think about it, though. You had a nice life here – nice and peaceful. But a part of you would always miss the chaos.

Raising your hand, you grabbed the attention of the waiter. “Señor – la cuenta, por favor?”

“Thanks, everyone, for coming. I mean, it wasn’t optional, but you get the gist,” Tony spoke, voice tired and stressed. The room was dark – not the same Tower that they were used to meeting in. Since everything had been compromised, the new meeting point was an underground cave that was unknown to most – old railways that used to be for smuggling in alcohol during the Prohibition Era, now covered up with skyscrapers on top of them.

Everyone stood around, listening intently.

Natasha walked in, joining the rest of the group. “Sorry we’re late, the air was rough.”

There were murmurs, people sharing confused glances.

“Oh my god,” Bucky breathed out, the shakes coming back to his body. His breathing got heavier, his hands coming to the back of his head to alleviate the pressure. Some looked back at him, confused at his realization.

You stepped out from the shadowed corner, just a few seconds behind Natasha, fully suited and ready to get started.

“It’s about time,” Tony said, looking at you before focusing his attention back on the group. “You almost missed the most important part.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #mcu #mcu masterlist

78 notes · View notes

exactlyyoungchaos · 9 months ago

Text

till forever falls apart.

The bestfriendSimon x f!Reader fic I first talked about.

cw: all sorts of trauma, character death, fluff, probable smut, inaccurate military stuff, a little bit canon and a little bit AU. do tell me if i missed something.

Your history with Simon goes back to elementary school. He grew up in an abusive household and you grew up in foster care with guardians who only cared about the government money.

Both of you bonded over the same things and became inseparable.

No one dared to mess with you in school because they knew if they did, they would have to answer Simon, and nobody wanted to cross him.

Junior year of high school starts and you get a visit from your social service agent, who wants to relocate you, but you are adamant that you want to stay here, but alas she takes you kicking and screaming.

Simon promises that he will find you in the future, and so with tears in both of your eyes, you leave. The same year Simon ran away from home.

Now 12 years later, he is on an undercover intel mission in Australia with Johnny. that's when he spots you, sitting in a cafe, looking like a dream, writing furiously on your laptop.

How does he knows its you? why wouldn't he? You were, are everything to him. The only person who knows him better than himself.

He has been trying to find you for years but always came out empty handed. By joining the military he thought it would be easy but it wasn't.

Johnny notices him freezing in the middle of the sidewalk staring intently at the glass window of the cafe, he turns to see what caught his Lt's eye and he sees the prettiest bonnie lass that he's ever seen.

he smirks " see something you like Lt?"

"that's her" Simon barely whispers, his heart racing.

Johnny's head snaps in your direction again, everyone in the team knows who you are. the little bird Simon has been trying to find for years.

and here you are, sitting in the cafe, oblivious to the fact that the man you have been looking for is standing right outside.

You finish your work and pack up your stuff to leave, you turn around and slam face-first into a wall of muscle. A strong hand stabilizes you as a soft 'oomph" leaves your mouth.

now, you are not small in any proportions, but this man still dwarfs you.

you look up to apologize and the sorry dies on your tongue as you come face to face with a skull mask.

your brain short circuits for a minute, and you're trying to figure out what to say then suddenly a heavily accented voice speaks from behind him " A'm so sorry Bonnie, he wasn't keen" a bulky man with a mohawk speaks.

they both look like they came out of some military comic. scarred, bulky, and big.

"it's ok, I wasn't looking either" you reply, looking back to the big guy in the mask, who's still blocking your path.

"Birdie...." the big guy breathes in through his teeth.

Recognition hits you like a tsunami. only one person in your life called you that—your best friend.

your eyes turn comically wide as you ask "Simon?" in a small voice, not believing it's him.

His gloved hands frame your face and he traces every inch of you with his eyes.

You look into his eyes and familiarity hits you, the same warm brown eyes that used to comfort you, that was your home, now standing at almost 6ft 5 in.

"Found ya."

and any sense of where you are leaves your mind as you leap into his arms and hug him as tight as possible. his beefy arms come around you and crush you to his chest as he breathes in your sweet scent.

you hold him and sob, he's here you can't believe it. He's here.

finally, finally.......somebody clears their throat next to you. you turn your head from Simon's chest and see a line of people waiting to sidestep both of you but unsure because of the sheer size of the man in front of you.

"We are blocking the line Si," you giggle and sob simultaneously.

hearing your voice after so long, Simon feels like he can breathe again.

you are here, his birdie, his angel, his everything. and this time no one can take you away from him. No one.

SOOOOOOOO!! WHAT DO WE THINK????? This is going to be a multi-part series because I'm just starting with this. I have so much to add.

Do tell me your thoughts and theories. And feel free to ask anything

And if you have requests for COD more specifically Simon, do send them my way, I'll try my best to write them.

love ya!!!!!

ALI-❤️

#cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #call of duty modern warfare 2 #fem reader #long lost friend #john soap mactavish #modern warfare

86 notes · View notes

toomanythoughts2 · 7 months ago

Text

Dethklok Agere HCs: Murderface Edition

🗡️🎸🖕🤬🪖👨‍🚒🍺🤮💩💢🏌️‍♂️🐯🌭🍨📱⚔️🛡️🏹⛓️🩸🚽🚬

After Toki, I wanted to do my second favorite member of Dethklok: Murderface! I see so much of myself in him and it's hard to not notice the signs. He means a lot to me, especially as someone who also grew up with their grandparents. I hope to do the rest of the band soon. So, this is my boy Murderface 🗡️!

Everything is below the Keep Reading tab.

(Murderface, you are so unwell and I just want to take care of you and show you that you are worthy of love and acceptance.)

🗡️ Ok, so, I think Murderface's regression range is higher than Toki's toddler head-space but not as old as Pickles, who I think is an older/pre-teen regressor. I would say he's around 5 to 8. He's old enough to be by himself and play but small enough to still need help occasionally.

🗡️ As I said before on Toki's post, I don't think Murderface's regression is easily as recognizable as regression. A lot of times, the band thinks he's just being his attention-seeking self. Murderface doesn't even recognize that he's regressing until he's done regressing and feeling weird about it.

🗡️ Murderface, I believe, has voluntary age regression, or Age Dreaming. However, I think his body recognizes that he needs to regress to decompress, so he'll naturally go do those things or behave that way to help regulate those emotions. It gets worse the angrier or more depressed he gets. It's like his body is consciously making him regress without Murderface having the word to know what he's doing. He can stop "regressing" when he wants to, and has the ability to not do it in the first place, but it's been his coping mechanism for so long, he doesn't know what else to do. Mind this, Murderface's regression isn't about just being a baby, I do believe his regression is tightly connected with his self-harm and child-hood trauma. For instance, his inability to care for his personal hygiene is a type of passive self-harm but his regression (tied to his childhood) makes it hard for him to change that habit. Where Toki uses his regression to protect himself, Murderface's regression keeps him trap in his childhood. It won't be until Murderface recognizes he is regressing and working on his mental health will he be able to use his regression to help himself. (I hope this makes sense.)

🗡️ I think he started regressing a lot earlier than people think but they were just unable to identify it at first. I think he began regressing as young as a middle schooler, but the regressing was so minute and so insignificant that no one ever caught it. Additionally, I think middle school is where Murderface first develops the majority of his mental health issues like depression and an eating disorder.

🗡️ It's not until Murderface is taking care of Toki when he regresses that he starts noticing the signs of his own regression. The band all have group mandatory meetings with Dr. Twinkletits about how to best care for Toki and how to spot the signs of his regression to minimize dangerous situations. Murderface is very quiet during those meetings after the realization.

🗡️ While Pickles or Nathan are usually the more knowledge in the topic now, as they are Toki's main CGs, it's Skwisgaar that notices Murderface showing signs of regression first while watching Toki play with Murderface in the living room. He's talks to the rest of the band before they decide to talk to Murderface about it.

🗡️ Of course he heavily denies the claim and refuses to hear anymore about it. But now that the band is aware, they all keep an eye on him just in case.

🗡️ This is a HC of mine that has been stuck forever, but I believe the first time Murderface fully lets himself regress in front of the others is at the beach. The idea is that Toki and Murderface run off together while the other three stay on the beach. Toki regresses and Murderface is stuck taking care of him but the longer he's with him, the calmer he gets. He wants to be like Toki too and just enjoy himself. So they spend the afternoon having fun and going in shops and walking the boardwalk. They come back and Toki collapses on Skwisgaar for a much needed nap. The band fully expects Murderface to sit in his own chair and do the same but he ends up just standing next to Pickles. Pickles has no idea what he's doing but he longer he stands there, the clearer the image appears. It isn't until Murderface asks if he can nap with Pickles do they all realize what is happening. It's a very delicate situation and no one is trying to mess with it, so Pickles says yes and lets Murderface nap with him on his chair. Nathan is busy texting Charles while Pickle holds Murderface. Toki is fast asleep and Skwisgaar is feeling proud of himself for being so observant.

🗡️ Once Murderface was identified as a regressor, a lot of past incidents began to make sense, including the disturbing ones.

🗡️ Murderface self-harms but that doesn't stop in his regression. If Murderface is feeling too little to SH "properly" (like cutting), he will hurt himself in ways that he can like banging his head against walls and hitting himself. He will bite himself and scratch at his skin. Nathan has taken to holding him against his chest to get him to stop.

🗡️ I like to think that Murderface's eating disorder, which I HC as binge eating, is also related to his childhood trauma thus connected to his regression. The combination of self-hatred, depression, and regression make it hard for Murderface to regulate his feelings about food, so he does what knows can "fix" that problem, which is eating. And the more upset he gets, the messier he gets. He uses his hands instead of silverware, he switches between plates before finishing one off, he lets the food and drink spill and stain him. I HC that Murderface grew up in poverty, so there was never enough food inside the house, so he was always hungry. He's confusing his depression with hunger, thinking that if he just eats, he'll feel better because he was always hungry when he was sad. But the older he got, the less this became true but the habit already formed. Regression happens while he's in the process of binge eating. He's slipping into a mindset where this has to make sense, even if it hurts him.

🗡️ Ok, enough of the sad, backstory HCS. Murderface has a hot wheels car track that he sets up in his room or the living room where he races his hot wheels. The others join in as well and it's a good time (as long as Murderface wins a majority of the time).

🗡️ Murderface's regression is not as "baby" as Toki's. A lot of it is very typical young boy interests like cars, trucks, war, and guns. He likes video games and stupid, crude humor like South Park.

🗡️ I don't see him using a lot of traditional regression supplies like bottles or clothes. He likes to remain as he his and doing what he's doing while regressed. Though, he does like to be in comfier clothes when he regresses, so he will change into sweats or worn shirts.

🗡️ Because Murderface is able to identify that he is choosing to regress in moments of stress, he's been able to make great work with Dr. Twinkletits about his mental health.

🗡️ The band is very supportive of him, much to his surprise. He didn't think they would be anything but begrudgingly helpful. But they are genuinely understanding.

🗡️ While I do not think Murderface needs or wants a caregiver like Toki, he does spend a lot of time near Nathan when he feels particularly small. He looks up to Nathan a lot, and wants to be around him.

🗡️ If Pickles notices that Murderface is feeling smaller than normal, he'll quietly switch a few things around to help him drop. He's gotten very good at body language (hand on the back, raking fingers through his hair) and communication (chosen phrases or names that solidify his regression, words of encouragement)

🗡️ Murderface has a lot of crying spells and tantrums that no one can make a lot of sense of, including Murderface. His tantrums aren't like Toki's, which resemble an actual toddlers tantrum. His tantrums look like his normal behavior, except they're followed by tears or a high level of nonsense. His biggest tell is if what he's yelling about isn't even close to the situation he's in. When he's small, he overthinks every little movement or word and worry's about what they mean. These thoughts happen so fast that it's hard for him to track just how he got to his tantrum in the first place.

🗡️ Murderface won't take bubble baths like Toki, but he is much more willing to bathe now that he understands his regression and his depression. He'll put on music while he showers and watch youtube videos on how to take care of his hair. He's still scared that if the band sees him trying they'll make fun of him, but he has to remind himself that this is for himself, not the others.

🗡️ Skwisgaar will often offer to brush through Murderface's hair before bed if he knows he's had a long day. Something about being taken cared of just relaxes Murderface and makes him feel small.

🗡️ Surprisingly, no one in the band is Murderface's favorite. It's actually Knubbler. (He's alive, shut up.)

🗡️ He's an IPad kid (Obviously) but its obnoxiously worse when he's regressed. Pickles as gotten really good at parent locking his IPad to certain hours so he won't use it while they're eating dinner or lunch. Murderface despises it but he also knows if it wasn't there, he would be playing car revving videos at 100% volume while eating.

🗡️ Skwisgaar is very attentive when he wants to be, so he's constantly gently doing things that make Murderface drop without necessarily meaning to, but Murderface never forces himself to stop the feeling. Toki needs a lot of support in his regression, so Skwisgaar naturally does those "Caregiver" things already. Like, cleaning dirty fingers after eating, moving hair out of his face while he's busy doing something, fixing blankets around shoulders, gently moving them int he right direction if he begins drifting away. Murderface doesn't encourage them but he never denies them.

🗡️ Toki adores it whenever any of the other band members are regressed because he feels like he can finally give back after having them all take care of him. He loves playing with Murderface with his cars or playing pretend. Problems happen when Toki accidently regresses in the middle of it.

🗡️ Murderface loves playing pretend war. He has his wake guns with the nerf bullets and the plastic hat. He hides under tables and behind doors and shoots whoever walks by. He's only ever gotten in serious trouble when he got Charles in the butt in his office when he was on a phone call.

🗡️ Speaking of trouble, Murderface does get into some trouble when he's small. The band does not discipline him like they would discipline Toki with a time out, but Nathan does scold him. He's the only one that gets to him when he's small and knows that he's serious.

🗡️ He wants a dog so bad but he's scared the guys won't let him. Skwisgaar and Toki will take him to the local animal shelter to play volunteer. It lets him get all his energy out with the dogs and play fight with the bigger dogs.

🗡️ He will NOT sit a chair correctly. Upside down or on his side ONLY! (Projection as I laid in arm chairs sideways during this age.)

🗡️ He loves He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, He-Man and She-Ra: The Secret of the Sword, TMNT, G.I.Joe, M.A.S.H., Ghost Buster The Animated Show, Thundercats, and Transformers. He's got good taste for older cartoons and shows. It's his biggest tell that he's small or trying to get small is if he's watching one of these shows. However, if he's watching Gilligan's Island or Walker: Texas Ranger, he's trying to get small and be sad. I HC that these are the shows his grandma and grandad would watch when he was a kid.

🗡️ As a child raising by her grandparents, I think Murderface's regression triggers are related to a lot of things that his grandparents did in the house. This could mean the good, the bad, and mundane things. The snapping of a belt, or an expired discontinued perfume, or the sound of an old TV clicker. But also, certain music.

🗡️ So, Murderface is canonically partially Native American (Thunderbolt) but I also adore him being part Hispanic/Latino (Stella being an Americanized version of Estella) Top that off with him being some southern, rural part of America, his music exposure is all over the place. Three types of music help him regress the most: Bluegrass, Hispanic (Salsa + Cumbia + Bachata), and Thrash. I HC that his grandfather played bluegrass before having his stroke and he played some type of string instrument such as lap steel guitar or a mandolin. The sound of it reminds him of sitting in church or his grandfather playing in his spare time around the house. Hispanic, specifically those genres, remind him of his grandmother's radio in the kitchen. She always had something playing while she cooked or cleaned or played dominos with the other older women of the town. On very rare moments, she would dance with Thunderbolt while smiling. It's some of the only calm times in the house. Thrash reminds him of being young and finding music that felt like him. It would remind him of car rides with uncles and staying over at old childhood friends houses and older male cousins that never let him in their rooms. Music helps him regress a lot, whether he wants it or not. (This is all projection btw. Grandfather played bluegrass with a guitar and my father listened to Thrash in the car with me.)

🗡️ He has a very hard time with food when he's small. He eats too much because of part of him is worried about the next time he'll ever get to eat again. Pickles has to constantly remind him that the food isn't going anywhere and if he's full, he can stop eating.

🗡️ Nathan humors Murderface more when he knows he's small. He'll listen more closely to him about song suggestions or his interests.

🗡️ Very rarely will he ask for help when he's small but it does happen. Things like needing help tying shoes or buttoning shirts he will need help in. He also needs help cutting food.

🗡️ He loves swimming. He probably had a lake, river, or pond near him growing up that he swam in. When he's small and it's hot, he wants to play in the pool. He wants to play sharks and minnows, Marco Polo, scavenger, races, and dunking games. He plays with Toki the most but can occasionally get them all involved. Charles usually watches over them all when they do all get in.

🗡️ Hates sunscreen and will run and hide before getting any on his skin.

🗡️ He info dumps big time. To a point where no one has any idea what he could possibly be talking about. He's a big history nerd, so it's a lot of war facts, early American facts, and other miscellaneous facts about cars and guns.

🗡️ Being regressed exposes a lot of his old childhood beliefs, but the biggest ones are the Appalachian superstitions he grew up believing. Charles had an upside down horseshoe places above every outside door for good luck. The klokateers can't wash clothes on Sundays. He refuses to leave a room out a different door than the door he came through. Some of them are funny though like an itchy ear meaning someone is talking about you. He once told that to Toki who immediately went to Skwisgaar to confront him for talking about him. (Skwisgaar was actually talk about him to Nathan but he won't admit it.)

🗡️ Strong physical contact is his best friend for calming down. Just like how adult Murderface likes Pickle's back rubs, regressed Murderface likes head rubs. Something about the pressure feels good and calms him. They use this to prevent any tantrums.

🗡️🎸🖕🤬🪖👨‍🚒🍺🤮💩💢🏌️‍♂️🐯🌭🍨📱⚔️🛡️🏹⛓️🩸🚽🚬

That's all I got for my boy! He is a bit of a challenge, but once I got into his boyish mind, I could really channel him better. I love him so much. Obvi, if you have any HCs of your own, tell me about them! OK, love you, bye! 👋

#william murderface #metalocalypse #dethklok #Murderface agere #metalocalypse age regression #dethklok agere #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #charles offdensen

49 notes · View notes

druidshollow · 1 year ago

Text

infodumping about rain world ancient ocs- about that ask i just answered

just in case the incredible @inkycorvid wanted me to talk about my ancient ocs instead of my ancient headcanons im making a post talking about my idiot guys in a very annoying structure. gotta cover all my bases

MANY SMALL "FLOWERS", ONE QUICK GLANCE

he/him, bisexual, sometimes has beard barbells sometimes doesn't. middle aged (in genetically modified to live for a longass time terms), very much divorced. admin to eleven rivers, not very nice to eleven rivers.

HOW TO IDENTIFY A FLOWERS IN THE WILD:

-like never smiles, always looks either pissed off or miserable

-his mask is very wedge-shaped. big karma 10 symbols on sides

-practically every time red is used in the context of my rain world ocs it relates to him. either symbolically or literally. see red highlights???? probably flowers' fucking fault!!

-two strands of hair always fall in face

-wears wrappings often. once my bf said he probably wouldnt get divorced so hard if he wasnt dressed like a weird mummy

-no left ear

COOL FLOWERS FACTS

-comes from a considerably privileged background. family had incredibly high expectations

-traumatized by everlasting fire's attack and afraid of iterators. will not enter a puppet chamber unless entirely necessary

-creates strong emotional attachments and reacts to rejection with self-isolation and bitterness

-late game, before he begins his plan to demolish eleven rivers and ascend himself but after the twins are awake he begins drinking an unhealthy amount and projecting his anger all over the place, especially towards rivers

-likes vultures. thinks they're crazy neat

-does not and can not have any comprehension of the ramifications his douchebaggery will bring about in the future (huge rammies. absolutely massive rammies)

-becomes an echo when he tries to ascend. his echo sits right snug over eleven rivers' chamber!

FLIGHT TO THE SUN, HOMEWARD "DESCENT"

she/her, bisexual, sometimes wears fancy shinies on her hair. middle aged in modified to live a very long time terms. flowers' ex wife. doing WAY better than him. admin to a fleck of flame, very nice to a fleck of flame.

HOW TO IDENTIFY A DESCENT IN THE WILD:

-blue, cream stripes, frills on upper back

-short face, short hair, short body. short

-walks with cane after everlasting fire's attack

-implant in right ear later game, ear still there

-does in fact smile! makes lots of smug faces. she is in general very emotionally intense and expressive, and is also very morally headstrong. quick to jump to anger when she thinks lines have been crossed.

COOL DESCENT FACTS

-she was named "flight to the sun, thirteen sparks" at birth, and changed it when she was enrolled in the school of solutions

-punk by ancient society terms. not big on ascension, very much a "don't we have it pretty fuckin good? why are we in such a rush to leave" kind of person

-stayed in the iterator project after fire's failure because in losing him she realized how human the iterators were. spent her life working to make their rights more solid and complexities more widely understood

-very close friends with fleck. looks at fleck as her son, looked at fire as her son as well

-met flowers at the start of their schooling. they quickly bonded as they got to work together and were endorsed for esteemed position together

-left flowers in part because of the trauma surrounding the situation with fire, but more because she didn't like what she was beginning to see in flowers. he invented the first model of the demolishers after fire's attack, which descent hated. they would have split up eventually even if fire had lived and they'd continued work on him together. i think their political views and morals are too different, and their personalities too headstrong for it to've been avoided forever

"WANDER"ING AIMLESSLY WITH EVERLASTING JOY

she/he/they, genderfluid and swaps pronouns often. pansexual. like in their late 20s early 30s equivalently. admin to glass incident. flowers' younger sibling, probably a nepotism hire

HOW TO IDENTIFY A WANDER IN THE WILD:

-shithead or confident expression

-lots of ear piercings, bridge piercing. no permanent ear implant

-three "bangs" fall on face. tends to let hair down when feeling more feminine and tie it up when feeling masculine

-frills on arms

-dresses a bit... revealing sometimes to be fully honest. wears a mask the least out of their group, doesn't like it for sensory reasons

-quite similar to flowers in shapes and colours, just with green stripes instead of red

COOL WANDER FACTS

-actually quite intelligent and insightful, but their primal need to cause chaos and keep everything lighthearted often overpowers this

-since flowers did so well in school and had his first project be a massive failure, lots of higher eyes were on wander throughout school

-joined the iterator project to stay near flowers

-was VERY happy to be selected to work with corners

-puts maybe too much energy into caring for flowers and trying to help him, when he pushes back so hard

THE LESS IMPORTANTS :D

bark, cloud, smoke, west and journey are less important background characters! ive never even drawn bark or journey until right now, lmao

bark is a very old man who just wants to do his work in peace. cloud is an introvert who is very calm and professional. smoke is pretentious and self-involved. they're a teacher at the school of solutions and endorsed flowers and descent for the esteemed position. west is a hot guy flowers knew in school that he had a short-lived fling with after his divorce. journey was rivers' admin before flowers, but then she went to the void so she had to be replaced.

hope this suffices and everyone is properly tired of seeing these guys!

#rain world #rain world oc #rw ancients #rw ancient oc #rw oc #druid draw #oc posting #flowers #descent #wander #rw headcanon #sorry for the ping inky lol #druid babbles #guy post

104 notes · View notes

natshiiii · 3 months ago

Text

Miss Academia Chapter 1: Just For Fun

☆ Characters: Teacher Jeonghan, Teacher Nayeon

Warnings: mention of bullying, indirect mention of past trauma, lots of crying, departure, swearing Word count: ~ 3.3k

Next Chapter . Masterlist .

“Class dismissed!”

You quickly pack your things. Finally, it’s your favourite time of the day—going home—so you can actually get to your studies after a long day of time waste.

Just as you were about to leave, the teacher spoke. “Y/n, please stay behind.” A huff of frustration almost left you, but thanks to your emotion control instincts, you stayed unchanging. You waited until everyone left the classroom, then approached the teacher.

“Yes, Mr. Yoon?” Mr. Yoon looked up from the homework he was checking. “Ah, y/n, I thought you left. Have a seat, we have something to discuss.” As you settled down on the seat in front of his desk, he turned his full attention to you before starting. “So… have you thought about where to continue your study?”

You have been studying in this community school since kindergarten. Currently, in 9th grade, almost done with middle school.

*With a deep sigh Where do I even start? This school is full of low-class people. Even the teachers are unknowledgeable. Mr. Yoon is different, though. He’s been looking out for you and keeping an eye on you since forever. He has seen the way you put your everything into your studies, your enthusiasm to always learn something, and your interests that are beyond something kids your age like. And, guess what? That’s one of the big reasons you got bullied.

Lame, right?

Mr. Yoon is your number 1 supporter. He’s the one who pushed you with your academic interests and abilities—applying you to competitions, you know, putting your abilities to work. He helps you with some of your studies and answers all your questions willingly. And even if he couldn’t answer your question then, he would find the answer for you by the next day.

You’ve learned not to ask the other teachers. They would either shoo you away to go search for it on your own or insult you to death just because they didn’t know the answer to your advanced questions. And when you corrected them in class or tell them that the information they delivered was wrong, those were the days you used to go home with red eyes, crying from the humiliation, and all the things spitted at you by the teachers and the classmates.

“Oh, look at Miss Y/n everyone. She thinks she knows more than I do.” “Why don’t you teach the class if you’re so clever then? Come on.” “So you’re the one with the teaching degree?” You’re not even sure if they hold any degree at all or how they even passed their college to become a teacher.

“You just can't stop being a know-it-all, eh?” You were only 9, getting ganged up on. Can you imagine what effect it had on a soft-hearted girl. “Awe, are you going to cry? She's going to cry, everyone!” No one helped you, they all just stood there and watched, not wanting to get themselves involved, dickheads. You didn’t even stand up for yourself, only accepting and letting everyone's words and acts get to you, overshadowing your real thoughts and personality. You were convinced that they are right and believed in all the

Lies lies and lies

You can’t separate what’s reality or just made-up things any longer. For them it was all just a joke, but what it did to you?

‘ I’m wondering what we could do

And I’m lost, I’m so lost.

Oh, somebody come through.

Tell me why they do this to me, it’s so confusing.

Oh, why do I feel stupid?

Tell me what you want from me now,

Or i’ll just cry again.

Here we go again.

Back in the same places. ’

You tried so hard, you really did, and still trying to this day cause you understand that in the end, you only have yourself, no hero is going to come save you. You needed to be your own saviour. After years and years of getting stepped on and on, letting them control your mind, and filling your head with all the false statements about you.

You had enough.

Mr. Yoon has seen you since you were little till now that you’ve transformed into a completely different person. How these ruthless people affected you, turning the sweet sunshine girl into a cold, stoic one.

How else were you supposed to survive this place, shield yourself, and bring yourself back up on your feet again? So you threw her away.

Mr. Yoon also knows that a talent like you won’t be able to go anywhere if you stay here. This is not a place for you.

“Uh…here?” Your answer came out more like a question because where else will you go when this is the only school in your area?

Mr. Yoon sighed, putting his pen down. “Y/n, your capability is unfitting for this school, you know it. And your curiosities and interests are beyond something this school can provide for you.” You stayed silent, so with a contemplating sigh he continued, “WILL Academy is opening for new students to ap-”

“WILL ACADEMY?!” You exclaimed in bewilderment. Mr. Yoon put his hands out to hush you.

“Calm down! Y/n, please listen. I know what you’re thinking, but please just listen first.” He quickly stated.

You shook your head frantically. No no no no no. Is this some kind of a joke? Because WILL is only a dream for someone from a middle-class family like you. You’ve only seen this heavenly place on the television, how luxurious it is, and heard about their interesting study systems, they even have advanced classes that your local library probably doesn’t even have the books for, so…yeah, you’re definitely not overreacting. It’s too unrealistic. You won’t even dare to go there in your dreams.

“There’s a test you’ll need to take as the scores are required for the application.” “This is ridiculous.” “You already have too many impressive achievements, like your first place in the ‘Math Problem Solving Competition’ since the 6th grade, first place in literally every ‘Biology Contest’ ever, ‘Poetry Contest,’ ‘Chess Competition.’ You even participated in ‘History Debates’ and presented your projects at Science Fairs, and so much more. Y/n! Impressive is an understatement to state you. When most of the people your age or even older can’t even match 1/4 of your achievements.” Mr. Yoon finally took a breath after rapping out. Counting his fingers, he mumbled with a frown. “What else?” Trying to remember what else you’ve done.

You watched Mr. Yoon with your upper lip curled in bemusement at how certain he sounded. Did he forget? “Mr. Yoon, my parents can’t affor-” You were about to remind him when he cut you off.

“There is a position for a full scholarship.”

Your eyes widened to the level that it felt like they would pop right out of your skull, but then you turned back normal again. Even after that, “There will still be a lot of other expenses. The academy is in the city far from here, and they have this…weird rich people lifestyle that is completely different from mine.”

“Can you at least try, y/n?” Mr. Yoon pleaded.

I mean… there’s no loss in just trying, right? No need to take it serious. You pondered on it before speaking, “Just for fun?”

Mr. Yoon perked up. “Just for fun.” He confirmed.

You enjoy challenging yourself, wanting to know if there are any limits to you and if there is possibly anything you can’t do.

Since you were little, when most kids play around, you sit alone, reading or observing their behaviours. Never had a friend to call your own, the only little dude that was nice and played with you moved away when you turned 7. Lucky number my ass. You still remember him precisely. Wonder where he is now and how he’s doing.

The other ones that called themselves your “friend” turned out to be bitches that only used your innocent ass for your brain and their grades.

You don’t talk, like… at all cause who the fuck will you even talk to?These shits? No, thank you. You grew to find peace in your own presence. But you do speak up if it’s necessary now. Some kids still sometimes look your way weirdly, but as you simply look up from your book with your habitual sharp eyes, they all divert their eyes and move away. But rarely does that happen because mostly you’re a ghost, no one really cares about you or even sees you. Why? I don’t know, maybe you just have that spy skill to go unnoticed, or maybe because of the stone behaviour you’ve developed.

Your parents are your number 1.2 and 1.3 supporters, especially in your study. You just know if you tell them about WILL Academy, they will most definitely push you, even if it’s more than what they can afford. And you do not want that, so you decide to keep quiet.

[One day of some week in some month]

You walked back home from school like usual. “I’m home!” Announcing as you took off your shoes before going in. A gut of something delicious hit you. You took a deep breath at the smell of fresh bakery mom made. It loosens you up right away, like a switch, telling you that you can take off your mask now. The best part of the day for sure. Now, it’s time to steal some. You made your way to the kitchen with a content hum. Walking in, both of them were sitting at the dining table with some papers on the dining table, either bills or work stuff, not your business. “Hello~ Me just want a… something that my master chef has made in my mouth please.”

Mom got up from her seat as she heard you, rushing to give you a hug, causing you to tense up by the suddenness. “You didn’t tell me you applied to WILL Academy.” She said softly.

Oh, shit. How did they know?’

“Oh, I only applied for fun, it’s nothing, Mom.” Your voice was muffled from being pressed into her shoulder. “What do you mean just for fun? You could have told us, you know?” She backed away a little. You stayed silent for a few seconds before replying. “I just...didn’t want you two to worry over nothing.” She hugged you again, tighter this time, which made you even more baffled.

“I’m sorry, but what does it have anything to do with this…hugging thing going on?”

Then you heard quiet sniffles, making you frown deeply, and backing away to look at her. “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Dad lifted one of the papers from the table and waved it lightly. You hesitant slightly before walking to take it from him.

___

‘WILL Academy logo’

Dear Y/n Y/l/n,

We have received your entry application for the ‘Year 10’ students. Your profile, achievements, and especially your scores were beyond impressive. You have scored the 2nd highest ranking out of all the applicants, so we are writing this letter with immense pleasure to CONGRATULATE you on being selected as the recipient of our highly competitive scholarship.

Your dedication and commitment to your academic pursuits have not gone unnoticed and have significantly distinguished you from the other applicants.

This scholarship is just the beginning of your bright future with us, we’re looking forward to having an excellent student like you at our academy.

WELCOME TO WILL

___

Your hands started shaking the moment you saw the big ass CONGRATULATION. Eyes widening as you read the letter, gaping in shock, and goosebumps erupted through your whole body.

You got in?

You, Y/n Y/l/n, got into the WILL academy? Shut up.

But… you’re not going. You only tried it out for fun.

You looked up from the paper to them, about to say something, but Dad shook his head, stopping you. “You know we would always support you, right?” “Bu-” “It doesn’t matter. This is about your future, y/n, and we’d do everything for that.”

“We’ll figure it out”

Dad made an arrangement for everything to make you as convenient as possible. Your single filthy-rich aunt Sejeong, who lives alone in her mansion in that city, decided to take you in as her responsibility. She couldn’t contain her excitement when she heard the news.

“Let her live with me! I’m so lonely. FINALLY, I’ll have company.” “Don’t you worry about her at all, brother. She’ll have a bodyguard with her at all times.” “If anyone even dares to take a glance at my tiger, I’ll write a lawsuit at them!” And yes, she’s kinda (very) dramatic.

Knowing she has good intentions, Dad still doesn’t like accepting help from others, even if it’s his sister.

“I’m serious, brother. I can take care of everything for y/n. You don’t have to worry about anything at all, okay? She’s like my daughter, you know?” After arguing for almost an hour with aunt, Dad finally gave up, knowing he could never win. “Fine…but since you’re going to be taking care of y/n for a long time now, at least let me do something for her.”

“Your stubbornness is 100% from Sejeong.” Dad always tells you.

Aunt Jeongie hardly agreed to let him rent a condominium room fully by himself. The academy and Jeongie’s mansion are in different areas, so Dad insisted on getting you a condominium room. You argued that a normal apartment would be more than fine. “It’s a waste of money, Dad.” “It’s just unnecessary.” “It’ll onl-”

“Do you want unwanted attention again?” He shut you, finalising with, “You have to fit in.”

Mr. Yoon cried when you informed him the news. “I knew it!” He exclaimed, getting up from his desk in his office room. He was about to hug you but stopped as he remembers. You’ve become sensitive and hyper-aware of physical touches or even proximity because of the traumatic event that happened to you in 8th grade, last year.

But you stepped closer to him yourself, reassuring him that he can. Mr. Yoon played the biggest part in your success and even in your life. He's the fourth person after Mom, Dad, and Jeongie that you gave your trust to and let your guard down when being with. He is like a mother figure to you.

“Your time has finally come. A bright future is waiting for you.”

The last day of school was like a heavy weight was lifted up from your chest. You felt such a sense of relief. Can you believe this? You’ll finally be free from this rat trap, and you’re never coming back ever again. But a little bit of nostalgia, you did feel, cause you’ve been here since 4, but damn, the sickening life-changing experiences, and a lifetime's worth of traumas it has given you will never be able to make you look back with a smile or any of the positive emotions.

You decided to take a walk around the school after the final exam to look at everything one last time. You visited the library, your favourite place in the school. All the classrooms you’ve studied in, the field where you used to play badminton with some kids. A small smile did creep up on your face at the memory of the other kids not wanting to play with you because you always defeated them all. You made sure to skip and walk past the gymnasium on the side of the field quickly, so your brain don’t replay it again.

You had to visit the small studio you loved to go sing in whenever you felt down. Mrs. Im, your singing teacher for 6 years, works in the studio. She's the one who suggested the way to cope with your overthinking and wildly running thoughts. You learned to write your thoughts down into words whenever they become too complicated and too much for you to take. And convert them into lyrics and make songs out of it.

youtube

‘Will you come back?’ (CHIHIRO by Billie Eilish, but lyric changes are applied to fit the message better.) Was the song you wrote, talking to yourself, your two self.

‘ To take my love away

When I come back around, will I know what to say?

Said you won't forget yourself

Not today, not tomorrow

Kinda strange, feelin' sorrow

Had to change, you should follow (follow)

When I come back around, will I know what to say?

Not today, or tomorrow

Open up the door, can you open up the door?

I know you said before you can't cope with any more

You told me it was war, said you'd show me what it’s for

I hope it's not for sure, can you open up the door?

Did you take

My love away

From me?

Thought I saw you in the mirror when I looked away

Saw you turn around, but it wasn't your face

Said, "I need to be alone now, I'm takin' a break"

How come when I returned, you were gone away?

I don't, I don't know who you are

I don't know you at all

I don't know you

Not at all

I don't, I don't know who you are

I don't know you at all

I don't know you

Did you take

My love away

From me? Me…’

—

youtube

‘What have I done for?’ (What was I made for? By Billie Eilish)

‘ I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

Why I was played on

What have I done for?

Thinking back on, I was shining bright

Looked so alive, then the lights all died

Just something you stepped on

What have I done for?

'Cause I, I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday, I might

Someday, I might

When did it end? All the enjoyment

I'm sad again, don't tell my mother

It's not what she's made for

What was I made for?

'Cause I, 'cause I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I wish to be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

Something I'm made for ’

“Come in!” You opened the door carefully. “Oh, Y/n~” She said bightly to you like always, and that was enough to make your eyes water. “Awee, baby, what’s wrong?” She got up from her seat and came to take you in a hug, surprised because she hadn't seen you crying for a while now. “I’ll miss you.” She smiled with a pout, tearing up herself. “I will as much. Where else will I ever find a girl like you, huh?” She caressed your cheeks lovingly and wiped your tears away. “Don’t you dare forget such a lovely teacher as me, do you understand?” She threatened playfully to lighten the mood. You let out a little chuckle with more sobs. The only other teacher who understood you and helped you a lot during the hard times.

Lastly, you visited Mr. Yoon’s office, where you always came to ask him questions. Your chest still feels heavy even after the fun karaoke and conversation with Miss Nayeon. Mr. Yoon was checking the test papers when you knocked. He sighed in annoyance. “Now, who?” He looked up. Who else would it be other than the notorious kids pranking him? “Oh, y/nna. Why are you still here? You want me to take you home?” You shook your head softly, fidgeting with your hands. “Had to visit you..one last time.” Your voice quivered towards the end as your eyes teared up again. He looked at you with a slight frown in concern before giving you a motherly smile and getting up from his desk. “Glad you did.” He opened his arms. You didn’t waste another second, rushing in to hug him, and crying all over again. “You’ll always be in my heart, my little Miss Academia.”

“Remember me with a smile, not with tears.”

#wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fanfic #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho fanfic #leeknow x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop fic #Miss Academia

6 notes · View notes

minijenn · 6 months ago

Text

More Stuff I wrote for UF (I might have some problems XD)

As the guy who originally suggested the Nevers (https://www.tumblr.com/minijenn/759074819835838464/if-you-needed-a-new-name-for-the-chapter-you?source=share) , and was reminded by anon, I couldn’t help writing more deep synopsis about them. Sorry, my mind couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Never Together: Steven is sure that the key to his future is a marriage with Connie. Living with the person he loves the most 24/7 at college seems to be what will fill the hole he has inside. Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica, however, to no avail, try their best to avoid a catastrophe.

The chapter ends with him saying to the air “I guess we will never be together” as he shed a final tear…

Never Forever: Steven is quite depressed from being rejected by Connie, but, no need to fear, Mabel (who has quite a few experiences with breakups, heartbreaks and being rejected) organizes a fun day for only her and Steven, trying to show him that he is still the same Steven and they can do the same fun stuff they did as a child. However, at the end of the chapter, Mabel needs to finish things off a little earlier, because of art school. She warns Steven, thinking it’s no big deal, but… it triggers something in him. He starts to walk away sadly and Mabel asks him what’s wrong. And he says “I guess things never stay the same forever”. Mabel notices she messed up and offers fusing into Maven to patch things up, but Steven rejects.

Never Alone: Dipper also tries to reach out for Steven. But since Dipper is Dipper, he isn’t as direct as Mabel. Instead, he invites Steven to a Mystery Hunt. Things seem to be okay, and Steven seems relaxed, since he is busy thinking in other stuff. However, in the middle of a battle, they form Stepper, and, although they defeat the monster, Stepper starts to swell and glow pink due to fusion hallucinations having to do with Steven’s traumas (RMD, Weirdmageddon, getting his gem removed by White Diamond…). They unfuse and Steven starts to have a panic attack. Dipper manages to calm him down… partially, and Steven screams: “Maybe your trauma let you go. The same for Connie and Mabel. But for me? It seems like he will never leave me alone”. Dipper tries to reach out for him, but with no success.

Then, on growing pains, Steven is a lot more unstable than in canon, swelling a lot more, destroying things and so on…

----

Ohhhh these are all interesting ideas! Really like Never Forever tbh it sounds like it starts off so soft and sweet only for Sadness to kick right the hell in at the end, just like how Together Forever in original UF was lol

#sumbission #submission #not mine

9 notes · View notes

blackwolfstabs · 1 year ago

Text

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 15

LET GO

"You have to let me go." - the hardest decision and one hell of a commitment.

inspired by the song "I Loved Her First" by Heartland

I was enough for her, not long ago. I was her number one, she told me so.

Tara was 20-going-on-21. She was growing up. She was moving on. She was independent and dependable. She was smart and courageous. She was everything Sam would ever hope for her to be.

Except not staying her little girl forever…

Sam remembered everything. Everything they ever had before it all changed, before their fallout, before she left. Ten years, five years, one year, all of the time wasted and estranged meant nothing. It didn’t hold a candle to the amount of memories she could talk hours about. She couldn’t tell you she’d been there for her baby sister’s whole life, but she could tell you anything you’d want to know about her. She remembered every fight, every smile, every laugh, every cry, every pain, every hug, every kiss, every “Sammy”—

Sammy… That’s a name she hadn’t heard in a long time. It was Tara’s name for her… Her special name. She had said that more times than she had said “Mama” or “Daddy”, more than she had said “Mom” or “Dad.” She had said that more than she had ever said any other name in the whole world. Now, she was just Sam, and that was fine. But she couldn’t forget what it meant to be Sammy. What it meant to be the one Tara would cry for in the middle of the night when she was being sleep trained and was tired of going back and forth from their parents’ bedroom. What it meant to be the one she hugged every day when she came home from school. What it meant to hold her hand at the doctor’s office or push her on the swing. What it meant to be adored and believed in, no matter how impossible the challenge. What it meant to be Tara’s Number 1…

“You’re my number one, Sammy! I love you!”

It’s not that Tara loved her any less or that she ignored her. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her or was leaving so they’d never see each other again. They saw each other every day. They talked every day. They still said, “I love you” and “Goodnight” and “How are you?” to each other.

But it wasn’t the same.

There was hurt and scars deep in that girl’s eyes. Her smile hadn’t changed, but it hid a million tragedies. She was no longer innocent in the way that pain and suffering and fear were the worst in the forms of splinters, not getting the stuffed animal she wanted, or what might be hiding under her bed. Tara knew what it was like to have broken bones and scars permanently tattooed onto her skin. She knew what it was like to beg for mercy as she bled out and drag herself helplessly across a cold floor in hopes that a serial killer with a blood lust would have mercy on her life. She knew what it was like to shake so violently that it took mountains of drugs to sedate her and scream herself hoarse trying to fight for everything she had to lose. She knew what it was like to be so far gone that trauma was the only thing that pulled her back.

And then Chad came along…

And she still means the world to me, just so you know, so be careful when you hold my girl.

He and Tara were a match made that Sam never saw coming. When she had first returned to Woodsboro, she thought of him having grown up to be the stereotypical jock that you see in the movies. However, once he lost Liv and Tara lost Amber, something between them sparked. It was subtle, but Sam had babysat Chad long enough to figure him out as if he were her brother. She noticed the way he was careful around her younger sister, watching how he moved to make sure he never made her uncomfortable and how he was always there to watch out for her when Sam wasn’t around. Trauma had matured them both, as sad as that was to say, but in the same token, they bonded over that.

Sam respected how protective Chad was over Tara. How he was the one nearly caught in a fight when Frankie intended to drag Tara up the stairs and rape her. How he held the door for her and pulled her out of harm’s way whenever she tried to rush into danger. How he held her when she was hurting and kissed her goodnight. She knew she could trust him with her only sister, the person she cared the most about in this cruel world. And she would never love anyone more.

Tara was her girl, no matter who she devoted her heart to.

And if it was Chad, so be it.

Time changes everything, life must go on. I’m not gonna stand in your way.

Yes, Tara had grown up. She didn’t cry anymore when she fell down. She wasn’t clingy when they were in a new place. She didn’t ask for help with her homework or crawl into Sam’s bed in the middle of the night just because she “missed her”.

She was still young, but she couldn’t be tied to Sam’s side anymore. She had to let her go.

And she did. That night she had given Tara the knife, while she hung off the balcony, their bloodied hands clutching each other’s wrists like they were all they had to lose.

“You have to let me go.”

Since then, they had become closer as sisters but even more distant in boundaries. Tara was free, because she proved to herself and Sam that she could take care of herself. So, she went to college, stayed up late, walked to and from therapy sessions by herself, hung out with friends, hit up a movie theater every now and then, and just indulged in her collar-free lifestyle. She always told Sam where she was going and how long she’d be out, but she was alone in doing it. All her older sister could do was say, “Okay. Be careful. I love you.”

And in reply, she’d hear, “I will. Love you too.”

She had made a promise to Tara that she’d always be there for her, but she understood that she couldn’t keep her sheltered from the rest of the world. Tara had a tough background; she deserved the freedom, trust, and independence she had to go where she wanted, experience what life had to offer, and love who she couldn’t live without.

Sam couldn’t stand in her way any longer.

I loved her first. I held her first. And a place in my heart will always be hers.

But no matter where Tara went, how long she stayed away, and who she spent her days and nights with, Sam would always be the first one to love her. Sure, she may have gone to school with Chad Meeks-Martin. She may have shared her lunch with him. She may have raced him on the playground and gave him hours of her time after school when Sam would babysit both twins and Wes Hicks. She may have fallen in love with him. She may have kissed him and sat in his lap late at night. She may have pushed his buttons, and he may have pushed hers. She may have done a lot of things.

But Sam had always been the first one to do any of them. She was the reason Tara knew what all those things felt like and how they made her feel.

She loved her first, and no matter how old Tara was or where life took her, Sam would always hold everything she had of her baby sister in a special place in her heart.

From the first breath she breathed, when she first smiled at me. I knew the love of a sister runs deep.

The day she was born. Her first word. Her first asthma attack. All of her doctor’s visits. Her sleep training. The day she lost her first tooth. Her first day of pre-k. Her first day of kindergarten. Evey milestone Tara had in her childhood, Sam was there for.

As far as she was concerned, being the older sister meant being anything and everything for her baby sister, even if it was impossible. If Tara was scared, she wasn’t. If Tara needed a doctor on sight, Sam vowed she would get her to one by carrying her on her back. If Tara asked for one more bedtime story, one more hug, one more goodnight kiss, Sam would give it to her. Anything Tara wanted was hers, no matter how hard it was to get.

She never could stand it when her younger sister would cry, no matter the age. When Tara was a baby, she’d keep asking her mom why she was crying, convinced something was wrong when she was told that babies just cry sometimes. When she would accidently push Tara down while playing, she would beg her parents that it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to hurt her or make her cry. When Tara was being sleep-trained, Sam would cover her ears to block out her constant wailing when she would be put back into her room. She’d listen to her sobs and pleas, asking for one more hug or pull an excuse just to get her way. But when Tara would give up on their parents and started to call out “Sammy! I need you, Sammy!”, she gave in every time. Because when she saw her tears dry before she drifted off to sleep, happy that she was no longer alone, Sam couldn’t think of anything else in the world that was more precious than her existence.

And I prayed that she’d find you someday. But it’s still hard to give her away…

If only Tara could have always been that happy. If only she could have always stayed that innocent. But life was never fair to the ones that didn’t deserve its wrath.

However, it had given her so much to live for. Her degree. Chad. Her future. The rest of her life.

And as hard as it was to let her go, Sam knew she had to. For Tara’s sake. Because like it had been from the start, she’d forever do whatever it took to make sure she was happy.

Even if it was impossible.

I loved her first.

She knew from day 1 that she could never love anyone more than the baby girl with the most beautiful smile in the world. She would never want anything but the best for the baby girl with the most beautiful name in the world.

Tara Carpenter.

How could that beautiful woman with you be the same freckled-face kid that I knew?

And Sam had never been more right about anything in her life. Tara was gorgeous, and everyone thought so too. She’d come home from her college classes and go on and on about how many boys tried to get her number or make a move on her. Then, she’d proudly talk about how she’d turn them down and flash them her lock screen—which was of her and Chad celebrating New Year’s—as she walked by.

She carried herself with confidence, she said what she pleased, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and she had no problem throwing a punch to someone who deserved it. Samantha couldn’t believe how much she’d grown from being that little girl that would hide behind her, because she was too shy. That little girl who would look up at her with the biggest eyes and brightest grin, saying “Sammy, guess what I did today?” The little girl that once thought she was the queen of the household, just because her big sister doted on her so much.

She was the same person who had done all that, but no one would’ve thought it.

The one that I read all those fairy tales to… and tucked into bed all those nights.

Oh, God, and how Sam would do everything a thousand times over, if it only meant Tara could stay little forever.

There were many times that their parents were working or having heated discussions in their room, so it would be up to Sam to read Tara her bedtime story or tuck her in. It became a routine, and she enjoyed it so much that she took it up to be her responsibility each night. They were both learning, so why not do it together?

She would always let Tara pick the book and choose how many times she wanted to hear it. Tara always sat in her lap or leaned against her with all her weight from the side. Sam never minded it when she’d shout out the words on the next page before she even turned it or the way she would insist she wasn’t tired—that she wanted to hear it again—even though she was yawning and rubbing her eyes.

And when Sam got her in bed and tucked her in, Tara would rehearse the same phrase she’d learned from one of her books, except she had her own little twist on it.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my Sammy, you’ll be.”

What Sam would give to hear that one more time.

And I knew the first time I saw you with her, it was only a matter of time.

But she would never ask to hear it. Tara was who she was, and she did her best not to look back. Not because of her childhood, of all those beautiful times she and Sam shared together, but because of the grief, pain, and trauma that had come in between then and now. It was a brick wall, a storm window, a tangle of strings that shaped her into who she was today.

Sam knew that, just like she knew moving on and giving her heart to someone new was all a part of Tara living and enjoying her life.

She had to accept it.

Tara wasn’t gone. She hadn’t left. She had simply grown up. They still had a ton of time to spend with each other and just be sisters. They loved each other like no other half-siblings could ever love each other.

They were Samantha and Tara Carpenter. The Carpenter Sisters.

And for a while, they had forever in their hands. That’s why it was so hard for one to understand…

That the one thing that was the best thing she could ever do for her baby sister was the exact thing she was the most scared of.

She had to let her go.

Someday, you might know what I’m going through…

“Can I see her?” Sam asked her mother, barely unable to keep her excitement in finally becoming a true big sister to herself.

She had only been 5 years old at the time, not knowing just how close she and her new baby sister would come to be. Not knowing how crazy and reckless their lives would become. Not knowing how putting their lives on the line for each other 20 years later would come to be of the same little girls that once thought monsters in the closet, thunderstorms, and the first day of school were the most terrifying things in the world.

“Mm-hmm,” Christina nodded as her husband picked up her oldest daughter and placed her on the edge of the hospital bed.

Sam saw her mother cradling the smallest human being she had ever seen in her arms as she leaned over to get a better view. And then next thing she knew, she was staring at the face of her new baby sister.

And her whole world stopped.

When a miracle smiles up at you…

“Samantha, meet your baby sister. Tara Carpenter.”

I loved her first.

i did not expect to write this so quickly, i literally couldn't stop typing (except for the times when i started crying and had to retreat where my mom wouldn't notice lol)

this was one of the hardest things i've ever written. if you didn't cry, your heart must be made of stone, because i'm lowkey a wreck after finishing this (unless the carpenter sisters' relationship doesn't hold any power on you, then you're not heartless, just vibin).

All my best ♡ - parker

36 notes · View notes