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sp00kymulderr · 3 months

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Cherry

Chapter one - Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x ofc, bi!f!reader x ofc (eventual dieter bravo x reader x ofc)

Warnings: Nothing major for this part. Breakup angst, alcohol, jealousy, pining, cursing, not enough Dieter in this part sorrrry.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: After a bad breakup, a phone call with your newly married best friend leaves you with an interesting opportunity.

A/N: This one goes out to all my bi babes. There's a lot of set up here, but stick with me and I promise this story gets interesting real quick.

The third glass of the bottom shelf wine you’d picked up a few hours ago goes down a lot smoother than the first two. A bloom of flavour in your throat that warms what otherwise feels numb.

Your fingers twitch as you glance down at your phone, aching to look at Charlie’s Instagram one more time - just to make sure she’s okay, you rationalise. Make sure she’s not fallen into a well, or been abducted by aliens or something.

You kind of hope she has been.

Stevie Nicks sings Landslide through the tinny Bluetooth speaker on your coffee table, and you hum to the song that makes tears well in your eyes. Charlie hates this song, but since Charlie is now your ex and all her belongings had vanished from your home this morning it doesn’t really matter. She’d hate the wine too. You have to remember it doesn’t matter.

An errant tear slips from your eye - definitely because of Stevie and not Charlie - and as if on cue your phone buzzes loudly making you jump. A splash of wine lands on your couch. This week really isn’t working out for you.

A look at the phone screen makes you roll your eyes. The photo that comes up with the call is of you and Eva, your best friend for longer than you can even recall. You’re both wrapped in each other's arms and smiling wide, stupid toothy grins as you pose outside the modelling agency in LA that had signed her on for her first big break.

Eva was destined to be a model, really. She’d always been ‘pretty’; all curves, warm beige skin that practically glowed, entrancing chestnut eyes and long dark hair that fell in natural waves. But in high school she’d transformed from pretty to gorgeous seemingly overnight.

From that moment on no one ever forgot Eva.

She was more to you, though. To you she’d always been beautiful. Always. For a long time you’d passed the twist in your stomach when you looked at her for too long off as jealousy, but how could you ignore the stutter of your heart when she smiled at you a certain way? The more you two grew together, the more perfect she seemed to become. The more you wanted to look at her, spend time with her, be in her radiant presence.

Not that her looks mattered. Eva was kind, fun and a little goofy. She liked stupid slapstick comedies and she crocheted silly little animals in her spare time. You had a frog on your dresser she’d made for you years ago. She cared deeply about so much, and she always fought for what she believed in and what she wanted. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when she’d jetted off to LA several years ago to live her dreams out, then.

Of course no one is truly perfect, which is why you’re currently staring at your phone as it rings again and again, debating whether to pick up. Eva had always been drastically spontaneous and had a history of bad decisions. Usually harmless to anyone but her (the name of a one night stand permanently etched on her hip comes to mind), but two weeks ago she’d made what you could only see as the worst decision of her life.

You sigh, place down your wine glass and finally answer the phone.

“Hi Eva” you grumble down the line, turning the music off so you can hear her.

“You didn’t call me back last week” She offers instead of a greeting. You can hear something in the background that makes your eye twitch, a man’s voice and the clink of a glass.

You'd found out about this particularly bad decision not from your best friend, but from the noisy article on some dumb celebrity gossip website that had somehow made its way onto your timeline.

And you'd scoffed when you looked at the caption because of course Dieter Bravo had gotten married on a whim in some corny Vegas chapel, but then you had to do a double take upon seeing the picture of his bride; dolled up in a simple white dress that made her skin glow, platform white heels, dark hair in a bun atop her head and the same bright smile that had made your heart flip so many times in your life.

It was Eva.

Your Eva.

Eva the model who was leaving the chapel leading on to the Vegas strip with a wedding ring on her finger and Dieter fucking Bravo by her side. And they were smiling, laughing. Paparazzi shots of the two of them kissing in the street after the ceremony flitted behind your lids every time you closed your eyes for the last two weeks.

You could only assume it was a drunken whim that had turned your best friend from your Eva to Mrs Dieter Bravo.

So you were mad at her right now. Mad that she’d married some trainwreck celebrity she barely knew. But the real gut wrenching pain you felt was that she hadn't even told you; you'd had to find out after the fact through stupid papped photographs that made you want to claw your eyes out. You weren’t jealous, absolutely not.. You just wanted Eva to be happy. How could she be happy with a guy like that? You had heard plenty about Dieter Bravo; he seemed to have often been the subject of some ridiculous Hollywood gossip in the past, and then there had been that god awful Cliff Beasts documentary you'd watched for a laugh that certainly didn’t paint him in a great light. Sure he was an Oscar and Emmy winning actor now but jeez, from what you’d seen he wasn't exactly what you'd call marriage material.

Yeah, you were hurt.

"What? Say what you want to say” Eva sighs when you remain solidy quiet for a long minute.

"I don't have anything to say"

Her breath huffs down the line and you can practically hear her roll her eyes.

"You got married, Eva” You finally speak again, voice coming out quiet and more bitter than you’d wanted it to.

“I did, cherry” She responds.

The nickname she’d given you in grade school was never going away.

“You got married! To fucking…to Dieter Bravo!” It makes you laugh a little to say it out loud, and Eva can’t hold back her own small giggle at that.

“Yep”

You can tell she’s smiling, there’s that cadence in her voice that lifts when she’s really happy. Usually it’s your favourite thing in the world but right now it makes you fucking ache. Reaching for your glass of wine you take a big gulp before speaking again.

“I just…you didn’t even tell me. I’d like to know if my oldest friend is getting hitched, you know?"

“I do know, I do…I-” She stops and there’s a rustle of noise on the line as she shifts, “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, it just happened so suddenly…we didn’t exactly plan it. He made a joke about it and the next thing I knew we were on a flight to Vegas”

So it really was a spontaneous decision. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised.

"I could've....Eva, I wanted to be your maid of honour if you ever got married, isn't that what we always said?"

"You can be my maid of honour for the next one" Eva offers.

Ok, she got you there, you can’t stop the laugh that comes. At least until you hear a man's gruff laugh in the background. For a moment it makes you see red at the thought that he's involving himself in your conversation even in the smallest way.

"Ev. This isn't a joke. You get why I'm mad right? And to Dieter Bravo of all people - look, is this a PR stunt?" You mutter a little meanly, taking another sip.

“Wow, screw you” She retorts, but it’s playful. “He’s nice...really nice. He’s fun. You told me to have all the fun I could have in LA, remember?”

“You weren't supposed to marry the fun, Eva!” You protest, but her happiness in the face of the ridiculous situation makes it so difficult to stay mad at her.

"Wait til you meet him, cherry pie. Just wait, you’ll get it. And…I am sorry, okay?” The line is quiet for a moment and you hear her moving presumably to a different room “I really am. But I didn't call to tell you about my married bliss. I heard about Charlie"

God, your stomach twists in knots at the mention. Being mad at Eva had been a good distraction from the breakup even if only for a moment.

"Oh, right”

“You wanna talk about it?” Her voice is gentle now, sympathetic. You wish she could hug you like she used to when you were sad.

“I’m fine” You lie, “I mean I thought she'd be my... doesn't matter. I’m okay" Massive lie.

Eva says some comforting words that you barely register.

You feel like you’re constantly standing at the edge of what your world could be. Maybe it’s why the marriage riled you up so much. You can’t pretend she doesn’t sound happy. And here you are broken up with again, alone again. Before she’d left to live her dreams, you’d had visions that maybe it’d be Eva you’d end up with. Maybe if you could just let yourself be fully real for once…Maybe she’d realise, and you could have been something bright and glowing and joyful too.

A whole lot of maybes that meant nothing in the end.

It’s just you now.

You zone back in to the call at the words ‘Bora Bora’ and ‘Don’t worry about the cost, cherry’

“Wait, what?” You stutter, trying to understand if you’re hearing her correctly

“Take a few weeks off, come with us. The hotel is paid for, we have one of those fancy bungalows. We’ll sort the flights. You need this and I miss you”

"I..." you hesitate nervously, biting your lip “I miss you too. But…”

Eva tsks at you, familiar with that tone even down a phone line.

"What are you going to do instead? Sit on your couch for three weeks and scroll her instagram for hours on end? I'm not letting you do that. Come on, cherry pie, we'll have so much fun. It'll be like old times" Eva gives as much enthusiasm as she can, but that hint of concern has notched in her throat. She knows you too well and she’s right.

"Like old times?" you huff "Except it'll be me, you, and your husband"

"You'll like him, I promise"

The call ends with your promise to think about it.

And think about it you do. All night, all of the next day. It’s a stupid fucking offer for them to make. It’ll be so awkward. What if he’s a nightmare? What if she’s not the same with you now she’s got a ring on her finger? You should say no.

You should really say no.

Two weeks later, after a day of sitting too long with not enough leg room, the little Air Tahiti plane lands in Bora Bora.

Your legs shake as you step off the plane. It’s possible you’re still in shock that you even agreed to this. Your stomach knots with nerves, as your bags are unloaded and you head over to the arrival area to find-

There she is. Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart beats faster. God, you really had missed her. It’s been months, and she’s still so her it makes everything suddenly feel okay.

“Cherry!” Eva squeals gleefully, dark glossy hair bouncing as she runs up to crush you into an insistent hug. You laugh, you can’t stop laughing as you hold on to her.

Your Eva.

“Oh my god, I missed you” You feel like you might cry as she utters similar sentiments into your ear.

When she finally lets go and steps back you finally notice the man behind her. Not that Dieter Bravo would ever be easy to ignore.

He's what you'd expected; The mess of brown hair sticking this way and that, the too casual clothes, scruffy facial hair. But he’s also…well he’s gorgeous, not Hollywood good-looking like the waxwork movie stars in all those big action films. You’ve seen his face before on screens and in pictures and yet you’ve never fully understood that this man is pretty, he’s different. He’s enthralling, even just at first glance.

Dieter tilts his head so you can catch his big brown eyes beneath the sunglasses he’s wearing and you have to stop yourself staring too hard. He’s what you expect, but he takes you by surprise too. He raises his left hand to scratch at his chin, a glint of the rings on his fingers catching your eye as you observe him before stepping forward with a friendly smile which he returns with a wry one of his own.

“You must be-” You start before he cuts you off.

“The fun, yeah” Dieter pushes his sunglasses down his nose and gives you a wink, followed by a grin before he turns towards Eva.

Your stomach flips, a twinge of jealousy as he takes hold of her hand and they share a glance at each other. You’re still processing the interaction with him but it’s impossible to ignore the way Dieter's face lights up when he looks to her - a brilliantly bright but bashful smile like he can't believe she's there, his eyes snapping up to meet hers like it's the first time seeing her.

Like he's desperately in love with her.

At least the two of you have something in common.

Tagging those who asked and those I think might be interested (pls tell me to remove if you want!):

@morallyinept @tightjeansjavi @covetyou @i-own-loki @bastardmandennis @tinytinymenace @chronically-ghosted @party-hearses @perotovar @schnarfer @5oh5

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal character fiction #pedrostories #poly relationship #this is so dialogue heavy I apologise but there was a lot to set up I hope it's not too boring!

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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okay fr what do you think scara is like in bed? what’s he into, what’re his kinks, the whole shebang?

modern scaramouche hc's

✭ tags ; sub!chara, dom!reader (they bottom but parts are unspecificed so gn!reader as well), this is also my modern!scaramouche take so just be aware, bratting, rough sex, slapping, hitting, a lil degradation, reader is v careful abt scaramouches boundaries tho, romantic implications reader is stronger than scara + he is short king, etc

✭ wc ; 2.1k (im soooo ashamed. anon im so sorry)

✭ a/n ; this got so out of hand so quickly. this is my personal scaramouche this has nothing to do with anyone but me and my delusions sorry in advance.

like really. cant describe how subjective this is but i also refuse to change my mind or see him any other way. thank u so much for inquiring

my modern scaramouche is usually aged like. 20-something in college. he goes to a nice university (a very competitive school mind you.) he was really concerned about excelling for like most of his hs career. kind of a loner except tartaglia who adopted him into his friend group.

he panics about his degree for the longest time cause he doesn't know what to do - but settles on civil architecture and minors in fine art.

he has his ears pierced and some other piercings too that he was peer pressured into, but overall likes how they look. he's not usually very dressed up and all of his closet is so oversized because comfort > fashion BUT he never looks like a slob either.

has like 3 other friends on campus (kazuha + mona + childe who somehow followed him there)

complicated relationship with his mom + stepmom (he doesn't hate her but they do not communicate so tons of misunderstandings between them. like sooo many)

and. usually not actively looking to date anyone ever. he had like one crush one time in highschool but chickened out so miserably and SEETHED about it the whole time.

after that he swore to never, ever, ever go back to that dark place and sort of just focused on his career and school. his major is pretty difficult so it takes a lot of his time

plus he's a little pretentious, stuck up little shit so only a few people can handle him in the first place.

anyways. u meet through tartaglia who thinks you two will get along really well (and he's trying to set you both up bc he thinks you two could work well together)

its honestly like oil and water. you're personality just rubs him the wrong way. sure childe is annoying, but he's stupid

you're...not stupid. you're kind of clever and you treat him with like. a sense of disrespect he hates. scaramouche is used to people who let him have the upperhand

but you're always pretty quick to shoot him down. you never let him him get away with anything and you guys have this like... insane back and forth for months

its the slowest of burns. he swears he hates you.

(he doesn't though. he thinks its really fucking attractive that you talk back to him and don't let him intimidate you ever. but he loathes that feeling. he also loathes how nice your laugh is and how easy it is to talk to you)

scaramouche spends. AGES. ages in denial. closes his eyes to it. its like 6 months deep into it - he starts having wet dreams and he wakes up HORRIFIED with himself.

WORSE? scaramouche knows about your sex life. not through you but through observation and gossip. he's not fucking you in the dreams. you're fucking him.

humiliated, he simply tries to ignore it. but it's making him so much moody than usual and because you two spend so much time together - you notice almost right away. of course you do.

"whats got your panties in a twist lately? not that you're usually sunshine and rainbows but you're acting like a little kid"

scaramouche says something mean. like, really mean in response. he's just so frustrated. its a personal jab, farther than he'd usually go.

he's expecting to sabotage himself you know? he does that sometimes. pushes people away when they get too close. it's a miracle he has any friends. he's expecting you to get annoyed and leave.

but there's this like. chill to your voice. and you're looking straight at him.

"you don't talk to me like that, understand? i don't care how shitty your mood is."

one hit k.o. he can't even breathe. what's wrong with him and what is happening to him, and holy shit why do you sound like that.

"sorry," he apologizes (him. he's apologizing first) "just. frustrating,"

and you immediately slink back to your usual self. and he's relieved and a little excited and just overall restless because he can't stop thinking about what just happened.

"it's fine. i like being on your ass or whatever but it's bothering me that you're so moody. maybe you really do need to get laid,"

the joke is one you often to make. it's meant to lighten the mood. but scaramouche is feeling pent-up and horny and that's kind of exactly what he needs

"s-shut up. it's not like you're going to do it,"

internally he's hoping you take the bait. he is equal parts horrified and excited watching you take in the information. you give him a lazy smile as you sit up and look at him.

"huh. do you...want me to do it?"

oh dear god. oh fuck.

"so what if i did?"

and then you laugh, which he can't decipher. he's gearing himself to be made fun of. he watches you with big wide yes as you come sit on the desk near him. feels your fingers trail his jaw and tilt his head up and holy shit he might really die.

he can barely look up at you.

"is that why you've been acting weird for last couple of weeks?" your voice is so smug and scaramouche is so turned on it's stupid. he hates it. hates himself. hates everything

"shut up,"

and then, you grab his chin. really make him look at you and it's startling but he doesn't pull away. you look gleeful.

"that why you've been running with your tail between your legs when you see me?" you hum, your eyes almost predatory "cause you want me to fuck you?"

its times like this scaramouche he could be honest. because that's exactly what he wants, but he hates having to say it.

"as if you could satisfy me," he says, instead. your eyes widen, and it takes you a minute to register it all in your head.

"you're such a fucking brat," you say, light. affectionate, really. it makes his heart pump "you think i can't?"

"i'd like to see you try," he says, absolutely and utterly in disbelief internally. you grin.

"can i kiss you?"

"why're you asking?"

"cause im an asshole, not a villain,"

you and scaramouche makeout in a study room before he decides to to get ahold of himself and invites you into his dorm. he's never been so thankful in his life that his roomate is gone.

when you get scaramouche into bed - it really dawns on him how out of his element he is. he's not a virgin - a few awkward and usually bad hook-ups in his repertoire.

but you're not like them. he's bitey and on edge but you handle him. ask for permission for little things, clarifications for what he's okay with. you're thoughtful, despite how much he's lashing out.

and it's turning scaramouche so much he doesn't know how to handle it other than doing it again. he wants to provoke you so much. he wants to put him in his place over and over.

it's mid makeout he pulls away, frustration all-welled up inside him that he asks. he's hard and needy and needs something to get him off.

"i knew you were all talk," he sneers, putting as much of himself in it as he can "this is nothing,"

you look at him very seriously "you're really asking for it, huh," you say with a sigh "do you know what you're getting into?"

"nothing serious obviously,"

"usually when i deal with brats like you, i treat 'em real rough. im being nice to you cause you're so pent up, but it's like you don't want that," you grab his face again, getting close and personal this time and scaramouche feels like he'll collapse "want me to treat you mean and put you in your place? hit you and make you cry?"

oh it ruins his life. that's exactly what he wants. what he needs from you so much it aches. so much he chokes.

"wh-what the hell are-"

but you make him face forward, look you in your eyes.

"your first lesson is answer me when i talk to you. is that what you want? you can nod if you can't say it,"

so he nods and you laugh.

"yeah? should smack the brat outta you shouldn't i?

you're asking for permission. despite his everything, there's something affectionate about it. he feels his stomach twist with desire.

"just fucking do it already,"

"tell me if you need to stop,"

"i said—"

it's unceremonious, really. when scaramouche feels the palm of your hands on his cheek, landing heavy and hard as you push him back against the bed. you hit him.

he liked it. makes his cock throb in his fucking jeans, feeling the sting.

"your second lesson is don't fucking mouth at me," you practically spit. there's some roughness in your actions that make scaramouche keen as you crawl on top of him "can't even deal with your moods without lashing out."

scaramouche feels his stomach churn as your hands make rough work of him. you pin his wrists over his head, tell him to keep it there.

and of course he refuses, disobeys - gets to feel how strong you actually are when you spit the words back in his face again to hold fucking still.

scaramouche keeps doing it. keeps pushing until you have to put him back where he belongs forcibly. he doesn't know that he's doing it

but he wants something he can't name, a desire that aches so deep in his chest. he wants you to take responsibility for him - like a promise of some kind.

he likes the way your mouth feels on his skin. your teeth feel so good sinking into pale flesh. the scratch of your nails and sting of your palms as you spank and hit and push his body.

you manhandle him so fucking easily, putting him in every position you can think of. on his knees, or his back - naked and waiting.

you tease scaramouche till he's honest, your voice coarse until he starts giving in.

you're so good with your hands. your fingers, your mouth. you know just the right things to get him all squirmy - praising him when he's getting desperate towards the end.

his sense of shame nowhere to be found as he gets close to the edge. as you tip him over it, he can feel all the tension bleed out of him. goes from bitching, to whiny - needy and not above begging.

he doesn't even understand it. can't wrap his head around it all the way - lets you guide him through the feeling as he starts feeling pliant.

you let him fuck you with mercy. don't make him work for it, just sit on his cock and tell him that he looks so much better when he's all messed up for you and he just. melts completely. like feels like he's gonna fall through the floor.

he cries when he cums. sobs a little as he finally gets relief then melts into your bed like a pile of wet sand as you finish yourself off and overstimulate him a little in the process.

after all is said and done - he falls asleep basically immediately after the high.

when he wakes up the next day - you haven't left. he's like kind of nuzzled up in your arms (which. is wild bc he has always hated physical touch but? apparently not with you)

when you stir awake, you're immediately whistling. you even press a kiss to his forehead and brush his hair out of his face.

"you awake? feel okay?" you hum, so stupidly tender and scaramouche has to fight every urge to push you away.

"im...fine. you're still here," he says unhelpfully. you chuckle.

"yeah. figured you would start spiraling if i left in the middle of the night"

he is horrified at the accuracy.

"it's weird when you're being all...nice to me,"

"its a lot easier since i realize you just wanted to be put in your place," you say with a knowing him. scaramouche elbows you "it's cute, it's cute. don't kill me,"

"you're annoying,"

"yeah, i know. i wiped you down a bit but we should shower and i gotta make sure you're not too hurt anywhere,"

"i'm not a flower,"

"i was bein' pretty rough and its my job to take care of you,"

"why would that be your job?"

"cause im a responsible sexual partner and we're seeing each other, i figure?"

he flushes at the implication. he doesn't want to think about it as he cuddles himself into your side. ugh. whatever.

"who said that?"

"do you want me to see other people?"

"i'll kill you,"

"that's what i thought,"

scaramouche hates it but does not have the confidence to protest you.

scaramouche realizes with the weight of the world on his shoulders that he is the most submissive brat in the fucking world

he decides not to think about it for a while

#i edited it so much out i want to fuck the brat out of him im SORRRYYYYYYYY #scaramouche smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #writing tag

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valorkook · 1 year

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Milestones | j.jk

pairings: jeon jungkook x genderneutral!reader

type/warning: hospital!AU, doctor!jungkook, nurse!reader, romance, some fluff and angst on the side, tsundere!jungkook (cold, temperamental character), enemies-to-lovers trope, inaccurate depiction of hospital work environment, kind of inspired from Koi wa Tsuzuku yo Dokomademo and from my dreams lmao

word count: 6.5 k

summary: After you were transferred into a different hospital department, you’re still getting used to the two things that bothered you in the first place upon arrival; the scream and the cries the children would make when a nurse, like you, is approaching them every time. . . as well as the annoying yet handsome doctor who never fails to test your limits since day one, but you are not the kind of person that easily backs down from these new challenges. You convinced yourself that you’re headstrong, but does your heart lie on the same page as your mind?

prologue | part one | part 2

The jitters you began to develop while on your way to work today haven’t cease despite the amounts of deep breaths you took so early in the morning. The sun was only beginning to come up by the time you picked up your first cup of coffee in the nearby café, located less than a block away from the main building of the Severance Hospital, and yet it did nothing but increase the nervousness within you tenfold. The last time you remember feeling like this was when you were starting your first rotation as a licensed nurse, fresh from nursing school and was yet to hone the skills necessary in real-life work.

What one of your professors had told you was the truth; you ought to throw the things you learned in textbooks out of the window by the start of practicing your profession within the hospital setting.

And you were throwing every bit of studying you did last weekend, gone was your ability to recall the videos online that were supposedly helpful to refresh your memory regarding pediatric nursing as you embark on the same stairs you climb every morning. Except you’re about to take 30 steps more than usual, and you only got a second glimpse of the grand doors of the maternity unit then taking a turn left to do 15 steps more before landing on the third floor of the hospital. The whole floor housing the pediatric unit.

Gone are the usual beige walls that covered the majority of the hospital’s interior when you stepped into the main hallway of the your new ward. Instead of the aforementioned color, the walls on both of your sides were now covered with more than just one pigment. Animated fishes of different varieties were painted atop the waves that went on and on until the end of the corridor. It’s like visiting a marine park in Seoul where aquarium windows reach from floor to ceiling, though the fishes are unmoving.

You took a sip from your cup hastily when you arrived in the nurses’ locker room, where you’re about to change into scrubs but you left your tongue burning in the process. The usual pink and white patterned uniform was not present in your designated locker and was replaced with a colorful, confetti-like patterned top and plain navy pants to match the background of your scrub shirt.

It was awful, you internally groaned as you grabbed it out from its hanger.

The time was 6:20 AM when you stepped out of the changing room, and most of the crowd that filled the quarters reduced to merely two people which made you panic a little. Compared to the former ward you worked from, it wasn’t until quarter to seven that you’re about to start knowing the patients you will have for the day based on the hand-off report from the previous nurse in shift. But now, not only you were lost in place, but also lost in time and orientation.

This was not what you discussed yesterday over the phone with Ms. Jung, the head nurse of this pediatric unit. In reality, the conversation you had with her did not even reach this topic; the unspoken rules that only exist exclusively in this ward.

You brushed off any stray hairs that lingered in front of your sight before you gulped down the rest of your coffee—which is still quite hot, by the way—and zoomed out of the room and towards the back doors of the nurses’ station.

“Oh, here’s our new addition to this ward!” a person who wears the same scrubs as yours, presumably a nurse like you, called the attention of those who are within the spacious station. The walls were painted a light blue tone, with no patterns that matched the design of the walls of the corridor. The main oval table in the middle of the station was filled with amounts of files and papers stacked and clipped into binders for each patient that is currently confined in the ward. Little to no pens did not litter the surface at all, as those can be found in the clutch of other healthcare staff or safe within the deep pockets stitched into their uniforms.

After scanning briefly the area for no more than seven seconds, you turned your body towards where the sound of the voice came from. At one of the corners of the station, where the computers are located at the table below the receiving counters, stood a man in front of it. No doubt another nurse as he adorns the same uniform, but your eyes were mesmerized at how he fits the scrubs.

Like he was built to become a pediatric nurse in the first place.

“Ms. Jung is currently busy at the back room.” he pointed behind him, not far off was a room separated by a blue curtain beside another entrance into the station. You noticed from his statement that he is not from the night shift but rather someone who will be joining you today. Hopefully, because you still feel like a lost kid at a grocery store.

He smiled, the whites of his eyes are nearly unrecognizable with the way it mimicked the curve of his lips, “I’m given the opportunity to guide you shortly before we start our rounds. Hello, I am Jimin, and welcome to the Pediatric ward!”

Jimin’s smile was infectious as your lips curved into a small smile, “Thank you for the greetings, I am _____.”

Your interaction with him somewhat gained a few audiences in the station, most of them started to assess your presence as the new nurse in the unit. Out of all the schedules of shifts you were allowed to choose, you rather chose the morning shift as your body clock was accustomed to waking up early.

But you don’t know that deep within the thoughts of others, especially those who are about to start the hand-off report to the next nurses in shift that will accompany you today, that you were brave to choose the hectic mornings that you will have from here on end.

Not far from the station, some footsteps began to trudge their way through the still empty hallways of the pediatric ward. While you were oriented by nurse Jimin with the location of different instruments used and restocked in the medical carts, the other nurses were starting to exchange information before the shift officially starts, before the doctors officially made their presence known in the station, waiting for nurses to instantly report the progress of each of their patient’s health and well-being.

The increased number of pediatric patients since last year was done with the strict routine that a doctor has applied on his team of healthcare professionals. With the emphasis on the word professionals, he meant that those who have gained their license to practice healthcare and can easily understand the instructions he would dictate without another repetition. He’s the kind of doctor who is passionate about treating each of his patients but refuses to show even a drop of empathy towards his team.

That is admirable, so to say. To see a doctor who’s not slacking off and is concerned with the individual needs of his patients, especially since his clients are children spanning from days old to weeks, up until to those teenagers who are a day away from turning 18. Yes, they’re still placed within the pediatric ward if they are even hours away from their 18th birthday. It’s hospital policy.

“Over there are computer carts, though there’s only four as we’re still in the phase of turning from paper documents to electronic medical records.” Jimin explained the situation on the large table in the center,

“Though there is one doctor who prefers the use of those computer carts, so you have to learn it within this day. I’ll—” he stopped to duck under the built-in table, beneath the computers installed on the station desks where you peek down to find pocketbooks lined up, “Here are the manuals, and I’d really love to show you how they work but I’ll have to receive my shift hand-offs right now before they come.” The orientation for you came to a halt when he mouthed you an apology, pointing at Ms. Jung who seemed to be unoccupied with any work at the moment.

The curtains have been drawn open by the time you meet head nurse Jung, who greeted you with a warm smile, “My apologies, I have been busy filing necessary papers but now I can continue where we—or you and Jimin left off.”

“Oh, he was about to show me how the computer attached to those carts works.” you keened, showing a manual on your grip as you begin to flip the pages.

“They nearly have the same user interface as what we use within the ward, but it gets kind of tricky to link the data input into the devices in this station. Come with me and I’ll show you how it works.” Ms. Jung was quick to approach the carts while you made a segue to throw your empty cup into the appropriate trash bin.

Though while booting up the computer, instead of focusing your mind towards the instructions shown on the pocketbook, you were rather distracted by the footsteps that approached you. Or the station, for that matter.

“Good morning Dr. Jeon!” Ms. Jung called for the tall man wearing a doctor’s typical white coat, his side profile was what attracted your sight to him instead of the bright light emitting from the screen of the computer beside you and your head nurse. Finally, he turned his head towards yours when you saw him completely.

God, he looks too young to be a doctor expert in his chosen specialty. There were nearly no blemishes that covered his face, no evidence of what struggles and stress he had faced during his internship. In fact, his youthful face, accentuated by the shape, seems like those who are about to start their residency. Fresh from med school, all-knowing kind of doctor.

Ms. Jung sensed that you two were focused on each other when she continues to speak, “This is our n--”

With one glance at your ID pinned at the side of your scrubs, he finally talked in a monotonous tone, “You, nurse _____. Let’s start the rounds.”

Both you and Ms. Jung were dumbfounded from his statement, though it didn’t last a minute and she started to convince him to give you time to adjust into this new atmosphere, “But doctor, I was about to orient them with how things run in the morning. Catered to what every other nurse this shift is accustomed to,” somehow, her words were lacking information. What routine do nurses have in this unit? Does it differ from what you’re used to?

He only cleared his throat, “I presumed they came from another unit, yes?” the head nurse confirmed immediately, “then they knew what they’re doing in this hospital. Choose a cart and let’s go.”

You stammered, “I-I, uh…” you hesitantly grabbed onto the bar of the cart, keeping the pocketbook inside one of its free compartments before catching up to the hasty doctor who’s leading the way down the corridor.

Back in the station, another nurse named Seulgi caught the sudden interaction between you and him near the entrance of the station, a wave of goosebumps appeared on her body as she gathering her mint green clipboard filled with the hand-off reports she was supposed to relay to you before Doctor Jeon arrived. She didn’t expect that he would be strutting earlier than his expected time.

She ran off of her seat in front of the computer, hoping to catch you and him still in the corridors before you enter a patient’s room.

If you were to describe Dr. Jeon in one word, it would be cold. . . or cold-looking, if that’s even a word that any online dictionaries would confirm. One look at his face would tell you that he’s serious, like he hasn't had a cup of coffee nor a bun of bread to eat this morning. He doesn’t participate in any chit-chat much like the other doctors in this hospital. Most of the doctors you interact with are pleasant to participate in little talks, whether it concerns the patient’s health or simply about your personal life. Though with him, it was hard to initiate conversation at first glance.

You can see from the stitch embroidered above the chest pocket of his white coat, displaying his full name as Jeon Jungkook, MD. Weirdly for you, it sounds familiar.

Is he the most known doctor in this hospital? Is he the one responsible for the influx of--

“I suggest you stop daydreaming and start assessing the vitals of patient 325.” Jungkook, or Dr. Jeon rebuked. His left arm was still holding the door wide open for you and your cart to go inside. He’s only demanding for vitals yet he made you push the trolley from the station.

Thankfully, your routine of putting your handheld equipment in the pockets of your scrub and hanging the stethoscope over your neck made it easier for you this moment from embarrassing yourself. Placing the cart onto the side of the room, you approached the patient who seemed to be coiling himself in the arms of his mother. Seemingly scared to see a new face.

The tone of your voice shifts to a gentle one as you show the kid what you have in your pockets. Regretful to only pack 3 mint candies for you to consume later on, instead of buying any lollipops to give. While you were busy tending to the child, Dr. Jeon was already conversing with what you assumed to be the father of the child at the couch next to the bed. The mother joins soon after.

“Schedule another blood count for the patient later, I want the results by tomorrow so the family can prepare themselves for discharge. And--” he paused, seeing you only using a tickler and a pen, “why are you not inputting my orders into the computer?”

“I’ll attempt to encode it soon,” you tried to reason

“Don’t you know how computers work?” he disputed, right in front of the family of the patient. You feel embarrassed, like someone poured a bucket full of cold water over your body yet all you could feel was tears threatening to spill from your eyes at that moment.

It was an unnecessary outburst that he exhibited, much less in front of his patient as you blinked once, twice before you bowed yourself in front of the patient before leaving the room, dragging the cart from behind as you pulled the door open. A flustered Seulgi was waiting just outside the door when you stepped out.

“I should’ve approached you since you entered the station earlier, I didn’t know he would be choosing you to accompany him so quickly.” She managed to tell you, slightly out of breath from running after you, “I’m Seulgi by the way.”

You cleared your throat before replying, “I’m _____. Can you try to catch me up with the reports? As well as this one,” you gestured to the cart you’re still holding. Seulgi was quick to nod, immediately opening her mouth and pointing to and from the monitor prior to reporting the patients you will be handling today.

“You weren’t supposed to be accompanying Dr. Jeon during the rounds this morning, I thought they were still Dr. Park’s patient and yet she hadn't shown up in the station earlier.” she explained.

A tsked from behind startled you and her, “I am pretty sure I had informed our head nurse Ms. Jung about that,” Dr. Jeon said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I never knew the experienced nurse who entered our unit is apparently not equipped enough in what we’re dealing with here.”

You took a deep breath before responding calmly, “With all due respect, I believe that I am perfectly capable to handle the workflow in this ward Dr. Jeon. If only you allowed me a little time to be oriented with the equipment you used here.” you gestured to the cart, “I am fine with being scolded for my wrongdoings, but doing that in front of the patient looks unprofessional on our part. Especially yours, doctor.” you continued, seeing his facial expression falter for a second, then disappearing as if he’s not guilty of what has occurred. First day of your work in this ward and you’re already looking forward to going home, and perhaps going back to the maternity ward sooner than you planned.

No way you’re letting anyone, much less a doctor, undervalue your skills that you developed over time. “You should know the demands of every patient prior to arriving in this unit, nurse _____. We suffer from the shortages due to incompetence from our former staff and I don’t want you to become a deadweight for us, tarnishing the reputation we built as well as the lives we’ve saved.” he huffed, his eyes glaring at yours for a few seconds.

“I won’t be a deadweight, I can assure you that.” you vowed, tightening your grip over the trolley.

“Or you won’t last another day.” he added to your statement, then he turned around and proceeded to walk away from where you and Seulgi were still standing. She only cheered you in a whispered tone, as excessive noise is prohibited in the hallways, before she trudged back to the station.

You went off to follow the footsteps of the doctor in front of you, being aware of what you’re about to prepare for the next patient. You believed that he’s doing rounds according to the chronological order of his patients’ rooms, and so you flipped over the paper of the next patient.

During the course of the rounds, there was tension between you and him. Though you were able to answer the questions he threw at you, he was still hostile with you. Maybe he’s like that with everyone except his patients. Head nurse Jung managed to see you from afar, walking a few feet apart from Dr. Jeon as you recognized the guilt and the pending apology she would give you through her eyes.

Truth to be told, Ms. Jung knew how ruthless Dr. Jeon can be. It was a mistake on her part to not check her emails from time to time as she missed the email from Dr. Park sent yesterday about how she would be taking a day off, never knowing that he would be the one to treat her patients in her behalf today.

By the time head nurse Jung was finished explaining the reason you were too early to face the most demanding doctor in their unit, he was long gone from the station. Finding no purpose to stay as Dr. Jeon already managed to see you inputting the data, which means it would appear right on his laptop when he comes back to his office.

“You see how he’s like a phantom lurking around until he makes his presence known when you make a mistake.” Nurse Jimin teased while you and him were on a short lunch break, “though I applaud you for standing up to him, other nurses around here gossiped at how he was the reason for the staff shortages we’re experiencing in this ward.”

You tilt your head in question, “Why would he be?”

“Some of us here are kind of afraid of him, you see how he’s gentle with his patients and their relatives yet he treats others terribly, like how he was earlier with you.”

“How did you know---”

“Word travels fast, I guess.” he chuckled before taking a bite from his lunch. With a mouthful of food, he still replied, “Seulgi heard the commotion, the doors here can only muffle sounds but we can recognize his voice whenever Jungkook is aggravated.”

“Are you close to him?” you asked.

“Yeah, we attended the same nursing school.” Jimin casually replied.

You gasped, “wait, he’s also a nurse?”

“Yep, that is why he can criticize our work from time to time. Though he applied for medical school right after we got our license.” Jimin was quick on consuming his meal, now already packing his lunch boxes splayed onto the small coffee table in the lounge room tucked behind the station.

No more than a minute and he spoke, “It was nice talking with you, _____!” and waved his hand goodbye before he was off to continue his tasks before his shift ended. Which leaves you alone to yourself, perhaps with some other nurses whom you had yet to meet or introduce yourself personally.

The awkward atmosphere after Jimin left returns. And now you attempt to consume the rest of your packed lunch so you can start medical administrations towards your patient. You recalled earlier at how head nurse Jung would make the effort, insisting you to let her assign you to other patients that are not handled by Dr. Jeon, but you kindly declined since you are becoming accustomed to the needs of those patients. Not mentioning how you are determined to prove him wrong by successfully doing the tasks delegated to you, as well as adding your own insights that may be helpful in determining the prognosis of every patient assigned to you and him.

The empathetic side of you was quick to forgive his actions earlier, call it the attitude that you essentially developed back in nursing school. You never once doubted your ability when you started working in this hospital, and your evaluation forms from your former head nurse can prove that. As head nurse Jung has told you, you were still about to learn the difference of workflow that you established back in the maternity ward with what you’re currently grasping in their unit. You were never meant to work with him on your first day here, perhaps on day three with what she has scheduled for you and the other nurses in the morning shift.

You were glad to have Jimin and Seulgi, though she was long gone when you finished your rounds with Dr. Jeon. . . and the fact that she’s quite the blabbermouth with what has transpired between you and him travelled so quickly, from one mouth and ear to another.

The rest of your shift was peaceful, to say the least. You guessed that Dr. Jeon won’t drop by until later after your work so you were busy compiling documents needed to be printed and filed according to the patient’s medical information, as well as making discharge plans with other patients that are bound to be leaving the hospital the next day. Your hands were aching to a point where you keep shaking them from the pain that radiates through your fingertips, and time seemed to pass by when you saw that it was already 15 minutes since the end of your shift.

Most of the nurses you recognize earlier in the morning, including Jimin, are nowhere to be found at this time. They must’ve given their hand-off reports earlier before the time struck 14:00. While you were busy, you were beginning to proceed with your own reports towards the next nurse in shift.

“It’s your first day and you’re handling Dr. Jeon’s behavior,” nurse Nari, the one who’s about to take over your patients in the afternoon till evening, mused. “How was he?”

“Tolerable” you mumble, afraid that he might hear you even though he was still not in the nurses’ station.

She laughed only in return, “Oh he was intolerable for me on my first day here, but soon enough he softened up to me.”

You raised your brows, “Are you and him. . ?”

Nari shifted to full-on giggling, “No! But maybe someday when he’s ready to start his love life, I might do a little flirting here and there. For now, he’s focused on being a doctor full-time; he never bothered to go out on dates and he’s always found in his office at any time of the day.”

You hummed with the information she has revealed to you, though at first you couldn’t care less about the little deets about his personal life. Silence lingers for a bit before you continue to wrap up your work for today, “It was nice talking to you, Nari.”

“You too, _____.” She smiled before waving you goodbye as you were off to find head nurse Jung, itching to go back home in the apartment you are renting two blocks away from Severance hospital.

A week has passed since you started to continue your nursing practice in the pediatric ward. So far, you have set up a routine you follow religiously that enables you to finish all of your work on time. Though there are still a few things that you’re still getting used to,

The first is children who cry when you’re just about to give them syrup medications daily, and the second is the most demanding doctor that ever existed in this ward. . . or rather in this hospital. Although you cannot make a concise statement when you haven’t attempted to transfer to other facilities in this institution other than the maternity and pediatric unit.

There are moments where you see him in a good light; Dr. Jeon Jungkook’s attempt to give a small smile to other staff (or in this case it was just the head nurse and Jimin) and only hummed whenever you give your suggestions pertaining to the well-being of the patients you two were handling every day. Oftentimes you see him in a bad light; a short-tempered doctor who’s trying hard to tolerate other nurses’ attempts at providing a satisfactory result that reaches his criteria or whatever standard he has curated on his own and for the others to follow.

You haven’t had the time to figure out what kind of level he expects others to reach, considering that you were not always assigned to him. With the way the head nurse mixes up the assignments so you could take a breather from him, and for every nurse to ensure the quality of their work is up to what he wants in this unit. You see, you were late to find out that he’s newly appointed head of the pediatric department by the time you entered the ward last week, which only means that the internal pressure he has clearly elevated to satisfy not only the patients but also the administration of the hospital.

Gossips inside the ward would say that he’s working much harder than every other doctor in this institution to chase one thing, and that is to become the medical director of this whole institution. He has no time to create a network of influential people when his name alone can create a buzz in this place, no matter what department or ward you’re currently in.

A loud clang of what you assumed are clipboards surrounded the ward so suddenly, snapping your focus from what you were currently typing on the computer when you hear the hushed scolding coming from the nook of the station. With the days you spent recognizing others’ faces and voices, you ought to know that Dr. Jeon was hot-headed today and he’s tormenting yet another staff member late in the morning.

It was a miracle that he was not popping blood vessels when he has a hard time controlling his emotions from bursting like a balloon. Not long and head nurse Jung was quick to rescue another damsel from getting an earful from Dr. Jeon, like the way you experienced on your first day. You didn’t bother to look behind to see the commotion happening behind the curtains until someone tapped your shoulders.

You looked around to see head nurse Jung, a kind smile adorning her features before gesturing towards Dr. Jeon, who was hasty in checking the charts from the clipboards containing his patients’ profiles. You knew the look she was giving you when you stood up from your seat and approached the grumpy doctor at his seat from the other side of the station.

With the professional front you’ve practiced every night every time you’re about to face him, you asked “Are there other tasks you want me to take over for nurse Gaeul?”

He only sighed before looking up at your face. A tired look replaced his usual features before he glanced back at the computer, “Just keep an eye on patient 302 every 15 minutes, report to me when her temperature increased above 38 degrees celsius. Also, check her heart rate.”

You only offered a single reply of agreement before fetching the patient’s paper chart in one of the clipboards he’s currently looking at next to his laptop. While your hands are about to made contact with the rigid plastic covering, Dr. Jeon was quick to grab your wrist. “Record it on a new paper, nurse _____.”

His tone of voice was distant to the usual sound emitting from his mouth on a daily basis. It was smoother, a tone of softness lingers when he talked to you today compared to other days. Or is it just his voice he’s using when he was sucked out of energy to do nearly anything productive for a while.

You only commented, “Seems like you’re tired, when did you last step out of this hospital Dr. Jeon?”

Although you attempted making small talk, he felt like doing otherwise. “None of your business.”

“Okay.” you awkwardly replied, fleeing from the station after you mumble your apologies towards him. You hoped that no one heard of it except you and him, while he remained unresponsive in his seat with his right hand massaging his temples after you trudge your way out of the station.

It was after you submitted your charts when you thought you would see the last of him, now that you’re given a day off from working tomorrow. You only hoped that the apartment above yours would settle down from making too much noise during your free time, you were generous enough to give them a few days (3 days would suffice in your own opinion) to completely move their stuff into the building. You didn’t know your new neighbors yet, but you were confident to assume that the people above your floor are the new tenants as the apartment has been vacant for a while.

You took a shower when you arrived back home. Your slumped posture welcoming the warm shower, sighing in relief with the perfect temperature as you felt yourself getting sleepy in the process. A nap after this would appease your free schedule, containing no plans to even step outside and socialize with your friends who are working in other parts of Seoul city.

Though your plans didn’t go to plan when you realized you forgot to take out yesterday’s trash. Now clad within your pajamas at 18:00, you begrudgingly picked up the plastic bags lying at the little foyer of your apartment and wore your sandals lying on the steps. You approached the elevators at the end of the dimmed hall, pressing the button going down as you patiently waited for the doors to open.

You nearly dropped the trash bags in your clutch when you saw a familiar face greeting your sight when the doors swung open. Inside the elevator stood Jimin, whose hair was still wet and was also holding recyclable trash on his forearms. A smile grew on both of your faces when you recognized each other.

“I didn’t know you lived here?!” you exclaimed during the elevator ride down the building.

He replied, “Well, we just moved in days ago. We’re residing on the 5th floor.”

“Don’t tell me you’re the one who’s been moving stuff in the middle of the night.” you mused, to which he only shyly rubbed his neck probably in embarrassment.

“We’re sorry about that,”

You shook your head, “No worries though, welcome to the building!”

The elevator doors opened by the time you finished your small talk, but deep inside you were hoping to chat more with him as he has become a close friend of yours since day one. Compared to what you are currently wearing, Jimin seems to be preparing to go somewhere with the way he’s wearing a nice outfit; donning a striped shirt with black jeans and boots to compliment his figure. It was a miracle to still be fit despite the stress you and him are facing nearly every morning.

“By the way, we’re going out to celebrate our moving in. Perhaps you want to join?” he told you while taking both of your time walking towards the back of the building, where the trash segregation is done manually. You instantly nodded in agreement, granting your wish to hang out with him at least once outside of work.

“We,” you wondered, “who did you move in with? Is it your significant other?”

A chuckle left his throat only, almost as if he’s too shy to reveal who it is. “Well, I think you know who it is. I have been living with him though it feels like I’m the one who always occupies the apartment because he’s not home most of the time.”

“He. . . who is he? Jungkook?” you joked, while Jimin’s glance was focused behind your figure.

“What’s funny about my name, miss _____?” Jungkook, once again, made himself known in the worst way possible. You nearly choked in your own spit, eyes widening in astoundment with your reply answering Jimin’s words.

“Nothing doc-- I mean sir,” you coughed, “Jungkook-ssi. Welcome to the building you two.” You quickly strode away from them towards the glass door entrance of the back of the building.

While you wanted to cower away for the rest of the night, Jimin never failed to remind you when and where you two (and Jungkook, apparently) will meet for dinner. “Let’s meet down at the lobby in an hour, _____.”

You only raised your right arm, with your hand gesture agreeing to the arrangement.

As the time arrived, you were clad from your sleepwear to wearing a simple shirt and jeans to dinner. They were precisely on time when you found them in the lobby once the elevator you’re in arrived on the ground floor. Compared to the usual white coat and formal outfit that adorns Jungkook’s frame, his outfit for tonight consists of loose clothing that barely compliments his figure yet screams comfortability.

“Tell us when you’re done ogling at me because I’m hungry.” he snapped you out of your thoughts while looking smug. If he weren’t that handsome you could’ve smacked him--

Rather, you quickly averted your gaze towards his companion by his side, “You look great, Jimin.”

A huff was barely inaudible from the only doctor in the group before exiting the building first, leaving you and Jimin to initiate the conversation on your own. Though he didn’t fail to include Jungkook into the talk, his responses were clipped to a few words only before resorting to silence. He was consumed with the handheld device in his palm most of the time, while simultaneously walking along the pavement.

“Is he always that cold and harsh when meeting strangers?” You can’t help but ask Jimin who’s walking by your side.

He replied to your question after looking cautiously at the man walking a few feet away from the two of you, “Not always, though he has the ability to sense those who are trying to score a date with him after their initial conversation with him.”

“So he doesn’t do relationship?”

Jimin shook his head, looking back at Jungkook who did not make any attempt to remark about his roommate’s statement. “As far as we have lived together, he has never brought a date back home in the last few years.”

The amount of pork belly you and Jungkook had grilled over later was not quantifiable with your fingers, but you three were still not incoherent enough to count the number of soju bottles that you have drunk during the span of dinner. You were still safe from stumbling your way back home with them. As much as your mind could still absorb the events tonight, you were still capable of comparing the sudden shift in Jungkook’s behavior as it was influenced by the alcohol content of the beverage.

Your vision could barely capture how he looked tonight after drinking; red-faced and the creases between his brows were nowhere to be found. His eyes were bigger, brighter than the usual sharp stare that your set of eyes meet nearly every morning. The conversation you barely made through with him was now flowing at ease, effectively getting to know each other even though there’s a big possibility that you might forget about it when you wake up the next day.

“Does baby fever exist among the staff in the maternity ward?” Jimin curiously asked out of the blue, which made you choke on the soju shot you’re currently taking. Meanwhile, Jungkook only laughed drunkenly in response.

“I don’t know how to answer that, but in my experience, I hadn’t thought of it. I mean, babies are cute when they’re still babies, not when they enter the age of 18 months.”

Jimin hummed, still looking sober among the three of you despite drinking the same amount of alcohol, “Well, what convinced you to join the pediatric unit. Knowing that you’re aware of the ages of the patients we’re treating?”

Okay. That was a hard question. Rather than replying first, you pick up another slice of grilled pork to eat and ponder more about your answer. The truth can inevitably cause a feud with the involved departments, good thing you have an ounce of sobriety within you at that moment.

“Is it because of me, huh? You haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me--” Jungkook smugly replied.

You interrupted him with a scoff, “Get off your high horse, I didn’t know you even exist until I saw your stupid face that morning!” Jimin only laughed when his roommate’s face became stern, with a pout that only appears when he’s had enough alcohol in his system.

“How is my face stupid!? Children adore me whenever they see me, but with you, they suddenly cry. This face is the reason many people want me. How about you, huh?” Jungkook retorted, his voice slurring more than ever.

You were about to answer back when Jimin suddenly covered your mouth and Jungkook’s, “You two had enough for tonight, even when you’re drunk you’re still getting on each other’s nerves. And you can’t use your normal voices, we’re not in a bar with booming music to raise your voices!”

Jungkook still tried to respond, even if the sounds were muffled to the point that you can’t comprehend the words he was saying but you were sure that he’s insulting you behind Jimin’s hand. Though it seemed funny at first for Jimin to see how the two of you are acting, he was worried after the bad looks you two were gaining inside the restaurant.

“I think it’s time we head back home, you guys.” You couldn’t agree more, wanting to make Jungkook disappear from your sight at that moment.

#bts #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fics #bts fluff #bts angst #kpop #kpop fics #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #doctor!jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst

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kafus · 3 months

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ok i am gonna share that nightmare i had yesterday actually. tw for a variety of topics including cults, attempted murder of a young child, kind of barely an age gap relationship between a younger child and a teenager, gun violence, listen it was crazy i have no idea what my sleeping brain was cooking. i should not have to say this about a nightmare i had while unconscious but to be clear i don't ENDORSE any of these topics IRL or some bullshit like that

also this nightmare involved pokemon horizons characters for some reason so if you watch the pokemon anime and don't want to hear about hypothetical nightmare scenarios of very AU things happening to them i would also avoid

so i'm setting the stage here. as far as i can tell i was just normal me in this dream (notable because i am usually Not "just me" in my dreams) but i was a teenager again instead of a 24 year old. i was living in a large multi-story house with the main cast of pokemon horizons (everyone on the brave asagi), and like a few other people not from horizons but they don't really matter. the dream timeskipped through a lot of years of me living there, like i had been there for a while.

despite me saying the cast of horizons was there my brain was very pick and choosey with what actual character traits or recognizable features remained of these characters other than their names/general appearances. importantly liko was a good bit younger than her anime appearance, not sure of her exact age but like, elementary school. she was Extremely chronically ill with some sort of undefined illness my brain made up, i guess. she lived in the basement of the house and was totally bedridden Most of the time, as to survive she had to constantly be hooked up to a somewhat bulky machine. she could be off of it for very brief periods but to get around anywhere, that machine had to come with her. she was generally way more timid and also way more woozy and relied on everyone for care.

^ like imagine her but even smaller and very sickly constantly. if you have never watched pokemon horizons lol

^ the main other person i interacted with was amethio who was probably the most recognizable - similar personality, though it was probably what i'd imagine him to be like after a hypothetical redemption arc, still irritable and brooding but like, he has a soft side. me and him were around the same age here (14?) and we were the main two watching after liko. he was like?? in love with liko??? my brain really never acknowledged the age gap here it was just normal and no one thought anything of it. that being said that's not something he expressed directly to her and they weren't in a relationship

anyway so the major thing here is that this household was pretty much a small cult. isolated from the outside world, general actual cult shit, but also we had some sort of belief we were all indoctrinated into by the higher up adults that liko had to Die at a specific time and date, i don't remember if it was for sacrificial reasons or if a reason was even provided in the dream at all, but tldr me and amethio were expected to unplug her life support stuff without her knowing and let her die with the assumption that she would be too woozy or confused to do anything about it herself. after a lot of implied bonding with her i was expected to pretty much murder a child. suffice to say this was horrifying

we actually did the deed and like halfway through watching liko's energy fade i started thinking like. wait. why am i doing this. i know that liko is supposed to die, but is she really? am i really doing the right thing? watching her die is awful. i've cared for her so much for years and i don't want her to die. so in the middle of all of this i take amethio aside (he was off in another room because he didn't want to watch liko suffer, i was taking the role of making sure it happened) and i'm like. amethio why are we doing this. you love her right. you love liko so you don't want her to die. i don't want to kill her. and he's like. Fuck you're right this is insane i don't care about the past however many years i cannot let liko die. so we agree to plug her life support stuff back in and confront the rest of the house

after ensuring liko was hooked back up and starting to recover, i made my way upstairs to confront the adults in the house while amethio worked on getting her out of there safely, and like. holy shit.

NEVER THOUGHT I'D HAVE ANY SORT OF DREAM/NIGHTMARE WHERE FRIEDE FROM POKEMON HORIZONS TRIES TO LITERALLY KILL ME, but i GUESS this is the life i'm leading now. i was like dude why are we killing liko you can't just make me kill a child i'm sorry and his positive demeanor quickly turned sour and the rest of the dream devolved into a blur of confusing violence, one because i was being chased after multiple fully grown adults in the body of a teenager, both by violent pokemon and like, literal guns, i was being shot at, and also because from here on out the dream started heavily deteriorating, like it became more weird and less linear and stuff that didn't make sense was happening. i never knew what ended up happening to amethio and liko because in a particularly close bout of violence i suddenly woke up sweating/shaking/heart pounding. and then after i caught my breath and realized i was awake i was just like. HELLO???????? WHAT THE FUCK?????

idk the last time i had a dream this vivid much less one this off the walls. i keep thinking about it cause like, due to Reasons if i'm dreaming about liko, especially as someone in such a vulnerable and awful position, that probably means something/pertains to my personal real life trauma, like the general aura of this dream read as a ptsd nightmare to me, but fuck if i'm gonna be able to parse all that today i have no idea what the fuck any of this means. i'm just losing my shit. especially because i went back to sleep afterwards and had another dream about pokemon horizons characters but it was literally just cute shit where i was liko and in a relationship with dot high school AU style and we were hanging out after class. like the complete tonal whiplash is so fucking funny. why on earth did my brain make the most wildly contrasting pokemon fanfictions of all time while i was asleep. helpppp

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #I HOPE SOMEONE FINDS THIS INTERESTING #AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS DREAMS ARE JUST SUPER INTERESTING?? ANYWAY

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1d1195 · 5 months

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JUST PICK A DAY TO CHOOSE WHAT UNHINGED NOTE I WORTE LOL

Spanish is technically my first language! But honestly at this point I would say that I’m just shit at both languages lol and you’re not lame! If you never really needed it or found interest in a new language then that’s okay! Learning it can be hard! And that is so cool youre helping your student with math at least! Rooting for that kid bc math is already hard enough 😭

Omg I looked up the book and it IS giving major Made to Be vibes!!!!! Made to Be holds such a special place in my heart like I remember just being so sad for the MC and just wanting them ti be so happy with each other :( ugh I love that story!!! But if it was mixed with Love and Dryer Sheets vibe I GET THE STRESS!! And I do hope you read a less stressful book soon lol what’s been your favorite you’ve read this year?

Also I’m 20! And I’m studying clinical psychology! I guess I’m Pre-Med but honestly I don’t think it will be my vibe anymore lol And yeah I’ve always lived on the west coast and I’ve been able to stay here for college! -💜

Ma'am, you send me anything you feel like sharing. I'm sure it will be wonderful--but know that it will totes be alluded to in one of my writings if you do.

I definitely had no interest in learning a second language but now I wish I did. Especially Spanish. I took French in high school and I may as well have not taken it at all. I think she'll do okay, I just feel like a bad teacher because she's not getting math right away. Ya know? Which is not how the whole English language immersion works, I know. But I can't imagine being in a classroom where you don't understand a word. And expected to learn on top of that. Ugh.

I loved writing Made to Be. It was the kind of meet-cute love I dreamed about when I was studying to be a teacher 😊

I have The Christmas Wager staring at me from the coffee table rn. It's an enemies to lovers story and obvi holiday themed. I'm thinking it will be a cute read for this Christmas season 😊 Hopefully stress free!

My favorite book of the year. Oof that's a tough one! I read some really good ones this year! I think like cute and easy reads, Love & Other Words by Christina Lauren was the BEST. On the more serious side of things--The Rose Code by Kate Quinn. A little fun fact about me: every time I walk into Barnes and Noble I pick up at LEAST one book set during WWII. It's one of my fave eras tbh. Eventually I would want to do a Harry themed story about WWII. The Rose Code is one such kind of book. Kate Quinn is a great author, period. I've read 3 of her books and have two more on my shelf.

ANYWAY. That's my book reading summary this year.

Omg you're 20 😭 I feel ancient now and I don't usually do! I gravitate toward younger friends though (the mom-friend in me) So you'll be 21 this February!? 🍹🍹🍹 Super exciting, if so! I LOVED psychology. If you ever need a patient, I got plenty of stuff to work with here, just feel free to ask or test something out! 😭🙃😊 But good for you! Pre-med or not, your career will be really rewarding I'm sure! 💕 Same in this neck of the woods too. I'm an East Coast lady born, raised, and living here still!

Thanks for your answers and allowing me to ramble!

xoxo

#💜

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nightingalenightmare · 10 months

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Soft Blues

Here's somewhat of an older piece of mine. This went under some major revisions, I haven't posted this fanfic in years. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy ;)

Res~Leon Kennedy x OC reader

Chapter 1

The club was emptier than usual. Most nights Mel would get to perform for somewhat of a crowd, but for some reason this particular night was dead. Mel wandered to the bar, motioning for their bartender/boss, Justin, to pour her something to drink. “Not the kind of night I was hoping for.” Mel muttered.

Justin placed her drink down and leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry sweetheart. There’s not much I can do other than to send you home early.” Mel sighs as she rests her head on her arms. “How am I supposed to pay my way through school let alone rent if we keep getting dead nights? Maybe I’m just not cutting it anymore as a singer.”

“Now don’t go talking like that Mel. Businesses of all sorts are prone to slow days here and there. We’re only still open because of you. People come here because they love listening to you sing.” Justin takes Mel’s hands in his. “Don’t go putting yourself down. I’m going to close early tonight, so go home and get some sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

Mel nods in defeat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” Mel heads round back to retrieve her things. The night was chilly so Mel hugged her coat tightly as she walked home. None of her regulars came which saddened her. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for the musical arts. But she had to keep going. Had to keep trying, her dreams were the only thing that she had left.

The next night was a little better. Some of their regular’s trickled in throughout the hours. While taking a moment before her next set, Mel noticed someone she hasn’t seen before. He looked a little lost, a little out of place. And a bit lonely too. “Hey sugar,” She said in a sultry voice as she sat down across from him. “Why the long face?” The man looked up at her with the prettiest blue eyes she’s ever seen. He had this innocent doe look about him, that made it seem that he was too good for this world.

He stumbled with his words. “It’s nothing.” He said quietly, turning his attention to his drink. Leaning her head on her hand Mel sighs as she studies him. “Pretty boy like you shouldn’t be looking so down in the dumps. What brings you by?” He was silent for a long while, almost like he forgot she was there or asked a question. “I heard some things about this place. Thought I checked it out.”

He was definitely nervous. Mel found it cute. “Thanks for stopping by sugar. It’s always nice to see a new face.” Mel stands up to return to the stage. “Hope you get to stay a bit longer tonight. And maybe…I’ll see you around more often.” A few more songs later and Mel was off. The man she was talking too earlier watched her perform mesmerized. There was a sparkle of life in them that wasn’t there before. Seeing that reaction made Mel feel warm inside, made her love her job that much more.

For the next few days Mel saw him return, for a little longer each time. The same starstruck look in his eyes. He’d approach her between sets, before and after her shifts just to talk to her. They’d laugh in a small booth in a far corner swapping stories. “I’m Leon.” He said as he walked with her out into the cold night. “Mel.” Leon gave her a soft smile. “Can I walk you home Mel?” The way her name rolls off his tongue did something to Mel.

Mel nods. “I would like that. Thank you.” Their walk to Mel’s apartment seemed too short. Just as she was starting to really enjoy their conversation, her apartment came into view. “Well…this is me.” Mel said, sad that they now have to say goodbye. “Thank you again,Leon, for walking me home.” “It was my pleasure. Goodnight.”

Before Leon had a chance to turn and walk away, Mel lightly pulled on his coat sleeve. She stood on her toes placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Leon blushed at the gesture, placing the tips of his fingers on where she kissed him. He smiled gently before going home for the night. “Sleep well Mel.”

#resident evil #leon kennedy #oc #fanfic

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thatwitchrevan · 2 years

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So this isn't inspired by anything except that some of the dreams I've had lately involve hotels and I find that interesting and I just feel like talking about this: my weirdest trigger is hotels.

Obviously I'm talking about triggers and in this case anxiety and anxiety/panic attacks so please scroll if you're not up for reading that, but I'm gonna keep it pretty light and I'm not in any significant stress rn so don't worry.

So yeah, I'm triggered by hotels a bit. Mostly being in them rather than seeing images of motels or thinking about them, although the concept in abstract can kind of make me feel melancholy or dwell on upset feelings. And there's no distinction here between hotels or motels.

The reason is that when my parents split up, me and my brothers and mom stayed in a hotel for about a week while my dad moved his stuff out. It felt alien and wrong and sad and lonely. I was going thru Lots of Stuff. I had my first major panic attack while staying there, and overall I just hated it. I couldn't sleep, I hated going from there to school and having to pretend everything was fine, but I also didn't want to tell my school friends "yeah, my parents are getting divorced and we're living out of a hotel for a few days and I'm starting to become aware just how deeply messed up I am. Anyway what's up with you?"

I probably could've, but I kinda would rather die. So I'm dealing with all of this basically alone because my siblings are kids and my mom's my mom. So I got a very negative association with hotels.

The thing is, I generally like hotels. Both before and after this incident I've enjoyed staying in them, at least when they're nice. I usually don't sleep well in places that aren't home but there's so much novelty in staying in a hotel and I love traveling. When me and my mom went to New Orleans we stayed in a really nice, really old hotel that was just gorgeous, and I loved it. But I also feel just a little uneasy and sad every time I'm in one, even like 8 years later.

So it's interesting that my brain sometimes throws hotels at me in my dreams. It makes sense, I've got both good and bad associations with them.

Anyway, I bring this up partly because I like to ramble and partly because I think it's important to represent the fact that triggers are varied. Innocuous things can be triggers and different triggers will affect you differently. I've got some things I won't bring up or think about because they just always upset me, and I've got things that have the potential to make me anxious or depressed but can also be fine in the right circumstances/mindset, and I've got things that I've got to prepare myself for or do some quick self-soothing damage control to prevent an episode.

Human minds are complex! Therefore so are our triggers.

And to be clear this is not something I ever need or want anyone to tag for me or avoid talking about. I've been in hotels in the past year and been just fine, this is one of those things I've got a handle on and/or doesn't affect me that severely anymore. However I firmly believe it's okay if you do need to avoid innocuous triggers sometimes and it's okay to ask, within reason, for people to tag certain stuff for you, with the understanding that everyday things can't always be avoided or treated the same as more serious and urgent things. That's a whole discussion with a lot of nuance but bottom line is no one should ever be shamed for what triggers them.

Also hotels are both liminal spaces and super versatile settings for all kind of fiction and I'm into it.

#griffin's life #this is more of a ramble than a vent #altho i do think part of the reason I'm dreaming of hotels is because I'm in another transitional period #a pretty similar one to before actually #this time we've moved in with our dad #and I'm much older and much more in control right now #but change is still stressful #and it also makes me nostalgic

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apexart-journal · 2 months

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Mvelo Mahlangu in NYC, Day 7

I took this morning easy as I had some free time before going to SUNY Empire college to meet with Barrie about Labor Studies. I spoke with some friends back home just updating them on how my first week has gone. We’ve been joking about how I’ll go back home with the stereotypical accent, always using the example of requesting for “Water” (haha).

Since its also been a week, I’ve reflected on what its been like being away from my partner who I live with. While we definitely do miss each other's presence I’m enjoying this new experience of having too look after myself outside of sharing space with my mom or my partner. I can see what habits are mine and how they can be good or something to be improved on. I’ve definitely noticed that I can make time for everything while also being extremely punctual - which has been a great feeling.

I’m still a little bit thrown off by my realisation from last night, and have done some research of organisations I can join or volunteer at when I get back home.

Before meeting up with Barrie, I decided to make a quick stop at a Japanese convenience store called Ten Ichi Mart right by the Flatiron building. My nostalgia has definitely set itself in constantly buying Japanese foods that I haven't been able to access in South Africa. We usually have to get any Japanese ingredients from Chinese shops. Looking down at my map and realising I was standing next to the Flatiron Building was a little bit surprising because I had not taken notice of the building due to the construction and many scaffolding. But I took a couple steps back so I could properly see the building in its entirety and recognised its shape. Upon research, as one of NY’s oldest skyscrapers, it's interesting to see that it's gaining a second life in being converted from offices to apartments. Bringing me back to yesterdays activity of going to the Gracie Mansion, its crazy to think the many lives a structure can live, all based on the ideas of fleeting and relative moments in time - which then makes me wonder what the walls of New York must seen over the years.

I got to SUNY and met with Barrie. She was so warm, full of energy and amazingly looked familiar...which I then pinpointed and realised that she kind of looks like Ellen Pompeo (Meredith Grey - Grey’s Anatomy). We started talking about Labor Studies, the importance of the studies in relation to the Unions, and what her role has been in the College. Barrie has established the Art faculty within the Labor studies school, helping students use it as a tool while navigating the Labor movement. Through our conversation we spoke about women’s experiences in spaces mostly dominated by men, and what it meant having to deal with that in an industry that is also quite physically demanding.

Barrie also mentioned that majority of the students were working while studying and also looking after their families - so classes would usually go on up until the end of day.

I got to sit in on a class that was on the history of Labor in America (Which I had a slight idea of from my visit to MOCA), which then delved into the difference between indentured labourers and Slavery. Both yearn for the idea of a freedom that isn’t guaranteed. 1 signs a contract with a ‘freedom date', while the other has no choice and sees no signs of a ‘freedom date’. It definitely got me thinking again about the notion of the “American Dream” and the reality/ weight of what it means currently.

I stayed a little longer til the end of the class as I had some time before my next activity. I’m enjoying the process of having to plan my travel schedule ahead. My next stop was nearly an hour away. When I think of Bellydancing, one thing that comes to mind is the attire and lovely sound skirt that clinks due to hip movement. Do I think I could Bellydance? Absolutely no. It’s movements are so beautifully layered, my brain can’t connect which muscles should move what. Unlike my Line dancing class, Belly dancing follows a different beat/ flow pattern that I'm not used to or well versed in. Regardless, I'm on the mission to expose myself to discomfort. I got to the class, it was only me, the instructor and 2 other women. “Ahhhh! More discomfort in being so visible!” is what I thought. We started doing some foot work, then hip movements and putting a whole sequence together. My hips were definitely lying to me at this point, but it was refreshing immersing myself into such an unfamiliar body movement. It's such a beautiful and mesmerising form of expression. After the class, I spoke with the instructor, Kaitlin, for a few moments. I told her why I was here - which she found intriguing, shocked and happy that her class was selected to be on my calendar. Like Kaitlin, all other instructors or hosts leading the activities I’ve done so far have been so happy that their classes/ activities made it to my calendar.

#Mvelo Mahlangu #inbound from Johannesburg

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kryoymir · 1 year

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I dunno if anyone noticed but I didn't do the update this Monday. This is mostly because I changed my work schedule and I don't actually work Mondays anymore, which is usually when I would do it. Instead I went to a very boring meeting and then went out to lunch with a couple people above me in the company.

I don't have any news to share on the album, mostly because I had other things cooking all week that weren't related. Instead, I asked around and had some friends and family give me questions to answer. So I compiled them all here.

Q: What made you want to start music?

This is the quintessential question for all musicians, I think, and the one that I get asked the most. In middle school, I discovered some early Groundbreaking music that really spoke to me. It was super inspiring for me because electronic music wasn't all that much on my radar at the time aside from some bands that incorporated elements of it, but at the time I had never been exposed to something to heavily focused on electronics that I enjoyed to the degree that I did. I started doing some research into it and downloaded my first DAW, and from there it kinda blossomed into a passion.

Q: What's your inspiration for your music?

This is one I get I feel maybe a little more often than other musicians might, and for pretty good reason. My music has evolved into something that is vastly different from what I usually listen to in my free time, which leads a lot of people I know personally to ask what inspires it. And the truth is, I dunno! There's not a whole lot that I can point to and be like "I wanted to do this but in my own version".

Q: What genre do you think your music falls under?

I wanna be cool and say something like "I don't really indentify with a genre" or say I'm 'post-genre', but in reality the most succinct way to describe it is as synthpop.

Q: Can you play any instruments?

Uhh kind of. I have a passing familiarity with keyboard/piano and have taken enough guitar lessons that I do have a fairly decent technical knowledge, but I'm not good enough at either to incorporate it into my music aside from very, very rarely.

Q: Is there a piece you're proudest of?

As far as covers go, there's a few I continue to be impressed with. One-Winged Angel, Hyrule Castle, and Guilty Hero stand out in my opinion. With my original music, there's usually one major standout on each album, and they're normally the singles- if a song is released as a single I'm probably really proud of it. But to name a few, Light It Up!, Luminary, Between Dreams, and DOA are probably some of my favorites. And, not to hype myself up too much, but I'm really excited for the new album. Conversely, there's some that I've grown to dislike and almost regret putting out in the first place. The biggest one that comes to mind is Neverending Memory.

Q: Do you have a process?

No. Not one that's set in stone, anyway. It varies a lot from song to song but most often starts with me writing a melody I like and then building on it from there. I've started with a baseline, a beat, or once the breakdown and then I reverse-engineered how I wanted the rest of the song to sound from there.

Q: Have you ever written vocal music?

Yes! I have been in two bands where I was the primary lyricist but neither produced enough music to release it. I do still occasionally write lyrics and have plans to begin voice training in the future but for the moment I am sticking with instrumental music.

Q: Do you listen to your own music?

In my humble opinion, every musician should listen to their own music. I largely believe the first and most important target audience for any creative should be themselves. You should make media that you enjoy, and would willingly consume, which is why I do, in fact, listen to my music from time to time.

Q: How do you occupy your non-musical free time?

I'm an avid weeb and have been gaming a decent amount lately. I just finished the Dead Space remake, and am reading a large amount of Junji Ito manga I recently acquired. Some other hobbies of mine include cooking.

Okay, that's all the questions I got. If you've got any you would like asked you can either reply to this post or submit them. News on the new single coming soon.

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lunarticxenia · 3 years

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Moon Signs Pt. 2

Hi guys here’s part 2 of the moon sign series! After I post this, I’m going to be focusing more on answering your questions, I have a lot to answer. Thanks so much for all the support! Without further ado, here’s Libra through Pisces moons!

🌵Libra Moon: You guys LOVE attention, and you don’t even try to hide it LMAO. One of my good friends is a Libra moon and he literally loves to say outlandish things just to get a reaction from us and to get attention from us if we’re not talking to him enough in a conversation. Libra moons also love relationships and if underdeveloped they may feel incomplete without one. They can also be very dependent on their partner for happiness as well. However, they are romantic and in love with love. They’re also extremely sensitive and are very feminine. Even in men, it gives them a more feminine touch to their personality. They also hold their morals in very high regard. They have their set morals and won’t change them for anything or anyone. They also tend to hate conflict and usually shy away from confrontation. They’re also too nice, WAYYYYYY too nice. You guys need to be more assertive LMAO. They’re also extremely optimistic and if they don’t believe in that particular way they at least try to be optimistic with others. They’re always reminding you the glass is half full. Also, Libra moons are mad clingy. Even with those they’re not dating LMAO. My Libra moon friend whenever I try to leave the FaceTime Call, he’s like “Don’t go... :(”. They just love to be around the ones they love. They’re also in love with beauty, and all things beautiful in the world. They’re lovers of music, art, film, and literature. Libra moons also have a softness in their eyes, I can’t describe it. This girl I used to like has a Libra moon and her eyes were just so soft. They’re also extremely indecisive, they tend to flip flop between who they wanna be and what they wanna do. They also aren’t shy when it comes to compliments, they will compliment TF out of you. They’re the best hype man. They also put others before themselves a lot, and can be very shy upon first meeting them. However once they feel comfortable around you they open up. One last thing, I feel like they tend to like anyone who’s nice to them...don’t attack me. LMAO.

🌵Scorpio Moon: I feel like Scorpio moons have about ten different playlists relating to their emotions and still won’t open up to anyone about how they feel. Scorpio moons I feel have such intense emotions that they just don’t deal with them and they tend to implode after a while. I relate to them a lot in that respect tbh with my Sun square Moon, because that’s how I am. You guys are also super passionate and super creative. Every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been really creative in some way whether it be makeup, fashion style, or artwork. I’ve also noticed that this is a very alluring placement, there’s this intriguing way about them, and like Aries Moons, they have a fire in their eyes. Their gaze is INTENSE. They’re also very selective with who they let close to them, they don’t let just anybody in. They’re also very good at reading other people and seeing people’s true intentions. They have an extremely good intuition. If underdeveloped this can be used to manipulate other people, as well as being compulsive liars. Scorpio moons are also very protective over the ones they love. If you mess with anyone they care about, they will kill you. End of story. Also I feel like every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been through the wringer, like they’ve really had some hard experiences, it’s so sad to me. Scorpio moons are also extremely stubborn, remember this is a fixed sign. Scorpio moons ain’t playing, once they’ve settled on something, they’re not budging. Also, can we just say, masters at investigating people. These are the friends you want stalking your ex’s social media. They will find out everything. They’re also really good psychologists as well, almost all the Scorpio moons I’ve met are actually Psychology majors LMAO. They’re very good at finding the root causes of people’s issues. I also feel like Scorpio moons undergo a lot of transformations in their lives. I’ve known a Scorpio moon for about 10 years now and he’s undergone so many different transformations in his life. Mentally and physically. They’re also extremely sarcastic and have a tendency to be pessimistic. They’re also mad scary when angry. I’ve seen them angry before, as an Aries moon, even I get a little scared.... love y’all tho.

🌵Sagittarius Moon: The funniest people ever. Sagittarius moons always have me laughing my ass off. Their sense of humor is very diverse. They tend to stick with sarcasm and like to say outlandish things to make people laugh. Also, I feel like Sagittarius moons tend to go for science/math oriented careers or at least have an interest in those subjects. I know four Sag moons, and they’re all in STEM it’s actually crazy. They’re also extremely blunt and honest, especially when it comes to people they don’t like LMAO. They make it very clear when they don’t like someone, it’s so funny. They’re also just so much fun, like they’re genuinely so much fun to hang out with. I feel like I’ve never not had a good time hanging out with a Sagittarius moon. I feel like Sag moons however tend to struggle with asserting themselves a lot of times, until they get really fed up. They’re very much go with the flow kinda people, and this can be to their detriment especially with the ones they love, they don’t wanna rock the boat. However, they also make really good mediators and are good at settling arguments. They also really like to travel, and likely have traveled a lot. All the Sagittarius moons I know have traveled to at least 4+ countries. They love traveling the world, and I’ve also noticed move or want to move far away from their childhood home. They wanna explore everything the world has to offer. My cousin who’s a Sag moon left her parents’ house to move a few states away and my other friend who’s a Sag moon wants to move to the other side of the country. These individuals also tend to like foreign culture as well. I’ve noticed Sagittarius moons tend to like foreign music or foreign tv shows. I feel like they also tend to ignore their emotions when they get sad and just don’t like to deal with their emotions. They also don’t like to talk about how they feel and will brush sad things off because it’s just too upsetting for them. However, once the emotions boil over, just like their anger, they will blow up LMAO. I’ve also noticed that they’re really good at teaching people things? Like my Sag moon friend explained this Chemistry equation to me I couldn’t understand and I got it after 10 minutes. Natural teachers.

🌵 Capricorn Moon: Guys, it’s okay to open up. You don’t have to pretend to be so strong all the time, you’re not weak for showing your emotions. Anyway, Cap moons have high expectations for people, and will not tolerate any bs from people. I seriously commend them for that. I feel like Cap moons struggle with how their points are being expressed, they can say one thing, but it’s seen as something else. While Capricorn moons may struggle with expressing their emotions, I haven’t found them to be closed off or cold when meeting them. Every Capricorn moon I’ve met has warmed up to me very quickly and have been super nice. I feel like they’re very friendly and once they have a conversation with you they’re really warm and kind. Also, they’re not afraid of anything?? Except for showing their feelings maybe. But like, they’re so open to trying new things like scary rollercoasters and aren’t afraid to fight for themselves if they have to. Also, super fucking ambitious. I wish I could be ambitious. These people will really have like three jobs, be in school, and tend to household responsibilities. I don’t know how you guys do it. Now everyone says Capricorn moons are just analytical and systematic when confronted with conflict, and I personally haven’t found that to be true. If they feel wronged?? Nah. They’re not going to be systematic or logical or anything. They will go off. As for personal challenges, yes they’ll be more analytical. But I feel like everyone boils down Cap moons to emotionless and machine-like nerds, which I find to be very untrue. Capricorn moons are very soft once they’re vulnerable with you, and genuinely feel like they’re bothering people when they show their emotions and feel weak for showing them. Also I’ve noticed that their mom is a big motivator for their success. Their moms always push them to do their best in work and school. If poorly aspected, they could feel too pressured by their moms to do well. Also, they’re so underrated for being funny. They have a really dry sense of humor and it’s well developed. I also feel like they get overlooked for putting others before themselves, when it comes to the people they love they’ll do anything for them. Brb gonna go give my Cap moon friends a hug.

🌵Aquarius Moon: You guys are just so unique. There’s something unique about each and every Aquarius moon, whether it’s a quirk or a hobby. These people are literally the best to talk to. It’s so easy to have a conversation with them, they really can talk about anything. I’ve also noticed that Aquarius moons tend to be interested in astrology and tarot and things of that kind. Every Aquarius moon I’ve met has been really interested in it, and even involved in it. I feel like they also have big dreams, and have big plans for themselves. Aquarius moons also love to get lost in their music and tend to use it as an escape. This can be a problem because they tend to avoid dealing with their feelings. They also go between reacting to things really heavily vs not reacting at all. It just seems like it goes back and forth. They speak up with things are unjust however only to their friends or online. They just don’t like to deal with face to face conflict in that regard. They also give really great advice. My best friend is an Aquarius moon and she always gives me the best advice. She knows me better than I know myself tbh. I feel like Aquarius moons relish in being unique LMAO. I’m 99% sure they had an “I’m not like other girls” phase. I feel like this placement always tends to space out and daydream a lot. They also aren’t the types to just lash out at people, their anger is more subtle (unless they have other placements of course). I feel like Aquarius moons also have a lot of friends but they tend to have a small group of friends that they tend to be super super close with. They’re also...really charming? I don’t know what it is, but like every single one I’ve met has been really charming and likable. They also have a really goofy sense of humor and love to do wild shit to make people laugh. I feel like some downsides of Aquarius moons are that they tend to be too analytical and rationalize things too much, and they inadvertently invalidate other people’s feelings. Aquarius moons are also super open minded to all opinions. I have a friend who I tend to disagree with on certain issues but they’ve always been open to hearing my opinion. They also love to travel too. I’ve noticed that as well.

🌵Pisces Moon: To think, I was almost one of you guys. No seriously I almost was, if I were born four hours earlier I would’ve been a Pisces moon LMAO. Anyhoo, Pisces moons are just so sweet. I don’t know how else to start, they literally are the sweetest people and give off this mystical type of aura. They’re very otherworldly. Also, these people daydream 24/7. They put Aquarius moons to shame in daydreaming. This girl I like is a Pisces moon and I always catch her daydreaming LMAO. They’re also extremely sensitive too and feel things so deeply. They try to hide how they feel from people, but you can see it in their eyes. I can always tell when my Pisces moon friend is upset just by the look in her eyes. They also tend to be introverted and it takes a while for them to warm up to someone. My co-worker is a Pisces moon and it took 2 weeks for her to finally start talking to me LMAO. They also have really vivid and wild dreams too. I feel like my Pisces moon friend is always telling me about some wild dream they had like that they were in a castle or in an ocean. They also can be really moody, they can be fine one second and then get really sad out of nowhere. Their emotions are like the ocean. I feel like another downside of Pisces Moons are that they can be very manipulative however this is really with any underdeveloped water moon/sun placement. I also feel like they tend to be escapists a lot. They don’t like to deal with reality a lot, and they see the best in everything and everyone even if it’s to their demise. They’re also super friendly and are nice to everyone they meet, even if they’re reserved they’re still very sweet. They’re also extremely creative too, I feel like every Pisces moon I’ve ever met has some sort of creative hobby. My co-worker who’s a Pisces moon is working on becoming a photographer and her stuff is AMAZING. I think that’s because they see the best in the world and the beauty in everything; and they know how to show that in their work so others can see the world like they do. They’re also super empathetic and are really good listeners. You can talk to them about anything and feel understood. :)

So this wraps up my moon sign series! I hope you guys liked it! Again, don’t take offense these are just my opinions on each moon sign! Hope you guys enjoyed, and if you don’t see your moon sign here it’s likely in part one.

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scuttling · 3 years

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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anonquack · 2 years

Text

| Lessons |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot, Requested by @hueninguins !!

Word Count: 10069

Warnings: Some curse words. Angst with a good (debatable) ending. Also a bit long but what's new??

Summary: Relationships have their ups and downs, and eventually they come to an end. It's how you handle the end that matters most.

You were sat in the living room, textbook on your lap as you studied for a midterm that was coming up next week. The apartment was silent beside your soft breathing and the occasional tapping of your pen against your notebook.

Usually, you'd appreciate the silence, but right now it was driving you insane. There was absolutely no way you'd be able to sit and study right now. Especially when the material was so boring.

You set the textbook and notebook aside before walking over to your shared bedroom. You opened the door slightly, seeing him laying on the bed, quietly scrolling on his phone.

At the slight creak of the door, he looked up, smiling at the sight of you.

"Couldn't focus?"

You shake your head in response before plopping down on the bed beside him. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close so you can see his screen as well. He was looking through Twitter.

"It's so boring, Alex, I swear I might die."

"You won't die, y/n. I mean, you better not! Or else who's going to travel with me? Who's going to sit in the passenger seat of my car and sing some tunes with me, huh?"

You smiled at that, mirroring his own grin. He'd always said he wanted you to be with him when he finally got to explore the world. You two were meant to accompany each other everywhere. You'd both stick to each other like leeches no matter what.

It was a sweet dream, but there hadn't been any time to do any traveling just yet. You were both in university, trying to get degrees and an education. Hence him insisting you live long enough to see this dream become a reality.

Most college students might still be able to find time to do hobbies and travel, but what you were both studying was time consuming and required time and dedication, and holy fuck was it expensive.

But that didn't stop you two from dreaming. You knew it would happen eventually if you were both patient. You'd completed other dreams/goals together before.

When you two were in high school, the idea of long distance or separation of any sort seemed unbearable, so you both set eyes on the same university. Luckily for you two, you had similar interests regarding majors and the agreed university would be beneficial to both of you. So, in order to make this dream a reality, you two worked your asses off, getting good grades and doing extracurriculars to make those applications as appealing as possible.

All of your hard work paid off, and you two were able to attend the same university. You'd both been able to make a dream that seemed so far fetched possible. You'd do it again with this one.

"I'm not going anywhere." You said in a soft tone, your reminiscing leaving you melting in his embrace. This man meant the absolute world to you.

He smiled at your response, cupping your cheek and leaning in to press a few kisses onto your lips. "Good. Do you want some help studying? I can help test you and whatnot."

You couldn't believe how lucky you'd gotten, having such a hardworking and intelligent boyfriend. And extremely kind as well. Alex was too good for you.

"That might help, but I also don't want to get up now. Just wanna cuddle with you." You mumbled against his neck, starting to get comfortable.

"Wait no- you need to study. I know this test is important for you. C'mon, let's study for like an hour and then I'll treat you to a nap and cuddles. How does that sound?"

You pulled away from his embrace, eyeing him carefully before sighing in defeat. You hadn't slept properly in a few days, far too busy studying for your midterm, and you knew you'd knock out so fast if he held you.

"Fine. But only because you're too cute. And very persuasive." You said as you stood up, stretching slightly.

"Well, you are looking at a future lawyer." He smiled back, following you out into the living room where your textbook had been abandoned.

—

Alex had other dreams beside being a lawyer. He'd told you back in high school that he enjoyed making YouTube videos, even if he didn't have that many subscribers back then.

However, during your time together, you'd been able to watch him, his channel, and his audience grow. He became much more popular and began doing streams along with his YouTube videos.

It never failed to amaze you just how capable he was. He was dealing with school, being a content creator, and also living a normal and healthy life.

You've always been endlessly supportive, no words being able to really capture just how proud of him you were.

Watching him and his streams became one of your favorite past times. You'd always help him get any props or materials he'd need for a stream, even made sure he was fed and well-rested when he dealt with exhaustion from editing and schoolwork.

But of course there came a time when he went overboard.

He'd taken on more than he could handle. You'd tried convincing him to rest and eat but he was so adamant on getting everything done, that it resulted in him quite literally fainting from exhaustion.

That's how you two found yourself on your shared bed, you fanning him gently to get him to wake up again, checking for a constant pulse and any other signs of discomfort. Luckily, it hadn't been anything too serious, and your knowledge from textbooks was enough for now.

You sat by his side until his eyelids fluttered open. You felt relief wash over you at the sight, before you began telling him he needs to be more careful, and that he must take better care of himself.

He apologized for worrying you, and you quickly hushed him, not wanting him to feel guilty, just wanting him to feel better.

There was absolutely no way he was getting up until you were sure he was in a better state. That's why you brought him a meal, wanting him to finally eat and drink before forcing him to get some rest.

After he finished his food, you watched as he fell asleep, after what you assumed was a few days of sleeping very little or not at all.

You slumped into the chair in your room, small smile of adoration as you watched him sleep peacefully.

Once he woke up, a few hours later, you couldn't help but bombard him with questions regarding how he slept and if he needed anything else.

"I'm fine, y/n, I promise." His words stopped your small ramble of questions, "and thank you for taking such good care of me."

You smiled at that, "Of course, Alex. But I do worry, that you'll work yourself too hard next time, and something worse will happen." You hated yourself for even saying such things out loud, but it was a genuine concern.

He reached over for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I felt extremely pressured to have everything done, and I just didn't have time to sleep or eat. But I should've listened to you. I know it could've gone worse, and I'm really thankful it didn't. Thank you, again."

His words were sincere, and he had a sad smile on his lips. You frowned, leaning close and giving him a small kiss. "That's why I'm here. To remind you to take care of yourself. Make sure you're not being too harsh."

He chuckled at that, bringing your intertwined hands up, and placing a kiss onto your hand. "I love you so much." He said softly, "You might really be the one, y'know?" He raised a brow, giving you a playful grin.

You couldn't help the heat rising to your cheeks at that. Of course, you'd thought about that as well, him being the one. But neither of you had ever directly said it to the other. It implied so many things, and it had your heart racing.

"I'm in it for the long run." You simply commented, earning an even bigger grin from him before you lay down beside him. "And I love you too. So much."

Neither of you got out of bed for the rest of the day, exceptions being to get food. You'd made sure he was well-rested before letting him continue on with his work.

You and Quackity had really been through it all these past years. Maybe Quackity was right, maybe you two were meant to be.

—

Alex was a very romantic and caring partner, in his own ways. He'd leave small notes attached to your favorite snacks when he knew you were having a rough day. He'd sit with you and let you rant to him, and vice versa. The afternoon cuddles and naps were amazing. The random outings to go eat when you were both swamped with exams and homework. Hand holding whenever his hands were free and feeling lonely. Him giving you his hoodies whenever you got cold, and letting you keep them since he liked seeing you in his clothes.

But there was also times when he was busy. And you knew that he'd make time for you as soon as he finished whatever he had to do, so that never really bothered you much.

Today in particular, you'd had a stressful day in lab and were ready to just plop on the couch and nap.

As soon as you got to your shared apartment, you heard giggles and shouts coming from the office room you two had in the apartment. That's where Alex had his whole setup for streams and whatnot.

You'd honestly forgotten today was his day off, too busy with lab and your annoying classmates. The laughs and yells suddenly made a lot of sense. You couldn't really let him know you were here since you didn't wanna walk in and interrupt, so you simply laid down on the couch and tried to sleep.

As your attempts failed over and over again, you decided to open the twitch app and see what he was streaming. He appeared to be playing a game with the usual friends, and a few new names you hadn't heard of.

Alex was always so welcoming and such a good friend, you assumed the names you couldn't recognize were of friends he'd just recently made or people he didn't speak to often. It didn't matter, since Alex was always so inclusive. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

You watched the stream for a bit, chuckling at the absurdity of the game they were all playing before feeling the exhaustion seeping in and making your eyelids heavier.

It didn't take long before your phone was resting against your chest and you were dozing off with Alex's voice playing softly out of your phone's speaker.

A few hours later, you felt a small shake to your shoulder and Alex's voice calling out to you.

"Hey, how come you didn't just sleep in the room?" He asked with a small smile on his face.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes before shrugging. "Couch was really comfy." You paused, blinking a few times to accustom yourself to the lighting before asking, "How was your stream?"

"Mm, it was good. Felt like I owed them one since its been like 2 weeks since my last one." He sat beside you, gently playing with your fingers.

"Did you have fun though?" You asked, noticing his hesitation. You hoped he wasn't feeling too guilty and forcing himself to stream even if he didn't feel up for it.

"Of course I did. Those guys always make it fun for me. It was a good welcome back stream." He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but smile back.

—

Weeks after that stream, you noticed it was easier for him to stream. He was enjoying himself and also balancing schoolwork and streaming well enough that you didn't feel like he had to stop and rest.

The names that seemed unfamiliar became memorable the more streams he had. It was clear that they'd become good friends. The idea made you really happy.

This also unfortunately meant that while his audience and friends had more time with him, you had a bit less. You were always either at one of your lectures, sleeping, or at work whenever he was available. And then when you got home he'd be streaming or doing his own work.

Of course, there was your shared time during meals and when it came time to sleep. Lately it seemed moments like these were the only time you really got with him, so you cherished them deeply. Besides, you knew he'd make time for you no matter what. The busy times would end and you'd get the Alex quality time you wanted.

Part of you honestly felt bad for feeling so needy, but the other part was more understanding. You missed him, and that was okay. It was normal to miss your partner after not spending as much time as you usually would. It was also normal to spend time without your partner. You knew this, and it helped ease the guilt you felt over your own emotions. Everything was fine.

It was also healthy to actually talk these feelings out. Let your partner know how you were feeling. So you did just that.

You found him sitting on your shared bed, resting against the headboard, carefully flipping through a thin book. It must've been assigned to him recently. You quietly made your way towards him, as to not disturb him, eventually settling down onto the bed as well. You sat facing him, giving him a small smile when he finally looked up at you.

"Hi." You said, voice barely over a whisper. He smiled at the sight of you. It was clear he was pleased to see you. Of course, you were overjoyed at the sight of him. You'd left early today while he was still sleeping, and had barely come back home.

The book was practically abandoned on the nightstand, him sitting up completely and patting the spot beside him, since you'd been sitting towards the edge. You smiled at that and gladly came closer, immediately allowing yourself to be engulfed by his arms. The warmth you'd missed so much recently.

"I missed you." He hums softly, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. Perhaps your grip on him tightens for a few seconds, but he doesn't mention it. Doesn't complain, just tightens his grip on you momentarily as well.

"I missed you too. So much. We haven't been able to spend as much time together recently, since we're both busy and all." You're aimlessly playing with his fingers now, "I know we have our own stuff to deal with. But I seriously missed you- ... Sorry." You stop yourself, it felt kind of dumb to admit this to him. You were even apologizing, but it was healthy to talk about these emotions right?

You looked up at him when you were greeted with silence. He had a small pout on his face, he must've been waiting until you saw him to finally speak up. "Don't apologize for missing me, I've missed you so much too recently. I miss my y/n time." He admits, and you chuckled at that. He only brought you closer to him, face buried in the crook of your neck, his soft lips tracing and kissing over every inch of skin and leaving behind pretty carnations for only you and him to admire.

Your grip tightened on his shirt, the material clutched between your fingers in a desperate attempt to hold onto sanity. You missed his touch so much. After a few more kisses, he pulls away and gently cups your cheek, getting you to maintain eye contact with him.

"You're my everything, y/n, even if we don't get to spend as much time together, you're always here with me okay?" He's pointing at his heart, a bit cheesy, but fuck it. You'd endure all sorts of cliches for this man. "Fuck, I seriously will put more effort into spending time with you though. I missed this so much." He's pulling the covers over you two and bringing you close again.

You can't help but feel silly, about feeling like things would change because you hadn't spent as much time together. For apologizing for missing him. This was all part of being in a relationship. Everything was fine. You two were more than fine. And for now, you'd focus solely on how his arms felt around you, the way his lips connected to yours, and how sweet his voice sounded when he was this close to you.

—

Your feet are aching. Why was campus so big and why were all your classes so far from each other? You wouldn't know peace until you saw him, ate something, and got to sit down for a bit. That's all you were really looking forward to. It's what was giving you the energy to power walk to your apartment rather than plopping down onto a bench or even sitting on the grass.

Opening the front door and feeling the warmth from inside seep into your bones is what pure bliss feels like. Along with finally shutting the front door and kicking off your shoes. Once the bliss wears off a bit, you take a moment to examine your surroundings. He's not in the living room, nor in the kitchen. The only other options were you shared bedroom and the office room, or well, the bathroom. Before you can contemplate which to check first, a scream is heard from the office room. Not a scared one, but rather him raging over some game. You chuckle softly at that, pulling your phone out and opening up the twitch app to see what he's streaming today.

To your surprise, he isn't. You refresh the page two more times before realizing he is in fact not streaming. He must've just been playing with friends then. You smile at the sound of his voice, cussing someone out for being an idiot, in the game presumably. It's oddly endearing.

You're glad he's enjoying himself, there was this deadline he'd told you about during dinner time a few days ago that had him super stressed. So, if he was playing right now, it must mean things ended well and he already turned it in. He deserved to have fun.

And you deserved this meal. For all the shit you endured today. Food and a nap.

—

Alex has been on top of things, he's getting things done. A productive member of society, if you will. And you are extremely proud of him, you really are. The fact that he's a college student and is able to do all of this amazes you every single day.

Sure, it might mean a little less time together, but you're happy for him.

In an attempt to celebrate him reaching quite a few milestones with his YouTube channel and streaming, you'd prepared a dinner for him. Of course, you didn't tell him as it was a surprise. The table was set nicely and his favorite meal was nice and steaming on his plate. You double checked that everything looked presentable before going to knock on the office door, unsure of what he was up to and whether it was okay to interrupt.

He called out, letting you know it was okay to come in. He was typing away on his computer and saying a few commands to whoever he was on call with. He finally turned to look at you, curious look as to what it was you needed.

"Hey, I made dinner-" You paused as loud shouting was heard from his headphones, causing you to let out a small chuckle. He chuckled too, putting his volume down slightly.

"Awh, thank you y/n, but I'm sort of filming a video with someone right now, so I probably won't be done for a few more hours."

Oh.

Of course, Quackity was a very busy individual. It would've been smarter to check in to see what he was up to before deciding to make a big dinner like that.

"Ohh, alright then. I'll just put the stuff away for now." You nodded, earning a hum of approval from him.

"You can go ahead and eat, you don't have to wait for me. This video we're recording for might take a while. I finally got all of 'em gathered so yeah."

But I wanted to eat with you, is what you might say if you were openly selfish. He'd still eat the meal you made, you just wouldn't eat together. It wasn't a big deal.

"Alright then. It'll be on the table for when you're done with the recording." You offered with a small smile, ready to exit the room. He smiles back, mouthing a 'thank you' before putting his headphones back on and turning to face the computer.

After closing the door to the office room, you head back to the table and put his servings into a container so it didn't get super cold, and so nothing would go on it. Shame. You'd planned a whole dinner night, and it wasn't happening. But you didn't blame him or have anything against him for this, you honestly should've double-checked with him. And it's not like this was your first time eating alone. Like you said, he's a busy guy. You were no stranger to eating alone recently. And that was okay.

Alex was a busy guy, but he was taking care of himself. He still ate, and he did sleep. Everything you could possibly worry over was taken care of. You had your own things going on too, you were advancing in school and towards your career. He honestly motivated you to do good on all your other tasks. And after long days of productivity and not seeing him as often, sharing a bed with him was what you looked forward to the most. Just being able to sleep next to the man you loved and adored dearly.

You were in your pajamas already, teeth brushed, face washed, and absolutely ready to knock out. But there was something missing.

Your hand carefully wrapped around the door knob before opening the door to the office room, smiling at the sight of him on his computer. At the sound of the door opening, he turned around to look at you, a small smile on his face. You quickly returned it, waving before taking a look at what he was doing.

"Are you almost done? I was hoping we could go to bed together." You said resting both your hands on his shoulders.

He leans into your touch for a bit before letting out a small sigh, "I would, but I'm in vc right now. I'm almost done though, so I'll join you in a bit, okay?" He turns around to face you properly, eyebrows raised high and a smile on his lips. It's a compromise. I can't be there now but I'll be there later.

You can't help it if your smile falters a bit at his response, but you quickly nod, reassuring him that it's fine. "That's fine, but don't take too long! I miss you." You try your best to mask the disappointment with a lighthearted tone. It's not his fault he's been busy recently. Not like he's doing it on purpose either.

If he notices, he doesn't mention it. Just smiles and says thank you, promising he'll be there soon.

As you lay in bed by yourself, you can't help the feeling that is viciously spreading through your chest and the light stinging in the corner of your eyes. The bed has felt so cold recently. His side being empty whenever you decide to get some rest. It's starting to feel like even the moments they're meant to spend together are spent alone.

And you understand, you really do. This is not his fault at all. You genuinely didn't blame him for the lonely feeling that was building up in your chest right now. And maybe things would change a bit if you brought it up again. Said you missed him. But you didn't want to stress him out by making it feel like he also had to deal with your clinginess on top of all his other projects.

Besides, you know he'd make it up to you eventually. These periods of busy Alex always came and go, and you two were mature enough to understand that and respect your partner's schedules. Everything was going to be okay. And the arms that wrapped around you while you were half asleep about an hour later confirmed that for you.

—

Alex's busy schedules regarding school and projects seemed to be coming to an end, he was taking it easier, and that made you extremely happy. He wasn't constantly filming or preparing a big project for his YouTube channel, he wasn't even really overworking himself at school. He was slowing down. Honestly? He deserved this break, and it also meant you'd get more time with him.

It meant he'd be out of the office room more often, he'd be able to go to bed at the same time as you, he'd eat his meals with you... all that good stuff.

And your wishes did come true. He was around and available more often now. Sorta.

He'd sit and eat dinner with you, but his phone was close by, often dinging to alert you both that there was a new message to read, or that Alex was a highly requested man. You assumed it was important, as he didn't ignore the notification for long and was sending out replies rather frequently. It seemed urgent, and you respected it. Besides, he was actually sitting at the dinner table with you. He was enjoying his meal with you just like you'd asked for.

He'd spend his afternoons with you, whether it was watching a movie in the living room or on an outing to the nearest ice cream shop. You'd be resting your head on his shoulder as you two watched the movie or show you'd both picked out, and it was pure bliss. Having him this close again. Of course, throughout the movie/show, you'd hear small giggles from him and you'd smile, looking over at him to see if he was smiling at the TV. But more often than not, it was him smiling at his phone. Giggling at something he read on there. Whenever that happened, you quickly turned your head back to the TV out of pure embarrassment. You guys were not laughing at the same thing.

And that was okay. You checked your phone all the time whenever you watched a show, or something. He was probably just scrolling through twitter or any other social media app, but he was still paying attention and spending time with you. It was fine.

He'd also head to bed around the same time as you. That's when you two usually stayed awake a bit longer, scrolling on your own phones or reading something before growing sleepy and falling asleep. While you usually read or played a game on your phone, you'd hear the same chuckles or catch him smiling at something on his phone. You couldn't help but smile as well, his laughter and smiles were so contagious. And he seemed genuinely happy, he was enjoying life. Sometimes you wondered what was so funny, or what had him smiling so much, but you never asked. Especially since he did show you sometimes. He'd do it on his own, poke you and show his screen to you, obviously holding back a laugh as he waited for you to read the tweet or video he wanted to show you.

You were finally able to spend more time with him, and that was more than enough for you. Sure, maybe he was on his phone for a large amount of the time you two spent together, sending texts or whatever it was he did, but you were happy that he was there again. And if he was texting somebody, it would be for a good reason. It would be something urgent.

You always reminded yourself that he could've been using that time to record or work on schoolwork, but no. He was spending it with you. If he had to respond to a few messages during that time, then that was okay. No way you were allowing yourself to be so selfish and ask him to solely focus on you. Not when he had so many other things going on. He was doing enough.

—

Eventually, Alex's busy schedule picks up again, and you're just glad you got to enjoy those few weeks where he spent more time with you. It makes spending less time with him now sting less. Still sucks, but you grow used to it when it happens so often now.

You were sat at the dinner table, eating your meal alone, scrolling through TikTok as a form of entertainment while you ate. The apartment was pretty quiet besides the soft sound of his voice that could be heard through the walls of the office room. It sounded distant and muffled, but it was there. It was comforting in its own strange way, knowing he was near.

The sound of the office room's door swinging open so suddenly causes you to jolt up a bit in your chair. It's him, heading towards the kitchen. The fridge, more specifically. You assume he's getting a snack and then returning to the office room.

"What are you doing?" You ask out of pure curiosity to what he's been up to in there, setting your spoon down. As if that would allow you to give him your full attention.

"Just on VC." He answers, smile not disappearing since the office door opened and he came out to get food.

You simply nod, "Who are you talking to?" You hope you're not overstepping, it's just pure curiosity. Whoever it is, he must be having fun since he seems so dazed, overtaken by contentment.

His answer sounds familiar, and then it clicks. Back when you clicked on his streams and you didn't recognize quite a few names? It's one of those people. He must've really gotten along with them. You make an 'ah' sound to let him know you're aware of who he's referring to.

He takes this as a sign to continue, "Yeah, them. They joined the server a while back and I've been talking to them a lot recently. Turns out we have a lot in common. Super cool and fun!"

It feels a bit odd, watching his expressions grow fond and full of adoration as he further explains. But it's a friend, you're fond of your friends too. And clearly they must be wonderful if he speaks so highly of them. You're glad he has good friends.

"Awh, I'm glad to hear Alex." You smile at him, and still the smile hasn't disappeared off his face. He simply nods, taking the cold water bottle and the snacks he'd gotten back to his office room.

Once the office door closes behind him, you can't help but take a moment to process whatever just happened. It was a lot to take in for some reason. And it felt really odd. But nothing too out of the ordinary.

No more thought goes into that interaction. Rather, you focus back onto your phone where a TikTok had been paused, and continue eating your meal.

—

You can't help but ponder over the fact that you haven't gone on a date with Alex in a while. Of course, it could be due to the fact that he's busy more often than not, but even when he has free time you guys simply spend it indoors. You haven't been on an actual date in a long time.

Maybe you could definitely change that this coming weekend. You could plan a little getaway for you two. This way he can take a break from all his projects and you get to spend more time with him.

You really missed him. You can't even really remember the last kiss you two shared. And no, the one from 2 days ago doesn't count. Why? Because you'd given him a quick kiss before he left to class in a hurry. It wasn't initiated by him, none of them were recently. But you had to cut him some slack, he's a busy man. And surely he would initiate romantic gestures if he weren't so caught up in everything else that's going on.

That gives you the final boost to start planning this very special date night with him. You'd take him out to dinner as a surprise, and then take him to somewhere you know he'd enjoy himself. Planning this date gave you something to do whenever he was too busy to spend time with you, and quite frankly you were so very excited to actually go on this date. After so long of not doing anything like this.

When the day finally came, you walked into your shared room, where he was sitting just using his phone.

"Hey! Get dressed, we're going out in like 30 minutes." You hummed, walking over towards the closet to start getting the outfit you'd planned on wearing.

He raised his eyebrow, clearly confused by the sudden request. He didn't have this on his schedule. "What? Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise! Just get dressed and you'll see." You responded eagerly, taking your clothes and heading to the bathroom so you could go get dressed.

You left a puzzled Alex sitting on the bed, but minutes after he began to get dressed as well. He was curious as to where you could possibly be taking him this late. Especially mentioning it so last minute.

Once those 30 minutes passed, you were both dressed and ready to head out. You took him by the hand and lead him out the front door. "Where are we going?" He asked again, a small whine to his voice as you dragged him along.

"Be patient. You'll know when we get there. And we're almost there, I promise." Maybe you should've taken the car, but the scenic route was better in your own humble opinion. And it gave you an excuse to hold his hand.

It was a rather peaceful night, and the lights that hung low and illuminated the night made the scenery even better. The restaurant was only a few blocks away from where you two lived, so it wouldn't take much time anyway.

As you two got closer to the restaurant, he seemed to realize what was going on, letting out a small chuckle once you were finally standing right outside the restaurant.

"We're going out to eat?" He asked, brow raised.

"We're going on a date, get it right." You answered, opening the door to the restaurant and letting him walk in first.

If his expression faltered and the grip he had on your hand loosened, you didn't notice. Maybe it was your heart's way of protecting you from heartbreak. But it could only do so much.

You two were lead to an available table, and handed menus. You tried to calm your beating heart, it moving too erratically against your ribcage. It felt as if you were on your first date with him. Maybe it was due to how long it had been since you took him on one of these, but you hoped he liked it.

There was small talk as you two waited for your food to come, and you reached out to play with his hands. He was cracking jokes and telling you about a funny video he had planned. It lead to him making your stomach hurt from laughing so much. Everything felt like it used to before. Before you were both too busy to hang out like this.

Once the food got there, you two quieted down, a content smile on your lips. Maybe an outing like this was what you two needed to fill the gap that was growing between you two. Because, as much as you wanted to deny it, it was happening. Busy schedules were tearing you two apart. But you were holding on, and you'd make it work.

You two continued talking after you finished your meals. You couldn't help but take a moment to just quietly admire him. He looked stunning. He hid his hair away with a beanie because of how cold it was, and his cheeks and the tip of his nose were a light rose shade to attest to the cold of the night. The moles splattered across his face and his beautifully pink lips only made him look even more wonderful to you under the restaurant's dim lighting.

It slipped out, you were simply speaking your thoughts, but maybe you should've kept quiet. Maybe your silence would've bought you a little more time with this boy you loved so much.

"I love you."

It's not like you two hadn't said this to each other before. Years of dating meant these three words had been said multiple times, but it hadn't been said recently. And maybe that was for a reason. Reason you weren't aware of just yet.

The warmth that surrounded you up until that moment began to melt away as you finally caught his expression faltering. The genuine contentment that had been present was gone within seconds. You watched as he opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it.

There was confusion and weariness plastered on your face. He shouldn't be hesitating this badly, or at all, a response to this should be simple. If he really meant it.

There is pain and guilt present in his eyes, screaming at you to notice and take a fucking hint for once. For him to take a hint as well.

You open your mouth to speak again, to say something to make the mood more lighthearted, change the topic of conversation and escape this asphyxiating silence. Before you can do so, you see him tearing up. Maybe you'd been tearing up this whole time as well. As your heart was beating out of your chest and the confusion and failure to connect the dots was eating at you.

"I can't do this anymore." He admits, his tone sounds completely defeated, and his eyes fail to meet yours.

It happens in slow motion, the way your heart completely shatters, and the opposing speed of your thoughts racing and blurring into a mess. The shock that spreads through your body at the confession that had been weighing down on him for what might've been months now.

"W-what..?" You're hoping you heard wrong, or misunderstood what he meant, but the logical part of you knows.

"I can't be with you anymore. I can't. It's just- I can't fucking lie to myself like this anymore. Or to you." He's wiping at his eyes, and the guilt is dripping from his tone, soaking the tablecloth a dark red.

You were shocked into silence, not believing what you were hearing. You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill, trying to form proper thoughts, but failing to form a coherent sentence.

"You- why? What did I do? I'm, what do you mean??" Your tone was that of a desperate person, clinging to any signs of hope, of comfort that things would return to normal. It was hopeless.

He simply shakes his head, wiping at his nose and eyes before standing up. He's reaching for his wallet and setting down a few bills. "I hope that covers it." His voice trembles slightly, and he fails to look you in the eyes yet again.

"Alex, no, wait." It sounds downright desperate, it's pitiful even. "You don't have to pay for anything just please- explain, please don't leave me here like this," your pleads continue as he turns and leaves right out the door. It's embarrassing, humiliating. All nearby tables are staring at this point, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you can focus on is the way it feels like you died a little inside, how your heart beats slow and become lesser with each passing second.

There's no point, because he's gone.

—

It'd been a few days after Alex walked out at the restaurant. You'd tried texting him a few times throughout the past couple of days but he never got back to you. You assumed he was staying with a friend to avoid confrontation after what had happened. The heartache didn't lessen over the days. Everything hurt.

About 4 days had passed since the incident, with zero calls or messages from him. You were sat on the couch, gently and mindlessly biting at your nail, when the front door creaked, and the handle made a noise as the door was pushed open carefully. You sat up, shocked at the sight of him after 4 full days.

"Alex-" You began, but he held his hand up, pleading you to stop and let him speak first.

"I can't stay for long, but I just wanted to drop by and say that you don't have to worry about moving out since I'll gladly move out myself. I-" he pauses for a bit, perhaps trying to find the right words, "I don't want to inconvenience you. I already have a new place to stay at so you don't have to worry about me."

What? You thought he might be stopping by to finally explain or make things work but he was moving out??

"Alex I just- I don't understand." You sounded so defeated, all you wanted was an explanation, but he couldn't seem to give you one.

"You won't have to deal with me much longer. I just need a few days to get my stuff out of here."

What the fuck.

Before you know it, he's walking right out the door again. And every day after that, he stops by to take a bit of his belongings, as many as can fit into his car.

His stuff disappears slowly over the course of a week. It's the little things first, his clothes, everything in the office room, and then everything in your shared bedroom. Anytime he'd come by to get his stuff, you'd simply sit by the couch, numb to everything that was happening.

And finally, that week ends, and he's taking the last box of his belongings. He doesn't really say anything as he places his final items into the box. He says less as he walks out the door for the last time.

That's when you really look around. At how empty the whole apartment looks now. That's when it finally hits you what's going on. You stand up, walking over to every single room and desperately looking for any signs of Alex. Any signs that this is all a sick and twisted dream.

But after checking everything twice, realization hits. There are no signs of Alex in the apartment anymore. It was really over. He was gone for good.

You hadn't cried at all, perhaps from the shock of everything, but finally seeing how empty and lonely everything was now that he was gone, you let out the broken sobs you'd been holding in.

Confusion and anger clouded your vision. You didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't know what lead to his decision to leave you, so suddenly and with zero explanation.

You'd tried so hard to be a good partner to him, even putting his needs and wants before yours, and yet he had left you. It didn't make any fucking sense.

Why Why Why whY WHY wHy Why Why why why why WHY hwy why why why

It felt like everything was your fault. You must've done something to upset him, maybe you didn't do enough? Maybe you did too much. You were annoying, you were overbearing. Too much.

But you tried your best. Why wasn't it enough for him? Why weren't you enough?

Your thoughts slowed down as realization strikes yet again. Everything suddenly made sense.

"He doesn't love me anymore," you answered your own questions, voice barely over a whisper as the tears continue to fall. Because fuck, it hurts so much.

Maybe you knew all along. Maybe you knew he was falling out of love. Maybe you blinded yourself to the obvious signs that presented themselves to you on multiple occasions.

The lack of kisses, cuddles, and time spent together made sense. The texting and calling with that one specific person all the fucking time. It made sense, it made so much sense. You were so stupid. You convinced yourself otherwise and came up with excuses for everything that represented a bright red flag. You brought this on yourself.

The part that hurt the most wasn't that he was officially gone and out of your life. It was the knowledge that he took himself out, it was never up to you if he stays or not. He didn't want to stay.

The dreams you two had together, the goals you two were meant to accomplish together. The night Alex told you that you might be the one. The moments shared, him pleading you to stay alive long enough to travel the world with him.

It all meant nothing. They were empty words now, because Alex was gone. He chose to leave for good. And he left you alone with no explanation. It was really over. Everything came crashing down too fast.

—

It's been months since Alex left. You never got closure, nor did you bump into him again. Honestly, you didn't mind that since you probably wouldn't be able to handle that.

You'd been healing as best as you could these past few months, and of course you'd heard about him. You knew he was doing okay. It was sort of hard to not know about him as he grew in popularity.

Alex, better known as Quackity, had gained so much traction recently with streaming and his YouTube channel. And it truly made you happy to hear, you'd always been endlessly supportive on that end beforehand, and it wouldn't change now.

But beside the unfortunate moments when Quackity trended on twitter and it gave you updates you didn't ask for, there was no actual contact between you two.

You were focused on healing, and hadn't opened yourself up to any possible relationships. You couldn't possibly, no matter how hard you were trying to move on healthily. It just never felt like the right moment to open yourself up to experience love again. You were in no rush anyway.

And you genuinely were making progress, you were healing slowly but surely. But it wasn't enough to prepare you for the day we find ourselves in now.

You'd just gotten on twitter, the timeline was rather dry, so you considered checking the trending. Perhaps not the smartest move.

Not when Alex was trending again, but this time it wasn't for his success on a recent video or merchandise. It was news of Alex being open about his relationship with a fellow content creator. Sure enough, it was the same person he was always texting and on call with. The friend he talked about far too fondly for your liking.

It made sense. It did. But it also opened so many old wounds.

You'd hated yourself for months for being the reason why your relationship ended with the man you thought was the one. You'd blamed yourself endlessly and cried over him for so many nights. And yet here he was announcing to the whole world that he was in a happy relationship with them.

You two had never gone public. He didn't want his audience to know. What had changed with this relationship? It all hurt too much.

But time moves on. It doesn't wait for us.

And even though the news opened up old wounds and crumbled the process you'd made, you got better again. With time.

Even though you never got proper closure, you'd gotten it out of that one twitter post from that one update account under the trending page. It was an odd way to get closure, but it helped.

Your conclusions had been right. You weren't psycho or a horrible partner for thinking such awful things. Those awful things had been right, after all. So maybe Alex had been the awful partner. Maybe you weren't the one that had done wrong. You didn't have to hate yourself or anything.

But even with this new epiphany, you couldn't bring yourself to think badly of him. People fall out of love all the time. And you can't really control who you love.

So in the end, you were at peace with knowing you were part of his life for a bit before he moved on to the better parts.

It didn't hurt as much anymore.

—

It'd been so damn long at this point, there was no need to heal anymore because the wounds had already fully healed. You were doing fine. There wasn't an ounce of hatred for the man who had left with no explanation.

Things end for a reason. But you two still lived in the same city. You both went to the same university. It made sense that eventually you two would bump into each other.

You just didn't expect it to happen when it did. Perhaps it caught you completely off guard because you weren't thinking about it or him anymore. You'd parted with those thoughts already.

That's why you weren't prepared at all to see him again, after so long, at the store. Of all places.

You both had walked into the same aisle, maybe even to get the same product, but had stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of each other.

He was the first to speak up. "Y/N." He said, a surprised look on his face, but still that familiar smile, albeit very awkward, was present on his face.

You blinked the shock away before sending a small wave his way, "Alex, hi."

You two stood there for a bit, simply staring at each other. If only the earth could eat you whole right now and spit you out once he was gone. But no, the universe wasn't that kind.

"It's- wow. It's been so long. How have you been?"

The audacity, really. How did he expect you to be after what he did? After how he left you? But these were old wounds, wounds that wouldn't reopen after seeing him for the first time in so long.

"I've been alright, thank you. How've you been?"

It was so strange, being formal with him after knowing him for years. After being his friend, eventually lover, and now whatever this was. Strangers all over again.

This was the man you'd fallen in love with years back, and yet now it felt like you barely knew him. But he still looked the same. Nothing much had changed besides the fact that you two grew apart. You'd both changed so much yet so little.

"I'm glad, I've been doing good." He answers, hand going to rest on the back of his neck. Well, this quickly got awkward. Maybe there wasn't much to talk about, and you two were trying too hard to keep a conversation that was meant to die alive. You simply nod in response, a small smile on your lips to appear polite. You really weren't sure what else to say.

The silence grew for a bit longer before he finally spoke again. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

Well, that certainly wasn't what you were expecting.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, for how I ended things. With no explanation or anything. It was uh, really immature of me, and you definitely deserved better. After I left, I sorta realized that."

Whiplash was the only word that came to mind when trying to describe what you were experiencing. You shook your head a bit after he finished talking.

"I just- I never understood why you left. I hated myself for so long, Alex, I always thought it was something I had done to drive you away."

He nods as you talk, "I know. It was wrong of me to simply leave. It wasn't your fault, trust me. I'd- uh, I'd love to explain, if you'd let me. Maybe it'll give us both closure?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. First, you'd randomly bumped into him after so long, at a fucking store. And now he wanted to give you the closure you wanted so badly back then. There was no point in hearing him out. You had healed already, you were over him and his antics. But part of you wanted to hear what he had to say. His reasoning for the way he acted.

Not to mention, you never hated him. You couldn't bring yourself to hate him no matter how many reasons you came up with.

So that's how you found yourself at a coffee shop, seated at an outside table with him, drink at hand and taking small sips as he began to explain.

"I guess we should start from the beginning, huh?" He didn't really wait for a response, but you nodded anyway.

"I really did love you, Y/N, and I appreciate everything you did for me when we were together. But at the time, I didn't appreciate it nearly enough. And honestly, at some point, I made a new friend."

Fuck. So you really weren't overthinking everything. It felt good to be right, but at what cost?

"It all started off innocently, but eventually I found myself looking forward to their text messages. I found myself acting like a kid with a crush all over again. And at some point I began flirting with them. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stop. It felt right at the time."

You simply sat and listened to everything he was saying with a straight face. It was hurting your inner self, the self from months back that cried over him and blamed themselves for months.

"When you took me out on that date, I tried my best to remind myself how in love with you I was, because I really thought you were the one. And I genuinely did enjoy myself that night, Y/N. You know how to make me laugh and any moment I spend with you is well-enjoyed. But when you told me you loved me, I couldn't bring myself to say it back, I was so appalled with myself. Because I knew I'd been talking to that friend in a romantic way and yet there I was out with you on a date, knowing damn well I didn't feel the same anymore. I freaked out. I understand if you hate me. It was a shit thing to do."

He paused after the long rant, allowing you to take in the confession. It was the closure you wanted. He explained his feelings, why he did what he'd done. It allowed you to connect all the dots. Everything made sense, it finally did.

"Alex," you started, and you could see his breath hitch once the silence was finally broken, "I don't hate you. As much as I wanted to, as much as you hurt me, I can't bring myself to hate you. I just really wish you could've explained this to me back then. You left me guessing for so long. You made me think I'd been a shit partner, when the shit partner was you all along."

He visibly flinched at the last part, but nodded his head in agreement. "I know I was a shit partner. You didn't deserve that. And you did nothing wrong. I genuinely can't thank you enough for all the support you gave me throughout the years we were together, and even when we were just friends. You really do mean a lot to me, Y/N, even now. You still do."

The grip you had on your cup tightened a bit, you had to set it down for a bit if you didn't want to accidentally burn yourself. "This would've all been really helpful to know back then, but I simply don't know what to do with this information now, Alex. It's too much. Why are you even telling me this, what're your motives?"

"I've wanted to apologize for a while now, but I never really built up the courage to say anything, and today I just- well I just saw you after so long. You deserve an apology, Y/N. I'm really fucking sorry. I'm not asking you to take me back or anything, but I know I've lost a very valuable person, I acknowledge and I accept that. I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and that you were a wonderful friend."

It made sense, they always got along. I mean, they were friends before they even dated. Maybe they were meant to teach each other a lesson, maybe they were meant to be together, but not like that. It didn't have to be a romantic relationship. A soulmate could be platonic. Alex's presence had been calming even after what he'd done.

"I understand. It's okay to lose feelings. You can't control who you love and who you don't. I just seriously wish you would've told me this back then. The not knowing is what hurt the most. If I knew this back then, I'm sure we could've worked things out, Alex. Because before I was your lover, I was your friend. I cared about you too, you know? It's just- fuck. This sucks."

There was a frown on his face now, it didn't fit him. It was unlike the Alex you knew. "I just couldn't handle what I had done to you. It was the guilt. When we broke up, I didn't even date the person I'd been talking to. It felt horrible, Y/N. I genuinely regret handling things the way I did. I know I lost feelings, and I know we could've talked things out and maybe things wouldn't be the exact same, but they wouldn't be as fucked up as they are now. I'm so fucking sorry."

It was a genuine apology, and frankly, you were just tired of this whole situation. You wanted to put an end to that chapter of your life. Move on. Accept that things didn't work out. Forgive and learn.

"I meant it when I said I don't hate you.. Thank you for giving me closure after so long. It's really helping me put an end to that chapter of my life." You said, a small smile on your lips. You didn't know exactly what this feeling was, but it felt good. The sadness was finally over. This conversation helped complete the healing.

He returned the smile, "Thank you for hearing me out after so long. You really didn't have to, but you've brought peace to my heart. I hope we can put this past each other."

You simply nod. It's contentment. That's what it is. There was no hard feelings anymore. No unanswered questions. It was okay that he lost feelings, that chapter was over. You two were okay again.

You'd never get together again, that wasn't an option, but there was closure. And it helped you realize that maybe you two were better off as friends, if anything at all.

A chapter was coming to an end. You and Alex had been able to talk things out, and things were okay. You two were okay. You'd be able to move on, and start new chapters and accomplish new dreams. You would finally be able to open up again.

The healing process was done, and in its place it left scars, but they were scars you'd look back on and smile at. Lessons you'd learn from and grow from. You were going to be okay.

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