#maybe if you found something you genuinely liked you wouldn't feel so weird about me enjoying things

[bitchfromthecrypt]

Why does growing up always seem to involve abandoning the things you genuinely enjoy for you people? Why do I have to pretend I'd enjoy the sopranos and black coffee?? Why is it bad that I like cereal milkshakes and cartoons and the color pink? Why is the concept of maturity painted griege in your head?

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

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The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

[talesofesther]

serenity haze

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: You notice the changes in Jenna in the lines that you draw; the sketches of her in your sketchbook have more lines to them, creases in her eyebrows, and shadows below her eyes. Your heart clenches painfully whenever you look at a finished piece you did of her.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her so don't crucify me pls. I still feel a tad bit weird writing about real people, but I see my Jenna as a character in a story, that's all. Hope you can enjoy this one, let me know your thoughts. Requests are always open, though be aware that I go where my inspiration takes me, and be mindful of my guidelines.

Masterlist

You were naturally observant, it was a habit that came with a hobby.

You liked to draw things, and to be able to draw them, you had to observe.

Because you're observant, you tend to notice patterns, details, and moments that might go unnoticed by most.

Lately, you found yourself drawing one thing in particular — or better, one person.

Jenna Ortega captivated you, anyone who met her would probably say the same. She is captivating after all. Yet you know your feelings are different, because you see a side of her that few people do.

You had been offered a role in the new Wednesday show, it was a smaller one, but a privilege nonetheless. And this role gave you the opportunity to meet Jenna.

After the first month of working together, it was already known on set that; where you went, Jenna wasn't too far behind.

You'd catch yourself searching for her in the crowds most days, her favorite coffee order in hand. She'd greet you with a warm smile that never failed and a hug that lasted a little too long. Jenna was sunshine if sunshine could be a person, she was the most genuine girl you knew; beautiful inside and out.

It was inevitable that she became your muse.

Unbeknownst to you — and maybe even to herself — Jenna felt drawn to you too. You were quietness, you were calmness, you were the steadiness she craved in her hectic life.

Jenna had no obligations with you, no expectations to meet; she could be herself, on good or bad days, and you'd still be there. She didn't know how much she needed something like that until she finally got it.

In some ways, it felt like you were her breath of fresh air whenever she needed one. Which seems to be happening quite often nowadays.

Whilst everyone was running around on set, cameras on every corner of the room, and people talking incessantly in their intercoms, Jenna was speaking with Tim about an upcoming scene in the show. She leaned back on what was one of the booths in the Weathervane cafe, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding along to his words.

He spoke about the dance, and Jenna confirmed she had almost all the choreography done already. Except she didn't.

What she had, were sleepless nights weighing down on her shoulders.

She tried to take a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it didn't do much. Her gaze skimmed over the room against her own volition, finding you sitting in a corner of the set — on the floor no less — sketchbook in hands.

Jenna felt the overwhelming urge to escape to your world.

Dark lines steadily appeared on the paper along with the drag of your pencil. You bit into your lower lip, a habit of concentration, and glanced up at Jenna; only to notice her eyes already on you.

The heat that came to your cheeks was instant and you gave her a sheepish smile. She caught you red-handed. Hopefully, she wouldn't bring it up.

Because, how could you resist? When Jenna is standing there against the sun, golden rays highlighting all her features for you; from the curve of her lips, to the tip of her nose, to the shape of her eyebrows. Flawless.

You couldn't resist taking out your book and drawing a quick sketch of her. Sometimes for you, watching people from afar was much better than seeing them up close, you could capture their essence fully, notice each little quirk or mannerism.

Take Jenna for example; her thumbs brush the fabric of her Nevermore uniform as she speaks with Tim, she's nodding eagerly to everything he says, not able to stay still on her feet. She's a little nervous, a little anxious. You could tell from the other side of the room.

It's no secret that filming this series is taking a toll on Jenna — your pencil traces the outline of her jaw on your sketchbook before you move to her eyes, and around them, you see yourself being forced to add just a tad more shadow; it's been happening for a while — you see her exhaustion in the lines that you draw.

The rough image of her stared back at you from your sketchbook, and part of you wanted to take her hand and go away for a day or two.

There's a sudden presence beside you that makes you flinch back to reality. Jenna sat down on the floor with you; she rests her head back against the wall, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.

She brought her knees closer to her chest, making herself look smaller than she already is. Turning to look at you, all she asked was; "what are you drawing?"

There's always a silent understanding between you both. You bumped her shoulder with yours, "that's confidential information."

And she actually pouts, lower lip jutted out and big doe eyes pleading at you; "even for me?"

"Especially for you," you mumbled, not sure if she heard or not.

Jenna doesn't inquire further, forever reciprocating the serenity you bring to her life. She slumped closer to you, allowing her head to fall on your shoulder, blindly trusting you to hold her weight if so needed.

You placed your sketchbook aside, focusing solemnly on her. Your cast and crew mates are still walking around, no one spares a glance at the two actresses who sit on the floor of Jericho's cafe; it feels like your own little bubble of peace for a precious minute.

"Were you and Tim discussing a new scene?" You asked eventually, gently leaning your head on top of hers.

Jenna hummed, "it's a dance that will happen at the school party, I'm creating Wednesday's choreography."

"That's exciting, do you have anything already?"

"Not really. I've got two weeks."

The turmoil of emotions was so evident in Jenna's tight voice that you almost pulled away so you could look her in the eyes and tell her… you're not sure what you'd say, but something to ease it.

Yet you held back, choosing instead to take her hand and whisper 'you got this' against her hair.

———

Things only got worse after your little moment.

Jenna has been on autopilot. You doubt she's sleeping, or resting at all. She's always the first one to arrive on set and the last one to leave.

The sketches of her in your sketchbook have more lines to them, creases in her eyebrows, and shadows below her eyes. Your heart clenches painfully whenever you look at a finished piece you did of her.

It was a Saturday night, you sat on the roof of your trailer, enjoying the starry sky above you, the cold breeze around you. With the flashlight of your cellphone on, you turned the pages of your sketchbook, reminiscing the drawings of last week; until a rather loud noise caught your attention.

You looked around you with a confused frown. The set's parking lot was empty, with only a few street lamps on, and no one in sight.

This could be a cliche horror movie scene. You could feel a chill running down your back; but then you caught sight of Jenna's trailer, the lights were on.

Checking your phone, you realized you had been sitting outside for longer than you thought. 1:37 AM.

Not giving yourself much room to chicken out, you hopped down from your trailer, stuffed your sketchbook in your pants pocket, and walked up to her door.

You hesitated, awkwardly hovering outside Jenna's trailer in the dead of night. Your stomach was twisting and turning unpleasantly. Coming from inside, you could hear the faint melody of 'Goo Goo Muck' playing.

Your worry got the best of you. Taking a deep breath, you raised your fist to the door, and knocked.

The music stopped abruptly, and you heard shuffling from inside her trailer. And then nothing, the silence stretched for a few good seconds, before her door finally swung open.

Jenna stood in front of you and got your heart shattering a little. She was a bit of a mess; hair up in a disheveled bun, only in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants yet you could see her forehead glistening with sweat, her lips quivered softly with each breath she took, and you could tell her eyes were red-rimmed if you looked closely.

"Hi Jenna," you started with a timid smile, "uh- I'm sorry to bother, it's just, I was out and I saw your lights on and just wanted to ask if everything's okay."

Jenna gulped down the lump in her throat, fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie; "yeah it's fine, I'm fine." She tried mimicking your smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Okay," you whispered sympathetically, seeing right through the lie.

"Um-" Jenna cleared her throat, but it sounded more like a soft sob. She avoided meeting your eyes then. "Would you- would you like to come in?"

It was a plea more than anything else. You didn't hesitate in saying yes.

You closed the door behind you and glanced around her trailer; she had her laptop on her bed, YouTube page opened to The Cramps' song; there was a stress ball rolling around on the floor, you figured that's where the loud noise from earlier came.

"I'm working on the dance," Jenna turned to you, threading her fingers through her fringe, restless.

"And how is it going?" You asked, though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

"I can't come up with anything," Jenna shrugged, chuckling humourlessly as her eyes welled up with tears.

Your heart was trying to escape your chest — Jenna's eyes were shining under the orange lights of the trailer, hands trembling as she tried to hold herself together — you took a step closer to her; "Jenna, I think you just need to let your mind rest for a while, have you-"

"I can't," she cut you off urgently, "the scene is one week away. One week. And I have nothing," tears started to roll down her cheeks, but you don't think she realized it.

Jenna started walking from one side to another of the small cramped space of her trailer, "I can't think of anything that would fit Wednesday, and we're shooting this scene next week. I told Tim I could handle it and yet I have nothing, what am I gonna tell him? That we're gonna have to postpone shooting because I can't come up with a fucking choreography?"

By the end of her rant, Jenna was panting heavily, borderline hyperventilating. Her tears came nonstop as sobs shook her body. She was hugging herself, chasing some type of comfort that wasn't there.

Your worry finally escaped you and you closed the distance between you both. You took her face in your hands, cupping her cheeks as your thumbs gingerly brushed away the wetness there; "Jen, look at me," you spoke softly, not missing the way her hands came to desperately grasp at your shirt, "breathe with me okay? Can you do that?"

A fresh batch of tears hit your thumbs and you felt your chest crack open; yet Jenna nodded, all reddish nose and glistening eyes.

You took a deep breath in, held it for a second, and then exhaled, watching closely for the way that she'd copy the motion. You did it a couple of times until her breathing was finally somewhat even.

"There you are," you mumbled, regarding her with a bittersweet smile when her eyes found yours, "you're okay," you promised, brushing away a few wisps of hair that clung to her skin.

A sob escaped Jenna's lips as soon as she heard the words, letting her forehead lean into yours in a silent request.

You gladly complied, raising your lips to place a kiss between her brows before guiding her head to rest on your shoulder. You embraced her body flush with yours, arms sliding around her back until you felt the curve of her spine. The thudding of her heart mingling with yours.

You could feel the gentle trembling of her body from time to time. It only made you hold her tighter.

Jenna had a death grip on you, your shirt bunched up on her fists as if you'd disappear if she let go. She buried her head on your shoulder, seeking a safe place, "I'm so tired," she spoke against you, words muffled.

"I know," you kissed her temple, "I know."

You're not sure if you held Jenna for five minutes or one hour, but you stood there for as long as she needed. And when she was ready to pull away, bright and puffy eyes timidly looking at you with nothing but gratitude, you didn't say anything; all you did was turn off her laptop and put it away for the night, dimming the lights on her trailer to give her body a much-needed break.

Then, you sat down beside her on her bed. There was a reasonable distance between you that she was quick to close, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Be honest with me now, have you been sleeping this past week, at all?" You raised a brow at her.

Jenna pursed her lips, in some ways resembling a child who'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar, "that obvious?" She asked, ducking her head to hide behind her fringe.

"Very," you smirked, "for me at least."

That got her looking up at you with tender curiosity, she was looking more like herself already.

With your heart in your mouth, you fished for your sketchbook in your pocket. You handed it to her without daring to breathe.

Jenna flipped through the pages as if they'd crumble between her fingers; carefully, reverently. You could hear the way her breath caught when she found herself between the sketches, once, twice, and then again and again. Different versions of her by your eyes; talking, thinking, walking, smiling, laughing, sometimes even scowling.

And Jenna has never seen herself look so beautiful, so enchanting. Is this how you see her?

Her vision got blurred again but she gulped it back this time, "it's so beautiful," was all she could whisper, smile tugging at her lips as her fingers traced one of the lines that formed her.

"You are," was your answer, in the same quiet tone, afraid to break the spell holding this moment.

Jenna's eyes turned up to you at last, big and vulnerable, almost completely black because of her pupils. She leaned in just a tad, your noses shy of brushing each other — gravity, magnetism, fate; whatever it might be, trying to push you together.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that she followed, "tomorrow, I'll help you with your dance," you took hold of her free hand, intertwining your fingers, "and it's gonna turn out amazing."

Jenna giggled, and you wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever.

"Tonight," you copied her smile, "we'll rest, okay?"

Bringing your hand up to her lips, Jenna planted a kiss on your knuckles, "okay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Jenna’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @thenextdawn @alexkolax @aahdiieb @mindingmybidness12 @melthedwarf

[sage-green-matcha]

THINGS I WISH YOU SAID - ETHAN LANDRY 💌

“Without you here, I don't know what to do with myself. I think about these things at night before I fall asleep. Things I wish you said to me” - Sabrina Carpenter

Content includes: Angst, cutie Ethan, Ethan comforting you!

<3

<3

<3

Music played as you swept the floor, golden sunlight shining into your window. Particles of dust flew into your face, making you sniffle.

You were bored, to say the least. Cleaning, reading, and watching tv to try and distract yourself. Unfortunately, everything reminded you of him, picking up the trash only to find a strand of his hair. "God, that's gross" you mumbled to yourself, sweeping the floor.

"Alexa, play my main playlist" you mumbled, face planted into your pillow with books spread out around you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard the melody of the song, quickly sitting up. "Alexa! Take that song off my playlist" You let out a sigh, remembering the melody of the sweet song Ethan used to play for you.

Without him, you didn't know what to do with yourself. You were just bored, with nothing to do. He made something with your time, he encouraged you to go out even if he was just as scared as you were. He pushed you out of your comfort zone, and now that he was gone it's like part of you left with him.

You missed him, a lot. He was one of the only people who understood you. Your humor, style. Everything about you was always misinterpreted by everyone else. But he got you perfectly. Your friends would say he was the male version of you.

"He was just a waste of time Y/n! Seriously, get over it" Tara would laugh it off but you didn't see it that way. He was more than just a distraction. You genuinely liked him...Maybe you even loved him...?

You found yourself pacing around your room. Why would you break up with him? Why were you still thinking of him? It didn't make sense, you thought it was over. That the spark was gone. But now you realize it wasn't him. It was you.

As much as you wanted him back he probably wouldn't say the same about you. You left in a rush, watching as small tears formed in his eyes. "Why? What did I do wrong?" "Ethan- it's not you. I promise. I just...I can't do it" You shook your head, biting back your lip as it quivered. You wanted to comfort him, but you had no idea how. Plus you were the one who made him that way. He didn't want your comfort.

You were left alone to deal with your thoughts. No one was home, and you knew all your friends would hate you if you started rambling about him again. You just had to do what felt right. Was this right? No, not really. But it felt like a good spontaneous decision.

You quickly threw on your cozy cardigan, slipping on your house shoes before you basically stormed out of the apartment. You weren't paying attention as you walked, feeling yourself bump into someone harshly. "Oh shit, I'm sorry" you quickly recognized the voice, trying your best not to seem frantic. "Oh, I...Hi Y/n" "Hey...Ethan" you nodded in silence. "Where were you heading?" You found it weird that he was in your apartment building. After all, his was the one next door.

"I...well" he scratched the back of his neck, fumbling on his words. "I was gonna go see you actually" he played with his hands in his pockets, lips agape as he looked down at you. "Oh...uhm, Me too" "What?" He seemed surprised, fixing his posture a bit.

"Yea, I was just…heading to your place” Your eyes looked everywhere but his face, avoiding eye contact. “Me too…” the hallway was cold, awkward. The energy was off, but the spark felt stronger than ever.

“So should we go to mine or…?” “No it’s okay. We can go to mine I was just cleaning” you gulped as he followed behind you, clenching your phone in your hand.

Your head spun in confusion, uncomfortable with what was going on. Why was he headed to your place? Yea, he might’ve been looking for Chad and Tara but he didn’t specify it was for that. So why? For the same reasons as you?

“Sorry about the mess…” you mumbled before unlocking the door, the familiar scent of wood and vanilla filling his nose. You led him over to your room, the clean space slightly throwing him off. Your room was always a mess, he would help you clean and organize but never this organized. You had really hit rock bottom.

“So…” you played with your hands as he sat next to you on the bed. Silence filling the room. It was even worse than the hallway. It was completely quiet, Ethan trying to put together the right words. “I miss you” it just spilled out of your lips, quickly closing your mouth as you realized what you said. “You do?” You finally looked up at him, nodding slowly while chewing on your lip.

“I miss you too” “Really? Why?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched his expression change. “Why wouldn’t I?” “Well, 'cause I ended it. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” he just shook his head, his hand resting over yours. “Well yea. It hurt but I still love you. I never stopped” Your lips started to tremble, holding back a sob.

He loved you? You treated him like shit. How could he love you after all that? You always felt like you never did enough. You knew there was gonna be someone better for him, someone who deserved him. “Y/n…don’t cry” his words broke you, tears spilling down your cheeks as he pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t deserve you” he held you tightly in his chest, his shirt absorbing all your tears.

“It’s okay, I promise” his hand ran through your hair, holding you like it was the last time. “I love you” your words were mumbled into his chest, but his heart heard every word clearly. “I love you too…yea? There’s no need to cry” he smiled as you pulled away. Your lips were puffy, eyelashes wet and long. You were a pretty crier, he would always tell you.

“You’re beautiful” “Shut up” his face brightened up when you smiled, wiping away your tears. “God, I missed you so much” he groaned, a laugh coming from your lips as he pulled you closer. Ethan had kissed you thousands of times, but this one was different. You could feel all of him in you, euphoria filling your body. You were on cloud 9. The sound of deep kisses and heavy breaths filled the room, all of the awkward tension disintegrating.

“Is this why you were coming over?” You questioned, positioned perfectly in his lap as he looked up at you. “Well…yea” you just shook your head with a smile, pulling him back in for another kiss.

A/n: stream emails I can’t send fwd 💪

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER FIVE | this is what it feels like.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: reader is starting to forgive jamie, even going to a charity gala together.

WARNINGS: language, mentions of what happened in amsterdam

A/N: yay! welcome back to me, i guess HAHAHA sorry for going ia for how many months, life just got in the way and i wasn’t able to make time for writing. i’m a bit rusty at this, but this is an extra long chapter and is mostly fluffy (at least, imo), so i hope you guys enjoyed it! we’re down to the last two (maybe three?) chapters of our story, which i hope you all will like :) see you then and thank you again for waiting!

Your relationship with Jamie did start getting better. Slowly, but surely. It wasn't the same as the past few months, though. That repair of your relationship was built on denial and was bound to come crashing down like it did. 

You were still talking, but he wasn't coming over every weekend anymore. He was the one who suggested it too, so you wouldn't feel pressured to decide if you forgive him just yet. He wasn't pushing for an immediate answer either and he was making that clear with how he was acting.

He sometimes sends you a message just to check in and your replies were short, but not apathetic. You'd do the same too, usually after his matches, specifically when it ended on a loss, since most of them were as of recent. What was it, seven matches at this point?

The loss at the Man City game was especially painful, but after you saw the article about Zava's retirement, you had hoped that some part of Jamie was relieved about it all.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear Jamie knocking at your door. You open it and instantly get blinded by the light. "Fucking hell."

"Shit, sorry," Jamie exclaims, shutting off his headlamp. Once the light is gone, you finally get a clearer look at the footballer. He was in a grey hoodie which was starting to get all sweaty, and was currently jogging in place. "Went out for a workout with Roy before dinner, and we went pretty far. He already went home though."

You knew where Jamie lived and if he had run that entire length, you don't know how he's not passed out at your doorstep. "Congrats, I think. Why'd you pass by?"

"I wanted to see you," he answered, a little out of breath. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't skip at that. "If that's not weird."

"No, it's not," you answered quickly, a smile creeping on your face. "D'you wanna come in? I made some pasta if you haven't eaten yet." You offer without thinking but don't retract it in any way. Things like these would help you bond again right? And after seeing Jamie give you a genuine smile and a soft look with his eyes, your worries instantly dissipate.

So now you're having dinner with Jamie and barely any words are spoken, until he mentions, "I'm going to Amsterdam in a couple of weeks. We're having a friendly against Ajax."

"Amsterdam?" Maybe you should've hidden the worry in your voice better.

As far as you know, Jamie had a complicated relationship with that place. You don't know what happened, never wanting to press for too many details, but the first time he went there with his dad, your best friend came home a shell of himself.

—

You headed over there the moment your mom told you he was back and while you half-expected Georgie to turn you away in case his dad was still there, what you ended up seeing was worse. You found Jamie lying down in his bed, just staring at his ceiling. When you called out to him, he made no move to acknowledge that he had heard you.

You were fourteen and uncomfortable with emotions, but you knew you needed to do something for him. You made multiple attempts to try and get a verbal response from Jamie, but it fell on deaf ears.

It was only when you asked if you could lie down next to him did he finally move. He turned to face the wall and his back towards you, but you didn't say anything about it. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him.

"If you don't want to talk about what happened, it's okay," you whispered. "I'll just stay here with you."

In one swift move, Jamie turned around and pulled you into a hug. It was almost instinct that you pulled him closer.

You don't really know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough that you started to get sleepy and eventually drifted off. The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed. Your grogginess quickly turned into confusion.

It would've turned into panic soon if Jamie hadn't walked back into the room as he dried his hair with his towel.

"Oh, you're awake," He said softly. From his voice alone, you wouldn't have been able to tell that he spent that night crying, if not for the bags under his eyes betraying him. The swelling had gone down from the cold water, but the redness was still there.

You don't say anything at first, unsure of how to proceed. But Jamie breaks the tension by asking, "Do you wanna have breakfast before you go back? Smelled mum's cooking from the hallway.”

"Okay." Jamie pulls you up from the bed but doesn't let go of your hand as you head down the stairs. He squeezed it tightly as you walked into the kitchen, his own way of saying thank you.

—

That's how the two of you always were. Talking about your feelings was never a strong suit, but that didn't mean you weren't there for one another. It's how you dealt with hard times as kids, but maybe it was time to ditch that as adults. Or at the least, work on expressing yourselves better.

As if Jamie could read your mind, he gives you a reassuring look, "I don't really think about that trip anymore. Don't really remember much of it either. I just remember the second time. When we were 16 right?"

"Oh yeah," You chuckle at the reminder. Jamie's mom had planned a trip for the two of them to Amsterdam and your parents just happened to also be figuring our your own summer holiday plans. 

The five of you spent a week there going on tours, visiting museums, and all the usual tourist activities. One of the pictures you still had of you and Jamie was one your dad took when you visited some tulip fields. Jamie had his arm around your waist and both of you were holding stroopwafels, impatiently waiting to eat them. 

A group of old ladies passed by as the photo was being taken and thought you were a young couple, which both of you were quick to deny. Things were only awkward for about twenty minutes till Jamie started chasing after your stroopwafel because he had already finished his.

"That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Mhm," Jamie says as he continues to eat. "I still remember all the facts you made me memorize. Might try and annoy Roy with them."

The two of you continued to talk that night and for the first time since that night in Nelson Road, being with Jamie didn't put a pit in your stomach. There was no longer a nagging voice in your head reminding you of the past or the rising feeling of resentment when he'd joke about the past few years. Instead, you were just content and happy to be there with him.

When you finished your meals, you suddenly got a waft of Jamie and almost gagged. "Oh my God, you definitely need to shower."

Jamie pulled his hoodie up to his nose and cringed. "Right. I guess I should head home now."

"No. I am not letting you out into the streets of London smelling like that. You can shower here," you offer and without giving Jamie a chance to respond, you start walking over to the bathroom.

Jamie lagged behind a bit but caught up as you pulled an extra towel from the cabinet. "You can go to the guest room for spare clothes. Dad leaves a bunch of them here when they come over. Oh, and slippers too if you want to give your feet a rest." The footballer gratefully takes the towel and heads into the bathroom. 

When you hear the water start, you move to walk back to the living room when you pass by your bookshelf once again, the empty spaces between your books glaring at you. You head into your room and open your closet to pull out the pictures. You pick up the one from Amsterdam, from your graduation, and from your 10th birthday, and scatter them around the shelf.

You go get ready for bed and change into your pajamas before going back to the living room to wait for Jamie. After 30 minutes — or an episode and a half, — you hear him call out your name.

You find Jamie in the hallway in one of your dad's giant grey shirts and sweatpants. When you approach, he finally asks, "Have these always been here?"

He points towards the frames and you realize that despite the number of times Jamie's been in your flat, he's never looked at the top of your bookshelf.

"I put them there pretty recently." You admit before turning towards the footballer. 

Jamie catches your eyes and seems to be debating whether to say something. He finally speaks up, "So I take it you've..." but he trails off, leaving you to finish it.

"I forgive you. Well, I think I’m starting to," you start. "I guess these past few months, I've been compartmentalizing my anger towards you and that wasn't fair. I know neither of us is particularly good at expressing our feelings, but we should've talked about this back when we saw each other again. That's my fault, I admit and I'm sorry. But I'm happy now, spending time with you and I don't have this sinking feeling that it'll all go to shit anymore. So yeah, I think I forgive you, Jamie."

You give him a wide smile and before you know it, Jamie wraps his arms around you tightly. Your smile only grows wider as you pull him closer. 

This is what you've missed all these years. Being so comfortable and safe with Jamie, that him randomly hugging you doesn't take you by surprise anymore. You're content and happy. And you have Jamie, your Jamie, back.

He breaks apart from you and the two of you walk back to the living room, the sitcom still playing on the TV. You expected him to make his exit by now, but seeing as you've just made up, Jamie felt confident enough to stick around a bit longer. He takes a seat across from you on the couch. Maybe it was because he was fresh out of the shower and no longer wearing sticky clothes, but he felt freer than ever.

Jamie glanced down at his phone at notifications from the team group chat and suddenly remembered another reason why he passed by your apartment. "Are you doing anything Friday?"

The last time Jamie asked you that, it ended with one of the worst outbursts you've ever let out, but you tried not to be reminded of that. Besides, you trusted that he'd keep his word; he wouldn't break your heart once again.

"Not really. My lectures are all in the morning that day. Why?"

"There's this charity ball that my boss does every year and I was looking for a plus one," Jamie explained slowly, before turning to you to see your reaction. "If you want. You know, as friends."

You don't know what stunned you more: the way your heart swelled when Jamie asked you to go with him to an event or the sinking feeling that appeared when he added the 'as friends' part. All this tension and ghosting these past few weeks made you forget all about those pesky, jittery feelings that you still had for him, but now that the dust had settled, they were coming back.

You try to ignore it, just for this moment, and prepare to answer him. But the more you thought about this "charity gala," the more you realized what you were about to agree to.

"Wait, is this the thing where people bid on football players for dates?" You remember seeing an article on it a few years back where three women got into a bidding war for Jamie. "Fucking hell, if you're just doing this to stage another bidding war for you, then—"

"No! 'Course not! You kept saying before how you want a reason to dress up!" Jamie's quick to defend himself and you fall back into your seat. "Plus, I can't have Richard setting me up on yet another disastrous date, I just can't." 

You say nothing, absorbing his plea, but then watch as Jamie's expression turns mischievous. He teasingly asks, "Why? Would you actually bid on me? You're already spending time with me for free." He playfully elbows you and you take in a whiff of the lavender-scented body wash you kept in the guest bathroom.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Christ, and they should be paying me for it, too." You reply, but you avoid eye contact with Jamie knowing how easily you'd break into laughter if you did.

"Fine, I'll go with you." You finally agree and before Jamie can celebrate your response, you add on. "But, you owe me a date, too. To Liv's wedding."

Jamie takes a second to reply, and you worry your usage of the word "date" threw him off. But quickly enough, his mischievous smile returns and he agrees, "Alright, it's a deal."

Neither of you mention the gala again till Jamie finally decides he has to get going — "It'll be worse for me if Roy gets to my house and I'm not there," — and says he'll send you the formal invite when he gets home.

It only sinks in when you're getting ready for bed that you're actually going to a formal gala. With Jamie. As his (friendly) date. Next week. What a way to start the new era of your friendship, right?

You wonder how exactly he'd introduce you to the rest of the people there. As his childhood friend? His date? Every option made you feel jittery inside, and you have a hard time accepting that it's possible you're falling for Jamie once again. 

The first time you ever found him attractive was at the ripe age of 16, after locking eyes with him when he was celebrating one of his team's wins. It was that summer of growth spurts and you started to see what everyone else did; Jamie Tartt, your best friend, was fucking fit. It only took a year till you fully accepted it, but ultimately decided to never act on it. Well, aside from that one time, which neither of you brought up again after the morning after.

It took another two years before you gave up on those feelings and buried them deep down, or at least tried to. But allowing Jamie's friendship back into your life brought those feelings back up to the surface. 

So, the week went by quickly and you were now waiting in your apartment in a cropped silk camisole, high-waisted black trousers, and wedge heels that Liv let you borrow, pacing a hole into your floor. All you did with your hair was pin the side bangs away from your face and you hope that's enough.

You hear a knock on your door and you almost trip on the bottom of your pants to open it. You find Jamie in an almost identical outfit to the one he used for his date before, except in a different color. His hair had been slicked back, reminiscent of his older hairstyle but the highlights made the look pop more.

When his eyes land on you, Jamie takes a second to scan you before exclaiming, "Fucking hell."

With a teasing tone to try and make yourself feel more at ease, you ask, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Jamie looks back up at your eyes and smiles, "You look great." You don't detect a hint of banter from the guy which makes you feel warm inside, until he adds, "Though, I half expected you to wear your dress from our year 12 formal."

"Jamie, I swear I can still find something else to do tonight." You threaten but are unable to stop the smile creeping up on your face.

Jamie just chuckles and takes hold of your hand as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Come on," He realizes what he's just done and pauses to see your reaction, but when you tighten your grip on his hand, he continues, "Need to get there early so they don't swarm me for pictures." You roll your eyes as the two of you head out of the building.

You actually did get to the venue quite early, since the photographers were still setting up the booth and so the two of you walk over to two ladies, one of whom you recognize as Keeley Jones. After he introduces you, — as his friend and plus one, no mention of the word "date" — you soon find out that the taller one is Rebecca Welton, the owner of AFC Richmond.

"Wow, so you two practically control Jamie's career. Blink twice if you need me to take him off your hands." You lean in towards the two of them but speak loud enough for Jamie to hear and he pulls you back to his side as you laugh. The two women chuckle and share a look between them that you don’t know them well enough to understand, so instead you brush it off.

Jamie gets called for photos and Rebecca leaves to greet the guests heading inside the venue, so you're left standing with the PR manager of the team. As you watch Jamie cycle through various poses, Keeley leans in to ask you, "So, how long have you known him?"

"Well, I met Jamie when I was seven, but when I went off to uni and he joined Man City, we kind of drifted apart and didn't really talk for the next few years." That was basically the truth, anyway. "But I went to one of the Richmond games and we bumped into each other."

"Well, I'm glad the two of you met again. Honestly, Jamie's become much more tame recently. He hasn't had any Twitter feuds or issues in weeks. Makes my job a lot easier." You chuckle, knowing that instead of fighting back, Jamie ends up just complaining about it to you. She adds, "You must be a good influence on him."

"People have been saying exactly that since we were kids, so maybe it is true." You reply and Keeley gives you a wide grin.

When you head into the venue, there are already a few guests settling down in the area. You recognize some of them as footballers, — both from AFC Richmond and other teams, even some retired ones — business owners who are trying out being philanthropists, and people you've seen on magazine covers. 

You were less uncomfortable than you expected because everyone's attention was on Jamie. You stood by him while he greeted a bunch of people and continued to introduce you as his plus one. You hated crowds when you were kids and Jamie knew that, so he'd always check on you if you wanted to go to your seats ahead of him. You'd shake your head every time because you've already had years to get over that fear. Plus, everyone had been nice so far and more polite than you expected rich people to be.

Everyone finally decides to leave Jamie alone and the two of you head to your table, where some of his teammates are already seated and chatting amongst themselves. You recognized them immediately: Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes, and Richard Montlaur. Without Jamie even having to introduce you to them, Dani had already asked what your name was.

“What a lovely name! I’m Dani.” You shake the hand he offered you, as the other players start to welcome you as well. They were so warm and kind, that it’s no wonder Jamie had gotten so much better during his time at Richmond. It seemed their energy was so infectious that it was rubbing off on Jamie.

Though, it could be a bit overwhelming too, as they all wanted to have a conversation with you. Someone had asked, “Tell me more about growing up with Jamie,” while someone else chimed in, “Do you think there’s a correlation between your genes and how well you can shoot a penalty? Because Colin here…” and somewhere in the mix, you hear, “That’s a lovely bag you have. Where’d you get that?”

While Jamie was enjoying watching his favorite person interact with his favorite group of people, he started to notice how tense you were becoming, despite the plastered smile on your face. He reached out to grab your hand as he interrupts all the conversations with, “Alright, alright, I think the programs about to start. Let’s stop bothering my date for now, yeah?”

Date. The word alone sent chills down your spine. Even more so when you turned to look him in the eyes, and he had a look of concern that only you could’ve detected. You breathe a sigh of relief and give him a comforting look, which allows him to relax, too.

You both turn towards the stage as Rebecca, along with Ted, their coach, walk up to the mic. They start with the basic pleasantries, thanking everyone for coming, with Ted’s occasional funny chime-ins. As they segue into the auction itself, you can hear your own table come back to life. The teammates started to tease one another when Colin turns to you, “Oi, looks like you’ll have to put up a fight for Jamie tonight.” He nods towards the table behind yours, and you spot a familiar looking lady, smiling at the man beside you. It’s only when Jamie groans that you realize who it is: the old woman who was one of three people in Jamie’s “bidding war” two years ago.

“Oh my god,” you’re unable to stifle your laughter and instead turn away to try and hide it. “You know what, I think I’m fine going home alone, Jamie. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone off at a party to get lucky, so go have fun!” You tease him, but instead, he turns to you with a desperate look in his eyes.

“Please, don’t do this to me, (Y/N). Make sure you win.”

You scoff and lean in, “Who says I’m even bidding tonight? I’m not even tenured, Jamie. How much money do you think I have?”

Jamie pleads once more, “Please. I’ll pay you back in full and you can pick all the movies we watch for the rest of the month. Anything, come on.” You sigh and finally give in to his puppy dog eyes. 

You give him a slight nod and he quietly thanks you, as Ted starts to introduce the team. “Let’s start the auction with one of our striking strikers, Mr. Jamie Tartt!”

Jamie gets up and walks over to the stage, and it’s only then you realize he had been holding your hand this entire time.

Ted rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, but before Richmond’s coach can even start the bidding, you hear a loud voice behind you exclaim, “Five thousand pounds!”

You have to hold in your chuckle as you turn to Jamie who is now desperately staring at you. You raise your paddle high enough and shout, “Six thousand pounds!”

“Oh, and another bid from Mr. Tartt’s lovely date tonight. Can anyone match that, do I hear seven thousand?” The lady once again raises her paddle.

“Eight thousand!” You exclaim once more, as Jamie lets out a sigh of relief.

This back and forth goes on for a while, up until the final bid (from you, unfortunately) of fifteen thousand pounds. The football player finally allows himself to relax and with one final slap on the back from his coach, makes his way back to you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, squeezing your shoulder as he gives you a quick hug and sits down. You playfully roll your eyes, but give him a small smile back. A few more rounds of bidding take place until Jamie leans back into you. “You feel like going on that date now?”

You turn to him confused, “Like, right now? We’re in the middle of the program.”

Jamie shrugs, “We’re done with our part now and gave out a good amount for the charity. Most of them won’t even notice us leave, come on,” He takes hold of your hand, and as if on cue, activating those butterflies in your stomach, yet again. “Unless you want to bid on someone else tonight, which in that case, I didn’t know you had that in you.”

You roll your eyes but eventually agree. You say your short goodbyes to everyone at the table and Jamie leads you to Rebecca and Ted, who, after Coach Beard — you believed his name was? — had taken over for him, was currently gorging on the appetizers.

“Hey boss, Ted, we’re heading out early, but see you both on Monday.” Jamie quickly explains, still not having let go of your hand. You’re starting to wonder if he’ll ever notice or has just grown used to it like he was before.

“That’s no problem, Jamie, see you and thank you for coming!” Rebecca directed that last comment towards you and you give her a big smile. But his coach wipes his mouth with his table napkin and stands up to greet you anyway.

“Well, I can’t let you go off yet without introducing me to this lovely lady.” Ted reaches out to shake your hand and you take it quickly before he leans to whisper to Jamie, but loud enough for you to hear. “Is this her?”

“Jamie Tartt, do you talk about me to your coach?” You ask teasingly, but instead of his usual reaction of fake annoyance, he turns away shyly.

Ted replies for him instead, saying, “Oh well, not all the time. I usually have to pry it out of him, too.” He nudges the football player, who finally decides that it is definitely time for you two to leave. He leads you out of there and the pair of you walk back to his car in a comfortable silence.

You may not have realized it till now, but the inside of the venue was the stuffiest place you’ve been to in a while. Sure, the people were nice, but the mixing of colognes and posh accents was starting to get to you. Before you can thank Jamie for getting you out of there, he’s rifling around his jacket for something.

“I, uh, found something in some of my old stuff. Was planning to give it to you before we left, but I… got distracted,” you try and ignore the warm feeling creeping up on your cheeks as he says that and instead watch Jamie turn back towards you, pull out your hand, and place an item on your palm. “Here.”

You look down to find a small plastic ring with a “gem” in an obnoxious pink color. You chuckle as you’re reminded of the toy rings Jamie would give you on your birthday as kids, till you realize… you’ve been missing one of them since you moved out.

“Wait, is this…” You start and look back up at Jamie, who has a sheepish look on his face. Definitely doesn’t fit him.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you because well, we weren’t really talking all these years, but I went by your house a few days before you left for uni, but you weren’t home and so I went to your room and saw that lined up with the rest of them on your drawer. I thought you were crazy for keeping them all those years, and I wanted to mess with you, so I… took one of them, hoping you’d notice. You never did though, so now I look kinda stupid.” He explained guiltily, but you could only laugh.

“I thought it just fell into the trash when I was moving out. If you wanted me to notice you taking something, you should’ve taken my shoes or something. Why the ring?” You lean onto the side of his car, and Jamie joins you on your right.

He shrugs and swipes his hair back, “I don’t know. We were going our separate ways and you were going all the way to Wales for so long. I realized it was going to be a while before we saw each other again. I thought, maybe if you’d realize it was missing and wanted to go looking for it, you’d always have a reason to go back to me.”

You feel a heavy weight on your chest as the last part sinks in. After everything that’s happened, it had never occurred to you that even at one point, Jamie was afraid of losing you too.

You sit in that silence for a while before you decide to rest your head on Jamie’s shoulder, in one way telling him, I would always go back to you. He got the message.

“I know it doesn’t go with your usual outfit choices now, but I just thought you’d want it back anyway.” He whispers, causing a smile to form on your face.

“Thank you, Jamie.” You look back up at him, his face softening at the sight of yours. “You wanna go on that date now?” You straighten back up and take his hand in yours this time. “What does the legendary Jamie Tartt have planned for this one?”

Jamie looks around and spots a bike rental on the other side of the car park. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he was thinking. “Race you back to that ice cream shop across your flat. Last one there has to pay.” 

“What kind of date is that, Tartt?!” You exclaim, as he drags you across the street.

If there’s one thing you knew about Jamie, it was that he was a sore loser. So after you dropped your bikes in front of your flat and were massaging your calves waiting for your sundaes, this may have been the happiest you’ve seen him lose at something in your whole life.

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @loveforaugust @crownofdecitreadingrespectfully @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @jess4rush @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[mellomaia]

One memory that I've come to recontextualize as a manifestation of infodumping now that I've self determined as autistic is how, when I was in 4th and 5th grade, I LOVED learning about animals. I could talk and talk and talk about animal facts. I would correct people immediately if they said things about animals that I knew to be false, thinking, "They wouldn't want to have misinformation about animals. I'm sure they'll appreciate the correction." If you said something like "blind as a bat" near me, you would hear about it. I found animals fascinating and it didn't occur to me that others didn't.

When I did learn that, it became harder to talk to others. As many have pointed out, infodumping is less about the subject of the infodump, and more about showing someone how much you like them and enjoy spending time with them by being willing to share your knowledge on something. So when I realized that infodumping was more likely to push others away or make them think I was weird, I was really lost and didn't know how to connect with others in a way that they would recognize as me trying to be their friend.

I often didn't understand the references others made or interests they had. Most of the times that I tried to be interested in something my classmates seemed to be interested in, it backfired. Once, for instance, I noticed others talking about music they liked. I thought about what music I liked, which wasn't that much because I didn't follow celebrity culture. I think most of the people I felt I was a fan of were people who had performed as the musical guest on All That at some point. I would think to myself, "Yes, now I have something to talk about them because I like music, and they like music." Then I would ask my parents for permission to buy CDs by artists whose music I enjoyed.

Then, I come to find out that the celebrities I happened to choose were ones that classmates thought were uncool. So then I didn't feel I could speak about this subject either, and I had to go back to the drawing board. It's not to say I never had any friends, but before undergrad, none of my friendships never lasted longer than 2 or 3 years back then. Not just because of this dynamic; other factors were involved, but still. It probably didn't help that I felt I couldn't be genuine, I'm sure. Feeling chastened against communicating about a subject I was passionate about made social interaction way harder than it needed to be.

Anyway, I don't have a much more complicated conclusion than, I think the world would be a much better place if it was socially acceptable to ask people what animal fact they learned recently and what their favorite animals were, instead of, like, the weather, and asking "how are you" when it's also not socially acceptable to say anything other than "fine," or maybe "tired."

[yanderes-galore]

Silent hill time, so Darling is Silent Hill and meets James. They decide to help each out but it seems like Pyramid Head is fixated on Darling, which makes her terrified (I mean who wouldn't be?) So basically James against Pyramid Head? Since PH is part of James I think that would be kinda hard for Darling. -🐈anon

This has very interesting implications so sure! I am sorry the end is garbage, this was mostly just me exploring the idea since I found it really cool.

Yandere! James Sunderland vs Pyramid Head

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Violence, Trauma, Guilt, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Attempted murder, Dubious relationship.

A rivalry between James and Pyramid Head creates an interesting dynamic.

Pyramid Head is part of James, a manifestation of his guilt... his tormentor.

Having them both go after you is like two sides of one coin.

James may be calmer, softer, and more caring.

While Pyramid Head is rougher, violent, and possessive.

Everyone finds their way to Silent Hill for one reason or another.

Most of the time to find something or someone.

They have a purpose and reason for being there.

You have your own reasons for going but either way... you meet James.

Silent Hill is filled with all sorts of different monsters created by the trauma of others.

Even the people in the town are paranoid, all there for their own reasons.

When you meet James you're weary of him.

Yet the man appears to be calmer than the rest of the people here.

More confused than anything, actually.

With some minor chat about the town and all the weird stuff happening in it you two convince each other to stick around.

James even asks if you've seen the monsters.

Even though I imagine the monsters are different for everyone, for this concept you also see what James sees.

James is mostly a quiet man when it comes to his past.

You don't even learn about who he set out to look for until later.

All he tells you is he's here for a reason... you reply with the same response.

Something brought you here... maybe it was even fate that you met James?

James is bad at consoling others yet he does try to look after you as you travel together.

James is a depressed, delusional, and reckless man.

Despite this, James himself shows the softer side of his yandere type.

He genuinely cares for your safety in this town.

Even more so when he hallucinates to the point of seeing you as his wife.

James feels he should protect you from the horrors of this town.

You're a young woman who appears just as confused as he is...

He just wants to... protect you from these demons.

James himself displays his overprotective and caring tendencies as a yandere.

In a way, him protecting you from the monsters of Silent Hill is like him trying to defend you from his inner demons.

He is the type of person for you to run to when you feel threatened.

He's appears harmless... yet not quite.

James is still the person who manifested Pyramid Head.

A beast you meet later in your journey.

Pyramid Head is a manifestation of James' toxic traits.

When you meet the monster it's stalking you and James from the shadows.

James may even say it's been following him.

Pyramid Head is much worse than normal James.

The beast follows you like a hungry animal.

It lumbers towards you at times with strange deep breathing.

Pyramid Head appears to be overly aggressive, possessive, and violent towards James.

It's an executioner, one made to punish the man of his sins.

Towards James, it yearns to hurt and kill.

Towards you... the beast expresses desire.

It's still rough with you but doesn't entirely try to hurt.

The monster grabs at you in desperation when it sees you, it roughly tries to take you for its own desires.

Pyramid Head is a monster created by James... yet James also tries to defend you from it.

It's sad yet oddly poetic.

Despite this you are correct, this pair up would be difficult as you could never fully get away from them.

James keeps you close to him as he feels he has to protect you.

Plus he begins to see you as the wife he lost to his own selfishness.

James is delusional... maybe his wife really did die.

Maybe you're her reincarnation... and he was meant to meet you (as insane as that sounds....)

As James' obsession gets worse, Pyramid Head gets fiercer.

As the two are connected, both obsessions fester the same.

As James begins to fall more in love with you in his delusions... Pyramid Head grows more restless in pursuing you.

Things may get worse and worse until one of two things happen:

James overcomes his inner demons and sticks with you after...

Or you both succumb to Pyramid Head.

The overall idea of this concept is what makes things interesting.

For the most part it is your typical yandere rivalry.

But the fact it's technically James fighting with himself is what's cool.

Part of him wants to cater and pamper you... hoping to heal his inner pain this way.

The other part wants to harm others to keep what he wants... the part that's a monster.

James came to Silent Hill to find his wife... yet in the end he found you to fill that empty void...

Unfortunately this means you're caught in the crossfire of a war between him and the monster he could be if left unchecked.

[polaris-stuff]

Okay, this is the fourth time of me rewriting this comment.

And i am gonna try and keep it short ( I failed I am so sorry) . As this is about the Heart to Heart with earth.

Feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna talk about it anymore. If you said something about , I've been trying to put my feelings on this out for a while and it's just not working. (it's also now 4 am, )

I came away from the episode feeling like it was a good episode. Where the characters talked about why they were deciding not to help moon for different reasons.

I thought for most of them it was in character, even if I don't fully agree. I could see what the show was trying to do.

And then i see a lot of people agreeing and being really hurt by the episode. Because they feel like everyone is aboning moon. And leaving him in this vulnerable space.

I feel like i missed something. As to me. the celestial family isn't fully aware as to truly how bad Moon's mental state has gotten.

I have a feeling that (Sun and Lunar, more so then earth) Are taking moon's last words as face value ( wanting to bring solar back for ego/selfish reasons, and not because he truly breaking down)

(I also think monty still hasn't fully filled them in either that moon seems to be thinking he isn't real but I could be wrong!)

I think they'd be behaving otherwise if they know the true depts. they wouldn't wich is why this sucks so much. Moon is driving people away, actively sabotaging his own help.

I sit here wishing i would understand that hurt. I honestly truly do. Maybe because i have the feeling that they will help even if they say now they won't

maybe because i really hope sun isn't gonna make the same mistake as moon.

Maybe i am i giving sun, lunar and earth to much credit, and to many excuses.

I think...in the end. I don't think them refusing to help moon. Is them trying to hurt moon (even if that is the outcome) . But is taking care of themselves as they are all also still not in a good place?

And maybe because i genuinely can't see what they can do for moon to help him. As they offered him help but he refused or actively lied on how he was doing. So I don't get what help people want them to provide for moon at this moment. ( besides not leaving, but can you be there for someone that doesn't want you there?)

I dunno if i am making sense. trying to talk my feelings out is always hard. And I think for the first time I am on the other side of most of the people I usually agree with and respect a lot ( you being one of them ) . So I feel a bit lost and weird about it as to why my view is so different.

( I am honestly hoping Sun will see Moon having hallucinations, and at least will set something up so moon is never alone in that cell like he was. I feel like he thinks, he first needs to stop moon. And then when that is done. He can actively think on what to do next cause offering help first ain't gonna do it)

I am sorry for leaving this long ass comment in your inbox. I truly hope It didn't come off as attacking. AS it wasn't meant to be. Just a fellow TSAMS fan. who was in their own way very confused and hurt i guess and feels a bit alone in their reading of the story?

And trying to understand why people see this a an attack from the celestial family on moon. Or a active decision...instead of .. a series of what is gonna be a slew of bad decisions from everyone involved.

-Noffy.

Alright, I understand your point of view, don't worry about it, and actually, this is a YT series on VRchat so I shouldn't be so mad about this either yk JAJA

Ok, the thing is, the family doesn't know what's happening to Moon, that's right, they have no way of knowing what's happening to him because Moon pushed them all away and lied to them, now, the thing is that Earth knows. Monty told Earth that Moon had a psychosis episode and found him hitting the ground, that Moon could no longer tell what was real from what wasn't, so Earth knows that Moon is in a HORRIBLE mental state. And idk, but if you know that a person is in a state where they can no longer perceive reality correctly, I don't think the best response is not to help them.

Also, I'll highlight Lunar going from "I really don't care" (although he should care, we're talking about Moon, one of his brothers) to "fuck him" which is just weird?? The whole family was with Lunar and supported him when the thing with Eclipse happened but Lunar just does not care when something happens to another family member ??

I'm 100% sure that Sun will help Moon, it's more than obvious that Moon will get out of this situation, but the way the family is handling it is so strange to me. Lunar, Earth and Sun have every right to not want to continue dealing with problems but this is also partly their fault.

Since Solar died no one was with Moon because "Moon was busy", so Moon was alone in P&S with Ruin whispering in his ear and only Lunar went to see him a couple of times. Sun began to hang out more with Earth and Lunar, and Moon was left completely alone. "Oh, but Moon never said he wanted them to come with him! They can't read minds!" Yes, and that's true, but If everyone was aware that Moon and Solar were basically running around together every day, and everyone was aware that Moon was the one who had the worst reaction to Solar's death, the logical thing to do is to spend at least a couple of hours with him, right?

And yes, Moon lied about how he felt so this is also partly his fault for wanting to hide what was happening to him. But Monty is also to blame because he also hide it.

We are at a point where we have been shown that all the hallucinations that Moon has had are created by her consciousness out of guilt (in the same way as Sun when the BM thing happened), Moon regrets the things he said to Earth, Moon wants to stop, Moon wants to go home and apologize, but he can't. He thinks his whole family hates him, that no one wants him in daycare.

Also, I understand that Earth is hurt but she also isn't trying to understand Moon's feelings now that she knows everything Moon has been going through. Now she knows that Moon is going through the worst time of her life and she just decides not to do anything about it because "Moon said a couple of hurtful things to her." (things Sun warned Moon would say to push her away and things that worked).

I feel like of all the people, the only one who has a little more reason here is Sun, and, interestingly, Jack and the computer, who have done more than Earth and Lunar.

I think that now that he is locked up and unable to teleport it is a good opportunity for everyone to talk to him, a really serious and good intervention.

Sorry for the long text! And thanks for the ask and support! It really helped me let off some steam, hehe

[aardvark-123]

~Fallout 4 Companions React to a Quiche Lorraine~

Ada would be mildly interested. "Ah, a savoury pastry dish with a cheese, egg, and bacon lardon filling. Packed with energy for a hard day's scavenging. It isn't often you find something that nice out here."

Cait would stare at the quiche in a mixture of desire and trepidation. "Janey Mack..." she'd whisper. "I haven't touched a quiche since my parents tried to drown me in one! Held my face under the delicious, creamy, cheese and onion-based filling until I blacked out, so they did, to punish me for sneaking food earlier. Bastards." Whoever offered Cait the Quiche Lorraine would be so horrified by her tale, they wouldn't notice her devouring the whole pastry without leaving them so much as a slice.

Codsworth would be pleasantly surprised to see such fine cuisine two hundred years after the apocalypse. "By George, where on Earth did you manage to find that?!" he'd exclaim. "Did you bake it? Good heavens, I simply MUST have the recipe!"

Curie would be worried about the quiche at first. "Alors, you cannot be certain zis dish is safe to consume! Given zat it smells so good, it cannot contain much in ze way of preservatives..." Then she'd take a small bite, and her eyes would light up. "OH! Sacre bleu, ze quiche, it is making LOVE to my tongue! Oh, help, I fear I shall BURST from ze sheer pleasure of it! Aaaah... If zis is ze last Quiche Lorraine in ze world, I shall die..."

Paladin Danse would grab your hand halfway to the quiche. "Not so fast, soldier," he'd say sternly. "One of our rules is that a knight cannot feed themself until they've fed the Brotherhood. Luckily, as I am also in said Brotherhood, you can fulfil your obligation by cutting me a slice first..."

Deacon would wear the Quiche Lorraine as a hat, after which he'd be too busy laughing to eat much of it.

Dogmeat would sniff the quiche. His ears would prick up in delight, and he'd give you a pleading look, as if asking for permission to tuck in. If you gave him the go-ahead, he'd spend five minutes chowing down on the quiche, as quite possibly the happiest dog in the world.

"Heheheh... Now, there's a tasty dish!" Porter Gage would laugh. "Reminds me of all my favourite things, like torturing innocent victims, and selling children into slavery. Good times!"

Glory hasn't had much contact with baked goods before, and at first she'd be confused by the Quiche Lorraine. She'd get the picture after a few mouthfuls. "Man! Now, THERE'S a pie that can look a girl's tongue right in the eye!" she'd exclaim upon finishing the quiche. "Just needs some chips, coleslaw and a side salad, and maybe some mustard... Wait, how the Hell do I know what those things are? Weird."

Hancock would complain that the quiche was too salty and needed a side of apple juice.

MacCready would be ever so excited to have a delicious Quiche Lorraine, but he'd freeze with his fork half-way to his mouth. "Is this- is this paid for?" he'd stammer. "I don't have to pay for the quiche, do I? Just checking. I mean, it's probably worth a few caps, but I don't want any nasty surprises in the financial department. So are we all square? Right, good. Just making sure."

"Well, I'll be damned," Nick would chuckle, seeing the Quiche Lorraine just sitting there. "Genuine pastry and egg, just like old Mrs Calkowski used to make in that little place down on Mass Avenue. Times like this make a man miss having a stomach. No, don't feel bad, partner; you get some of that down you. It's cold out there, and you're gonna need your strength."

Old Longfellow would probably also eat the quiche.

Piper would cheerfully tuck in as soon as she was offered some quiche. She'd eat every crumb of the quiche, lick the plate (if there was in fact a plate involved), and immediately ask for an interview about where you found the quiche. "If there's still food like this out in the ruins, the public have a right to know! I want names, places, anything to do with the source of the quiche! This... is going to be big."

Preston would fetch some paper plates and start dividing up the quiche for everyone nearby, or everyone who needed it most.

Strong would dig out a rusty machete and hack the Quiche Lorraine in half. "Human! Eat pizza so you can grow big!" he'd bark, handing you half of the quiche. "Strong also eat pizza, so he can stay big," he'd chuckle, tucking into the other half.

X6-88 would be unimpressed. "Such a primitive pastry construction," he'd remark of the quiche. "This dish demonstrates poor nutritional balance, with excessive salt and fat. Eating too much of it may cause minor health problems. I recommend that both of us take a small slice, and we hand the rest over for molecular analysis. The Institute's scientists will surely be able to generate a better, healthier quiche."

If you've never heard of Quiche Lorraine before, it's a type of egg and ham quiche originating in Lorraine, which is in France. It's a tasty dish.

[linalavender]

How Tatsuki Fujimoto writes Affection

First of all I would like to give massive credit to Tiktok user @campaign_baby for their Tiktok I saw on this that really made me think of it alot more

I will Bring up Examples from:

Shikaku

Mermaid Rhapsody

Goodbye Eri

Fire Punch

Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Quite a big spoiler in this will give fair warning)

Fujimoto has a sort of strange method he uses to write that a character Loves/cares deeply for someone. And its The character either being willing to be consumed or to provide sustenance to someone, Or to consume the other person. Examples:

Shikaku

After Shikaku confesses her love for Yucel, He rushes to the hospital to offer her his blood, Making her into an immortal vampire just like him. Yucel has also fallen for Shikaku, its basically his confession of love, He wants to live with her Forever.

Its drawn in a way you can tell its such an act of compassion too.

Mermaid Rhapsody

"I loved her so much that I thought, If it was by someone with a smile as pretty as hers, Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad."

Toshihides Dad feels the exact same way about his Mom as Toshihide feels about Shijyu. Mermaids eat humans, But that never mattered to either of them.

Goodbye Eri

In Yuutas Movie about Eri, He writes her to be a Vampire, because he wouldnt actually mind to be her sustenance, In his movie, he loves Eri so much. (I genuinely cant read this fucking story without sobbing, Rereading it again just to get this screengrab just made me cry for like 20 min help)

Fire Punch

This one is Pretty straight forward, Agni with his regenerative powers feeds his village by continuously chopping of his Arm so they dont all starve to death. But more importantly he does this to prevent his sister from doing it aswell. He doesnt want her to suffer that pain so he takes sole responsibility for providing himself to the village.

Agni also later feeds his followers with the help of Togata Chopping of the part of his face that isnt on Fire. I think this has more todo with making sure Togata gets fed rather than his followers, To Agni Togata means alot.

⚠️Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Spoilers for the Final arc)⚠️

When Power is about to Die, Power not only offers her own blood For Denji to Drink so he can get back to health, But Pochita also offers a small part of himself so she can come back as a Powerful Devil.

And ofcourse the big one is Denji Eating Makima. He obviously has to and all for the sake of erasing her. But he explicitly says it wasnt an Attack, It was an act of Love.

Its such a fascinating thing that the idea of consuming someone can be concidered something you do to a cherished one, as an affectionate thing. I guess as Denji mentions that you basically become one with eachother in a way if you consume them.

But this is such a Weird thing Right? Where does this idea even originate from? Well ofcourse we can only Speculate but I really think he took on inspiration from his own life here, Because he has actually done this to someone he loved. Yes, Seriously.

Tatsuki Fujimoto eating his deceased Pet Fish

In the Authors notes for "Tatsuki Fujimoto Before Chainsaw Man: 22-26" Fujimoto shares a story from when he was 24:

"Even though we were poor, we had a pet Japanese rice fish. I found it dead one summer. I went to toss its body into the trash like in Parasyte, but my girlfriend said she wanted me to bury it, So off I went to the park, alone. I tried to bury it under this big tree, but the ground was too hard, my hands got all dirty and I had no hole to show for my effort. Out of Options, I figured I would pretend I had buried the fish and left it lying there on top of the ground. As I watched it for a little while, ants found the body and began to carry it away. Im not sure what came over me, but in that moment, love for that pet fish welled within me for the first time. I brushed the ants away, and then Ate it."

You can read the full story here

It has that "Wait what the hell am I reading" Charm to the story like alot of his works, But theres something so weirdly beautiful about this story, Somehow stricken with grief and love for this fish, He ate it. As Denji says, its not an attack, his fish is part of him now and its an act of love. So strange, yet so Beautiful.

Anyways thanks for reading this insanely long post if you even got this far I appreciate it!

[instexcamera]

omg hiiiiii

how are youuuuu

can i request a piece with a soft dom mayoi and almost a ‘bratty’ sub reader who’s afab with gn pronouns? :0

also i have a thing for his hands and his teeth so… hehe. and maybe subtle corruption kink?

Mayoi, my favorite to write

SoftDom!Mayoi x Sub!Reader

Warnings: Marking/biting, brat reader, corruption kink, fingering

Authors Note: aaa I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this one tbh, I really love Mayoi he's so jehe

18+ under cut

Having Mayoi dote on you sometimes became a little too much. He would follow you around, either in sight or in the ceiling and walls. He would leave you notes in areas you'd easily find them, either recommending a new way to do something or praising your work. Mayoi was also big on gift giving, leaving them at your office when you left for a moment, they were all something homemade too. A diorama or some sweets he'd made, you always appreciated them, they looked as if they took time.

You didn't know why he had taken this strange affinity towards you. Maybe it's because you produce for his group, other than that you see no reason on why he would. Not that you were complaining about his attention of course, it was nice to have one of the cute idols show attraction to you. You also knew Mayoi had a tendency to do strange activities like this, from what you've seen, him doing this means he wishes to protect you in his own little way. Shinobu Shingoku, Mayoi's cheiftian, got the same amount of attention from what you had heard, however he didn't leave him personal handwritten notes like yours.

However, you hadn't expected his attraction for you to actually be something genuine. So when he had managed to stutter out a confession, when you were working you accepted after a minute of shocked silence.

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

A few months later when you working with Mayoi, you found yourself staring at his face. Or more accurately his lips and thinking about his teeth. Mayoi's teeth were sharp, longer than average and pointed at the ends, like a sharks. You had heard many people point them out, saying there abnormal, unusual, or weird. Mayoi would always shrink back when he heard those comments, walking the other way to get to a secret passage or vent he could use to walk in instead. You didn't think his teeth were weird, you found them quite interesting, cute even, Mayoi's smiles were always cute when he allowed them. You were wondering what they feel like biting into you, on your neck, chest, thighs, anywhere he could mark. Everyone would be able to tell who did it too, his teeth are so different it wouldn't be hard.

"Um, my love? Are you ok? Am I upsetting you by being here? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can leave!" The phantom's eyes dart every which way, looking for a way to hurriedly escape if you did want him to leave. "No, Mayoi you're fine, I was just, ah, thinking of your teeth. And uh, how I want you to bite me." He looks startled, not many people compliment his teeth, he slowly walks from where he is closer to you, sitting on the bed beside you. His close proximity to you is almost too much, you hadn't expected him to move. "My teeth? But there so weird and unusual, something no pure being like yourself should want to be bitten by fufufu."

You could feel your skin starting to grow hot, Mayoi wasn't usually this bold, normally when you complimented him, he started denying it. Feeling the bed dip in as he slide closer, you looked away, not able to look him in the eyes. Where was this bold Mayoi coming from? Not that it was terrible, it was a welcome change, just unusual. Feeling a trembling hand come up and move your face towards him, forcing you to stare right into his eyes. You could tell he was still anxious even if he acted like he wasn't, the lust in his eyes doing nothing to hide the small tremors of fear that lay beneath.

Yet his lips still meet yours, there cracked and dry, not very soft but kissing him was always pleasant. The kiss ends abruptly, you wanted to protest but didn't want to seem too needy, the idea of teasing him was a thought in the back your mind, not that you had before. But you hadn't teased him with anything sexual yet, maybe today would change that. You focus back on Mayoi, a studying expression on his face, as if he expected you to whine out at the loss of the kiss. You weren't going to give him that satisfaction now since the thought of teasing him came to mind.

To your surpise his hands quickly grab you around the waist, man handling you to turn you around, pulling you closer to him. The phantom was just full of surprises today, his sudden boldness making you wetter than you'd like. It's the first time you and him had gotten this far, he would always start rapidly apologizing to you at this point any other time. Today would actually be the first time you and him did something sexual unless he stopped, the prospect causing your thighs to rub together.

That didn't go unnoticed by Mayoi, a hand moved from your waist down towards the waistband of your pants. Pulling the band back and letting it snap back on your skin, the feeling causing you to shift a little. "My angel, are you enjoying this? The expression you have on seems to indicate so, do you like having an unclean being like me touch you like this?" A gasp catches in your throat, if you weren't wet already you were now. But you wouldn't let him get away with teasing you like this. "No, you'll have to try harder than this, it's barely anything."

Mayoi only hums in response, his other hand sliding up your body until it reaches your neck. Pulling it to the side gently so he could have better access to your neck, his warm breath closer than before. The hand on your waistband runs up your body, slowly stopping to trace over your right nipple through your shirt. Once he feels you flinch at the sensation he starts nipping at your neck, using his hand on your nipple to start pinching at it, trying to get it to harden.

Having never done anything like this before you're incredibly sensitive, having to hold back whimpers. Mayoi stops focusing on your neck for a moment, wanting to see if he could get you to admit you liked it. "That felt good didn't it? I felt your body twitch." Shaking your head, a small "no" leaving your lips, god, you were failing miserably at trying to tease him, the new sensations he's giving you, causing you to go weak. "No? Then open up love."

His hand gives one final squeeze to your hard nipple before continuing up, his index and middle finger pushing against your lips. You comply much to his amusement, his head rests on your shoulder, watching himself as he slides his fingers into your mouth. You when always thought Mayoi's hands were pretty, they were long and slender and he was good with them, working on exquisite dioramas. You wondered if you'd finally get to learn just how good he could use them today.

His voice right beside your ear made you jump "Go on now, suck them, get them all nice and wet, you'll need too fufufu." You didn't comply, letting your jaw stay slack around them. You hear Mayoi let out a sigh, as he starts to press his fingers down on your tongue, causing you to gag. He immediately stops, and instead tries to gather as much spit that was in your mouth as he can on his fingers. A few moments pass, the feeling of him fucking his fingers into your mouth causing your jaw to hurt some.

A small hum of approval leaves him when he deems his fingers wet enough as he slides them out of your mouth, back down your chest towards your pants. "This is your first time doing something like this right? Oh how disgusting your first time experiencing this is with someone as lowly as me!" His hand slips under your pants the same moment he bites, hard, into your neck.

The feeling of his sharp teeth digging into your skin, conbined with the way he was slowly pushing in a finger causing a moan to rip out of you. You could feel Mayoi grin into your neck, no doubt overjoyed he finally got the reaction he wanted out of you. So long for how you wanted to tease him when on your first time you can't even manage it, falling victim to his touches. Mayoi let's go, kissing along your neck, biting into the spots you shiver at when he kisses over them. His finger trying to slowly work it's way into your tight hole. The feeling is a lot for your first time even if he was just using a single finger.

He crooks his finger up as his kisses trail across your neck to your back, biting into the skin there. Your noises rise in volume, not going unnoticed by Mayoi, "Do you like it now? You certainly seem like you are, the way your body just melts into my touch." Shaking your head no again, fearing whimpers and whines would fall out your mouth instead of words if you opened it.

"Really? Guess I'll just have to try harder then." The phantom slides his other finger in, meeting his other as he crooks them up, making a beckoning gesture inside you. His thumb reaches to press on your nub. The pleasure causing your back to arch deliciously and he takes the chance to go back to marking up your neck.

It doesn't take long for your orgasm to hit you, this being your first time making you all the more sensitive. Your eyes roll back as your hips jolt forward riding Mayoi's fingers. When you come down from your high, Mayoi's stopped nipping at your neck as he slides his fingers out of you. He brings his fingers covered in your juices up to his mouth as he licks them clean, a small nod of approval as he finishes.

"You have to admit you liked that, your body had the cutest reactions! And you don't have to worry about me, I already, um, finished." Your body is still somewhat shaky but you're able to speak out, "Yea, I enjoyed it, thank you Mayoi."

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

The next day, as you stand in front of the mirror looking over your body, only your neck and back were marked up. The most noticeable parts too, they were hard to cover up. Yet you couldn't deny the small temor of delight at the fact anyone could see the marks and know that Mayoi left them there on you. After all, his teeth marks were easy to identify.

[anakinsgirlfriendreal]

Parts Of The Truth

Masterlist

Chapter Five

Warnings: discussion of fertility issues, maybe some spelling errors, a child, foul language.

Five chapters already? Insane, I love writing so much and idk but my motivation has returned after so long. PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME.

"Padme" you stare at her with an awkward, anxious smile on your face. You're so fucked you think.

She smiles at you, no hint of hostility or faux politeness, a genuine smile, but her eyes seem sad. "Uh, I'm sorry to just pop in like this but I got your address from Ahsoka. Do you mind if I come in." You hesitate for a moment but you let her in.

She steps into the house, following your lead as you walk back to the living room, where Darcy was laying on the couch, eyes glued to the TV, still in her pjs.

"Sorry for the mess, this is what the house looks like when you spend an entire weekend with a three year old."

Padme chuckles, "It's okay, no judgement here. Hi sweetie" she waves at Darcy, you pray she doesn't see any resemblance. Darcy waves at her.

"Are you my mama's friend?" Darcy sits up immediately curious. You scoop her into your arms, kissing her head before placing her on the floor.

"How about you save the questions and go take a bath, let mama and her...friend talk okay?" Darcy pouts. "But-"

"Now" it comes out more firm than intended but it worked, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

Padme sits on the couch as you try to put away all of Darcy's scattered toys. "Sorry to just drop in. I just...I didn't know who else to go to, I figured since you work in the office you're the best person to come to about this sort of thing" she sighs. Your brows furrow.

"What is it?" You ask curiously.

She hesitates, kissing her teeth. "I think that my husband is cheating on me."

You're at a loss, opening your mouth but no words form, you sit next to her. "...Wow uhm, why...why would you think that" you try to sound as clueless and convincing as possible.

"I'm sorry to just dump on you. i just figured that if...is he seeing anyone in the office. Is anything weird happening that i should know of" she asks, it sounds like she's scared to hear the answer. you swallow the lump in your throat, pushing down your guilt, your body suddenly hot like you were about to combust.

"I'm sorry Padme, there's nothing I can think of." You sigh, going to the kitchen to get water, she follows behind you sitting on the stool at the counter. "He loves you very much, I don't think he would do that" you lie straight through your teeth, offering her a glass of water which she politely accepts.

"I know he does, it's just- Okay, about three years ago, we found out that i can't get pregnant, and we both really wanted a baby. So he put thousands of dollars into fertility treatments and different doctors and medications but every time we tried...none held up" She opens up to you. You feel sick to your stomach, guilt consuming you.

"Padme, I'm so sorry"

She looks at you, her eyes glossed over with tears. "He was patient and kind about it you know. He said that we'd keep trying and if it didn't work then we could adopt but then suddenly, he says that he's 'over it' that he was happy and that he didn't care anymore. I've been trying to push him to adopt but he's fighting me on it something about how he doesn't raise someone else's baby and it'd be better just us."

Your eyes gloss over listening to her, you knew why he stopped; because of Darcy, because you gave him what Padme couldn't, your stomach twists into knots.

Padme continues, "I figured that, maybe it was nothing but then he started coming home later, sometimes he wouldn't come home at all and he'd say that it was a late night at the office or that he was running over proposals so I let it slide you know. But I just can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something" she places her hand over your own. "Please, if you know something, just tell me"

You bit down on your lip, contemplating. What kind of a person were you? Sleeping with a married man, having his baby when his wife was struggling to do so. You defended your actions in your mind; to be fair; you didn't know. "I don't know anything that can help Padme, I'm sorry."

She sighs, "it's fine" she runs a hand over her face. "It's just nice to talk about it finally to someone, i felt like it would drive me crazy just holding it in"

You nod, completely understanding that feeling.

"I hope we can be friends." she smiles, you return the smile, nodding. Darcy runs down the stairs, in a fresh onesie, her hair brush and teddy in her arms, she climbed up on the stool handing you the brush to comb her hair. Padme smiles at her. "That's a cute bunny"

Darcy nods. "Yeah, his name is whiskers, my daddy gave him to me, my daddy always buys me stuffies." Padme smiles.

"Yeah? Your daddy sounds pretty cool"

"Mhm, he works a lot but my mama says it's so he could buy me all the teddies in the whole big world." She holds the bunny out to Padme.

Padme takes the bunny, playing with her, you feel nervous like Darcy may something and explode your life, you finish braiding her hair and she runs into the living room, back to watching Paw Patrol. Padme watches her tiny form, smiling. "She's bold"

You chuckle, "A handful too." You smile, talking about your baby, for a moment the guilt fades only to return again.

"Are you and her dad...together?" She asks. "Sorry i don't mean to pry"

"it's fine and no well, it's complicated" You take a deep breath. Padme chuckles.

"Ugh men, so annoying."

You laugh, "You can say that again. Hey, are you in the mood for wine?" You know it's an absolutely horrible idea to befriend the wife but you aren't exactly the best at decision making. Clearly.

"Day drinking? I love your style." Padme raises her brows.

You spent the afternoon, finishing a bottle of wine with Padme, while Darcy melted her brain with cartoons. You talked and laughed, trading stories and giving advice which you of all people shouldn't be doing. You had almost forgotten that you were responsible for ripping this woman's dream away from her, forgetting that this new friendship will inevitably take a horrible turn.

[yuri-is-online]

Hello author!! I was the one who requested prompt 12 with riddle, jade, and jamil, and let me just say I absolutely loved it!! You wrote all of them so well, riddle and jamil's especially genuinely gave me butterflies in my stomach 😍😍. You said "feel free to message me with a separate request" since you already did riddle before my request, if I may request the same prompt with Ruggie instead? If not, feel free to ignore this!! No pressure!! Thank you so much for doing my request!! 💙💙

12. You had a wonderful time dancing and flirting with someone at the ball, only to find out from your friends the next day that was your crush. And you have no idea if they knew it was you they were dancing with.

Hi reader!! And I very much did mean you could ask for a second request, sorry this took so long to get out I had a minor brain break. I was worried I was running out of ideas for the Masquerade prompts but RUGGIE- I wanted to write for him so bad after I got his card from GloMas. I didn't expect him to get so excited for such a posh event it was so cute. He works for this prompt so so well.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ruggie is a little shit but he really does care about Yuu, did you know sleep deprivation makes you act drunk? Because Yuu are about to find that out. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

The fabric of his costume had felt weird at first, Ruggie has no idea why rich people insist on making their costumes feel so uncomfortable, but something about the mask brings back some of his confidence. Enhances it even, maybe that should have been his first sign something was going to go wrong.

You have complicated feelings about being stuck in Twisted Wonderland. On the one hand you have made friends you genuinely feel lucky to have met, on the other you know if you make it home no one will ever believe you. No matter where you go, you will forever be stuck with a painful longing for a group of people that you will never be able to see again.

Something about the masks everyone was wearing last night and how exhausted you had been after setting up had brought those thoughts up into the forefront of your mind, brewing a strange set of emotions in your chest. You wanted to cry, you could swear that's what you were doing but when you had removed your mask to check, your cheeks were suspiciously dry.

"Ain't it against the rules to be removing that so early?"

Ruggie doesn't give things out for free, that's why you're looking for him. That's what you tell yourself as you try to run through the locations he could be in your mind, straining your eyes to look through the crowd for a glimpse of gold, it's strange really how foolish this makes you feel. Yesterday you would have had no trouble finding him, yesterday you would have rolled your eyes and said something about how you always find him when you don't need him. But now...

"Here." The stranger's voice is hoarse, rough with emotion much like the handkerchief he wipes your cheek with even though its absent of any sorrow. "You really aren't good at this whole stay'n up late thing are you, prefect?" You think you laugh.

"The headmage had me set up the tables." It's a task you swear should have been done with magic, but your manual labor was clearly more convenient. "Honestly I sort of just want to go to sleep, but that would be a waste of the party."

"Yeah! You'd miss out on all the free food!" You swear, if you had just been more awake, you would have realized why his voice made you relax. If you had been more awake you wouldn't have let him lead you out of your corner and rest your head on his shoulder. If you had been more awake-

"Ha you sound like Grim." He takes both your hands in his and pulls you up to your feet with a truly wicked smile peeking out from his mask.

"Well now that's just rude!" His fingers intertwine with yours and you swear if he would just take off his mask you would see the whole world reflected in his eyes. "I promise I'm a much more fun time than your stupid cat, c'mon let me show you."

"But my mask!" You aren't really protesting, you want to go with him you swear you just want someplace to hide your embarrassment.

"Don't need it~" And he clearly knows that as he makes sure kiss your knuckles while clearly staring from behind his the whole time. "Let everybody see just who you're dancing with, yeah?" ~~~~ "Coast is clear." Jack mumbles, clearly conflicted as Ruggie stumbles out from the supply closet, but he doesn't say anything just yet. But it isn't a thought he is going to keep to himself forever.

"Thanks Jack! You're real reliable y'know?" The freshman's tail twitches, but Ruggie's praise doesn't have its intended affect.""Thanks Jack! You're real reliable y'know?" The freshman's tail twitches, but Ruggie's praise doesn't have its intended affect.

"This sucks to watch you know." He sounds almost as disappointed in him as Ruggie is himself, there is a petty part of him that wishes Jack was judging Yuu too put he knows they're not really in the wrong here. "Don't you at least want your hankie back?"

"What makes you think that's what I'm concerned with?" It's not what Ruggie intended to say, and clearly not what Jack thought he would hear. For some annoying reason it makes him smug, but Ruggie can't even bring himself to stumble towards denial. "I'm not usually that confident y'know? And besides..." He doesn't think Jack will understand his worries. Maybe Jamil would, they aren't exactly friends but he has talked about dating with him before. Yuu isn't from Twisted Wonderland, he's poor as shit, sure you could argue that dating is supposed to be fun and not something you worried about but when you have a lifetime's worth of hard work in your future...

Ruggie isn't big on saying people deserve things, but he is big on Yuu. Sure Leona is a grouchy bastard, Jack has that weird soul mate expectation, the Heartslabyul gang come from weirdly posh countries, and Azul and the twins are sketchy bastards but they all could give Yuu a place worth belonging to. He can't do that, not yet. And no matter how hard he intends to work for one there is always a chance he'll fail. Dreams don't pay your bills after all.

"I don't think they mind." Jack is always too serious when he says things, but there is an odd gentleness to the way he says this that Ruggie hasn't heard from anyone whose told him that before. "Yuu respects and likes you just the way you are, didn't even need me to tell them who they danced with last night they already knew it was you. Subconsciously anyway." That makes his heart do some painful flips, as Jack turns to go. "You aren't a bad guy Ruggie. Not in their eyes anyway."

But he should be. That's the problem. He should be someone you dislike for all the times he stepped on your feet and tricked you into staying with him instead of looking for your real friends. For how he is showing up at your door intending to trick you into feeding him for how much he "helped" you last night only to find you on you way out to find him, food already in hand.

"Oh I'm glad you came." There is relief in your sigh he didn't think he would ever hear from a classmate at this school. "I was worried by the time I found you it would go cold."

"Ha thought y'knew me better than that prefect!" He tries to laugh, but he knows his face is burning red and he is so overwhelmed he can't look at you at all. "I'd never let food go to waste. 'Specially not yours."

He can work the details out later, Ruggie hates doing that. He likes specific plans, but this is nice. If he closes his eyes as he sits at your table he can pretend its his, that you are his. And when he opens them, when he decides to be honest with himself, one of those things will be true.

[nhasablogg]

Something I've been wanting to say for a while

I admit I'm a coward. I can't help it. I have anxiety. I feel as if people will be mean to me even when I've not done anything. I want to protect my peace too much to get into things like I used to, but I need to say something, because it's a recurring thing and people think they can just send me things that they feel is true with no space for disagreement or a discussion. I'll probably make this post unrebloggable and close my asks for a while afterward, because I genuinely am not looking for other people's opinions about it. I already know it's varied, and that many people are very extreme about it, maybe because they just feel passionate that their view on it is right, which is fine as long as there's recognition that your views are not everyone's views, or maybe because the internet nowadays encourages aggression without trying to understand any other view on things.

I don't think liking tickling automatically makes it a kink, and so I don't agree that engaging in tickling with others, whether they know you like it or not, is necessarily something sexual or that it's this whole terrible thing you shouldn't do and if you do it makes you a disgusting human being. I think it's very bold for others to assume that the way THEY feel about it means everyone has the same feelings and experiences. This is so complex and personal, probably something that's been inside of us our entire lives and has developed with us. You can't tell people how to feel, just like I can't technically convince you it's not just a kink. It's weird that you don't think it would work both ways and that only your opinion on it needs to be aggressively shouted at others (you is not aimed at a person, but a general you - you get it, you're smart).

But! This whole discourse has made me feel afraid to admit that certain parts about my feelings for tickling ARE a kink, even though I'm not actually into sexual activities due to being asexual. Although I reckon people who aren't asexual feel this way too. I've seen so many takes about that if you have a tickle kink you can't enjoy it platonically that it's made me afraid to express my feelings on it on the one and only place I can do it, and I think that's stupid. I've been afraid of exploring different themes in my silly little fanfictions because of it. I think it's dangerous the way people will throw serious accusations at others just because THEY might find it sexual and nothing else. It's quite literally something people do to bond and have fun, be annoying, provoke, and sometimes to spice things up in the bedroom, and I can't comprehend why this community thinks those things can't be true at the same time. Humans are complex. Some people are terrible, but do you really think all of us are? I understand the need to protect others, but why must you always assume the worst in people who have never shown you or anyone else any malice? Do you really think I would sit on this blog and talk about something tickling related if I myself found it inappropriate? I wouldn't be stupid enough to admit to something like that anyway. Does this make sense? I just think a lot of people in this community are after the wrong people. I just write fics and sometimes talk about my life, and I would LIKE to be able to talk more about tickling, but I get scared to do so even though this is a tickling blog, to a certain degree.

I don't know. I don't think I managed to say all I wanted to say, but I just simply don't know how to say it. Tldr I guess: most of us are complex and can have more than one feeling about things and it's not up to you to decide how we feel.

[if-you-feel-lonely]

Being Wilbur's younger sibling but closer to Jack

Warnings: Swearing, jealousy

A/N: i swear i'll post more, i've been really invested in school work recently, but I'm off school for christmas holidays!!!

This is inspired by @beeindaclouds's similar fics!! part one is here

For a while, you felt jealous of the bond between Tommy and Wilbur

You knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but that didn't make you feel any different

It was always "Tommy this", "Tommy that" with him. You tried to ignore it - you really did!

But you couldn't help it

Don't get me wrong - you liked tommy. The two of you got on well together

But nothing you, him or Wilbur ever did would change your feelings

When Wilbur and Jack started talking and became friends, you tagged along on a lot of their outings

He made a lot of jokes at your expense about having to babysit you, hence you joining them, but it never took away from the fact that Jack did genuinely like you

In fact, he liked you so much that he started reaching out to hang out - just the two of you

You weren't a content creator by any means, but with how often you were hanging out during his streams, you might as well have been

He pushed you to do a lot of things you wouldn't normally have done /pos

He encouraged you to pursue the things you loved

It was weird - you two acted more like siblings than you did with Wilbur

Multiple compilation videos titled "Jack and Y/N being siblings for twelve minutes straight."

It was while before Wilbur noticed how close you were with Jack, and how distant you were with him

When he noticed pictures of the two of you on your social media, and his private accounts, he started having some suspicions

It only really sunk in when he found out you were moving to Brighton for university

Obviously, since you weren't a content creator, you had other ambitions, and you'd got into Brighton University with ease

When he offered to let you stay with him, and you declined, since you and Jack had already arranged for you to move in with him, it broke him

He didn't know what he had done wrong for you to choose his best friend over your own brother

Nevertheless, he moved on from it

If you wanted to spend time with Jack rather than him, that was none of his business

Maybe it pissed him off that you chose his friend over him - could he even say that anymore? He was your friend, too - but that wouldn't really mean anything, would it?

Okay, maybe he was a bit jealous. And maybe you knew and were just ignoring it. But hey, karma's a bitch sometimes! These feelings had been with you for far too long now, it wouldn't kill him to feel what you've been feeling

Speaking of, since hanging out with Jack, it had been a while since you'd felt that way

He made you feel appreciated in a way that Wilbur hadn't for a long time

You never told him why you always seemed so tense around him, and they thought it better not to ask

When Wilbur came to help you move your things into Jack's flat, there was a thick tension between you two

No matter what Jack tried, nothing seemed to break it

Finally, after two hours (though it felt like twelve), Wilbur left, and it gave Jack the chance to ask the question he was left wondering whenever it was just you, him and Wilbur

"Just out of curiosity," he began, awkwardly leaning on the kitchen counter. "Why are you and Will so distant now?" At your confused face, he elaborated. "Just 'cause you seemed really close when I first met you. Now you barely speak to each other."

"I mean, we were never really that close. Just hung out with the same people. Besides, he had other people to focus on, like you and Tommy and Niki." You explained casually, sitting on the counter opposite from him.

"Okay, you weren't like, best friends. But when he was here earlier, you were really tense. Both of you. It was weird - I've never seen two siblings so awkward around each other. Did one of you do something?"

"Jack, you don't want to know. It's just stupid and petty. Don't bother yourself about it."

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. Besides, stupid and petty shit is the only really interesting shit I get to hear."

"I don't really know. He just always prioritised Tommy and you lot more than me, and he's literally my brother. Since we started hanging out, you've been more like a brother than he has for the past few years. I get that it's childish and shit, but it still pisses me off."

"It's not that childish."

"I can't tell if you're taking the piss or not, but if you are, I will be moving out."

"I'm not! It is fair - compared to him and Tom, you two might as well be strangers. I know what you mean. But it's not gonna change if you don't talk to him about it."

"But that's awkward and therefore I won't be doing it."

"I'll tell him if you don't want to do it."

"Fuck off, really? You'd actually do that."

"Well yeah, but you'd have to actually talk to him about it. I'll just tell him what you told me and get him to talk to you."

"I love you in the most indescribably platonic way possible."

Manifold to the rescue

True to his word, Jack did message Wilbur on your behalf

Which brought about the hard part, actually talking to him about it. You wanted to, yes, but you failed to realise that that would mean actually speaking to him about it

You did speak to him, though! And cried, since I can't talk about my feelings without crying and I'm in a #projecting mood /nav

He was nicer about it than you had expected him to be

And, although it started out tense and awkward, you two did start to build a better sibling relationship

And you stopped being resentful to Tommy, which was a miracle in itself

He had noticed your bitterness towards him, but he never really knew why (and he never would)

The result?

Countless videos titled "Wilbur and Y/N being siblings for eight minutes straight". It almost rivalled the videos of you and Jack or Tommy and Wilbur

But through all this, you still lived with Jack since, even if Wilbur lived only ten minutes away, moving is such a pain, and one you're not willing to endure again

[crow2222]

Darry with a shrimp/sea food allergy that he and the gang only realize after he's eaten it?

I'm genuinely curious of how and why you thought of this, it left me stumped for a while because I don't have any allergies 😭 but after weeks of being in my drafts, here you go!!

WC; 1268

Summary; The gang go out to celebrate Darry's big promotion until something goes horribly wrong.

We were out for food after I found out I had a big promotion coming up, for some ungodly reason I let my brothers decide the place we'd be going for dinner and for some reason I knew I'd regret the seafood.

It all happened not in the way that I expected. I just figured I wouldn't like it or something, I really only liked the grilled fish the way Dad used to make it, or maybe my body couldn't digest it and I'd stay up in the bathroom.

The restaurant itself seemed pretty soc-y for a couple of greasers like us and the amount of times I had to stop the guys from misbehaving is embarrassing.

At least we were in our nice clothes. As nice as we own anyways.

Pony, Soda, Steve, Twobit and I quickly got our orders in, where I also had to remind them there's still a price limit, which was mostly directed at my non-blood brothers. "Just because I got a promotion doesn't mean I'm suddenly made of money" I hissed to Twobit who tried to get the most expensive meal on the menu.

Afterwards, Twobit made sure everyone in that damn restaurant heard his latest story with a blonde he "managed to score", which was so foul I had to cover Pony's ears after my attempt of shutting up the culprit himself was futile.

It didn't take long for our food to arrive, and I actually found my shrimp and rice enjoyable. It was a bland meal sure, but I was used to simple dishes from my own cooking, surely there's nothing wrong with getting something small, whereas Ponyboy thought the opposite and got himself a huge steak which not even I could finish by the looks of it.

And then on the other side of me, Soda seemed upset because his meal (salmon) wasn't dyed another colour like he'd find himself doing so, but I didn't bother to even comfort him. No one else did either, it's just one of those things you can't talk about to him. If I knew any better, he probably had a blue dye bottle in his shoe he might pull out any second to dye our food.

Twobit got lobster tail which seemed interesting to me, so much so that I managed to sneak a bit of it for myself once his head was turned. I didn't really dislike it, but it was just not my kinda thing.

And last but not least, Steve. He also had something with shrimp in it like me, but it seemed more like a complicated dish. It resembled a salad which looked like an impossible meal for a sweet tooth like Steve to eat but glory, he ate it all up. I'll give him that much.

I had to admit I felt a bit weird as I stared at my cleared plate. I don't know what it was, maybe the seafood was actually going to make me sick like I feared, but I didn't bring any notice to my odd feeling and quickly wiped my runny nose with my napkin before we got up.

Once I paid the bill I was preparing to regret anyways, we headed out to the Dingo to meet up with other guys to have fun with. I knew what the fun was going to consist of, so despite the heat from the gang and nicknames like "buzzkill" and "party-pooper" being thrown at me, despite the fact I was the reason they were even celebrating in the first place, I was going to head home. The way I had to start fighting the urge to throw up just convinced me to get home faster.

I was mumbling my goodbye's to everyone at the parking lot and telling Ponyboy and Sodapop to come home at curfew or else we'd have a problem, but my threats weren't coming off strong with my sudden shortness of breath.

I let out a sharp wheeze at the end of my sentence as my breathing started to quicken, as if I couldn't get enough air.

"Darry?" Sodapop immediately knew something was up judging by his tone of his voice, or maybe it was Ponyboy. I don't remember..

I let my calloused fingers wrap around my throat as I gasped and coughed violently, each cough racking through my body. What the fuck is happening? Twobit tried to remove my hands clutching my neck for some reason, did he think I was choking myself or something? I felt my throat get squeezed more and more with each passing second.

The nausea quickly became overwhelming, to the point where I let myself fall to my knees and double over, ready to get rid of the poison in my stomach but my cough was completely stopping me.

I could feel the confusion and panic from the gang around me, but I had no answers like I'd usually have. I felt just as confused and panicked as them, if not more.

I felt tears prickle through my eyes as I screwed them shut. Somethings very fucking wrong.. Why is this happening?

I felt so many hands on me and eventually I heard the old creak of the truck. That's when I realised I was pushed into the passengers seat. I don't know who was beside me, or driving, or who were the lucky friends stuck in the back but I couldn't find myself caring as I struggled to breathe, the itch covering my arms wasn't helping either.

I was trying, I was trying so goddamned hard to breath but to no avail. I was spluttering and choking still, with a gasp of air here and there that managed to keep me somewhat conscious. I feel the need to say "somewhat" because if I was going to be honest, I felt like I was on the brink of staying conscious.

I had a mighty strong itch on my arms at this point but I was too preoccupied with holding my throat to scratch myself. I don't know why I was doing that, a reflex I guess.

We must've arrived at the hospital at some point during my rushing thoughts because next thing I know, I was on a stretcher, maybe I was on the couch at home? and cold hands were all over me again, this time they were fighting me with my arms, I remember the satisfying feeling of letting go of myself and punching someone before they managed to get my arms stiff by my side.

Someone was holding me down, and before I could open my eyes to the harsh lights that was visible from my eyelids, I felt something cold enter in my thigh.

I didn't know if my brothers were even near me at this point, but I was rolled somewhere where I was pricked with something again and finally a mask on my face.

I greedily took in the air given to me, which I realised was even possible because my throat wasn't as closed up anymore. Did they actually help me?

It then took a little while longer until all the medical staff left and my brothers were allowed in.

Despite my mind still being a bit fuzzy, I listened to the nurse that entered alongside my brothers that explained my situation. I had something called an anaphylactic shock.

Basically, I had a severe allergy reaction to something, and I know exactly what it was.

The glance Ponyboy and Sodapop shared told me they knew as well.

"How about rice and beans next time Darry?"

God I hated them.