#it’s someone I’ve never met but I could describe him in detail

[honeyyglaze]

I’ve dreamt of the same person 4 nights this week

[pucksandpower]

Theories of Relativity

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors

The Olive Theory

When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)

You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.

As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”

Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"

You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"

You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.

Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”

The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”

“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.

Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.

“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”

You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”

Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”

You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”

The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.

After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.

You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”

Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”

You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"

“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”

Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”

The Bird Test

If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time

The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.

You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.

You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.

As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.

“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”

Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”

You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”

Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"

“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”

As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.

Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.

“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”

He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”

You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”

The Orange Peel Theory

A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship

Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.

Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.

“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"

Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”

He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.

You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.

“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”

“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.

“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.

Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.

“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.

One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.

You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.

When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.

Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.

Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.

The little things that mean everything.

You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.

You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”

Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”

He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”

Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.

“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.

Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.

The Invisible String Theory

An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)

The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.

Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.

Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”

You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.

Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”

You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.

Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”

He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.

A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.

Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.

“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.

“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”

Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”

Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.

Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.

It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.

You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.

Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.

He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.

Meant for each other. Destined, even then.

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter ten, spoiling me)

‘If I ask you for space you write seven-page letters. I used to think that meant I couldn't do better, you blow up at me then you pay for my dinner. I used to think that meant I wound up the winner. But front after front I was taught to forgive, you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough but my face has gone grey, There is mold in my gut’

summary; reader isn’t sure how to feel or how to react when she finds out the truth behind spencer’s sudden absence.

warnings; mentions of death, insecurity, female reader, avoidant reader, angst, first part in italics is a flash back, talks about hotch losing haley, no real details about that case, arguing, no closure.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Tell me something true.”

Your head turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice, a small smile across your features. Your house was warm, cosy and decorated in a way that only could be described as you. You knew Spencer was just glad to me here, it had taken a while for you to let him in the presence of your home. You always deemed someones home the most personal thing about them.

You had been recently questioning where home was.

Sure, your house provided you with comfort after a long day, you craved the warmth of your bed when your feet ached, you could hide in the walls that weren’t alive, they let you bury yourself in emotion to difficult to articulate. You liked that. Your house, there was never any pressure to be anything other than you.

So what were you to do when Spencer made you feel the same way?

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought over his question. Pushing your back up against the cushions of the sofa, heels of your feet digging in beneath you as you turned your body to face him, the documentary playing on the tv now long forgotten as your gaze met his.

He was wrapped tightly in a cotton sweater, you were sure in a few days the same sweater would be lost in your wardrobe. He never minded when you borrowed his clothes, deeming they were softer, more comfortable than your own. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the feeling in your chest that bloomed everytime he was around.

“True?” You repeated, furrowing your eyebrows. It was an out of the blue statement, he nodded in response, as he nudged himself closer to you on the couch. You tilted your head a little, “What do you mean, i’ve never told you anything untrue.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, you didn’t have to question why. You both knew deep down what he meant by his question. He was asking you to let him in. You thought letting him into your house was doing just that. Maybe he cared more about knowing your mind.

“You don’t talk. Like- about yourself, about your childhood, or your work, or how high school was- So, tell me something true.” He explained, even though he knew you already understood what he meant. If you needed the verbal clarification, he would give it.

You smiled. He wasn’t wrong and you weren’t embarrassed nor ashamed about your privacy. He would argue you couldn’t call it privacy if you were avoiding talking about it, then it crossed over to secrets. You didn’t mind having secrets either. But you liked Spencer, more than you were willing to admit and the fact he was providing you with the same sort of safe feeling your house did, well it made it easier to be open. To talk about the difficult things.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Why you won’t go out with me.”

You let out a breathy laugh and rolled your eyes. He didn’t seem phased by your reaction to his want, nor surprised. You should’ve expected that to be what he wanted to know, apparently the response you gave the first 23 times he asked wasn’t good enough, maybe because he knew it wasn’t true just as much as you did. “i already told you, I just don’t want a relationship.”

“But why?”

You shrugged, was there an answer to his question, of course. But there was a line you drew in confessing and dumping your past on people, and that conversation would fall over the line, the very thick, very defined line. Unfortunately Spencer’s presence in your life began to blur many lines, ones that seemed once so clear, now smudged. You had yet to decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t just the trauma dumping line blurring, it was every one. It was all of them.

Everything you thought you knew began to shift, your perspectives changed on things when he shared his opinion, your mind was opener, you were more comfortable. You were happier. Maybe not because of him, or because he provided you with more happiness than your life originally had. You were content with your life before meeting Spencer, but there was something nice about having a friend.

“Theres always.. I..” you faltered, shifting uncomfortably, your legs untucking from under you to instead pull to your chest as your arms tangled around your shins, chin resting on your knees. “I’ve always, kind of felt like i was just existing, never really living. I noticed that a while ago, so i decided that if i was going to have to exist, id at least do it peacefully.”

“Relationships aren’t peaceful for you?” He tilted his head, it wasn’t an accusation the way he said it, it was genuine curiosity.

“They haven’t been.” You answered with a shrug. Wishing not to recall your last relationship.

Spencer shuffled closer. His arm’s folding over his chest as he pushed his back further into the couch cushions. He was staring at you, eyes flicking over your features. You were smart enough to realise he was profiling you, trying to see if you were uncomfortable, trying to read you.

“You’re profiling me.” You hummed. He didn’t hesitate in nodding.

“You’re hard to read.” He said, turning his body slightly to better face you. If you knew anything about profiling, or psychology you’d assume he was more uncomfortable than you were talking about this, or maybe he was simply just nervous. “I’ve never really had much trouble in reading people. I can’t read you.”

You tilted your head, you half took it as a compliment. Dedicating so much of your time to making sure nobody really knew you, dedicating so much of your time to wondering if you even knew who you were, to hear that time pay off, well it made you feel a little better about the hole you had dug yourself into all those years ago, the one that seemed a little bit too deep to get out of.

“Does that bother you?” You asked simply. Wondering if much like many others, he would give up trying to figure you out, you’d be slightly disappointed if he did, but not entirely. You simply didn’t want to be figured out. You didn’t want to be read, or profiled, you wanted to stay as you were, even if the look in Spencer’s eyes was convinced of otherwise.

He shrugged, “Not really.” The goofy smile on his face appeared moments after, “I like puzzles.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused or unsettled by his dedication.

“Your turn, tell me something true.” You changed the topic, hoping that maybe the curious look in his gaze would disappear if he had a moment to forget why he was so set on learning every thing about you.

He grinned widely as he rested his head against the couch cushion, looking at you. “I really like you.” He said simply. You hated the way your cheeks rose of colour, you hated that his words made your skin feel a little tight around your bones. You hated that you couldn’t tell whether the feeling swirling in your stomach was a bad gut feeling, or butterflies.

You shook your head anyways, “You have told me that a million times. Pick a different true.”

“But thats the truest I have.” He sounded offended. Not by your lack of response, he knew what you’d say, yet he never failed to remind you that he did in-fact, really like you.

“Spence, pick a different one.”

He huffed, faux frustration over his features as he leant his head back to think for a moment, his eyes travelling the lengths of the ceiling in your home, memorising it. You watched the side of his face, eyes travelling over the curve of his nose and jawline, before he turned his head to look at you, a almost sweet smile on his face.

You didn’t like the way it made you feel.

“One of my biggest fears is losing someone because of my work, someone getting involved or being at harm because of me, thats why i don’t date- really.” He said, the smile on his face remained as he looked at you, but the words that left his lips made your heart frown. You shuffled a little closer, not even realising you were doing it.

“But you have asked me out a thousand times.” You countered, not because you didn’t believe the fear of his, but out of curiosity.

“Yeah well.. I guess we both have fears in relationships, right? I guess i just think its not worth worrying about those things until they might actually happen. Like- you’re worried you’ll get hurt again, I’m worried my job will hurt you, but they aren’t problems right now. You know?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before leaning into his side. Choosing not to reply.

You slumped against the wooden headboard of his bed, you tried to keep your focus on the small worn out indents over the wood, the detailing, you tried to figure out what wood it was, not that you had enough knowledge on wood to make that decision, you tried your best anyways. You could assume it was red oak, expect it was too dark, maybe it was painted with a wood stain, or maybe it was a different type of wood. Walnut, it could be walnut, that was a darker sort of wood, you were pretty sure, but the marbling texture told you otherwise. Maybe rustic brown maple.

Maybe you were just going insane.

The silence in the room was deafening and the more time went on the more you were convinced that you were purely wasting your time. After Spencer had convinced you to stay for his explanation, you found yourself back on his bed, he sat on the edge of it, watching you as you studied the headboard, the one you had seen a hundred times, or more, yet never gave much thought to. You were waiting for him to say something, anything other than the same apology you had heard repeatedly.

“Do you remember when I left for the case?” Was the first thing he said. It came out timid, careful, his words caused you to stiffen slightly, your shoulders growing tense with the weight of the memory. Of course you remember, it was physically impossible for you to forget.

You didn’t look away from the headboard, now almost dedicated to figuring out what wood it was made out of. You let out a hum, letting him know you were listening, letting him know you did in fact remember the day he left for the case. You remembered driving around for twenty minutes extra while he was taking you home because he was dedicated to finding you basic frosted sugar cookies.

He shifted, you felt the bed dip further as he added more of his weight to it. The closer he got the heavier the air seemed, your body tense with not only all of the memories, the conversation, but also the fact that you were still half foggy from your previous orgasm, you were uncomfortable, despite the fact Spencer made you clean yourself up before having this conversation, because he cared about your health and hygiene even if you wouldn’t let him take care of you after.

He cleared his throat, maybe he was feeling the tension just as much as you were. “I spent every spare second I had texting or calling you for the first few days.” He clarified, expect you knew this, he did this on every case he went on. You didn’t question that he once cared, you believed that, but you questioned what changed.

“Then you stopped.” You mumbled, not breaking your gaze on the headboard, head tilted up so your eyes to travel the detailing of it.

Spencer nodded, “Then I stopped.” He confirmed quietly.

You werent completely sure where to go from there, what to say, what not to say. You didn’t want to plead for an answer why, again. The process seemed repetitive, exhausting. This time you didn’t have to ask.

“A little while ago, Hotch, you know Hotch. He lost his wife.” Spencer spoke, you watched as his fingers dwindled absentmindedly. Your gaze no longer focused on the wood texture or type, now taken by what he was saying, how it related. The same confusing feeling in your stomach that you still hadn’t learnt how to differentiate between a bad gut feeling and a bundle of butterflies.

“Oh.”

Bad response. You knew that. But you didn’t have a lot to say. You didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to something like that, you didn’t know how Spencer expected you to react.

Spencer shuffled so he was better facing you, “I- uh. I won’t go into detail, but it was because of our work.” He muttered, his voice strained and heavy with indication you failed to recognise, or better yet understand.

You were quiet for a while, he let you be. Your eyes never meeting his because this conversation seemed heavier than you expected it to. When you spoke your voice was heavy with emotion, unintentionally so, “Spencer.” A breathy reminder that you were here for a reason.

He knew, he shuffled. You realised how much he was moving around, now nervous he was. Almost as nervous as you. “The case- When I stopped- When i ghosted you, there was an empty threat made against the team by an unsub.” He didn’t want to admit it, you could tell by the strain in his voice and the way his eyes no longer begged yours to meet them.

“Oh.”

“I guess i realised how much danger I was putting you into.” He huffed out. Leaning back against the headboard. The headboard that moments ago you had been studying like it was the most interesting thing in the world, now you couldn’t imagine focusing on anything other than the weight of his confession.

The sweetest reason maybe, for your safety. He removed himself from your life for the sake of your life. Maybe it was an act of love, maybe it proved how much he cared for you. You weren’t sure how to understand what he was telling you, you had a million questions lodged in your throat. All that seemed impossible to get out.

Maybe it was the sweetest intention, but he was immature with the way he went about it. He left like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t worth an explanation.

“You didn’t think to just tell me that?” Was what you said in response, it came out harsh, full of offence. You were offended.

“You would’ve tried to convince me otherwise.”

“Thats a lousy excuse and you know it.” It came out rough, you were sitting up at facing him and every part of you screamed to get the hell out of there and never see him again, yet something kept you sitting. Maybe the hurt you felt, maybe the anger. You weren’t sure, and you didn’t think you cared.

He sighed, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah- Right. And how’d that work out for you?” You spat back.

He shuffled uncomfortably before meeting your eyes. “You are alive.”

“I was at no immediate risk.”

“But you could be! Thats what you aren’t understanding— That wasn’t the first time its crossed my mind. If something happened to you, it would be on me. If you got hurt, it was on me. If you got killed, it would be on me. Not only that — but I’d lose you, your friends would lose you, your family would lose you. I value your life more than I value how i feel about you. Im sorry thats not what you want to hear but its true.”

You shut up after that for a moment. How could you argue when his mind seemed so made up. Did you even want to convince him otherwise? It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered the possibility of being in danger before, but the fear always seemed so insignificant compared to the way he made you feel. How were you supposed to argue against him.

“You deserve better.” He said, moving off his bed.

How could you argue with what you knew was true?

You huffed, “Why would you not just talk to me about this Spencer? Why would you make this decision for me? Why are you telling me what risks i am and am not willing to take?” You weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked at you, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so gentle and familiar. “A relationship with me is not worth your life.” He stated.

You wanted to yell at tell him that wasn’t his decision to make, that he couldn’t decide this for you. That he was being a coward. A few months ago you would’ve. A few months ago you would’ve done anything for him, you would’ve sat there and reassured him, changed his mind.

Now you weren’t sure.

You moved off his bed like he had moments prior, the room was heavy with an uncomfortable amount of silence. Tension. Unspoken words on both ends. There was still a million things left to say, yet you no longer wanted to stick around to hear them.

“Yeah, Im beginning to see that.”

[j2hoes]

A Twisted Romantic Fairytale (Wally Clark x Reader

Word Count: 3K

A tragic tale of two star-crossed lovers.

Warnings: Death

The homecoming game of 1983 was a tragic tale of two star crossed lovers perishing beside one another. It’s a story for the history books and one Split River High would remember in the years going forward. One that students remember as a devastating if not twisted romantic fairytale. Two young lovers bound together for eternity.

Homecoming Game - 1983.

Excitement runs rampant through the air as everybody floods into the stadium, eager chattering of students combined with the cheerful melodies of the marching band fill me with joy. It’s not as if I haven’t been here before, I’m no stranger to the blinding lights of Split River football stadium. In fact I’ve been cheering on the sidelines at every football game for the past four years or so, but tonight is different. I’m unsure of whether the electricity I can feel within the air has always been there and I have simply never noticed, or if it has something to do with the fact that this is my last homecoming game of my high school career. It’s the one night that counts. After all, it’s hard to miss the countless recruiters already situated within the stands.

“There you are! God, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Upon hearing the familiar voice, I can’t help but smile. Turning my attention away from the water fountain where I had previously been filling my water bottle, to see the dark haired jock that makes my heart race.

Wally Clark. Where do I even begin to describe this boy? 

I first met Wally on the second day of senior year. My family had just moved to Split River from Amber, Nevada, following my father’s transfer within the police department. Having accepted a promotion, despite the fact it meant we had to uproot our entire lives and move almost two thousand miles away.

It’s fair to say that I had been a complete mess, struggling to find my feet in a town that was the complete opposite to everything I had been used to. Not to mention the constant arguing between my parents caused by the stress of the move. Feeling so overwhelmed by my entire life changing so quickly, I couldn’t bring myself to attend first period and instead found myself tucked away in the bleachers, smoking a cigarette with shaky hands.

It was at that moment that Wally had found me, with a warm smile on his face, he comforted me. Welcomed me to the strange new town of Split River. Offered to sit with me in the cafeteria at lunch despite being a total stranger. However, something about the way things took place felt incredibly natural. As though this was the way things were meant to be.

Wally and I became inseparable from that moment forward, he encouraged me to join the cheerleading team. Insisting that it was only because he knew it was a passion of mine and not because it meant I would be forced to go to the football games that he just so happened to play. And how could I say no to that charming grin?

Throughout the years, we both learnt a lot about one another. He listened and supported me as I discussed my turbulent homelife, detailing how my parents seemed to be getting closer and closer to divorce by the day and how in turn I became practically invisible to them. I was there for him following every argument he had with his mother, reminding him that his sole purpose in life was not just football. Ensuring he knew that he had other talents and qualities that were just as good if not better than his football skills.

We weren’t best friends, we were each other’s rock through thick and thin. So when he kissed me on the field, following yet another win for the team, I felt like I was floating on air. Unearthing all of the feelings I harbored for the jock, even if I had spent all that time trying to bury them.

Wally’s heart is so pure and full of love. Being on the receiving end of that love to the fullest extent is the greatest joy I will ever be able to experience. To have someone be such a bright light in your life is truly a blessing.

So if I had to describe Wally Clark? I’d say he was an angel brought down from heaven just for me.

“Excited for the big game my love?” Wally asks as he finally reaches me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and placing a soft kiss on my temple.

“More nervous than excited. Kristine’s had us practicing a new move and with all the recruiters, I’m just scared I’m going to let the nerves get to me and mess up.” I admit, reaching my own hand up to hold his that remains over my shoulder as we begin to stroll through the crowds towards the locker rooms.

“You’re a superstar!” Wally exclaims, to which I’m unable to contain my laughter. “I mean it! You’re gonna smash it, honestly. I’ve never seen someone make cheerleading look as mesmerizing as you do. It’s borderline hypnotic, I’m telling you.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever you say.” I reply, tone sarcastic, yet his words of encouragement do make me feel ten times better. “Anyway, what about my favorite player? Are you feeling okay?”

I don’t miss the pained look that flashes briefly crosses his face before returning to his usual winning beam. I’m sure he’s just ready to get the game over with, wanting to return to some sense of normality and let loose at the dance. No longer having to deal with the overwhelming amount of pressure that his mom places on him to be the best.

“I guess I’m a little worried. My knee has been playing up for the past few days and coach said I needed to rest it, which is what I’ve been trying to do. I don’t know, I just don’t want to let anyone down, especially not my mom. Or you.”

As Wally finishes speaking we reach the doors of the locker room and I remove myself from his embrace to stand in front of him. Taking his hands gently in mine as I gaze up at the sweet boy. Noticing the slight gleam of worry and shame hidden deep within his coffee brown eyes.

“Whatever happens out there, you won’t be letting anyone down, I promise.” My voice is soft as I speak to him, wanting him to truly understand how little his performance matters. “Your mom may be disappointed but she’ll get over it. As long as you’re happy, healthy and alive, that’s the most important thing. Just don’t push yourself too hard, I know how important it is to you that you make your mom proud but she’ll be proud of you no matter what. I mean, how could she not be? You’re amazing Wally Clark.”

The footballer smiles, wrapping his arms around me before pulling me into his body tightly. Resting my head against his chest, I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to relax in his embrace and breathing in deeply to take in the deep oaky scent that is Wally. He rests his head atop of mine and I can feel him squeeze me gently, hands scrunching up the fabric of my t-shirt as he does so.

“Wally Clark, better get yourself in that locker room right now! It’s almost showtime!” I hear the coach yell and my boyfriend sighs, slowly releasing me from his tight hold.

“Now go show everybody just how amazing you are.” I whisper, lovingly gazing up at him.

He nods as though in confirmation with my previous statement, before taking my face in his hands and slowly leaning down to interlock his lips with mine. Delicately and with the remaining hint of nerves racing through his body, his lips move gently with mine. My cheeks feel burning hot compared to the brisk coldness of his hands, caused by the icy fall winds, though I don’t seem to mind. Embracing the sweetness of Wally’s mouth and the tenderness of every move he makes.

It’s with much reluctance that we pull away from one another, however, after catching a glimpse of the coach’s disapproving look, I know the moment is over. Sending the jock to get himself ready with a swift peck to the cheek, him offering me a cheeky wink in return as we both slink off to our respective locker rooms.

The next time I see Wally is when the team makes their grand entrance onto the field. A big cheesy grin rests on my face as I hear the crowds' screams of support, waving flags and homemade banners to cheer on the team. With a few cheers of my own, a couple of the girls and I begin to hype up the crowd even more, jumping wildly and encouraging their yells.

As I shoot a quick glance over to the field, I’m able to spot my boyfriend easily, even with his helmet on. Smiling brightly at me even as he runs towards his team to discuss their play. My heart flutters knowing that he still makes an effort to look for me even as the game is about to begin.

“Alright girls, you know what to do!” Kristina shouts, alerting us to take up our positions and prepare for the first routine of the night.

Noticing the game is about to commence, I feel myself worrying less about messing up the performance, focusing solely on Wally and his uplifting words from moments earlier. Sharing gleeful smiles with my fellow cheerleaders, I can’t help but feel a sense of excitement as the music roars through the stadium.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur, with the Split River football team taking an early victory and our routine flowing perfectly without a single fault or mistake. It’s almost too good to be true.

With our final move only seconds away, I feel the nerves return once more as I boost myself into the hands of the other girls. Their hands wrapped around my ankles and calves to ensure my safety and support whilst in the air. It’s only when I’m hoisted into the air that my stomach twists. Something doesn’t feel right but I’m unable to do anything. Everything happens in slow motion and as I catch sight of the ground looming towards me, I’m hit instantly by the fact that I’m not going to make my mark. I’m not going to land firmly in the hands of the girls beneath me.

I suppose the one good thing about all of this is that I only have a split second to panic before my body plummets to the hard asphalt below my feet. The thump my body makes as it slams against the ground is enough to make anybody squeal.

Cheerleaders scream. Music cuts off.

Then I simply feel nothing.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wally’s the first to notice the chaos unfolding at the side of the field. Distracted by whatever seems to be taking place, he doesn’t notice the opposing team's player bolting towards him. He lands with a grunt, knee buckling and sending a sharp shooting pain through the length of his leg.

As he rises to his feet, he hears the whistle blowing repeatedly, noticing the chaos begin to grow larger. With furrowed brows he finds himself jogging towards the crowd, even if it does cause him a significant amount of pain that he tries desperately to hide.

Pushing through the screaming group of footballers and cheerleaders, it’s at that moment that he sees her. Lay unmoving against the concrete, his heart stops momentarily. Feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of his beautiful girl lifeless, body contorted in ways he didn’t know physically possible. 

Wally drops to his knees, students stepping away from him as he does so. Not knowing how to comfort the poor boy in this time of need. The physical pain he is feeling in his leg is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he is going through right now. Dragging her body on to his knees and cradling her delicately, in fear of breaking her anymore.

With clouded vision, he stares down at his love, body releasing wails and sobs he had never once made in his life. Blood stains his hands, his jersey, his trousers and yet he doesn’t care. Overwhelmed by his grief, watching the color drain from her skin. He doesn’t think anything could be more painful, nothing in his life could compare to the trauma of his girlfriend sprawled out in his arms.

Wally struggles with the ambulance crew as they begin to remove her body, his coach restraining him as they place her in the back of an ambulance. The jock barely acknowledges his coach telling him that he’s been benched as he watches with heartbreak as the ambulance drives away and in his distress all he can do is cry on the sidelines.

With his mom standing behind him, badgering him about winning a scholarship and needing him in the game, Wally feels nothing but rage. All his life, he’d done right by his mom, wanting her to be proud of him, wanting her to acknowledge his successes but right now, he wanted nothing more than to tell her to close her mouth.

Instead, he finds himself marching over to the coach, begging to be put back into the game, arguing that he needs something to take his mind off what he just witnessed and that he is in fact in the correct headspace to win. And somehow, his efforts pay off much to his surprise. Back in the game, Wally has more strength than ever. Fuelled by his rage and his grief.

Whilst he finds it distasteful and disrespectful that the game continues despite his sweet girl losing her life only moments before, he plays with the knowledge that she’d want him to win. She would want him to succeed and so he tries. He tries for her because if not for her, then he has no other reason to keep going. She was the one good thing in his life that kept him from going off the deep and without her, he doesn’t know how he will continue. So for now, he simply focuses on the game.

The sharp pain in his knee grows stronger and with every passing minute he struggles more and more. Trying desperately to ignore it, he claims the ball, running at full speed towards the touchline and yet as he runs directly towards an opposing player, he makes no effort to slow down. Not thinking about the potential consequences of his actions.

He hits the ground with a devastating blow. World shrouded in darkness almost immediately. However, he feels more at peace than he ever has.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch with bated breath as Wally tumbles aggressively to the floor, the crack ripples throughout the stadium and I can’t help but gasp. Throwing my hands across my mouth as I fixate on the footballers rushing to his aid. My mind races at one million thoughts per minute, why did he go back out onto the field? Why didn’t he move out of the way? How could he be so reckless?

I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost miss the tall jock standing watching over his own body as people hopelessly attempt to resuscitate his cold body. Before I can even react, I’m slowly walking towards him, even with his back towards me I can tell he’s in pain. Hands in his hair, tugging slightly as he comes to the realization of what has happened.

My hands are shaking the closer I get, breath caught in my throat as I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not entirely sure why I’m scared, perhaps simply afraid of what this means for us now?

“Wally.” My voice is small, timid. Hands clasped together over my chest as I anxiously await his reaction.

As though he doesn’t believe it, Wally’s body goes stiff. When he finally faces me, his mouth falls open in shock, eyes holding the same softness that they did in life and I smile hesitantly. He’s the first to break the tension, scooping me up in his arms and holding me tighter than he ever has before.

“I’m sorry Wally, I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen.” My voice breaks as I speak, tears staining my cheeks. “I should’ve tried harder and then this would never have happened. You’d still be alive. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Darling it’s okay. We’re together now, yeah?” Wally states, placing his arms on my shoulders as he fully takes me in, holding me at arm’s length as if he’s checking I’m okay. Not that it really matters now.

“What were you thinking? Going back out was so stupid and irresponsible and reck-”

“I didn’t want to let you down.” Wally whispers, eyes falling to his feet in shame. “I wanted to make it all worth it, I wanted you to be proud of me because I knew you’d be looking down on me.”

“Wally, I-”

“I don’t think I could live without you sweetheart. I don’t think I’d want to.” He admits, bringing one hand to my face, thumb stroking my cheek softly. “Seeing you there, all limp and lifeless, I didn’t just lose you. I lost something within myself too.”

“I’m so sorry.” I sob, allowing myself to release all the emotions built up inside of me.

“I still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.” Wally confesses, smiling adoringly at me. “I still do.”

A quiet giggle escapes my mouth, pulling the tall boy towards me and pressing my lips roughly to his. Wanting, no, needing to feel him against me. To feel the way his mouth dances with mine and the way his hands tenderly caress my waist. I just need him.

“So where do we go from here?” The jock questions, our foreheads restings against one another as we catch our breath

“I don’t know, but as long as you’re with me, I don’t really care.”

[starhvney]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet vylad x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you’ve jokingly given vylad small flowers since you’ve known him, but as newly weds he surprises you with a leather bound journal, the scent of flowers pressed into the pages.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: tooth-rotting fluff, vylad actually being sickeningly romantic, established relationship, vylad and reader are married

𝐂𝐖: none

𝐀/𝐍: vylad the man that you are

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“where are you going?” you ask, turning to your husband as he leaves your side from the swinging daybed, his feet padding across the back patio to the door.

“don’t worry, i’ll be back in a second. i just have something i want to show you.”

“okay.”

you wrap the knitted blanket around your body, the apple cider in your cup still steaming as it keeps your cold hands warm. your wedding with vylad couldn’t have been set for a more perfect time of year. it was at the prime time of autumn, when the leaves had all turned into beautiful shades of red to yellow, yet hadn’t begun to fall to the ground. it was now two weeks later, and the both of you had officially settled into your new home.

the evening air was chilly, rustling and carrying leaves across the ground and invoking more evening coos from the last waking birds of the day. you’re not sure what could make you feel more at peace and utterly happy in this moment, yet the stunning man you married never ceases to give you more reasons.

he’s soon snuggled back next to you, placing a thick, tied, leather-bound journal in your hands with an eager smile. for a moment you see that eager young boy you had met so long ago, round cheeks squishing against those beautiful green eyes.

“what is this?” you ask, gingerly taking the book in your hands and smelling a faint whiff of dried flowers from between the worn pages.

he holds your mug for you, cheekily taking a sip before nodding down at the journal.

“just take a look.”

you stare at him in awe for a moment, before turning your attention down to his gift. unbinding the tweed rope that kept the journal from flopping open, you crack open the worn leather to the first page.

a small pressed dandelion is preserved under a cleanly placed sheet of clear tape, displayed under a small entry written in vylad’s elegant writing.

thursday, 8/13

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i’ve always been a quiet person, but when i’m with her i’m not quiet out of choice. how can i feel so comfortable and happy around someone yet be so nervous?

she gave me this flower today, with the most beautiful smile i’ve ever seen on her face as she told me to cheer up. she’s as sweet as ever.

your head whips back to your husband, who merely smiles and presses a soft kiss against your cheek. he rests his head against your shoulder, a contented sigh leaving his lips as you turn to the next page. then the next. then the next.

each page was about you, from simply fawning over every detail of how beautiful he found you, to describing the days that you had spent together. you remember starting to give vylad flowers as a cute inside joke between the two of you–but then it grew to simply be a habit of expressing your love for him.

while he had given you flowers too, you hadn’t taken the time to neatly press each one into a journal, writing it down to engrave each occasion into your memory like he did.

the sweet scent of the dried flowers wafts into your face with every crinkle of the next page turning, but you don’t think they’re the culprit for the dizzying surge you feel in your throat. 

“vylad…” tears prick your eyes, an overwhelming feeling clouding swelling your heart in your chest.

“just keep reading, love.”

saturday, 2/5

she wouldn’t stop apologizing, saying she couldn’t afford a “real” gift for me on my birthday. she laughed and gave me a flower instead, saying she’d make up for it in the future. how do i tell her this was the best thing she could’ve given me, that her presence is the greatest gift that i cherish?

you remember that day. you were both freshly young adults, and while trying to stabilize yourself in this world you struggled to get the funds to spare for anyone but yourself. you felt so guilty that you couldn’t get one of your closest friends something nice for his birthday, but you can’t forget the bright smile you love so much when you had given him a singular flower instead.

he had insisted it was the best gift he had gotten yet, and while you had shaken your head disbelievingly at the time, you’re starting to realize he may have been telling the truth.

friday, 6/14

i gathered the courage to ask her to be mine today. i was the one who gave her a bouquet this time, and yet she insisted on giving me back the singular rose that was in the entire selection. her soul is sweeter and lovelier than any of the flowers i could give her. i’m so lucky.

more pages. more entries. you read every one like they were sacred artifacts. like they were the answer to why you should take your next breath.

small pictures of you and him. and so many flowers. had you really given him this many? you suppose you did. always running off into fields and tripping over fences anytime you saw one, bringing it back to him with a stupid goofy grin. you always remember he’d slip it carefully into his pocket or bag, but you assumed it was just him being too kind-hearted to toss them away in front of you.

wednesday, 3/24

we went to that beautiful field, the one that blooms with tons of different kinds of flowers during spring. of course she was so excited, my sweet girl. we made each other flower crowns and rings, and after slipping on the flower ring on her ring finger i pulled out the real one i bought a couple months ago. i was so nervous, i thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. she said yes, though, tackling me into the grass and accidentally squishing our flower crowns underneath us. i don’t think that really mattered to her anymore though. i’m the happiest man alive. 

saturday, 9/22

she’s so beautiful. i thought i might be able to stop myself from crying, but i knew it was over when i saw her walking down the aisle. i stole a flower from her bridal bouquet, but we’re preserving the rest of it and i don’t think she’ll be too upset. i love you, my sweet flower.

underneath it was one of the flowers from the theme of your wedding, it’s white petals only just beginning to fade in its liveliness under it’s neat confines. scribbled underneath it is one more line of writing, vylad’s cursive scribbles once again beautifully decorating the page. 

your beauty is everlasting, the flowers you gave me could never compare. my love for you is forever and eternal. it will out live any petal this earth can produce.

tears stream down your face, and once you gently set the journal shit next to you, your arms are tightly wrapped around vylad, who startles at the sudden movement as the swinging daybed jolts with your movements.

“woah,” he laughs, lifting away the cup of cider from spilling on either of you as his other hand pulls you to him. “careful, love.”

“i love you.” your voice is thick, throat tight as you cry into his shoulder. 

“i love you too, my beautiful flower,” he laughs, finally finding a place to set down the cup and earnestly pulling you snuggle into his lap. “you know, the goal was not to make you cry.”

“how could you think that i wouldn’t?”

“well, i cried when i completed the last page, so i guess we’re even.”

you laugh, melting against him as he presses sweet kisses along your forehead and cheeks, wiping away the tears from under your eyes.

“i guess you liked it, then?” he laughs, and you erupt in giggles again.

you didn’t just like it, you loved it enough to dedicate a whole shelf in your house to neatly display the thick journal, right next to the framed resin preservation of your wedding bouquet.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal, copy, or repost my works as your own.

[eclecticwordblender]

i’ve never found the courage to talk about this anywhere else for the fear of knowing nobody is actually going to understand.

when i was 16, i met a 19 y/o man who was interested in me. at that point of time, i was quite vulnerable, my first boyfriend was in my class and was dating another classmate of ours. as a 16 y/o it was a terrible situation to be in really. receiving attention from an older male who was quite attractive and i knew for a fact had women his age interested in him felt real nice to me.

my ex and i had planned on having sex, together, for the first time but that didn’t happen. obviously in my teenage angst and stupidity i was sucked into a situationship with an older man (a 3 year age gap is actually huge at that age). now, i did technically consent to having sex with him (although one might argue that minors cannot consent, let’s ignore that for a moment). but when we were finally about to do it, i didn’t feel very good about it, i wanted him to stop. he started to kiss me, pin my hands up aggressively, just blocking any way i could let him know i was saying no.

at that moment, i just told myself there was no way he could’ve known i wanted him to stop. but in retrospect, i feel he blocked my no intentionally. this was also the first time i had sex, ever.

i did not have words to describe this experience, i still don’t. for months i did not even realise what was happening was not okay. he suddenly started to exhibit violent behaviours. and honestly, i was scared of him. he would break things around me, yell at me. i wanted to end things but was simply too scared to. often times i would initiate physical intimacy just to avoid his aggression even when i absolutely did not want to. he became overly possessive, and for the fear of his aggression, i started to avoid talking to men altogether. i started to convince myself that i liked this.

until, until one day things got out of hand. he had a problem with me interacting with someone i deeply cared about. i refused to comply and he hit me. i walked out of his apartment straight, blocked him, ended whatever was going on.

surprise surprise! my fears regarding him materialised. he would stalk me. i was so scared i stopped going for tuitions (big culture of after school tutoring where i live) which directly affected my performance in school. i used to go to school with a friend but i was so scared i started asking my parents to drop me and pick me up whenever i went to school, avoiding it on most days. all in all, i feared leaving my house at all.

i didn’t share this with my parents or anyone else (this is literally the first time i’m speaking up about this in details). i didn’t know what to say. later this man threatened me saying that if i do not meet him, he would leak compromised pictures/videos of me. i was almost sure he did not have any. i never consented to any recordings or pictures. i told him to fuck off. i knew he was bluffing. all said and done, i was still a minor and he was still an adult. whatever harm he could do to me and whatever satisfaction that would bring him wasn’t worth the trouble it could potentially land him in.

eventually he got tired and left me alone. i found out a couple of weeks later he was dating someone else. this girl was my age too. i wanted to warn her but i was to frightened to do anything that might trace me back to him.

i’m 22 now. i don’t think i have still processed this entire episode completely. i have tuned out a lot of my memories because it is simply too much to handle. i often confuse memories of sex with him with sex with my ex boyfriend as a coping mechanism of sorts. i only realised this when i once mentioned something to my ex boyfriend and he said but that never happened between us and honestly that petrifies me about what else i might be missing out.

i’ve never been able to share this episode in detail with anyone, even with my friends who were aware about me being involved with this man. i once tried to talk about this with my ex boyfriend but he dismissed me as soon as i started talking about it on the grounds that oh you’ve had sex with a lot of people and i haven’t (i haven’t either btw, idk why he keeps saying that. anyway it was also extremely irrelevant). i shut up.

(i feel so much better just writing this comprehensively. sharing this even with strangers on tumblr feels liberating in a lot of ways. i hope all of us women can heal from all the terrible things men have done to us)

[bakedbakermom]

How "The Talk" Went With My 7-Year-Old

I want to preface this by saying that my parents NEVER had The Talk with me as a kid; they just expected my CATHOLIC SCHOOL SEX ED to cover it. Needless to say, there were gaps in my sexual health education, gaps that I worked very hard as an adult to fill in. When I had my daughter, I promised myself that I would do better by her.

My husband and I have been laying the groundwork by teaching her the proper names for body parts (she’s the only 7-year-old I’ve ever met who knows the difference between a vulva and a vagina, which is better than some adults I know) and normalizing bodily functions and asking questions. Whenever she asks about something to do with bodies or private parts, we answer honestly and at a level of detail she can understand and is appropriate for her age. She has seen both me and my husband naked many times and knows what “boy bodies” and “girl bodies” look like and what the differences are. And she knows that babies get half their “seed” from a man and half from a woman, and the baby grows in a thing called the uterus inside the woman’s body.

She just turned 7 in September and can best be described as “too smart for her own good” and possessing a level of curiosity that threatens the feline population of the entire planet. I have been reading her The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett (the first book in the Discworld series) and a few nights ago we got to the part where Hrun the Barbarian is challenged by the Liessa, princess of the dragonlands, to perform three tasks and win her hand in marriage. The last task is to have sex with her. The book describes her disrobing and propositioning him (but obviously doesn’t get graphic).

When I got to that part I sort of stumbled, because she’s never asked about or hinted that she knew anything about sex, and I said, “This next part has to do with sex. Have you heard of that before?” She said no. “Well it’s something people do when they’re naked–”

“Ew, no, just skip this part!” So I told her she can ask about it whenever she wanted, and just moved to the next part of the story.

I could tell she was mulling it over, and last night after I tucked her in she finally asked me, “Okay, Mom, what is sex?”

As much as I have been preparing myself mentally for this, I don’t think there’s any way to avoid the gut-deep yearning for the earth to just open up beneath you and swallow you whole, but I bravely pressed forward. The following is a rough transcript of our conversation (which totalled over 20 minutes).

Me: Well, it’s the thing that makes babies. Remember we talked about how there’s half a seed in the mom, and half the seed in the dad? Sex is how the two halves come together–

Her: Wait, is there a way to make a baby without sex?

Me: [swerving gratefully onto this detour while it lasts] Yeah actually, they can do it with Science now. The can take the mom’s half out of her body - it’s called an egg or ovum, which is just Latin for egg - and they can take the dad’s half out of his body - it’s called sperm, and it looks like a tadpole but suuuuuuuper tiny - and they put them together in a dish so it starts to grow. Then they put it in a woman’s uterus, and it can be the egg mommy or someone else, so it can become a baby.

Her: Why can’t they just grow the whole baby in a dish?

Me: Because it needs food to grow, just like all bodies too. There’s not enough food in the dish for it to get more than a few cells big; it has to go in the uterus, where it grows a cord that connects it to the mother’s body so it can get nutrients from her.

Her: Oh okay that makes sense, then. So what’s sex?

Me: Well, it’s something that people do when they really care about each other and want to show it. It can happen with a man and a woman, two women, or two men, but the kind that makes a baby is between a man and a woman. [draws a deep breath, waits a moment to see if maybe Death will just reap me now, then pushes bravely forward] It’s when a man puts his penis in a woman’s vagina.

Her: [various giggly noises of disgust] People actually do that!? That’s so gross!!!

Me: Yeah when I describe it like that it does seem gross, but when you do it with the right person it can be pretty fun so the gross part doesn’t really matter.

Her: But it goes INSIDE the vagina? How?

Me: Your vagina isn’t just a hole on your body; it’s actually more like a tube, and the penis fits inside.

Her: Doesn’t that hurt?

Me: [remembering the early sexual rummagings of my teens] It can, but it really shouldn’t. Sex is supposed to feel good. If it hurts, that means something isn’t working the way it’s supposed to.

Her: Okay, that makes sense. I wouldn’t want to do that if it hurt. But what if he pees in you???

Me: [struggling with every fiber of my being not to say, “Some people pay good money for that.”] I mean, that’s probably not ideal, and it could maybe happen. But there’s only one hole in the penis and it has two separate tubes that go to it - one from the bladder where pee comes from, and the other one has the sperm, and one tube has to close so the other can open; so there shouldn’t be any pee.

Her: Where does the sperm come from?

Me: Well you know what a penis is. [she does] There are these called testicles, but everyone calls them balls because that’s what they look like, and they sort of hang [unfortunate cupping gesture with my left hand] under and behind the penis [right hand comes up and makes an unfortunate flopping gesture over the left] and the sperm hangs out in there. I could draw you a picture–

Her: NO! Don’t draw a picture. I don’t need a picture. So where does the sperm go when it comes out?

Me: When the guy sticks his penis in the vagina, well he sort of does it a few times, and then the sperm squirts out and goes looking for an egg in the uterus.

Her: But what if he misses!?

Me: [more unfortunate hand gestures] If the penis is inside the vagina it’s pretty hard to miss, but he could squirt it somewhere else if he wanted I guess. [Someone help, I’m teaching the pull out method to a 7-year-old.]

Her: But how does it get to the uterus?

Me: The uterus is connected to the vagina. There’s this thing called the cervix inside the vagina. [I ask her to make a fist, then put my hands underneath in a tube shape.] So your vagina is right here. [I move my hands above her fist, making a bowl in the air.] And the uterus is up here. That’s where the egg would be, and where a baby would grow. [Now I stick my finger into her fist from below and wiggle it a bit to make her laugh.] The sperm are so small that they can fit through the cervix.

Her: [clearly thinking very hard] But what happens if there’s no egg and it doesn’t make a baby? Where does the sperm go?

Me: It dies after a couple days, and then it either gets absorbed or comes out when the woman has her period. We’ve talked about periods, remember? Every month the uterus makes a layer called the endometrium, which acts as food for the growing baby until it grows the cord that connects it directly to the mother. But if there’s no baby, the uterus throws the whole endometrium out. It’s like making a big fancy dinner and then it realizes no one’s going to eat it , so it gets all angry [makes a gesture like I’m chucking something in the garbage] and throws it all away. So all that stuff comes out of the vagina, the endometrium and any sperm that might still be in there. Sometimes it looks like blood, sometimes it’s slimey, and sometimes it’s like a brownish goo.

Her: WHAT IF IT COMES OUT YOUR BUTT!?!?

Me: [trying so hard not to lose my shit] It can’t, babe. The uterus isn’t connected to your butt; the only door out is the vagina.

Her: But doesn’t it get all in your underwear!?

Me: Yeah, it can. But they make stuff to catch it or soak it up so that doesn’t happen. There’s pads, which are absorbent like a diaper and you stick them in your underwear to soak it up. There’s also tampons, which are like big cotton balls that you can stick in your vagina to soak it up. You change those things out for new ones every few hours. And there’s also something called a menstrual cup, which is what I use, and it’s a soft rubber cup that you stick up there to catch the blood, and you take it out and wash it a couple times a day. If you want I could show you–

Her: NO! Don’t show me. Those ones you stick up there sound gross, like they would hurt.

Me: They can be uncomfortable until you get used to them, or if you’re using the wrong size. Most people start off with pads; when you start getting your period we can try different things and see which ones work for you. You just have to remember to change them out every few hours.

Her: But what if it gets in your underwear while you’re changing the thing?

Me: Well normally you’d do that when you’re going potty, so any period stuff would just go in there. I also wash my cup in the shower.

Her: Does a period hurt?

Me: Yeah, it can. Remember how sometimes when I’m on my period I’ll tell you I’m not feeling good, and I need to go rest on the couch? That’s because in order to get all the stuff out, the uterus has to squeeze itself kind of like a tube of toothpaste [more hand gestures] and that can be pretty crappy. You can take Advil like we do when you have an owie, and there’s other medicine you can take that makes your periods easier.

Her: [loading ring spins for a moment] So does sex always make a baby?

Me: Not always, but it can happen any time you have sex, so there’s things people can do to stop it from happening. There’s a pill I take every day that keeps me from getting pregnant, and there’s also something called a condom that’s kind of like a little balloon, and it goes over the penis and catches the sperm before it can get into the vagina. Condoms are great because there are actually diseases you can get from having sex, and the condom stops the germs from passing between people.

Her: Wait, you can get sick from having sex?

Me: Yeah. That’s why it’s important to always use condoms, and to make sure you’re having sex with someone you really care about and trust. There are consequences to having sex, like babies and getting sick, but also, sex is a really intimate thing. Do you know what ‘intimacy’ means? [she does not] It’s feeling really close to someone and trusting them a lot, like smoochy kissing times a thousand. You’re letting someone see you naked and touch you and touch your private parts, and that’s something that takes a lot of trust and care. You only want to have sex with someone you’re really close to.

Her: WAIT SO DID DADDY WEAR CONDOMS?

Me: [wishing desperately to die] Well, yeah.

Her: You and Daddy must have spent so much time together naked. Like years and years and years!

Me: [still wanting to die] Well not all at once, but if you add it up, maybe?

Her: I don’t think I’m ever going to have sex, or have a baby, or maybe I’ll just do it the dish way.

Me: Yep, that’s a choice you can make, and a lot of kids your age feel that way when they learn about this stuff. You might feel that way your whole life, or you might change your mind, probably when you go through puberty. Do you remember what puberty is?

Her: Not really.

Me: It’s when your kid body changes into your grown up body, like when girls start growing boobs. It’s also when your period usually starts. It takes a few years and girls usually start around 10 to 12, boys a little later like 12 or 13. Your body changes and your emotions change, and the way you feel about sex might change too, especially as you figure out whether you like boys or girls or both or neither. It can be a really tough time and maybe even a little scary when you’re going through it, because your body and your brain are doing all these weird things they’ve never done before, but I’m right here if you have questions or need help.

Her: [yawns, looks at the clock, and realizes it’s way past her bedtime] Wow we’ve been talking about this for a long time.

Me: Yeah, we have, but it’s okay to stay up a bit late for important conversations like this. I wanted to make sure I answered all your questions, because we all have bodies and we all need to know how those bodies work, even the stuff that feels weird to talk about sometimes. Do you have any more questions?

Her: No, not right now.

Me: Okay well if you think of any, you just go ahead and ask. We can talk about this any time you want, especially as you get older and start going through some of this stuff.

And that was basically it. I am amazed at the questions she asked, and how carefully she thought about what I told her. And how seriously she took it except for the giggling about the weird parts, which honestly? Same. She is definitely going to be That Kid when she goes back to school after break.

We’re also trying to teach her about consent and having control over what information about yourself you share online, so asked her if it was okay that I share this here without mentioning her name or anything personal and she said yes. I hope you got a kick out of it, and maybe this will even help you feel more comfortable when your day for The Talk shows up. I was not expecting it so soon, and I was not expecting it on a night when my husband was out getting the family from the airport for the holiday, but I believe that when the question is asked, it’s ready to be answered.

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

I'll Follow Your Lead - My Hero

~Also on my Ao3 and Wattpad~

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

College has been kicking my ass but I recently got n influx of Jack Dawson edits on the TikTok fyp and I felt ✨inspired✨ So here you go! Also, Trigger warning!!! Sexual assault is not explicitly depicted but is heavily implied

Jack had just finished his first shift at Rinaldi’s - helping Elmer haul supplies from the delivery truck to the pantry – and he was sitting at the back of the dining room smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. A few performers had already come and gone as the curtains opened on the stage once again. The band was playing the beginning of a jazzy tune and the curtains revealed something Jack had not expected. Dorothea stood in the middle of the stage. She was adorned in a beautiful pale blue dress the bottom of it trailed a bit behind her and every inch of the dress sparkled in the stage lights. She sparkled in the stage lights. Jack was speechless. He set his drink down and leaned forward in his chair as Dorothea began singing. Her voice was rich and clear as it rang through the dining room. Jack hung on her every word.

     “Isn’t she a star,” Margarette sighed as she brought Jack his dinner – free of charge by request of Dorothea. “She’s such a rare talent, that girl.”

     “Yeah, she is. I didn’t know she sang,” He said.

     “She’s a shy girl. She’s been that way since she turned up on our doorstep,” Margarette chuckled and gave Jack a fond smile before going back to the kitchen.

     Jack fumbled for his sketchbook, desperate to capture this version of Dorothea on paper. He sketched quickly and loosely. He would return to the drawing later with details but for now, he mostly focused on actually looking at her. He knew that he would not soon forget her like this.

She had seen him in the crowd. How could she not have he was basically the only person there; well she certainly felt that way. As she hurried back to her dressing room to change back into her regular clothes, she was unaware that another man had watched her perform. The man from the café.

     “Dorothea, dear, you’re food will be ready in the kitchen when you’re done!” Margarette called through the door of the small dressing room.

     “Alright!” Dorothea responded. She carefully removed the gems that glittered in her hair and watched in the mirror as her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back.  

     “beautiful, is what I was gonna say.”

Jack’s compliments from the day of the party rang in her ears and caused warmth to bloom over her face and neck. A girlish smile stretched across her lips as she continued to undress. Just as she had managed to unlace the corset of her dress, someone knocked on the door. Dorothea thought nothing of it, believing it to be the old seamstress who usually helps her in and out of costumes - foolish

     “Come in!” The door slowly creaked open, “You’re a little too late, Inez, I’ve already got the corset off,” She laughed.

     “Then I suppose I have impeccable timing.”

     After quickly finishing his preliminary sketch, Jack rushed off to find out where he could see Dorothea. Finding his way back to the kitchen he met Elmer and Margarette chatting by the stove. Elmer was the first to notice the young man enter.

     “Jack, my boy! Come back for seconds?” Elmer’s deep voice broke into a rumbling chuckle. Jack smiled,

     “Not this time. I wanted to know where I could find Dorothea. I want to tell her how well she did tonight,” Jack sat his sketchbook on the kitchen counter before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Elmer and Margarette shared a look that can only be described as knowing.

     “Of course! I was just heading that way to fetch her for dinner. Come with me.” Elmer held an arm out to beckon Jack over. As they walked toward a hallway at the back of the room, the older man clapped Jack on the back. “Was this the first performance you’ve seen?”

     Jack nodded. “She never even told me she performed here.”

Elmer barked out a laugh and shook his head, “That doesn’t surprise me-“ He paused to say hello to one of the musicians as they entered the part of the hallway lined with dressing rooms, “That girl seems to be allergic to giving herself any praise.”

     “Well, I-“

A scream cut Jack off from down the hallway. His eyebrows furrowed and looked at Elmer who had a similar facial expression.

     “That sounded like it came from her dressing room-“

     “Help!”

Both men took off down the hallway. Jack was much faster than Elmer and quickly came to a wooden door with Dorothea’s name on it. He swung the door open and was temporarily stunned by the sight in front of him. It was him. The man from that one day in the café who had come looking for Dorothea. He had her with a harsh grip on her shoulders and was attempting to push her to the floor. Dorothea held one hand against the man’s chest, trying to push him off, while her other hand clawed at the loose fabric of her dress trying to keep it from falling. Dorothea’s wild, frightened eyes met Jack’s, and a fleeting look of relief flitted across her face.

     “Jack!” She shrieked out his name and that called him to action. He rushed forward and grasped the man by his collar yanking him backward. The man stumbled in surprise and let go of Dorothea, who dropped to the floor from the sudden loss of opposing force. Just as the man turned to face the new presence in the room, Jack met his face with one of the hardest punches he’s ever thrown. A fleshy smack sounded through the room before the man fell to the ground. However, he wasn’t down long before Jack hauled him up by his jacket and tossed him out through the open door where Elmer and a few of his men happened to be coming in. The man fell pathetically at their feet, dazed.

     “Haul ‘im up, boys, and get him outta here,” Elmer demanded. “I’ll be right back,” He told Jack before following his boys out of the hall. Jack whirled on his heel and knelt down beside Dorothea who had yet to get up from the floor.

     Dorothea had never felt so afraid in her life. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The hand that wasn’t holding her in a sitting position felt paralyzed in its unwavering grip on her dress. Her gaze immediately went to Jack as he knelt down beside her. His eyes searched over her with a worried expression making sure she hadn’t been hurt.

     “Are you okay?” He asked as he just barely let his hand graze the skin of her arm. He quickly shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, “What a dumb question, Jack” he murmured to himself before opening his eyes again. This time his gaze was locked on Dorothea’s face. Even in this frazzled state, she fought the urge to right her appearance, knowing that she probably looked awful with her tear-stained face and mussed-up hair.  Her mouth opened and closed but the sound eluded her. Her breathing quickened as it started to feel like air wasn’t even passing through her lips.

     “Okay, okay, Dory, you need to take a deep breath, alright? Can you try that?” Jack asked. Dorothea blinked in surprise before shaking her head. She couldn’t do it.

     “Come on, yeah you can. Let me show you,” Jack took a gentle hold of the hand that was holding her up and pulled her to sit up further. He supported her back with his other hand while placing her hand on his chest. He knew she could feel his own racing heart just as she knew he could feel her shoulders rising up and down from her rapid breaths. Jack took a deep breath and Dorothea watched as her hand rose and fell with him. She struggled for a moment to copy his breaths and squeezed her eyes shut in concentration.

     Elmer made his way back down the hallway, adjusting the rings on his hand as he walked. As he came upon Dorothea’s dressing room he paused. Jack and Dorothea were still on the floor and Jack was still helping Dorothea with her breathing. Elmer watched as Dorothea’s breathing slowly became more even to match Jack’s and watched as Jack’s eyes watched Dorothea as if she’d disappear. The older man smiled with a twinkle in his eye as he decided to go straight to the kitchen to inform his wife of the incident but - more importantly - to leave the two alone for a while longer.

     Dorothea opened her eyes and was caught off guard by immediately meeting Jack’s gaze. Even though her breathing had evened out several moments ago, they were still in the same place: Jack holding Dorothea’s hand to his chest while also supporting her seated position. She sniffed and mustered up a weak smile. He returned it with a crooked one of his own.

     “You-“ She paused to clear her throat, “You called me Dory.”

     “Huh?” Jack couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. That’s what she chooses to talk about?  

     Dorothea swallowed hard, “Just a few minutes ago. You called me Dory. Only Angeline calls me that.”

     “Oh,” Jack frowned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t-“

     “I liked it.”

     Jack gave another small smile before moving to stand. Dorothea’s hand quickly tightened, grabbing a fistful of Jack’s shirt to stop him from moving. “What are you doing?” The wild look in her eye from before was resurfacing but Jack was quick to reassure her.

     “We gotta get you standing so you can change, right?”

     “Oh, yes.” Dorothea’s hand relaxed and Jack grasped it to help her stand up, still keeping his other hand on her back. Dorothea looks at Jack’s hand and her eyes widen. “Jack! Your hand, it’s bleeding!”

     “Yeah, that usually happens after punching someone in the face.” He laughed when Dorothea sent him a disapproving glare.

     “We have to get this cleaned up before it gets infected!”

     “No, you have to get dressed.”

Dorothea suddenly became very aware that her dress had barely stayed up this entire time, still only held by her hand. This time there was no way to hide the redness in her cheeks.

     “Right.” Dorothea let go of Jack’s hand to further cover herself even though nothing was actually exposed. Jack took a step back to give her some space. He vaguely gestured toward the door,

     “I’ll be right outside.”

     As Dorothea dressed, she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror. The man had left bruises. His handprints were seared into the skin of her arm in the form of yellowish outlines. She almost started to cry again. The idea that those handprints would remain there for days after he touched her made her feel sick to the stomach. She didn’t know if she could stand to even look at food right now. Luckily, her blouse sleeves covered up the bruises and she wouldn’t have to look at them – at least for now. She felt too tired to bother putting her hair up again and decided to let the curls have their way and fall around her shoulders and face. She finally opened the door and poked her head out, only fully emerging when her eyes landed on Jack who was leaning against the opposite was with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening and he gave Dorothea a smile.

     “Come on, I’m sure Elmer and Margarette are waiting for you.” He said. He held his hand out for her to take but she declined by hugging herself tightly. She did not want to be touched right now. She felt disgusting. If Jack was offended by her rejection, Dorothea noted that he didn’t show it and instead put his hand in his pocket and smiled once again. Dorothea appreciated that more than he would ever know. She kept her arms wrapped around herself even as they walked silently down the hallway toward the kitchen. Everyone had left at this point so the only sound heard was their footsteps against the stone floor.

     Elmer and Margarette ceased their conversation at the sound of footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Margarette quickly removed her apron and rushed to meet Dorothea at the door before ushering her toward the table in the middle of the room.

     “Sit, miei cari, sit.”

     “Margarette, I-I’m fine, really I am. You needn’t fuss over me,” Dorothea’s voice was soft as if she had lost it.

     “I won’t hear any of that! You sit down and let me take care of you.” Margarette’s voice broke a little at the end of her sentence. She knew what Dorothea was feeling. She had never wanted Dorothea to feel that way.

     Elmer turned to Jack who had stayed in the doorway and gestured for him to come closer. When Jack was close enough, Elmer laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

     “You did good, boy. You did good. Now, let’s see that hand.”

     “Oh, no, sir I don’t need-“

     “That was a mean hook you laid on him and I know a thing or two about splittin’ knuckles. Let’s see ‘em.” Elmer left no room for argument. Jack raised his right hand so that Elmer could see. His knuckles were red and swollen – they’d be bruised tomorrow – and there was dried blood on the webbing of his fingers. “Not too bad. Go wash your hands and I’ll show you how to bandage them up nice and tight.”

     After the two adults had sufficiently fixed up Jack and Dorothea, they sent them off. Margarette, Elmer, and Jack insisted that Jack walk Dorothea back to the lodging house despite her protests that it wasn’t necessary.

     “Miei cari, He could be waiting for you to leave.”

And that was all it took for Dorothea to agree. The pair walked for a long time in silence. As they walked, Dorothea kept her arms firmly wrapped around herself. She stared down at the ground and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Jack split his time between looking at Dorothea and looking around to make sure that guy wasn’t lurking around anywhere. He was worried about Dorothea and even more about having to leave her alone.

     “Will you be alright once you get home?” He asked.

     “Yes.”

     “What about tomorrow morning? Don’t you work?”

     “Yes. I’m sure it will be fine.” Dorothea looked up at Jack and smiled. She was flattered that Jack was worrying this much about her. She had been thinking about how quickly he had come into the dressing room to help her. Dorothea had never been so grateful for anyone in her whole life. She furrowed her eyebrows,

     “How did you know I needed help?”

     “I heard you scream from down the hall. I was coming with Elmer to tell you how great you were tonight but I never got the chance.”

Dorothea hummed in understanding as she returned her gaze to the ground.

     “You did great tonight, by the way.” He said with a grin. Dorothea couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped her lips. She didn’t even realize she had started to cry again.

     “Thank you, Jack.” She said just as they neared the steps of the house. They stopped on the landing and turned to face each other.

     “Of course! I mean why didn’t you ever tell me you could sing like that-“

     “I meant for saving me, you daft boy!” She rolled her eyes and smiled lightly.

     “Oh, yeah, that,” Jack scratched the back of his neck with his bandaged hand and tried to suppress the warmth climbing his neck. “I just did what anyone would have done.”

     “But anybody didn’t. You did.” Dorothea said in a very serious tone. “For that, I owe you more than you could possibly imagine. You were my hero tonight.” Dorothea smiled, this time a real one as if she had no control.

     Jack couldn’t stop his face from flushing so he quickly looked away. “You don’t owe me anything, Dory.” He said, finally looking back down at her. She nodded, though they both knew she didn’t believe him, before turning to head inside. “But if you wanted to keep calling me that,” She paused to look back at him and he swallowed, “I, um, I wouldn’t complain.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to be casual as he pointedly looked everywhere but at Dorothea.

     Dorothea hummed again. Just before she closed the door she said, “My hero.”

     As the door clicked shut and Jack let out a puff of air, he knew he looked like an idiot standing on her doorstep with the widest grin known to man, and he couldn’t care less.

[s3tok41b4]

It’s not an ask, it’s not really anything that you need to know but I haven’t been able to ever share it aloud except once to my now Husband. But with what gets said and posted a lot these days I just felt compelled to share it with you knowing you and I’m sorry if it bothers you.

When I was in middle school I had a friend that was always actively acting out, sneaking out, doing things she shouldn’t and hanging out in questionable areas in town. I was shy and quiet by nature (still rather am) and one day she had me follow her off to some house near by her apartment that I never been to and I had no idea who lived there. Once inside it was obvious it was some sorta flop house (obvious in retrospect of course) and my friend was speaking with two adult males I’d never met before. She went along with one to another room leaving me with the other guy alone. She had been my friend since elementary school I’d never imagine she would put me in harms way, so she must know these guys well? The other guy offered me to the other room to hang out, I didn’t know what to do or say, I didn’t want to leave my friend and I didn’t want to be rude to this guy so I unfortunately followed him in. He showed me to where to sit, a bed, and he wasted no time touching me. I uncomfortably tried to push him away and stay to the other side of the bed it was in vein. Without a lot of detail he got me pushed onto the bed, touching and kissing me and I had little chance against him to get him off. I was stuck between frozen fear as he kept touching and kissing me and telling him to stop. I could feel now what I know as an adult his bulge and I was in sheer panic. Saying “No” was getting me nowhere and I felt helpless and trapped.

I don’t know what my friend had been up to but soon I hear the door to the room I was in open to which I called her name and I could hear her laugh. The guy got off me as he realized his friend and mine there more so because I kept calling my friends name. After some short talk between my friend and the two adults she was ready to head out and I was more than willing, I felt dirty and gross, scared and upset, and a whole other mix of things. The way back to her house she was laughing at me and teasing me that I have a new boyfriend. I’d never dated anyone or kissed anyone even at that point and she knew that. I was quiet, I was at tears and went home as soon as I had the chance as I had to wait a bit longer as I lived a distance away for just walking on my own.

I couldn’t ever say anything to my family I felt shameful and stupid I should have known not to go along with her but I did and now a part of me will never feel the same. We started drifting from friends from there…which as other friends were friends with her made me lose some more friends. I don’t know if she ever shared any of this with anyone else. She never apologized she never even made it seem like there was an issue at all. As adults I sometimes see her around town as it’s not a huge city and every time I feel a deep pit inside me that aches and I nearly panic and have to advert my gaze until I feel she is gone again.

I’m sorry again I just needed someone to tell it to as I’ve been seeing a lot of SA stuff around and like you felt like the one to talk to. I’m sorry if it upsets you I tried to keep it vague to not trigger anything hopefully and if I have I am even more sorry for my poor judgment.

Thank you.

I'm so sorry to hear this happened to you anon. That "friend" of yours doing that to you is just.... and words can't describe what I hope happened to those 2 men.

I'm sorry, this should never happen to anyone but especially not to someone so young. 🫂

[quibbs126]

I didn’t really feel like drawing fankids today (or at least not now), so instead I drew some Ruby Cacao Cookie, a character I’ve been wanting to draw more of but never got around to

And she’s also the only one of the “ocs related to Dark Cacao” that I actually made to be an oc, not just a hypothetical character that just took up space in my brain

So I’ve fleshed out a few more details with Ruby Cacao, and I just want to say them

Not much to really say about the drawings themselves. The first one is just supposed to be Ruby being concerned over her brother, coming back with scratches all over him. She’s supposed to be somewhat strict on him, but given the dangers of the land, it’s pretty justified. As shown in the other picture, she tends to be kind to him

The bottom two pictures are just supposed to be that Gordon Ramsay meme, which also describes her herself, even if it is a slight exaggeration. Like I said, towards Dark Cacao she’s very kind and understanding, trying to support him even if he has trouble doing things (he’s like 5 here), and she’s always the one he goes to when he’s scared or in trouble. However, to everyone else in the tribe, they know her as being quick to anger, very aggressive and willing to commit violence on other children. Granted, part of the reason for her aggression is the fact that everyone else in the village tends to be mean to her little brother (which has a reason, but I’ll explain later), or they’ve basically given up on life and she’s fed up with them all. But regardless she does have a short temper and is quick to anger, as well as just very distrusting of people. Were she to have lived to meet the other Ancients, it’d take some time for her to warm up to them and trust them with her brother. (I realize she kinda sounds like an overprotective parent not letting their kid date someone and having to be won over for their blessing. If polyancients, then yes this would probably happen). Though also later in life she would have mellowed out some, as she’s learned not to just assume the worst of people and that there are good Cookies out there

So I alluded to me having made the backstory to the fate of their village and why it’s so run down, so I might as well talk about it. Basically, just blame the Licorice Sea. So basically, the Cacao Tribe lived right off the coast of the Licorice Sea, which also used to be farther inland, as there was less of a force pushing back on it. Years prior to the time shown here, around when Dark Cacao was baked, there was a major attack from the Licorice Sea on the Cacao Tribe, to which the warriors fought against bravely. In the end, the Cacao warriors were able to push the creatures back, but in the resulting carnage a lot of their village was destroyed and many, both warriors and innocent civilians, crumbled. To the rest of the tribes, this is where the Cacao Tribe met their end, in glorious battle to defend their people. However, they did manage to hold out, but their plight was not over, as soon after, a plague broke out amongst the (I don’t actually know what it does, but I imagine when it was visible, it showed up as splotches of licorice on the dough with it eventually turning the eyes dull. Also it was fatal. Maybe it culminated in the affected melting into licorice? I dunno), caused by the attack and overexposure to the Licorice monsters. As such, the warriors were the ones first affected by the plague, and since it was a slow acting sickness and people didn’t know about it, it quickly spread throughout the tribe. They had to cut themselves off from the rest of the world at that point, hence one reason the other tribes thought they all perished, and try to work out on their own how to stop it. The plague devastated the surviving population, and while a cure (or at least something to help fight off the disease for those who could be saved) was eventually found, by this point so many had succumbed to the disease that the population of the tribe was no more than 20 Cookies. After all the horrible death and misery that those survivors went though in such a short amount of time, they were basically all left severely traumatized and for most of the adults, it left them with a constant state of sorrow and hopelessness, wondering when death was coming for them, or why they were the ones left to survive, some even saying they should have all died when the rest of their tribe did. Dark Cacao and Ruby Cacao lived through this, however they were very young at the time, with Dark Cacao not remembering any of it. As such, he just doesn’t feel or understand that same sense of loss, especially since he still has his sister, and because of that other kids (and to some extent the adults) take out their feelings on him. Ruby Cacao is a bit older, and only vaguely remembers the end of the plague (both of them got the disease, but got it late enough that they weren’t too affected before the cure), but the others don’t pick on her because they know she fights back, and fights hard (she’s got abnormal strength like her brother)

Edit: oh yeah, another thing I wanted to mention but forgot, after making up this backstory, it made me consider making a fic where another Licorice Plague happens, but this time it’s in the aftermath of Episodes 13-14, since they have a pretty big Licorice Sea attack themselves. I think it sounds interesting, since while Dark Cacao knows what it is once he sees the visible symptoms and he’s the only one to have lived through an outbreak like this and knows that there is a cure, he was too young to actually remember any of it, only being told about it and not knowing all the details. So if the Citadel wants to find a cure before it causes devastation to their troops, we might have to do some memory magic stuff to find the answers, which could also lead into other characters learning of the past he keeps secret (if it was like a thing where someone else has to venture in his memories, I’d pick Caramel Arrow for the one to do it), which could be neat. Also, there’s the whole conflict of the fact that to keep the plague from spreading, they’d have to quarantine the entire Citadel, meaning they’d have to completely shut their gates once more, even though they just opened them up again after so long, which could plant fear and doubt back in to the minds of the citizens, and Dark Cacao doesn’t want to do that, but the alternative puts the entire kingdom at risk. I feel like there’s plenty of interesting concepts you could have with this, I’m just not very skilled at writing multi-chapter fics, so I don’t really know how to approach this

But eventually the tribe met their ultimate fate a few years later, when the Licorice Sea attacked the tribe once again, and as there were no warriors and most of them just wanted to die, and as such they and what remained of their village was swallowed up by the sea, with only a few survivors, that being those that still wanted to live and could escape the attack, which weren’t many, but included Dark Cacao and Ruby Cacao

What happened after I’ve already said, them living alone in the mountains (with Dark Cacao becoming more independent as there’s only two of them, so he feels he can’t just hide behind her and has to step up and do his part), Ruby meeting her tragic fate and what happened with Dark Cacao afterwards

I also had some ideas for what Ruby Cacao would look/be like if she had lived, mainly just in that while she uses a large sword like her brother and nephew now, she later ends up preferring dual daggers, sort of like what Caramel Arrow has, only it doesn’t turn into a bow. Also that when she’s a teenager, she wears a cloak made out of a snow lion’s pelt, along with other things made from its fur (Dark Cacao has some too). I’m thinking she’s more of a hunter than her brother. Were she to live, she’d probably go with him and the other Ancients on their journey, and (presumably) get a Soul Jam herself, probably a red one. I’d imagine she and her brother would end up joint ruling the kingdom, or if she doesn’t take ruling role, she’s at least got an important role in the kingdom. I imagine she and Dark Choco would get along, with Ruby Cacao thinking he reminds her of Dark Cacao when he was that young (and then probably teasing Dark Cacao about it, to his embarrassment). Don’t know if she’d have a kid of her own, but if she did they’d probably be named Ruby Choco Cookie.

But yeah, I think that about covers what I wanted to say

To be honest, I want to draw more on this page, so I might edit this later with more sketches and then details about what’s on that. Though most of what’s going through my head for ideas is just them when the Licorice Sea destroyed their village (the final time) and Ruby Cacao hypothetically older. Though I’m also considering drawing them during the Licorice Plague, aka very small Ruby and Dark

[lone-nyctophile]

Have you ever acted differently towards someone because of a dream?

Like, idk, you dreamt you had a fish, and for some reason unknown to you you have to go on a trip. Naturally, you ask a friend to take care of the fish. After you return form your trip, your friend tells you that they forgot to feed the fish, so it died. Then, you wake up and you are kinda mad with your friend for killing your nonexistent fish in a dream when they had no control whatsoever on their actions there. In that situation, you quickly realize that staying mad over a nonexistent dead fish is completely absurd and pointless.

A while ago something similar happened to me. Except it was completely different. I dreamt that a guy in friends with asked me to be his girlfriend. As expected, I said no because the mere thought of being in a relationship scared the shit out of me. Then a bunch of things happened, and I realized that I wanted to be with him. When the realization hit me, I ran as fast as I could to his house. The details are a bit blurry, but I found him at a bus stop. I had been running for a while when my eyes met his. I struggled to get the air inside my lungs while he just stared. It took me a couple of seconds to regain my courage. I took a deep breath and ran into his arms. He caught me and I kissed him. I told him I liked him and wanted to be with him. Then, I started crying and he just hugged me and said it was okay. Everything was gonna be okay. And I believed him. I FUCKING BELIEVED HIM!!!

And I can’t get that out of my head. My brain is constantly thinking about how his arms felt around me, and how safe I felt in his arms.

Now, I can’t freaking see him without thinking about the dream.

And I’ve been driving myself insane trying to figure out if I like him or I’m just lonely and starved for affection. Or both. I really don’t know what to do or how to feel or anything. Before the dream we were really great friends and I never even thought about him that way, but now idk.

(Sorry for cussing, I know some people aren’t comfortable with it, so if you aren’t, I deeply apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything)

Woah. Firstly, It's a good thing that you can remember your dreams; most people can't. You should not invalidate your dreams because they appear for a reason.

 According to Freud, dreams can be considered as a projection of repressed or dismissed unconscious materials. For instance, the fish was probably representing something else which is related to the friends (like trust; the friend inadvertently killing the fish might be a warning from your unconscious mind that they are not trustworthy. 

As with the case with your friend, look, our minds get very confused in romantic situations. Especially when a friend is involved. I think you might like your friend regardless of whether you’re lonely or not as the dream ‘specifically’ involves him because if it was just about loneliness then you might have most likely imagined someone faceless (considering the logic of dreams). Now, this does not mean that you’re not lonely. In fact, your loneliness might have compelled you to see your friend in a new light. 

However, feelings are complicated and sometimes giving them a label does not necessarily describe them in an accurate way. If you cannot figure out your feelings then dearie, its fine. I would advise you to give it some time and stop consciously thinking about it. Then I’m sure things will become much clear for you. 

Thank you for writing to me and I'm really sorry for the late reply. I will be really glad to listen to you again. All the best! <33

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart Second Year, chapter 12

It’s too soon. I’ve always thought the jump from attack to memorial was too quick. There was still so many characters we didn’t see during chapter 11 (Naveen, Harper, Zaid, Ines, Esme) and we needed a chapter just to absorb everything that happened.

My personal hc was that Raf could go home as long as he had someone looking after him. He had Juliana, but MC’s roommates would all be working long hours so he ended up staying in hospital a bit longer.

I know in reality PB couldn’t be bothered to rewrite this small detail.

Juliana ❤️ I miss my grandma…

One of Ethan’s diamond scenes prompts you to help him fix a relationship, and if you’re romancing him, it suggests you can restart your own. Rafael gets a similar prompt for his chapter 12 scene but the prompt to rekindle an old flame appears whether you’re romancing him or not.

Just another dialogue point that doesn’t change and therefore doesn’t make sense, or at least sounds weird on his path. For example:

(That’s an interesting way to describe a break-up). It makes sense on his romance path…but why would a friendly MC grow apart from him? On my Ethan playthrough I believed my MC was really happy for Raf and Sora and invited them both out when the group met up. There’s certain dialogues I now won’t take for Raf’s platonic route to avoid these, but it’s pretty rubbish if it wasn’t intended to be romantic. At least PB had the foresight to change the dialogue during the kissing scene.

So are you ❤️ (he’s right though)

Matthew, you’re going to a funeral. Stop looking hot.

“Just like that”. Astute observation, PB.

And the whole scene of the wake. Every single time, my mind replaces Danny and Bobby with Rafael and I wonder whether the memorial would have been very different or would it still feel rushed and uncaring? Only half the friend group were given funeral outfits for gods sake.

And PB did it again:

Not letting me visit my own love interest. And this was after the rewrites. Why couldn’t MC go back to Rafael?? I don’t even care that they wouldn’t have sex, they needed to spend time together. After a book full of two Ethan scenes per chapter, you suddenly can’t do that?? Bullshit.

And to think…we were a few days away from this being Rafael’s funeral.

(I chose Jackie, again because it made sense with her and Matthew living together, but the choices are either awkwardly navigating flirty dialogue or leaving her crying that it should have been her funeral.)

There’s mentions of Elijah really struggling through the service, something he’s been to too many of, and it’s never mentioned again. We don’t get to catch up with Bryce at all unless we choose him at the end. And Jackie will tell you about how much she hates the person she sees in the mirror, only to never bring it up again.

On Ethan’s romance path, he gets extra dialogue at the beginning AND during the memorial.

My thoughts at this point:

This whole situation was handled so gracelessly. It doesn’t get the build-up it deserves, and the aftermath is treated like an obligation to get through. As I mentioned before, the character who actually gets all the emotion is the character who was never in danger (Ethan). But we don’t have the time or money to give everyone else the same, so rather than spreading their resources between the LIs, PB wrote dialogue in a weird halfway spot: awkward if you’re not romancing them, not deep enough and now cheapened if you are romancing them.

And then we know MC goes back to the hospital before they’re ready and absolutely nothing comes from it.

The characters faced something deeply traumatic that would have killed them, but the funeral is then rushed, characters aren’t looked after, and then before you can say ‘free healthcare’ we’re back at the diagnostics team like nothing happened because apparently nothing is more important than Ethan and MC.

Mature and emotional storyline my ass. The attack was put in to knock off a LI for shock value and nothing more.

[mvrtinaed]

hello! i am river and i feel very awkward writing this intro because it’s been a *hot minute* since i’ve done any sort ot rping or writing in general. nonetheless, i am so excited to interact with you guys! below the cut is all or most of martina’s details. enjoy!

❆・:*｡( valentina zenere. twenty-six. cis woman. ) | look who entered the cabin! it’s MARTINA ROMANO. SHE is known for being the VOICE OF REASON of the group & that’s because they can be ALTURISTIC but also MATERIALISTIC. we bet they’re excited to be coming back to the cabin. they believe DON'T GO by DANNA PAOLA & ISABELA MERCED is the best way to describe them. wonder what trouble they’ll be getting into this season.

NAME: martina romano

AGE: twenty-six

NICKNAMES: marti (honestly, give her some more because she needs some!)

KNOWN AS: the voice of reason

DATE OF BIRTH: feb. 9th, 1996

POSITIVE TRAITS: alturistic, benevolent, flexile

NEGATIVE TRAITS: worldly, fleety, stubborn

CHARACTER PARALLELS: cassie howard (euphoria), aimee gibbs (sex education), evan buckley (911), lucrecia montesinos hendrich (elite)

FAMILY: amancio (dad), ines (mom), valentin (younger brother)

from a young age, martina romano knew she was destined for great things. being the oldest daughter of two, she was daddy’s girl and was sheltered from the things her parent’s considered as “horrors” in the world. whether it was something as simple as wearing make up or complicated as boys, mommy and daddy made it their mission to make sure she didn’t grow up too fast. still, martina always found a way around her parent’s shields.

at twelve, martina’s father’s demons surfaced. apparently, her mother had known for quite some time, wanting to shield this from martina and her younger brother. according to ines, it was gambling and amancio had caused more harm than good to their family. eventually, her father left them alone in the dust and martina never saw him again.

that was until she turned fourteen and she met a boy. believing that he loved her, she gave him everything and that was where she was mistaken because that boy shamed her for being naive. despite this, she searched for love and approval from those who would give her any. sure, she had her friends, but at that age, nothing else mattered.

fast forward to the end of high school, martina intended to take a few years off to travel the world instead of going straight to college. within this time, martina became a flight attendant, a job that she enjoyed the most. she met an older man who was flying first class who promised her the world. much like her high school habits, she fell for him and he did the same for her. martina lived the life of luxury. that was, until she made the drunken mistake of sleeping with someone she shouldn’t have.

in a fit of fury and regret, she made a stupid youtube video of a make up tutorial of trying to get your ex back after cheating on them. the video got over a million views, unintentionally. martina eventually made a joke about the video after realizing how stupid it was.

when the tiktok was posted, she wasn’t there, but still loved the video regardless because hello - friends!

martina’s a natural brunette, but dyed her hair blonde after she graduated high school just because she could.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Glow

Helen was sitting in the small meeting room, with a notepad open in front of her. There was a pile of papers on the table and another stack sitting in her lap, the only discernible characteristic of which was that it was already smeared with her fingerprints.

She saw the door opening and turned to look. There was a man there. He walked toward her, but Helen hadn't met him before and couldn't imagine who he was.

He walked up to her and said: "Hi, I'm --" and paused. He was not wearing a name badge. After a moment, he said: "I'm Leo."

"Nice to meet you," said Helen.

The man said, with an expression of mild surprise: "Oh, I've already met you."

"Oh," said Helen.

There was something about this man, about the expression on his face, that was familiar. Helen didn't understand why. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything the man said: "Margaret had said I should give you this."

The man extended his hand, and held out a stack of papers.

Helen scanned through them. There were formulas on them, and various derivations of a particular, ugly-looking formula. She asked the man: "What's this?"

"It's essays I've written about . . . I've written about you." He was blushing as he said this. He added: "At least, I've written essays about what I remember of you. From our interactions."

Helen was baffled. "What do you mean?"

Leo shrugged. "I probably don't make any sense. How would you describe an amnesiac simulation of yourself?"

"Right."

Helen looked over the pages again. She had no idea what they meant, except that they included a lot of notation she didn't understand. She asked Leo: "Is it true?"

"That you have . . . problems? That you're one of the most brilliant, and most successful, people on the planet?"

Helen said: "I've known this for many years. What I'm talking about is, are the claims you're making about me true?"

A strange expression crossed Leo's face. Helen had never seen it before. It stayed for a moment, and then he said: "I have no idea. Everything I've written is supposed to be based on the things you've told us. I don't even know if you go by Helen."

Helen smiled. "I don't know either." She reached over to close the notepad in front of her. She said: "I'm a bit surprised, though. I would have thought that our discussions would have been exceptional enough to make a strong impression."

Leo's strange expression crossed his face again.

Helen noticed that there were a few papers scattered across the table. She began to sort through them, picking the papers up to read them. She looked over a few, shrugged, and set them back down. She decided not to ask Leo anything else right now.

They sat in a quiet, slightly strained silence for a while. Helen looked over a few papers again, only to confirm that they were totally incomprehensible to her. After a few minutes, Leo said:

"Should I talk?"

"Is that something you're usually asked?"

"I'm not sure. Margaret told me to talk, and you said nothing. So . . ."

Helen picked up a pencil and started to scribble on a notepad. "What should I ask you about?"

Leo said: "Ask me to talk about the work I do."

"Oh, right. It's high energy physics. I forgot. How much of a novelty is that for you?"

"Well, I don't know much about the details of the particular project you're working on, but . . . let's see." He pulled out a sheet of paper and glanced at it. He said: "All right, I'll talk about . . . time dilation and length contraction. The two main effects of special relativity."

Helen nodded.

"So length contraction is probably the more straightforward of the two effects to understand. At high speeds, your 'meter stick' will appear to shrink -- it will look smaller, even when you don't shrink anything else. The length of the meter stick hasn't changed, but when you use it to measure the length of a box you'll measure a shorter length. Sort of like measuring someone with a shorter ruler."

"Yeah."

"Time dilation is a bit more complicated. Read this." Leo handed Helen a pencil and another sheet of paper. On it, he'd written something.

Helen said: "Is this symbol 't'?"

"Yes. Right. The point is, your clocks are moving at different rates."

"What, as in, if you were to look at the clock on the ground, it would go more slowly than the clock of the spaceship?"

"Exactly. Because of the way length contraction and time dilation are intertwined, some of the electrons moving through your clock's circuit are in its frame of reference, and others are in the ship's. But they're not all in one frame or the other. This means that the clock looks to be going slower than it actually is. But it's really going more slowly than you think, because of all the times that electrons are going exactly at the ship's velocity."

"If I understand you, a light year is like a year. The shortest distance that it takes for your clock to tick once is a light year long. But if the spaceship is traveling at half the speed of light, my clock will say that a light year is twice as long for the person on the ship."

"Exactly. And if my clock is moving in parallel with a spacecraft at half the speed of light, it will turn out that the year is shorter on the ship than the year is on the earth. And what's even worse is that, for me, that's when the earth clock has the short year. Because the year has fewer ticks."

Helen said: "I'm lost. This is ridiculously easy to imagine -- it's almost a rationalist problem, I imagine -- but I have no idea what I'm imagining. Maybe it's easy for you? It feels like a trick."

"So maybe I can put it this way. The meter stick and the clock both have three. The meter stick has three physical meters, and the clock has three physical ticks. The clock ticks slower when you're going at high speeds, but nothing has added or removed any physical length. Your clock hands are going in the right order, one after the other, every quarter of a second, but if you measure it with a ruler it'll look like they're getting closer together. And the problem is that your clock, the one that's moving with you, is designed to tick just as fast when the ship is going at or below the speed of light."

Helen said: "I think I understand now. You're going to explain this more concretely."

Leo said: "So, let's say the ship is going at half the speed of light. Your clock is going to tick exactly on schedule, as if it's resting on the earth. But you're going to say that it's 'running slow' because, when you're going at half the speed of light and your clock is going on schedule, you'll say that a second is longer than a second. You're not wrong -- you'll say you spent a 'long second' traveling in the ship. But the thing is that your clock is on schedule. It's behaving properly. It's not moving through time. You're the one who's moving, through space."

Helen said: "I understand now."

Leo said: "But in relativity theory, there's another problem. It's similar to the one we just mentioned, but it's the opposite. If your clock is moving at the speed of light, it will 'stop' -- it'll go as fast as you can make a clock go, all the ticks in the same second. And if someone measures this with a ruler, they'll say that one second is longer than any other second."

"I don't see the problem. If I know the light is coming at me at the speed of light, I know that it'll take an instant to cross my entire field of vision. And if the clocks are both going at the same rate, I'll measure a certain interval as one second."

"But you won't say that the second is exactly the same length on both the spaceship and the earth. Right? You

[briamichellewrites]

62

Mike and Bria were laying on her bed when he rolled on top of her. She ran her fingers through his black hair. He kissed her before resting his head on her shoulder. If he could, he would never leave the comfort of her bed. He would never leave her because she was safe. She was his best friend and he never wanted to lose that. Her body was warm and he felt protected. Like he was a child again and his mother was rocking him to sleep after waking up from a bad dream. That was a long time ago.

He was no longer a little boy but a man. A man with a broken heart, who wanted someone to take care of him and protect him. He looked at her and smiled. What was he going to do? He didn’t know. Was he going to date Rob or Chester? He laughed. If they asked him out, he would give them a chance. He didn’t think of himself as being attracted to men.

But, he wasn’t going to rule it out, either. Love was love. His brother was gay and their family accepted him for who he was.

“Chester… Rob. Maybe Brad or Phoenix. I can’t see Joe being gay or bisexual.”

“If Phoenix is who I remember, then he and I should get along great together.”

He laughed. “I’m pretty sure he is. Are you going to tell them about what you’re doing?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how they will react. Who knows about it?”

“Me, Joe and Chester. That’s it. They respect that it’s not their secret to tell.”

Brad and Rob were not happy about what she was doing. They had so many questions. How was it different from prostitution? It was different because she wasn’t selling sex. That’s what made it legal. She described how it worked in detail. The men she met never got her phone number because all communications were through the website. All men who signed up had to submit to a background check.

She had to sign a non disclosure agreement because some of the men she was dating were high profile. That meant their identities were confidential. All the money she made went into her bank account. How was it different than being a gold digger? A gold digger to her was a young woman who tricked a wealthy older man into marrying her. She then took his money. An escort was a companion for a night or a weekend. Why would he hire an escort, instead of finding a random girl?

If he was high profile, like Johnny Depp, he would be worried about leaks to the media. An escort had confidentiality. It was better to have repeat customers. Has she ever had bad dates? She had one where a guy was obsessed with talking about himself and she had to pretend to be interested in him. Thankfully, he only paid for one date. They laughed.

Other than that, her dates had been wonderful! They were gentlemen and they asked her what was allowed. Could they kiss her? What were her limits? Things like that. How much was she making? It depended on the date. She gave her prices, which they were stunned to learn. One thousand dollars to fly her out? Yeah. She had gone to Paris for a weekend. That didn’t include her accommodations or spending money.

She wasn’t going to do it forever. It was just until she found something better. She would quit after a year or two. Were any of the guys married? If they were, that was their problem. Not hers. Okay. After their conversation, they went back to where the other guys were getting ready to record. Chester was nervous about seeing her.

Was she still upset with him? He didn’t want to ask her in front of everyone, so he got out his phone and texted her.

No, I’m not still upset. I love you but you need help! I’m okay with smoking weed with you. I’m not okay with whatever you were smoking the other day. I won’t tell Mike or anyone else because that’s something you need to do. I will always be here for you. Can you come over later? – Bria

I love you too. Thank you. I’ve been using drugs since I was eleven. I’m not ready to get clean. What I need right now is someone who won’t push me into rehab but is just there for me. Please be that person. I’m sorry for getting you involved in this. That was my fault. Yeah, I’ll come over after work. Is Mike going to be there? – Chester

He caught her looking at the message. She then looked up, looked over at him and shook her head. No, he wasn’t going to be there. Okay. She got up and went over to Mike. He nodded when he heard she would be hanging out with Chester. That was fine with him. He was going to get a hotel room anyway. The previous evening had given him insight about what he needed to do. He was going to take his name off the lease of the apartment he and Anna were renting.

He was then going to see if he had enough for a small house. Eventually, he had to tell his parents that the relationship was over. Would he admit fault? Yes, he would. Even if they were disappointed with him for cheating. One affair didn’t take away the other. They both cheated. Why did he cheat? He didn’t have a good reason.

Because it was Bria. The woman he was in love with. They wouldn’t understand. Phoenix had come in and joined them. He was joking around with Bria. She called him an asshole, making him laugh. Just as Brad was calling everyone over, he got a text message from Phoenix asking to hang out.

Yeah, I can do that. Where should I meet you? – Mike

Come over to my place. – Phoenix

What did this mean? Two guys having a beer and hanging out or did he want more? Bria wouldn’t mind if they hooked up because they weren’t officially dating. His mind told him to not overthink it. Later, he got his answer. After saying goodbye to everyone, he went out to his car and drove over to Phoenix’s. It wasn’t a long drive. He turned on the radio to drown out his thoughts and anxiety.

Phoenix let him in. He played it cool, as they went to the kitchen. His heart was beating in his chest. Phoenix was acting not like himself. He was visibly nervous, so he asked him if he was okay. After coming over to him, he kissed his lips. Mike was surprised. When they pulled away, he apologized.

“Phoenix…”

“I’m gay. I’m tired of pretending to be straight. I knew that you would understand. I just want to know if you will be my first.”

“I do understand. I’m open to experimenting. Yes, I will.”

He smiled before kissing him again. Chester and Bria were laying in bed together after hooking up. She ran her fingers through his hair. I love you. She loved him, too. He kissed her again before laying his head on her chest.

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