#i've been delighted by all your comments so far!

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Needs

Summary: A few years after Dean’s feral rut claimed her, their family is growing, and Y/N is content with having all she needs.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Pack Dynamics for @jacklesversebingo

Triggers / Warnings / Tags: Omegaverse, A/B/O,  A/B/O dynamics, alpha, omega, pack dynamics, pups, mentions of feral rut, mentions of heat, mentions of mating, mentions of knotting (all non-descriptive), pregnancy, nesting, daddy Dean, light smut, light references to labour and giving birth (all non-descriptive)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this sequel to All She Wants so much, and I hope you enjoy it too! All feedback is welcome, so please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse 💖

A/N2: Woohoo! This is my first fill for Jacklesverse24 bingo, and the first thing I've posted in a LONG time!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Your POV

The pitter-patter of small feet rings through the air, occasionally followed by shrieks and laughter as Dean chases the twins along the winding hallways of the bunker. It’s pure heaven, and there’s no sound in the world you love more than the ones you hear outside your bedroom door at that moment.

They hadn’t been planned, and neither you nor Dean had expected it, but you hadn’t exactly been surprised by your pregnancy either. You’d stopped taking birth control when you went on heat suppressants, but Dean’s feral rut had triggered an exceptional heat, and with all the mating and knotting that came after it, you knew the odds were against you coming out of that cabin without a pup.

The bigger surprise for you both was that you were expecting twins. Once the shock had worn off, you teased each other mercilessly about whether your ovaries were overzealous and had released two eggs or Dean’s sperm was so powerful it had split one. As it turned out–much to Dean’s absolute delight–it was the latter, and you gave birth to two healthy and happy identical boys who looked exactly like their father.

They were fiercely independent for four-year-olds, and had their own individual personalities since the day they came into the world; Bobby was brave and strong with a big heart, just like his father, and Charlie was smart, curious and determined like you. They were far too young for anyone to know if they’d both be alphas like their father and uncle, but they were already showing strong alpha tendencies, which Dean was immensely proud of.

You made another trip from the closet to the bed, carrying more of Dean’s clothes for your nest. You were anxious and could feel that it was almost time. With Jody, Donna, and Cass on standby, and everything ready and prepared, you were impatiently waiting for the birth of your and Dean’s baby girl.

Crawling into the nest and surrounding yourself with your Alpha’s scent, you take a deep breath and try to relax. Dean can tell your blood pressure is high, saying your heartbeat hasn’t been the same these past few weeks, and baby girl’s is a little faster, too. He’d confined you to your shared bedroom to put your feet up and to try and keep your blood pressure down.

Being waited on hand and foot had been nice at first, but now you’re fed up and extremely agitated all the time. You know you’re no fun to be around right now, but being unable to perform your duties as an Omega and take care of your pups, your Alpha, and—as the matriarch of your pack—everyone else, is beginning to take its toll on you.

To add to your distress, you’re upset to be missing so much time with your boys, and Dean has had to calm you down about that at least once a day. In the end, he agreed to go to their bedroom each day and get some of their clothing for you to add to your nest so you had their scents constantly around you. It helped, but the pit in your stomach never really went away.

The boys came to see you all the time, though, telling you all about their adventures with Daddy and Uncle Sam. You particularly enjoyed their stories of how they constantly wound up poor, unsuspecting Uncle Cass. Those were your favourite moments of the day. That, and when Dean came to bed. It’s only then you truly feel content, loved and safe in your Alpha’s arms.

As you settle back into your nest, the twins come crashing through your bedroom door, and you grin happily.

“Mommy! Mommy! Help! Daddy’s trying to steal the treasure!” Charlie shouts, even though he’s only a foot away from you and there’s no need for his raised voice.

“Quick, hide!” you say dramatically, throwing the bedcovers down and encouraging them to crawl in next to you.

Bobby and Charlie pull the covers over themselves and cuddle into your side. Each boy wraps an arm around your expansive stomach, and you sigh contentedly.

“Ma’am, I am sorry to disturb you, but you wouldn’t happen to have seen two little scamps running through here, now, would you?” Dean drawls from the doorway. He winks at you, and you grin back.

“Why no, sir, I have not,” you respond, placing each hand on top of the lumps next to you.

“I’m truly sorry for disturbing you, Ma’am. If you do see them, I’ll be down in the kitchen having me some pie,” he responds, a silent question hanging between you. ‘Are you okay? You got them?’ You nod, grinning when he winks again and closes the bedroom door.

“Daddy’s gone, boys. You can come out now,” you say, smiling at the feeling of four small hands rubbing your swollen stomach.

“We want to cuddle with you and our sister,” Charlie responds, and you chuckle.

“We’d both like that very much,” you smile at the timely kick to one of your kidneys, and hug your boys tighter to your sides, sighing happily.

Dean’s POV

The serenity Dean felt from his Omega at having her pups in her arms kept him content enough to help Sam do some research for a few hours. There had been whispers and rumblings across the hunting community of what was probably the biggest and wickedest coven of witches anyone had ever known.

The ancient coven of Vindicta Pro Prima had roots going all the way back to the 1692 Salem Witch Trials, and was likely hundreds strong across continental America. The Winchesters weren’t stupid enough to think they’d be able to take them all down, but the more information they could gather, the better chance they had at protecting themselves and keeping up with whatever master plan Castiel and Rowena said they were cooking up.

Exhausted from worry for his Omega and unborn pup, and from taking care of his pack while she cared for herself and the life she was growing, Dean eventually relented at Sam’s insistence that he go to bed.

“I’ve got this, Dean. Go and rest with your family,” Sam smiled, still not quite believing the change in his big brother over the past few years from a stubborn alpha with commitment issues to a doting husband and father, and a fierce pack leader.

“Thanks, Sammy. Don’t stay up too late, alright? We can pick this up again tomorrow,” Dean said, standing from the table and stretching his back and shoulders out after sitting hunched over a laptop for hours.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Sam hadn’t agreed with him, Dean noticed and knew his brother wouldn't come back out easily once he’d gone down a research rabbit hole.

“Night, Sammy.”

Dean’s heart soared at the sight he was met with in his bedroom: his beautiful Omega fast asleep with a soft smile on her face and an arm around each of their boys. Bobby and Charlie were curled into their mother, snoring softly and, he hoped, having pleasant dreams.

Quietly, he made his way over to the bed and gently stroked Bobby’s hair, making him stir slightly. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you to your own bed, huh?” he whispered as he lifted the still half-asleep little boy into his arms.

Your POV

You jolt awake at the movement, ready to start a war with whoever had disturbed your sleeping pups. Realising it’s Dean, you smile, settle back down, and watch as he lifts Bobby into his arms. A small smile flits across your Alpha’s face as the tired boy snuggles into his neck and immediately falls back asleep.

Dean walks around to the other side of the bed and expertly picks Charlie up one-handed, making heat pool in the base of your stomach. Dean smirks, and you know he can feel it too, but you don’t care. Your big, strong Alpha is taking care of your pups; hormones or not, that is the sexiest thing in the world to you.

Your eyes drop to his ass as he walks out of your bedroom and carries your pups next door to their bedroom. Your mind drifts to the last time you and Dean had ‘alone time’ two months ago. You’d missed it; missed him, but you hadn’t been in the best of health for most of this pregnancy, and it’d been the last thing on either of your minds until now. And right now, you need him. Desperately.

You’d been surprised at how submissive Dean became in the bedroom when you were pregnant. It wasn't an Alpha tendency to let his Omega take control during sex, but something about you carrying his children made him soft and gentle, and allowed you to take what you wanted, how you wanted it. 

“Oh, I know that look!” Dean chuckles as he comes back into your shared bedroom.

“Pants off and get your ass over here, Winchester!” you giggle, throwing your pyjama shorts at him.

“Yes, ma’am!” Dean smirks, quickly stripping off his clothes and climbing into bed.

As soon as he’s settled, you straddle his thighs and kiss him, shivering as his hands skim up your legs and tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head and throwing it to the floor.

“I’ve missed this,” you sigh as you sink down on his length, moaning and rolling your eyes at the feeling of him stretching your walls. 

Murmured voices wake you from a deep and peaceful sleep. There’s no suffocating but comforting heat surrounding you, so you know Dean is already up. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you climb out of your cosy nest and follow the murmuring into the kitchen.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart? You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Dean says, although his tone isn’t as stern as you expect. Likely due to you reassuring him several times last night that you and the pup are fine.

“I heard voices,” you say, looking around at the faces smiling back at you. Jody, Donna, Jack, Rowena, Castiel, Eileen, and Sam – your whole extended pack are all huddled around in the kitchen. “What’s everyone doing here?”

“I asked them to come,” Rowena states. “I have information on the coven that needs all of your attention–”

“Except yours, Omega,” Dean states, his Alpha beginning to show its dominance to the pack. “You don’t need to be a part of this. You need to rest.”

“Oh, nonsense, Dean. Trust me, I am fluent in pregnant omega, and I can assure you that both Y/N and the baby are completely fine and healthy,” Rowena smiles knowingly, and you frown at her. “About to give birth, but completely fine.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you panic.

“That’s the other reason I asked everyone to come. You’re about to give birth, dear. The stars have aligned, and a little… something last night pushed you along, but all is as it should be. Now, let’s get you comfortable and settled,” Rowena soothes. “You need to save your energy. You’re in for a long day. This precious little girl will not be born under the sign of Taurus.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you repeat, feeling your heart begin to hammer.

“Omega, calm down,” Dean instructs, and instantly, you take a deep, controlled breath to lower your increasing heartbeat.

“She is meant to be a curious, intelligent, and witty little Gemini,” Rowena chuckles. “Funny, really, given that her brothers are twins!”

“But that’s–” you trail off with a frown.

“Sometime tomorrow, dearie, yes.” Rowena patiently placates you.

“But…” you look at your watch. “The sun is barely up.” The birth of the twins was long, and you’d hoped, based on everything everyone had told you, that things would go much quicker this time.

“Like I said, you’re in for a long day. Come, let’s get you in a warm bath to relax your cervix.”

“My… what?” You’re stunned. You’re not due for another month, and the news that your daughter is coming early is not what you expected when you woke up this morning, and you wonder if this is all a dream.

“I know you’re not officially due for another five weeks, but the fates never lie, dear. This baby is coming today… Well, tomorrow, but you know what I mean,” Rowena pauses, another knowing smile gracing her porcelain face as she waits patiently for you to catch up with everything she’s told you.

Your water breaks, and Rowena steps closer to you, taking your arm and guiding you towards the bathroom. “My bag, please, Dean,” she calls over her shoulder.  

“Dean!” you yell, noticing he’s just as stunned as you are and has made no effort to follow you and Rowena.

“What? Oh… right. I’m coming.” He springs into action, grabbing Rowena’s bag as requested and following his wife and the witch down the hallway.

Dean hasn’t left your bedroom for hours. In the early stages, he’d go and play with the twins for short bursts of time, but as your contractions became closer together, he stayed in the room, pacing like a caged animal as he impatiently waited to meet the newest member of his pack.

You’d thought Rowena was playing a cruel joke on you when she said you wouldn’t give birth until the following day, but now, at nineteen hours into your labour, you are exhausted and more than ready for your daughter to make her way into the world.

In a sudden whirlwind of activity after such a slow build-up, you cling desperately to Dean as he whispers how proud he is of you, and Rowena continuously encourages you to push, telling you it’s almost over.

Before you’ve fully caught up with what’s happening, a high-pitched wail erupts through the otherwise still and silent bunker. All of the pain, tiredness, and frustration vanish in a second, and all you want is to hold your little girl.

“There we are, beautiful,” Rowena coos as she wraps the wriggling baby in a soft, pink blanket. “Time to meet your mummy!” The witch places the crying baby into your arms to start the scent bonding between you and your pup.

Knowing omegas are particularly protective and can be aggressive if disturbed before they’ve formed a bond with their children, Dean lets you be, staying back and watching on adoringly as you fuss over the little pink bundle in your arms. 

“I’ll go and let the others know. They’ll be banging down the door in a minute if someone doesn’t go and see them,” Rowena smiles, watching as the baby stops crying. The initial bond between you both is now complete.  

“Alpha,” you finally say, chuckling as Dean’s face lights up, knowing exactly what you’re going to say next, and yet, he waits until you say the words.

“Come and meet our daughter.”

Dean climbs onto the bed and carefully takes your daughter in his arms, starting the scent bonding process all over again, this time between Alpha and his daughter.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door, and Dean looks to you for permission to grant them entry to your nest—you and your baby’s safe haven. At your nod, Dean announces for them to enter, and you smile as the first visitor isn’t Sam as you expect, but Castiel.

“Rowena tells me the baby is beautiful like her mother and stubborn like her father,” he says as he walks slowly over to you. “Though I can’t speak for her stubbornness yet, she is very beautiful.”

“Thank you, Cass,” you beam.

“Would you allow me to bless your daughter?” the angel asks, and Dean once again looks to you for permission.

“Of course, Cass. Thank you,” you nod, giggling as you feel Dean’s anxiety levels rise at the possibility of his pup getting hurt.

“Easy, Alpha,” you soothe, placing your hand on his thigh. “This isn’t anything we and the boys haven’t already been through. She’ll be fine.”

“What is her name?” Cass asks, directing his question at Dean in an effort to help placate the tense Alpha.

“Joanna,” Dean smiles, feeling more and more at ease with every stroke of his Omega’s hand over his thigh.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Joanna,” Cass says softly to the baby. “I can tell you’re feeling safe and happy in your father’s arms, and I promise you won’t feel anything.” The angel recites a prayer and a blessing, before bestowing the same angel wardings her parents, brothers, and uncle have.

“Of course, you’re already a daddy’s girl!” you chuckle softly, taking Joanna from Dean and looking her over to check she isn’t showing any signs of discomfort from the angel’s protection ritual.

“The twins are impatiently awaiting an introduction. Should I tell them they can come in, or do you need some more time to bond?” Cass asks, and you laugh again as Dean looks to you for permission, his puppy eyes almost rivalling his baby brother’s.

“Of course they can come in! They need to meet their little sister!” you giggle softly as you feel Dean’s relief, the protective Alpha desperate to have all of his pups in the same room to keep a better eye on those who mean the most to him.

Sam brings the yawning, heavy-eyed twins into your room. They hadn’t wanted to go to bed and miss the chance to meet their little sister, so they had fought valiantly to keep themselves awake. Their tiredness disappears as soon as they see the pink bundle of blankets in your arms, and they run over to your bed, carefully climb onto the mattress, and crawl closer, their eyes wide and already filled with love.

“Boys, this is Joanna,” you tell them, and smile encouragingly as Charlie moves closer.

“Hi, Joanna,” Charlie whispers. “I’m Charlie, your big brother!”

“And I’m Bobby. Your bigger brother. I’m six minutes older than Charlie!” your other son adds, and you and Dean share a chuckle before settling down into your nest to rest with your growing family. 

You wake a few hours later, knowing on instinct it’s because Joanna is hungry. It’s a huge relief that you’ve bonded with your baby because you hadn’t really felt much from her until now, and with the twins, the connection was instant.

Feeding Joanna, you can’t help but smile. Yes, you’re tired and sore, and you know it’s not going to be easy running around after three kids, but you’re happy. And that’s all that matters, because a few years ago, you couldn’t even imagine this would be your future, but now, even though the road was long and bumpy, you have all you need.

The End

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[shivunin]

tell me more about Arianwen and Zev im starving i need more stuff about them please

💖why, thank you so much for asking!!! c:

I was going to start by summarizing his reaction to her at the ambush where they first meet, but here's the paragraph instead lol:

Just when Zevran was beginning to get the upper hand, a wave of lightning coursed through him, causing his hand to convulse around the dagger’s hilt. The Warden filled the opening, gripping his shoulder and driving her blade into his chest. When he fell away from her, she smiled—a shockingly lovely smile—and turned away from him without another glance. The others—the hound, the second Warden, the witch—they were formidable. But only she was grace given form, spinning aside to avoid blows and arrows she should not have been able to dodge. She knocked one assassin to the ground, using the force of his fall to rip the arrow from his shoulder, and spun to drive the arrow into another Crow’s eye. When a distant archer, shaking with exertion, loosed an arrow in the Warden’s direction, she simply twisted away and snatched a throwing knife from her belt. It was all one turn—dodge, grasp, throw—executed perfectly, and a throwing knife sprouted from the neck of the distant archer.  Perhaps he should not find such a thing so alluring. But—as he gasped around the hole in his chest—Zevran supposed he might as well appreciate such killing beauty while he still had eyes to do it. It was not such a bad way to go, all things told. It was with that thought that his eyes drifted closed and he finally slumped to the ground.

Arianwen is very fast and good at lockpicking, but not great at sneaking. Zevran offers to teach her how to be stealthy while they're in the Brecilian Forest. The physical touch, watching him do the thing he is best at, and actually listening to him intently are what first make her first feel attraction to him. (and watching him move, of course. Wen is fascinated by movement)

She thinks Zevran is doing a bit whenever he tells her she's beautiful. When she buys Morrigan that hand mirror, it's the second time Arianwen's looked at her own reflection in the last decade (the first time was on her wedding day, of course). It's not something that bothers her really---beautiful is just for other people---but it's not until Zev tells her that he likes the way she looks that she starts to feel comfortable looking at herself

Sometimes she assassinates people on Alistair's behalf (not because he's asked her to, to be clear). Whenever she leaves for this, Zev dresses up as her and all the Wardens pretend she's been at Vigil's Keep the whole time.

Arianwen is an absolute starfish sleeper. If they're in the same bed, she's wrapped around Zevran. If she wakes up in the middle of the night and they've rolled apart, she'll drag his arm over her before she can fall asleep again (or vice versa)

And hey, since I don't have anywhere to put it, here's the deleted opening scene of "Only Ghosts," before Arianwen leaves Zevran behind in Orzammar:

Much as Wen hated to admit it, the dwarf was right: she knew nothing about the Deep Roads, or the tunnels, or any of the rest. She needed someone who knew what they were doing, and nobody fit the bill except this…person. 

“Give me a moment,” she told the others, and brushed Zev’s fingertips with her own, stepping back toward the busy market with its louder cries and bustle of people. 

“Come now, my dear Warden,” he said quietly once they were alone, setting one hand on his hip and the other on his sword hilt “You cannot leave me in Orzammar, of all places. I will wilt from lack of the sun and then where will you be?”

“I don’t have a choice,” she told him, crossing her arms. “I can’t leave Wynne or one of us will die of something ridiculous, like a cold or an infection.”

“You cannot leave the dwarf?” Zevran said, leaning closer and dipping his head; neither of them needed to say that Alistair would have to come with her. They both knew it was a given by now. 

“And find our way how?” Wen asked quietly. “Have you been in the Deep Roads, Zevran?” 

His eyes narrowed, but the expression only lasted a moment. 

“You are determined to do this?” he said quietly. 

Somehow that was worse. She’d rather he argue with her. She liked arguing far more than resignation—really, it would have been better if he’d given her a reason to take him along. She wanted to leave him behind about as much as he wanted to be left.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s the only way.” 

Zevran’s eyes flicked behind her, scanning for any watchers, and then he stepped in and rested a hand on her shoulder. It would be a poor idea to seem soft over each other in public; they both knew that. So Zevran didn’t kiss her mouth. Instead, he leaned in as if speaking into her ear and brushed his lips over her cheek, the kiss a whisper of a touch. 

“I know you will be bereft without me,” he said, tone uncertain beneath the light words. “Try not to pine too much, yes? Come back, mi vida. I will not be there to watch your back, you understand? Use your crossbow if there are too many—”

“I know how to fight,” Arianwen told him, not without affection, and pressed a kiss of her own to the base of his ear. He smelled like leather and sweat and she—she didn’t want to leave him behind. 

There was no choice. 

“I have to go. Blight won’t wait for us. We don’t have time left to waste.”

His grip on her shoulder lasted a moment longer before he stepped away, his face wiped clean of any emotion save casual amusement. 

“I will see you soon, then, my Warden,” he said, bowing with a flourish, and then he turned and disappeared into the marketplace beyond. 

Wen watched him for a moment longer, exhaling slowly, before she turned back to the others. 

“Cute little scene, heh,” the dwarf said as they stepped into the tunnels. “You and that other elf f—”

“Here’s something fun I just learned,” Arianwen said, fingering the hilt of her dagger. “Turns out you still need a tongue to taste ale, but folk are perfectly capable of giving directions without any tongue at all.”

Whatever the man had intended to say, he kept it to himself. 

Which was for the best, because Wen had left all her patience in the marketplace behind them.

[saints-who-never-existed]

This is such an interesting question that I've pondered many times myself! I'm always fascinated by the potential influence that accents and geographical origins can have on character and narrative in general.

Tozer is an excellent example so I'm glad you mentioned him.

In real life, he came originally from Somerset in the West Country which has its own distinct and lovely accent. In the book, as most other working-class characters do, he speaks like a plucky Dickensian orphan (don't even get me started on that particular choice!). And of course in the show, he has a Scouse accent because David Walmsley happens to have a Scouse accent.

All of those men - the Southerner, the Scouser and the Somerset lad- would see and move through the world differently based on where they happened to grow up within it and that idea just fascinates me!

In answer to your questions:

Accents in the UK today are still often very strong and distinct, generally speaking. Where I'm from, you can often hear clear differences in speech from people who live in towns only a few miles apart.

I imagine that these differences may well have been even stronger back in the day when it would've been much more common for people, especially poorer people, to live all their lives in the town where they were born/their local area.

But, then again, that is less likely to have been the case, I think, for sailors and other professions who had reason to travel more widely.

To the best of my knowledge, there wouldn't have been a 'widespread "working class" accent/dialect' in the way you describe but I do expect there would've been a certain softening and flattening out of individual accents happening in that sort of environment. A ship wouldn't be able to function very well, after all, if the men aboard her couldn't find a way to communicate clearly with each other, to make themselves understood and to understand others in turn.

Thinking thoughts about Tozers thick accent and by extent asked myself: Was it a thing back in Victorian England that regional accents/dialects were so pronounced that you couldn't understand one another? I mean Scottish always has been it's own beast I guess but apart from that?

I know that up until WW2 regional accents/dialects in Germany were VERY distinct, you had to learn "high german" (modern standard german) at school, your dialect WAS your mother tongue (I mean southern dialects are still a big deal today, if you go to the rural areas dont ask me what they're saying bc I have no idea that's between them and god)

So was it really like,, 130 men crammed together on a ship barely being able to understand one another or was there more of a widespread "working class" accent/dialect being spoken that ppl learned over time? I mean ofc they could understand commands and ship lingo but the rest??

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

wedding. l Joel Miller

Summary: something unusual happened in Jackson

Warnings: mostly fluff, but also a little bit of angst, alcohol; Ellie, Tommy, Maria - appear there; reader feels insecure, mention of pregnancy

A/N: I like writing this series, it's comfortable for me. I think I've mentioned this before. I hope it makes someone smile too.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Joel smoothed his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked really decent, although he felt stupid at the same time. There were quiet noises behind the closed bathroom door, after a moment it opened and in the reflection of the mirror he saw you coming out wearing the dress he liked so much. He smiled to himself as your eyes met.

"You look good." You said, walking over to him and adjusting his collar.

"Not as good as you. Do we really have to go there?" You rolled your eyes "We could go somewhere together. You, me and your dress."

You patted his shoulder, amused "It's Shane's wedding. We should be there. Can you help me zip it up?"

You turned around and Joel deftly zipped up your dress, taking the opportunity to kiss the base of your neck. It was a beautiful day, and even if Joel thought the wedding was a stupid idea, he didn't want to ruin anyone's mood. Especially not you. 

A few weeks passed. You slowly made your way outside of Jackson, with Joel or Shane. What happened to you was slowly becoming a bad memory, and you never asked Joel what happened that day when the door separated you both, and Maria walked you home.

You didn't have to ask, you knew. Joel had kept you safe in the way he thought was necessary. His family had to be safe, and you were definitely a part of it.

He felt really good as you walked together to the orchard where flowers adorned the trees, and Shane and Ann decided to join in matrimony. The priest, an older man who had been in Jackson for a few years, was preparing for the ceremony as you took your seats somewhere in the back. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Ellie, who sat down on the other side with her friends, waved at you and raised her thumbs up to show that she liked your dress.

The excitement grew with every minute, weddings in Jackson were rare, and every resident knew Shane and wanted to accompany him at such a moment.

"She looks so beautiful..." you sighed as Ann, in a modest but beautiful white dress, stood with Shane in front of the priest. Her blonde hair flowed in waves down her back, and you saw total delight in her eyes.

Joel tilted his head to murmur in your ear "Mhmm, but not like you."

You nudged him lightly in the side. "Have you ever been married, Joel?" you asked without taking your eyes off what was happening in front of you.

He was silent for a moment, but finally spoke up "A long time ago, and for a very short time."

"I'm sorry."

"No need. I practically forgot about it." he replied, and when you looked at him he smiled slightly "These things happen."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You smiled too, although there was a bit of contemplation in it, and after a moment you looked back at Shane and Ann "I hope it won't happen to them. Especially since Ann... Shit."

Now you had Joel's full attention on you. And although you weren't looking at him, you felt that his brown eyes were glued to you with curiosity.

"What do you know?" he asked in a whisper, because you were still surrounded by many Jackson residents.

"Nothing." You answered far too quickly and too nervously.

"You know something. Tell me."

You bit your lip to hide your smile. Finally, however, you looked at him again and came closer to whisper in his ear "Ann's pregnant. Shane told me on the last patrol. They're so excited."

Joel mumbled something, but you didn't pay attention to it anymore. You didn't notice the strange shadow that appeared in his eyes, because the guests started clapping, and Shane and Ann kissed, thus officially becoming a married couple.

The Tipsy Bison looked different than usual. Fresh flowers were on every table, the space seemed brighter and more festive. The buzz of conversation and laughter mixed with the music, and the clinking of cutlery and glasses meant that everyone was having a great time. Joel and Tommy decided to check out the bottle of whiskey that Shane had placed on their table, and you took Maria's son into your arms so she could eat in peace.

"I feel guilty that you're here and not there." The woman mumbled as she put food on her plate. "Tommy should be watching his son. What are they even doing?"

"Leave it, it's not a problem. I love this guy." You kissed the chubby hand of the boy who was sitting on your lap and cooing happily. "This roast chicken is delicious."

"You convinced me!" she put on a chicken leg and took a sip of juice "I'm glad this wedding happened. People need positive moments like this."

"Yeah. I had the impression that the whole of Jackson was living for this wedding." you laughed.

You gossiped for a moment, stopping every now and then to greet someone who came to your table. Maria managed to eat in peace and even reached for a second helping. The baby in your arms played with spoons, and the music drew more and more people to the dance floor.

"Oh!" Maria suddenly straightened up and frowned. "It's her again."

"Who?" you asked, not really paying attention to anything, because Tommy's son had just decided to bite your fingers off.

"Hazel."

You turned around and noticed a slender brunette standing near Joel and Tommy. Her gaze was clearly fixed on the older Miller. Something twisted in your stomach. 

Hazel had arrived in Jackson a few months ago along with a few other people. She quickly settled in and started working at a local store. That was probably where she noticed Joel. You had seen her start a conversation with him or approach him around Jackson a few times.

"Tommy said it was weird that so many things were breaking in her house." Maria mumbled. "And she always asks Joel to help her with it."

"Yeah, I know that." you replied, Hazel's hand squeezed Joel's shoulder. "Maybe... Oh my!"

The glass of juice tipped over, Maria's son must have tried to catch it while you were talking, and it spilled on your dress. The woman quickly stood up and took the little one from you, scolding him a little and at the same time trying to apologize to you.

"Don't worry, it's nothing." You replied, trying to wipe it with a napkin. "It's just juice and just a dress."

"But you looked so pretty in it!" Maria groaned. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry, really, it's nothing."

However, it was a lie, not a big one, but still. When you approached Joel a moment later, you felt very insecure. Hazel looked beautiful, and you had a huge stain from the juice on your dress. Maria quickly pulled Tommy away and pushed his babbling son into his arms.

"Hi. Nice dress." Hazel gave you a charming smile.

"Thank you." You mumbled uncertainly, and after a moment you felt Joel's gaze on you.

"Oh, what happened?" he asked "Do you want to go home and change?"

You shook your head. "No, it's just juice. Your nephew was a little careless, it'll dry soon."

The wet fabric stuck to your body unpleasantly, but you didn't want to show it. You realized that if Hazel wasn't standing next to you, you wouldn't even care, but now...

"I was just telling Joel that the washing machine in my house started making some strange noises. He promised to come over and take a look at it." Hazel smiled at you, "It's good to have someone with such talented hands around."

"Yes, indeed." you replied.

Joel's attention was drawn by Shane, who was determined to push another bottle of whiskey into his hands. For a moment, you and Hazel were silent, only exchanging polite smiles.

"How are you feeling in Jackson? I think you've settled in." You finally spoke up, and Hazel nodded.

"Yeah, it's a big change. But people are really friendly here, you know. And what do you do?"

"Patrols. Getting supplies. Stuff like that."

"It's good that you're helping Joel."

You felt awkward, but you plastered a smile on your face. "Right."

When Joel came back to you, Hazel's hand rested on his shoulder again, and a charming smile appeared on her pretty face. "So can I count on you? Will you come over tomorrow and check out the washing machine?"

The man nodded. "Sure, I'll come."

"Great. I'll make your favorite coffee."

This was beyond you and you quickly retreated towards the exit. The evening was warm and many people were spending it outdoors. Mr. Russo greeted you with a smile, and Rory ran around with the other kids.

"Running home already, huh?" Shane's voice almost made you jump.

"I needed some fresh air." You replied. "You look amazing, and your wife... Good luck to you both."

"Thank you." He took a sip from his glass. "You're not worried about this Hazel thing, are you? She's got her eye on Joel, but he's totally into you."

"You think so?"

Shane looked at you carefully. He knew you really well, trusted you, and knew how hard you'd been through, so your insecurity was painful for him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

You sighed and folded your arms tightly over your chest. "I don't know. I don't remember feeling like this before... Sometimes I think I'm too weak... That maybe I'm not good at anything, at relationships, you know."

"Bullshit!" Shane hissed "I've been watching you and Joel for ages, you're made for each other."

"Please..."

"No, I'm telling you the truth! This guy would burn the world down for you, without hesitation. He'll fight for you, and you'll do anything for him too. Ask anyone you want."

"And Joel told you that?" you scoffed, but Shane just smiled.

"The world's biggest grump? Please! But I have eyes and I can see." He spread his arms "Come here."

You approached and Shane hugged you tightly. "I'm glad you're here with us. We're all happy."

"Thank you, Shane."

Someone cleared their throat behind you and patted Walsh on the back.

"I'd like to remind you that you're married, and she's here with me."

A warm feeling crept into your heart as you saw Joel standing behind you. His brown eyes looked at you with tenderness and attention.

"Everything okay?" he asked, Shane tapped him on the shoulder and disappeared inside "You left so suddenly."

"I'm okay." You smiled slightly "And you? How's Hazel and her washing machine doing."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Is someone jealous? Honey, her washing machine can boil her clothes, I don't give a damn." His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in, kissing your temple. "Ready to go back or do you still want some cake?"

"Let's go back. I'd like to get out of this wet dress." You groaned.

"I'd love to help you with that."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''

[supercap2319]

A/N: This could be given as a sequel to my last Fiyero Tigelaar fic.

: readmore:

Y/N watched as Fiyero approached him, Galinda hot at his heels. The Winkie prince gave him an easy going smile. This adorable little bookworm would soon be his. Fiyero thought to himself. There wasn't a person alive who could resist him once he turned up the charm.

“Hello, there.” Fiyero wiggled his fingers as Y/N shut his book and laid it down, giving Fiyero an annoyed look. “Hello.” Y/N’s greeting was about as warm and welcoming as a winter frost. Fiyero didn't seem to mind or notice as he gave a small bow. “You're Y/N, correct?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie–”

“–I don't really give a damn who you are.” Y/N said.

The whole student body shared a collective gasp of shock. They had watched as Fiyero approached Y/N, only for the Upland boy to reject him. What was wrong with Y/N? Even Galinda was appalled by her brother's actions. “Y/N, how can you be so rude?” She admonished. “Fiyero is new here, and you're…you're…”

“You're a breath of fresh air.” Fiyero smiles.

“What?!” Everyone asked. Even Y/N was shocked by the Prince's unbothered attitude of how Y/N addressed him. Fiyero nods and smiles. “Yes, a breath of fresh air if you will. I've been to many schools to get swarmed by people who only say things that I wanna hear. It's refreshing to have someone have their own opinion for once. Tell me, Y/N. What are you doing out here?”

“Reading?” Y/N held up his book. “I trust you've seen one before. Or know how to read.”

Once again, Fiyero laughed as if Y/N’s snide comments didn't bother him in the slightest. Galinda gave an awkward chuckle as well. How could Fiyero be so nonchalant about being insulted? Especially his intelligence. “Well, I suppose I've never had a penchant for reading , but perhaps I haven't been introduced to the right book to captivate my attention.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Why don't you show me to your local library? I'm sure I could find something there with your help.” Fiyero smiles. His blue eyes were dancing with mischief and fun. Before Y/N could tell Fiyero to go jump off a cliff, Galinda stepped in. “Oh, we would be certainly delighted to show you around. Wouldn't we, Y/N?” Her smile was tight, and anything other than a ‘yes’ from Y/N would make Galinda upset.

Y/N sighed and stood up, trying to ignore the triumph smirk Fiyero was giving him at the moment. He began walking towards the Shiz building, not checking to see if Fiyero. “The library is this way, Prince Twinkie.” He continues towards the building as Galinda pulls a smirking Fiyero along. Oh, he was going to like this little bookworm.

They walked into the library, where Y/N spotted his dear friend, Elphaba, and waved as Galinda gave Fiyero a tour of someplace she's never even stepped into before. It was kind of hilarious to watch as Galinda addressed all around. “And this is the book place. There's a collection of rare books around here somewhere. And some medium rare as well.”

“He's looking for a book, sis. Not a steak.” Y/N said.

Fiyero chuckles. “Well, there's certainly many to choose from. What would you recommend, Y/N? A good adventure book? Perhaps something with a little bit of fun?”

“How about a book on the studies of why some people act brainless?” Y/N suggested.

“Tell me. What do you do for fun around here?” Fiyero ignored Y/N’s jab, and walked closer to the other male, smirking at him. Did this guy always have to smile at everything? “You ever been to the Ozdust Ballroom?”

“The Ozdust Ballroom? Are you insane?” Y/N asked.

Galinda gets in between them. “I mean, isn't that place somewhat illegal?” She looks around to make sure no one is listening before whispering. “And scandalocious?”

Fiyero nods. “Yeah, it is both of those things. Yeah. It's also not far from here, which is another plus.” Fiyero said as Boq, the Munchkin boy, trips and drops some of his books into the floor. Fiyero stifles a laugh as he looks down at him. “Whoa. You all right?”

Boq grunts as Y/N helps him up. “Yeah.”

“I'm Fiyero Tigelaar.” He looks at Y/N and winks. “Winkie Country.”

“Oh, Oz.” Y/N and Galinda both say for different reasons. Boq stood up. “Boq Woodsman.” He gets on a stack of books to be at the same height as Fiyero. “Of Munchkinland.” Galinda grabs Fiyero's arm and leads him away from Boq. Great. Excuse me. Good to know. Um, what were you saying again about the Ozdust and fun and you and me?”

“I was thinking of inviting you, and your brother to the Ozdust tonight.” Fiyero said.

“Unfortunately, it's against Shiz rules to go into town after dark. Sorry, Prince Twinkie.” Y/N said, but he didn't sound very sorry about it. Fiyero didn't seem to mind though. “I see that, once again, the responsibility to corrupt my fellow students…” He puts his arms around both Y/N and Galinda as she gasps. Y/N rolled his eyes. “...falls to me. Excuse me.” He grabs a book from a nearby girl, and he accidentally drops it to the floor. Y/N bends down to pick it up, but Fiyero puts a black riding boot on top of it. Y/N looks up as Fiyero shakes his head no.

“The trouble with schools is…” Fiyero began.

“Not a damn song.” Y/N whispered to himself. It seemed like everyone at this school could sing and dance like some sort of musical theater show you'd hear about in the Emerald city. Not in the Shiz library. “They always try to teach the wrong lesson.” Fiyero throws a book over his shoulders, and it lands with a thud. “Believe me, I've been kicked out of enough of them to know.”

Y/N believed that. Fiyero did seem like the type to cause so much mischief and chaos at the schools he previously attended, that they had no choice but to kick his ass out. “They want you to become less callow, less shallow. But I say, why invite stress in? Stop studying strife. And learn to live the unexamined life.” Fiyero easily charmed the librarian as he winked at Y/N, showing off. “Dancing through life. Skimming the surface Gliding where turf is smooth.” He gets on the table and in a very proactive pose starts to jumble around another student's head. Life's more painless for the brainless. Why think too hard, when it's so soothing? Dancing through life. No need to tough it. When you can slough it off as I do.”

The young Upland boy watched as Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country, start a whole musical number inside the library.

[fgojous]

love wins all | chapter three ( satoru g. )

from childhood summers and petty high school banters, to the endless college lectures—med school and the chaos of residency, you've been through it all. you've built everything together. you're each other's home—everything. but what if your relationship breaks beyond repair? what if the one thing you couldn't save was each other? can your love still win it all?

neurosurgeon!gojo x trauma surgeon!reader

warnings. romance, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, hurt no comfort, fluff, medical au, established relationships, high school sweethearts, unresolved feelings, unresolved issues, grief, emotional repression, mutual pining, emotional trauma, childhood trauma, explicit sexual content | eighteen plus only!

word count. 6.1k

masterlist.

note. hi, chapter three is here. aaaa i've been writing this since yesterday. lol anyway, close your eyes for errors or some mistakes. i just wrote what i've learned in our neuro topic last week (i want to collapse) also, i'm going to start a taglist for this on the next chapter. just send an ask or comment if you wanted to be added (not adding blogs that doesn't have visible age anywhere on their blogs, sorry)

i hope u enjoy this chapter. reblogs are always appreciated! <3 lovelots

CHAPTER THREE: STILL WITH YOU

It has been two days since that incident in the on-call room. Since Satoru punched your Dad. You don’t actually know if you’ll be mad—or grateful. Because for one, your Dad deserved that, not just for pushing you to do this surgery but for… everything. Or mad, because Satoru’s outburst could cause him everything that he worked hard for to get here. 

It was frustrating, really. 

You haven’t spoken properly since that day. Not about what it meant for your relationship and what happens next. You’re not even sure if you still wanted that divorce you asked him.

You’ve been passing by each other in the hallway, other times you can see him glancing at you at the cafeteria but neither says a word. Besides, he’s busy doing something in his lab and he’s been packed with surgeries (not that you’re checking up on him—okay, fine. you are.) and the pit is a busy place, as usual—and Dr. Yamada left you a bunch of cardiothoracic cases to do while she’s gone. 

Including this one.

“Hey, how are we doing here?” you smiled a little, stepping inside the room of your patient—the one your father forced you to operate on—the woman you fought so hard to save.

“Dr. Gojo!” she has a big smile on her face, “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

You just gave her a slight nod, checking on her vitals—the usual routine check-up. So far, everything’s holding. She’s doing fine. 

“You’re doing so well. Let’s keep it that way, okay?” you say adjusting her IV line slightly, pulling the blanket over her chest, your voice wasn’t soft—but it isn’t unkind either. That’s how it is supposed to be, setting boundaries but enough to show that you care.

Not too attached, but not that detached either. 

You can’t involve yourself too much in a patient—especially this one. Your eyes hover her figure for a fraction of a second and your chest aches. “I heard the other nurses call that tall doctor—the one with white hair, Dr. Gojo too, are you related to him?”

You paused for a moment, and you nod. “Yeah, he’s my husband.”

“Oh! Really?!” she gasped in delight, “That’s so cute! You’re like a power-couple doctor! That’s so sweet.”

You just hummed, you hesitated a bit but then you crouched at her level. “I have to go now. No lifting heavy things. No stress—none of that at all. Rest, eat healthy and stay hydrated. Okay?”

Ayumi nods enthusiastically, before you could even step out the door she thanked you again. You smiled at her, “Dr. Ieiri will be here soon to check on you and your…”

You bit your lip but you steadied yourself, “Your baby… I’ll see you soon.”

—

“Hey.” you peek at the door and you see Ieiri typing something on her computer, she looked up, and you barged in her office, sinking yourself in her couch.

“Hey, yourself. What’s the occasion? Why did the Chief of Trauma grace me with her presence today?” she smirked, sitting beside you.

You just snorted, resting your head on the backrest of the couch. “Just wanted to see my friend.”

Ieiri mimicked your position, “Heard you filed for divorce.”

“Satoru told you?”

“No, Suguru did.” she looked at you, “You won’t really go through with it, right? I mean, come on, it’s you and Satoru…”

You don’t know. You wanted to save Satoru from yourself but everything that you’ve decided doesn’t feel right. 

You closed your eyes, sighing. “To be honest, it’s so hard. I can’t keep on doing this to him. I’m so afraid.”

“Afraid of?”

You swallowed, the words stuck on your throat and they wouldn’t come out. How would you even explain it? How would you tell her something so illogical? Something you’re not sure is fixable?

You felt pathetic—it’s just words but it was so hard. It was so hard to open up because you always feel that it’ll be a burden—that you’ll just add to something. 

Shoko didn’t press, she just sat there because maybe that’s what you needed. Because she knows you. 

After a beat, she speaks, “It’s okay to be afraid, YN. But being afraid doesn’t equate to pushing someone away. Especially someone who’ll watch the world burn into flames for you.”

You tilted your head a little to glance at her, her words etched on your mind like a branding. “He loves you. We’ve seen it firsthand. You both are literally so annoying.”

You chuckled, remembering the times where they’ll roll their eyes because they can't take how affectionate Satoru is to you—because he loves like that, he doesn’t care who sees, he loves you so passionately that he’ll bend all the laws of nature for you. 

“I know you think you’re shielding him from the pain by leaving but it’ll just hurt you both more.”

You breathe, soaking in the words that she’s saying, letting it sit heavy on your chest. Because she’s right and you hated how easily she could read you. 

“You can let yourself need him.” she looks at you and smiles faintly, “You save everyone but yourself, you can do that by letting him in.”

You could feel your heart pound slowly—loudly, feeling her words settle in. You weren’t supposed to need anyone—that’s how you were raised, you were supposed to survive on your own.

But with Shoko saying all these—maybe needing him doesn’t make you weak, maybe pushing him away is what’s pulling you apart even more.

—

With a coffee on your hand, and a tablet on the other you stride in the hallway along with Miwa and Kugisaki trailing you like lost puppies. They clutch their notebooks on their hands like they’re life is hanging on a balance.

“Miwa. Present.” you say without sparing them a glance. 

“Mr. Ito, 54 years old, post-op day three from an emergent CABG. His vitals are holding, chest tubes have minimal output overnight. No new complaints.” Miwa says.

“So?” you look at Nobara, “What do we do next?”

“Refer him to physical therapy for early mobilization and breathing exercises. Then monitor for any signs of infection.”

“Good.” you say, they smile at each other—like satisfying you made their day, but why would you stop there? You raise your brow, “And why exactly do we initiate early ambulation for post-cardiac surgery?”

Miwa jumps in, “To prevent pneumonia and DVT.”

“Good.” you say, “And what if the chest tube shows fresh blood?”

They pause for a bit, carefully thinking the next words to say to you. Your face turns blank, the tablet thuds as you drop it on the counter. “Come on, tell me. Teach me like I’m a first-year. Kugisaki.”

“Huh?” she jumps a bit, “It’s an emergency. Possible—”

“Miwa.” you cut her off.

Miwa flips through her notebook, “Check for possible surgical site bleeding or cardiac tamponade.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

You clicked your tongue, “Is that a question or an answer?”

“Yes—I mean, yes—it’s an answer.”

“Good, next time, don’t second guess. Always be sure, you’re holding a life in your hands. Come on.”

You pick the tablet up again and turned away, you continue walking. They share glances with each other before scrambling up to follow you.

“Has she always been like this?” Nobara whispered to Miwa, the latter nudged her shoulder as a warning but it’s no use because you heard her anyway but you didn’t say anything. 

“But I heard she’s not… always like this. You know.” Miwa answered her, eyes glancing on your back, making sure you aren’t already shooting daggers their way.

“Maybe it’s because of Dr. Gojo—I mean, other Dr. Gojo—like, have you seen them at all together? I heard they were together ever since pre-med or something?”

You pursed your lips as you ignore them or at least try to. They’re not very good at whispering. 

“No.” Miwa says. “I heard they’re together ever since high school.”

“Whaaaat? That’s so—”

They both stopped walking when you stopped walking, the girls almost bumping on your back. 

You know you heard his voice—sharp, loud—mad, just a few walks along the hallway.

“Are you thinking? At all?” you continued walking, staying behind the nurses’ station, “You think playing it safe will make you a hero?!”

Satoru’s mad. Really mad. You’d never seen him this mad—well no, you’ve only seen him this mad once—it was med school, you think. But he was worse back then.

“You’re being reckless, Gojo! You think cutting into him now is smart?! You’ll fucking kill him!” Dr. Yoshida fired back—his senior neurosurgeon.

For a moment you just stood there. No, it wasn’t your business. 

Someone will step in, someone will stop them. You tap your foot on the floor—getting restless, clutching the tablet on your hand and your coffee discarder on the counter.

“You know what I think? You’re a fucking coward—” 

And it just happened, his fist came flying to your husband’s face. 

You saw Satoru’s head whip to the side violently, you didn’t even have time to react, you just moved—shoving the tablet to Miwa or Nobara—you don’t know who, you don’t care. 

You ran towards them tossing yourself in between, “THAT’S ENOUGH!”

You shouted—loud, angry—your voice dominated the whole floor, bouncing off the walls. 

Everyone stopped moving. You can see the look on Satoru’s features—slightly shocked. You grasp on Satoru’s arm and drag him to the nearest empty room until you’re out of sight, slamming the door behind you.

Not caring what they say. Not minding the whispers that comes your way. 

“Holy shit.” Nobara whispered to Miwa with wide eyes, watching you pull Satoru away from prying eyes like he’s a scared little kid.

“Yeah, holy shit. I didn’t think she could be any more scarier.”

—

Satoru wasn’t looking at you, but you stared at him—his hair a mess, his lower lip busted and your heart clenched at the sight. 

He was still simmering with anger, you could tell. 

You were silent for a moment, until you took a deep breath and moved to the counter to get the first aid kit. Satoru sat on the exam bed and watched you silently, his heartbeat gradually steadying from the intense emotions that he was feeling. 

How do you look so… calm now? Your emotions were in contrast to what you were earlier. This is why he couldn’t let you go, and why he wouldn’t.

You still care for him. You still love him—deeply.

You face him, holding his chin in between your fingers to steady his face then you press the cotton on his lip. He flinched and you clicked your tongue, “Don’t move.”

Your voice was soft, nothing like earlier. You cleaned the wound carefully. There was just comfortable, familiar silence between you. No one dared to say anything.

He just watched you, burning your image in his mind—scared that if he blinked for even just a second, you'd slip away. Your brows slightly furrowed, your lips tight. Until you spoke, “What were you thinking? Another fight in just two days? Are you really throwing your career away?”

He didn’t answer, instead, he clutched on your hip to pull you close, arm circling around your waist as he leaned his forehead on your shoulder—grounding himself. You could feel his body tremble slightly as he breathed, maybe from the anger. Or Exhaustion.

You froze just for a bit. You sigh, putting the cotton down. There’s hesitation in every move that you're making but you shrugged it off. Your fingers ran through his soft hair, your other hand soothing his back gently.

“I don’t care what I lose.” he murmured, “But don’t ask me to lose you because I couldn’t do that.”

Your breath hitched and your heart pounds, why is he doing this to you?

You don’t know what you were thinking but all the words just came out of your mouth. Slowly, not a hint of hesitation but assurance. “You’re… not. I’m yours, Satoru. You couldn’t lose me.”

Because it’s true. You’ve always been his. 

─── MARCH, 2011 ───

The sun casts a soft glow on your skin as you look up, a smile adorned on your face—your hair, dancing slightly along with the wind. 

It’s your graduation day.

You’ve made it. You never thought you’d survive the endless college lectures—all the tears you’ve spent, all the late-night study sessions, but you’ve made it—you survived it all, and you didn’t think you would if not for him.

Satoru. Your best friend, your boyfriend—standing there, smiling as he watched you. You looked at him and jumped on his arms, he spun you around, letting out a laugh when you raised your arms into the air, “We made it!”

“God, you’re so embarrassing.” Shoko says and you just stuck your tongue out at her when Satoru settled you down.

“Congratulations, you two!” you both looked at the person who spoke, it was Satoru’s mother. You smiled, she immediately went in your direction and embraced you—instead of his own son, who is now frowning.

“Really?” Satoru says, “Hello? I’m your son.”

His father laughs lightly, tapping Satoru’s back. “She’s always been your mom’s favorite. Aren’t you used to it by now?”

You laughed at that, pulling away from her slightly to look at your boyfriend, “Don’t worry, you’re my favorite though.”

“As you should. Because I’m proposing to you today.” he says so casually that you almost choked on your saliva.

You blinked, pulling away from his mother. Your voice almost whispers,  “What?”

And before you could even process what he just said, he was already kneeling in front of you. You looked at his mom and dad—his mom, smiling, nodding at you to tell you that it’s real.

He is proposing, right now. Today. 

He didn’t care who was looking—your classmates, your professors—Satoru’s always been like this. There’s not a sliver of care in his body when it comes to you. 

Satoru looked up at you, smiling as he laid out a small, velvet box in front of you. “Marry me.”

He didn’t need any big speeches because you already know it all.

You laughed, tears welling up in your eyes, because he’s not asking—he’s telling. You bite your lip, before nodding. “Yes… yes, I’ll marry you.”

The whole place erupted into applause, you swore you heard Shoko shouting ‘Finally!’ and all you could do was snort back a laugh. Satoru stood up quickly, slipping the ring into your finger—a little nervous if it’ll fit your finger—but it did.

So perfectly. 

“Now, you’re stuck with me.” he laughs, pulling you in. You smiled and buried your face into his neck. “I love you.”

You pulled back a bit, he tucked the strands of your hair behind your ear, wiping the tears from your eyes using his thumb, “I love you, Satoru.”

—

The diner was quiet, just a few people eating inches away from the corner booth where you sat—the four of you, still dressed in your gowns laughing about something mundane over burgers, milkshakes and fries.

“When’s the wedding? Tomorrow? Next week?” Shoko teased, her elbow propped  on the table, her cheek resting on her palm. 

“God, you two are going to be even more unbearably annoying now, are you?” Suguru groaned dramatically as he slouched on the chair, earning a laugh from Satoru while you scrunch your nose. 

Your thumb brushing over your finger where your engagement ring sits over and over—making yourself believe that this is in fact, real. You’re engaged to the love of your life.

That you get to spend your whole  life with him. It’s fucking real.

Satoru slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him. “My god, it’s starting.”

“Hey!” you pursed your lip, “We’re not that bad!”

“Not? That? Bad?” Shoko emphasizes every word, rolling her eyes, “You can’t even last five minutes without eyeing each other. Give me a break.”

And to annoy them even more, you faced Satoru and cupped his cheek—pressing your lips against him, moving your lips slowly, deliberately.  You could feel Satoru grin into the kiss, and to add fuel to the fire, he pulled you close until you’re practically sitting on his lap.

You both stopped when Suguru threw a fry on Satoru’s head, “Gross. We’re eating.”

─── MAY, 2011 ───

It has been two months since graduation, and only a month left until your board exams for physical therapy licensure. Of course, you’d both want to be licensed even though you’re going straight to medical school in September. 

“Love.” Satoru called for you, walking in the hallway of your apartment with two coffees in his hand. “I’m back.”

But no response from you. 

“YN?”

He walked towards the dining area where you both usually study—yes, you’re still studying. The board exams are looming over your head, even though you’ve wanted so badly to take a break—just a little bit more, you’ll get the rest that you needed, but not now.

Satoru turned to the corner towards the dining room, then he stopped just before he was to enter. There you are, slumped down at the dining table, your head resting on your arms. Papers are scattered everywhere, you were still holding some of the flashcards in your hands and some already fell on the table. 

He smiled, watching you—you looked so tired, and yet you’re still so beautiful. His eyes fell on your hand, the ring on your finger glinted under the lights. 

And it suddenly hit him, you’re his fiancée—soon, his wife. God, he gets to call you his wife. How lucky is he?

He walked towards you, carefully pulling the flashcards out of your hands then he pressed a soft kiss on your hair, you stirred a little but didn’t wake. Satoru chuckles and pries the stray strands of your hair away from your face. 

His heart is about to burst just looking at you. What have you done to me?

─── SEPTEMBER, 2014 ───

You stepped into the apartment that you share with Satoru. Your bag dropped carelessly near the table, your exhaustion weighing your body down—you feel like your knees are buckling everytime you walk.

A nice, cold shower would be nice right now—you badly wanted to scrub the hospital smell off you. But you think you’d pass out before you could hop into the shower.

Fuck. Third year of medical school is killing you—it’s all killing you, rounds, pre-rounds, assisting, endless fucking lectures. 

You wanted to collapse on the floor. Just stay there and not move. But even so, you drag yourself into the kitchen to get yourself a cup of cold water but the pile of dishes greets you—is it from yesterday? Or from the day before? You had no idea.

You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply. You clenched your fists and started working on it—washed the dishes, took out the trash, cleaned the counters and swept the floor. You could feel the irritation seep under your skin but you let it slide.

Don’t be mad, you told yourself. Because if you are tired then Satoru is too. 

Don’t start anything. You’re both exhausted.

Afterwards, you walked towards the living room then you saw him, sprawled on the couch with his scrubs still on. He looked so spent,  visible dark circles under his eyes because you both haven’t had a proper sleep in days. 

You can’t get mad, how can you when he looks like this? When you barely see each other? He was just there, in the same hospital you are—in the same space you are but he felt so far away. 

There was a sharp feeling crawling through your chest—irritation? Anger? Exhaustion? 

Maybe all of it but you composed yourself. You turned away to go to your bedroom, determined to take a shower and sleep it off. Maybe it’ll go away. It will.

You rummaged through your drawers, desperate for something decent to wear—but you stare at… nothing.

He promised. He. fucking. promised. You left a text, a post-it note, you reminded him when you bumped into him at the hospital but—god, he didn’t do it. 

All of it hit you at once—the frustration, exhaustion, anger, pain—all of it. It’s just laundry, it’s just fucking laundry but you slammed the drawer a little harder then necessary.

A loud thud echoing through the apartment. 

You just sat there on the floor, taking deep breaths until you heard his voice.

“Love?” you looked at him, his voice hoarse from sleep, “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? You wanted to laugh. 

“Nothing.” you muttered, standing up from the floor to go to the bathroom, Satoru followed you, still half-asleep, confused as to what was happening.

You don’t want to fight. You really don’t want to. 

You got the laundry bag from under the sink and started putting the dirty laundry in it—then Satoru muttered a curse—realizing just now that he was supposed to do that. He was supposed to take it to the laundry shop.

“I’m sorry.” he says, walking towards you. “I’ll do it, YN.”

But you didn’t budge, still putting in the laundry. He tried to pry the bag from you but you nudged him away a little harshly.

“I said I’ll do it—”

“Fine! Here!” you slammed it on the floor, your voice sharp—mad, tired. Just plain tired.

“I said I’m sorry. I forgot, I was so tired and I just passed out on the couch.”

“Just stop talking.” you muttered angrily, walking out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, face pressed on your palms. But Satoru followed you, he crouched down to your level.

“I’m sorry, okay? I had a lot to do—I got caught up in rounds. It ran late and—”

“I don’t fucking care!” you shouted, “I’m tired too, Satoru! I’ve been standing all day. All fucking day! I’ve just finished a 12-hour shift! I’m tired, I’m hungry! I don’t fucking know what I feel anymore! I asked you to do one thing. Just one! Just one thing and you can’t even do it!”

Satoru stood up and took a sharp breath, his figure towering over you. His frustrations bubbling up to the surface, “I’m doing the best that I can, YN! You think you’re the only one who’s tired? Fuck. We’re just the same! I’m fucking exhausted, I just wanted a little bit of rest, was that so bad?!”

This is why you didn’t want to say anything. This is why you didn’t want to fight. 

Because you understood him. Because you knew and you still got mad. 

You hated the way everything was now. Was it supposed to be like this? Would it still be like this when you finished medical school—when you become actual doctors? 

Silence just took over the room—the weight of the things stirring into the atmosphere. Heavy, painful. 

Then you looked up at him and he was staring at you. With those eyes—with those damn blue eyes behind those pretty long lashes that you love so much. That you miss, that you crave for. 

And the next thing you knew his lips were crashing onto yours—hard, desperate, needy—you kissed him back, in the same wavelength, hungrily until breathless gasps replaced the heavy atmosphere, until your clothes were discarded on the floor.

Until your back hit the soft cushion, his figure towering over you again. Your fingers threading through his hair to yank him closer, until you could feel his skin pressed against yours. Until you could feel him inside you—thrusting hard, deep until your sanity was taken away from you that all you could say was his name like a broken player.

You moaned into his mouth when he pressed harder. “I love you,” he growled into your lips, “I fucking love you.”

—

“You still mad at me?” he mumbled, his fingers caressing your hair gently, you squirmed close to him, your head resting on his arm. 

“A little.” you whispered against his skin—too tired to speak, or to even open your eyes. You hear him chuckle, the vibrations travelling into his chest. “But I love you and that trumps it.”

“Good.” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Because if you hated me then I might’ve cried right now.”

You laughed—a real laugh, your first one in days. “You know I could never hate you. You’re too annoyingly handsome to hate—and I would hate to see you cry. It’ll break my heart.”

“Look at me, huh? I must be a real catch.” he chuckles, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let you go. Like he wanted to just stay in this moment and let the world outside of you cease to exist.

“Show-off.” you hummed lazily, sleep taking over you slowly. “Just shut up and sleep, Satoru.”

He moved slightly to pull you closer—your legs were tangled with each other, your breaths getting in sync as you both fell into slumber. But before sleep could consume you fully, you hear him mutter an ‘I love you.’

And just like that your fight vanished into thin air, your frustrations turned into quiet promises that no matter how hard it gets, you’ll always end up back into each other. 

 ─── NOVEMBER, 2014 ───

This was rare for you—no pre-rounds, no case studies to present with a doctor breathing down your neck for once. So you figured, it’d be a good idea to visit your fiancee in the peds floor—just to see him. 

Just so you could breathe even just for a minute.

You wandered through the quiet hallway, the lights buzzing softly. It was already late and there weren't many people in the hospital now, the only people that you see are the night shift nurses in their stations—doing something. You turned the corner to head for the Pediatrics Department when you saw him—in the dim hallway, his knees pressed to his chest, his face buried into his palm.

You don’t miss the way his shoulders shake, and then you hear it—a muffled sob. He wasn’t just crying—he was weeping, uncontrollable gasps coming out of his mouth. 

And your heart immediately sank.

Why was he crying? What’s wrong? You hated seeing him like this—you barely see him in this state because he doesn’t falter that easily, he’s the strongest person you know, and for him to fall apart like this? 

Your steps were light, careful—he didn’t even notice you were there until you called his name. “Satoru.”

He flinched a bit to the sound of your voice, his tear-filled eyes met yours—shock settling in briefly, you weren’t supposed to see him like this. But you crouched down in front of him, cradling his face in your hands. “What’s wrong, love?”

“He… didn’t make it.” he choked, the words heavy on his tongue, like he couldn’t get the words out. “He’s just a kid… he’s seven and he… stopped breathing. He just—and I couldn’t do anything. If I had been there earlier, if I… I didn’t save him—”

“Hey. Hey—no.” you say softly, pulling him in and he buried his face on the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you so tightly, “It wasn’t on you. It wasn’t your fault, my love.”

His sobs grew louder, holding onto you tight as if you’re the only one anchoring him to the ground. There was undeniable pain growing into your chest, like your heart was being clawed out and chopped up into pieces. You couldn’t bear seeing him like this, and you hated yourself because there’s nothing you could ever do to shield him from this kind of hurt.

Because that’s the reality the two of you chose. 

You pressed your lips on his hair, long and careful. Trying to ease the pain that he was feeling. You trace circles around his back, trying anything just to make sure he knows you’re here, that you are never going to leave him.

That you carry his burdens with him. 

─── APRIL, 2025 (PRESENT)  ───

“And you are officially late.” Satoru says with a hint of boredom in his voice, his back leaning against the wall near the nurses’ station.

Satoru didn’t miss the scowl on Megumi’s face, he looks at his watch. “We’re two minutes early. You said 8 am and it’s 7:58.”

“If I’m already here then you’re late already.” Satoru says, fixing his posture before looking at Yuji who is almost out of breath, he raises his eyebrow. “What’s his problem?”

Megumi’s face turned blank, “Made him run down the hall.”

Satoru almost snorted a laugh but he stopped himself. Megumi hasn’t changed a bit, huh? 

“Alright, brats. Let’s get this over with. I have a lot of things to do.”

Satoru walked with the chart in his hand, he strides through the hallway without even looking, like he knows this place like the back of his hand. Megumi and Yuji followed him, almost jogging just to keep up.

“Mr. Go, 64 years old, admitted after a minor stroke.” Satoru stops just outside the room and tosses the tablet to Megumi and the latter catches it without even blinking, Satoru shoves his hands inside his pocket. “Tell me what you see.”

Megumi skimmed down at the tablet, “Territory infarct, left MCA.”

“And what deficits do we expect when it’s the left MCA?” he asks, looking at Yuji’s direction. 

Yuji straightens up, “Contralateral weakness or numbness and what do you call—oh, aphasia and also, he could have difficulty in proper sequencing and memory loss as well.”

Satoru carefully looks at them—eyeing them meticulously then raises his eyebrow, “What about his vision?”

Megumi answers, “Loss of half of the visual field and his eyes deviate away from the hemiplegic side.” 

Satoru hummed, nodding. “Good. What’s our big concern?”

“If the patient develops a massive brain swelling or if there’s hemorrhagic transformation.”

“Alright,” he answered lazily, satisfied with their answers, then he started walking again. “I want frequent neuro checks, monitor for any change in his mental status—for everything, motor strength, speech. Watch for signs of increased intracranial pressure.”

He stops and looks back at them, “Be alert, CVA evolves fast. Patients can crash almost immediately and when any of that happens, you call me. Not your resident. Not anyone. Me. Got it?”

—

“I’m so fucking tired.” Shoko says as she dropped her tray down the table where you were sitting, you just snickered, already getting a fry from her plate. 

She plopped down on the chair like she owned the whole cafeteria. “Pity you.”

“Ha-ha.” she answered glaring at you, but she suddenly pushed forward, sitting properly. “How are you? By the way, I just checked on your patient before I got here. They’re doing fine. Nothing to worry about, you did a good job.”

You just hummed in response—relieved that what you did really saved her. You were about to speak when Ieiri smirks, staring at the figures walking towards you, “Looks like we have some company.”

“Huh?” you didn’t have any chance to look when you see two shadows looming over your table. 

It was Suguru with that blank look on his face and with him, your husband, with a fucking juice box in his hand. Your eyes flickered towards his busted lip and your chest aches just a little. 

“Mind if we join? Yes? Thanks.” Suguru says dryly, putting his tray down and pulls out the chair before the two of you could answer. Satoru, on the other hand, pulled the chair beside you, dropping his body on the chair, his legs sprawled out—knees bumping into yours. 

The contact sent currents all throughout your body but you didn’t move, didn’t even look at him—you just leaned your back on the chair. 

You stayed silent, pursing your lips and tried to look away. But your body betrays you—it’s like an instinct. He’s like a magnet that you couldn’t pry your eyes away from him.

Muttering a curse in your head, you glanced at him a bit—and he was looking at you, not even pretending. And so, you looked away. 

Fuck. What is happening? 

Shoko sipped loudly on her straw, smirking at the two of you. “Wow. That’s not awkward at all.”

If you could move your legs at all, you would’ve kicked her. 

Suguru bit on his sandwich and leaned forward propping his arm on the table, “You know if you think about it, it’s kind of funny.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. What… funny?

“Back in college and med school, you two are insufferable.”

“Fuck, right?!” Shoko added, “Constant heart eyes—giggling and whispering like you’re in middle school.”

They both laughed, and you could feel your cheeks heat up. You wanted to kill your friends, if only it’s not against the oath that you took. Lucky. 

You looked at Satoru again, there’s that smug grin on his face, completely unbothered—just sipping on his juice box. 

And somehow, everything fell into rhythm. For a moment the tightness in your chest loosened, the air felt easier to breathe. 

The four of you just sitting there—laughing about nothing and everything, talking about things that didn’t even matter. 

This is what you’ve missed for the past few months. Suguru and his stories, the way Shoko rolls her eyes but smiling anyway—and Satoru, his laugh that could make your heart leap in inexplicable ways.

It was just like this before, right? It has always been like this before. 

You didn’t realize you needed it until after now—after months of heartbreak and pain. Everything just felt right, everything just seemed so light even if it wasn't. Your shoulders don't feel so heavy anymore that you could laugh carelessly how much you wanted to.

“Oh my god. I heard about that. He really fell asleep?” Shoko asked once more and Suguru nodded—still pissed off. “I mean, wow.”

“Yeah, standing up. Mid-suture. God, I was so pissed off I almost yanked him out of the operating room.”

“He really leaned forward?!”

“Yeah. Almost fucking up the sterile field. I swear to God, he was testing my patience.”

You were still giggling when you felt it, his hands sliding under the table—his arm brushing against yours, your breath hitched for just a second. 

He wasn’t pushing you, he was just there—offering, taking a risk hoping that you’ll take it with him. Your instincts scream at you—you’re supposed to pull away, you’re supposed to push him away.

But your heart betrays you. Your hand laid above his, your fingers curling around in a perfect lock without any hesitations, holding it tight like it’s the most natural thing you do. 

You didn’t even need to look at him. You just know, he was smiling too.

Shoko stopped laughing for a moment, looking over your shoulder. “Uh-oh. Incoming.”

You blinked, then you glanced back. There they stand, just a few steps from your table like their feet are nailed to the ground. Nobara, clutching the tablet on her hands carefully, like she’s holding a bomb. All the while, Miwa, the poor girl, wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

You raised an eyebrow. They stood still.

Then your voice cuts into the silence.

“Are you going to stand there and just stare at me?” you laid out your free hand, “What do you need?”

Suguru immediately looked away, hiding a grin behind his knuckles. Shoko watched the scene unfold with an amused smile—well, also with a little bit of pity. While Satoru just coughed into his drink—also hiding a grin.

The three of them exchanged glances for a brief second. Exchanging one of those, oh shit, looks. You almost looked and sounded like your old professors back then. You know? Those attending breathing down on your necks.

They moved forward, in sync, and you almost laughed. Nobara’s gaze flickers down slightly—under the table, where your fingers are intertwined with your husband’s. 

She looked away and cleared her throat, placing the tablet on your palm.  “Here’s the labs you asked for, Dr. Gojo.”

“CBC, CMP and cardiac enzymes just uploaded.” 

“Good.” you say, scrolling the tablet with your thumb without sparing her a glance. “Tell them to repeat troponin tests in six hours. You can go.”

“Yes, Dr. Gojo.” Miwa says and they scrambled away almost immediately causing the three doctors to burst out laughing and you stay unfazed.

“God, you’re scary. I’m having war flashbacks.” Shoko says, wiping the tears from her eyes.  “Did you see them flinch when you blinked?”

You sipped your drink calmly, not minding their laughter. And the next words you say only made them burst out harder. “Excuse me. I’m literally the nicest one here.”

You purse your lips—glaring at Satoru, squeezing your husband’s hand for laughing too hard. But he just scrunched his nose and gave you a cheeky smile. 

And in this moment—even just for a short while, you were back where you were supposed to be. 

Right there in the safest place you knew.

[suckerforcate]

making my first emily request, not read much of it yet bc i'm worried about spoilers and i'm only on season 4 (tbf have fucking blasted through it so far, watching multiple eps a day).

emily/reader, reader is hotch's little sister who isn't part of the bau but works with them occasionally. hotch Does Not Know about her and em. unclear if he even knows she's gay. any other details of it are up to you bestie, i trust you 💚

Segreto Piccolo

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1336

Warning: I think none?

Summary: Emily and you had been dating for a few months and now you're brother had found out (set around season 3 or 4)

A/n: OK, so this is the first time I've ever written for Em. I hope it's okay? Hope it's not too ooc. Would be delighted by a comment or repost!!! <3

■----------------------------------------■

“Come on, babe. He won’t rip your head off.” You nearly whined and gave Emily the best puppy eyes you could manage. You’d been dating her for a few months now, it was all still very fresh, but you really liked her. A lot.

Your brother, Aaron Hotchner, was the Unit Chief of the BAU and sometimes brought you in for cases. You worked as a children’s psychiatrist and had turned out to be very helpful on cases involving children. In any form, as victims, as witnesses and as UnSubs. On one of those cases, you had met Emily Prentiss. Truth be told, she had caught your eye immediately, but it had taken you three more cases to actually ask her out. She was amazing, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. She was smart and quick-witted, an amazing Profiler, adorable with kids and really funny. And after you had started dating you had learned that she loved with all she had. And it was wonderful.

Except for one thing. She was afraid of telling your brother. Emily hadn’t been on the team for long, and now she hooked up with his baby sister? He’d kill her. Or at least that’s what she assumed. She didn’t know Aaron like you did. He could be stoic and serious at work, but he was a sweetheart and a wonderful brother. He loved you and all he wanted was you to be happy. He might need some time adjusting, but he could never be mad for long.

“He’ll kill me, Tesoro. He’s only just warmed up to me.” She grumbled and you knew that was true. Her start on the team had been a bit bumpy. The whole situation was ridiculous. The two of you were cramped in about the smallest room in the whole building. A little storage room. You could feel some sort of utensils press into your spine, and you saw a box of pencils just over Emily’s shoulder. All in all, ridiculous to talk about something like this, at work, while hiding.

“No, he will not, Emily.” You pressed on, your hand still on her hip. Truthfully it didn’t really have anywhere else to go in this cramped space. “It might shock him a bit, but he’ll come around. Please, Em. You know how important Aaron is to me. I want him to know.” You explained what you had explained at least five times before and again gave her puppy dog eyes she rarely could refuse.

You could see her melt under your gaze and just as she wanted to answer the door to the small room opened, and you were faced with your brother’s usual serious expression. His expression didn’t change much, but you could see a subtle twitch of his eyes. His eyes wandered from you to Emily and back to you again. “Office. Both, now.” And he was gone. Emily groaned and closed her eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Em.” You tried to reassure her. You knew he’d probably be more disappointed than anything, cause you hadn’t told him. He didn’t even know you liked women. Emily let her head fall against your shoulder. “We had a nice few months, dolcezza. But I think I’m walking into my own death now.” She really had a hang for drama. Playfully you slapped her shoulder and chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, babe.” You said and took her hand to lead her into your brother's office. No point in hiding it now. Besides, you had the suspicion that Penelope had known right from the start and that meant that at least Derek knew as well. And JJ was perceptive, Spencer on the other hand not so much for a Profiler. But what does it matter?

You led Emily through the bullpen and up the few steps right to Aaron’s office door. It was open, and your brother was already looking at you. No need to knock, you thought. You simply stepped inside, Emily practically needing to be dragged in there behind you. You motioned her to close the door and very reluctantly she let go of your hand to do so.

Aaron got up and rounded his desk, standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets. His features softened visibly. The way they did at work only if you were around. Or if Jack came to visit. “Why didn’t you tell me you like women?” He asked, and you saw a hint of surprise on Emily’s face in the corner of your eye. She didn’t know that he didn’t know. But contrary to what she probably believed now it hadn’t been because you were scared to come out or anything. You simply shrugged.

“I thought I’d tell you if I’ll ever get a girlfriend and then I kind of never did.” You said and looked at him a bit sheepishly. “But now I do.” You said and smiled proudly, which warmed Emily’s heart immediately and calmed her immensely. Aaron even cracked a very small smile. Then he looked at Emily at the small vanished. You grabbed Em’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You’ve been here little more than a year and start dating my sister, Prentiss?” He said and studied Emily. You could say he was profiling her. Emily opened her mouth, no doubt to defend herself. But Aaron gave her not a second. “Remember, I’m your superior. Hurt her, and you’ll fly off this team faster than you can blink.” You had to hide a small giggle. Aaron rarely played protective brother. It was a bit funny to see almost all colour fade from Emily’s face. She interrogated Serial Killers, but your brother was too much.

“Alright, Aaron. Enough of that.” You said and drew his attention back to you. He softened a bit again and pulled you into a rare hug. No words. Just a hug. And that was enough. Then he rounded his desk and sat down again.

“You're invited for dinner on Saturday.” He said right before you were out of his office. It nearly looked comedic, the way everything in Emily’s face fell as soon as she heard him. You quickly closed the office door behind you and grabbed her hands.

Emily wasn’t the relationship type. She hadn’t had a lot of them, and they had never been very long. Or at least that’s what she had told you. She was always afraid of somehow fucking it up. You squeezed her hands until she was looking at you.

“It’ll be fine. He didn’t rip your head off now, he won’t on Saturday. And Jack will love you, which is basically the way to Aaron’s heart.” It did little to calm the brunette. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly.

“What do I wear? How do I act? Do I buy him something? Wine? I’ve never done this before, dolcezza.” She rambled, and it would have been cute if she hadn’t looked so worked up.

“You’ll wear something nice. Which you always do. I promise Aaron will just be wearing a T-shirt. You act like yourself which is the way I love you. And wine is a good idea but absolutely not necessary.” You assured her, answering one question after another. You had been so concerned about calming her that you hadn’t really thought about the exact words you had used.

“Love?” She asked a bit perplexed. Maybe it was a bit early but with Emily? How could you not love her. You grinned a bit stupidly. “Of course, you idiot.” She cracked a smile at that, and you were very thankful for that. You’d walk through hell to see that smile.

“Ti amo anch'io, tesoro.” She whispered against your lips, having leaned in. The kiss was a bit sloppy, cause you were both smiling like lovesick idiots. Which you kind of were.

“Oh my god, this is adorable!” A very excited voice called through the bullpen, unmistakably Penelope’s. Emily and you broke apart, laughing softly. You stood incredibly close to each other, hands still intertwined. Both your head turned, and you weren’t surprised to see the whole team stare at you. Most of them just smiled knowingly. Spencer looked like he had missed about twenty chapters, which her kind of had. His head turned from us to JJ next him.

“Wha-?” Everyone just laughed fondly. Everything was fine.

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just something very sweet and fluffy also featuring a grumpy Eddie 🤭🥰

Requests are open 💌

❤️

Eddie had been in a bad mood from the moment he woke up. Not even the lure of a Hellfire Club session could lift his spirits.

Exactly what had made him so moody was something he couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it was to do with the dickhead who blasted pop music most of the night and interrupted his sleep a few times.

Whatever it was, he was acting like a bear with a sore head and he couldn't even see you today to take away some of his grumpiness, seeing you always brightened up his day.

You wouldn't be at school at all today, something with your aunt came up and you possibly had to go out of town for the next couple of days.

At least he could channel some of his mood into the Hellfire session tonight, maybe unleash the group of orcs on the party, a story that he had been planning for a few days.

He gets up and dressed and heads to school, his van is being a pain in the ass and his head is thumping by the time he gets there.

Things weren't any better by lunchtime and he ate his pretzels and even had a bottle of Yoo Hoo (which kinda helped but just a little bit) but it couldn't help him with the fact that he had Mrs O'Donnell's class after lunch, he's pretty sure that the old dragon has it in for him.

He was pouty and very pissed off.

"Dude, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Grant asks which causes Gareth to snicker beside him, one sharp look from Eddie quietens him.

"It's because you know who isn't here today, remember she has some family thing to attend" Jeff shrugs.

"Yeah, thanks, dude. Like I need reminding that I won't see my girl today and I'm fine. Just a long night and a neighbour who's obsessed with playing endlessly shitty pop music" he shudders at the memory and the dude singing. Ugh.

"Aww thought you'd be up and dancing to Madonna" Dustin teases and Eddie flicks a pretzel at him, he's more amused than annoyed though, even if he's offended by the very thought.

Then the little shit is smiling at something over Eddie's shoulder and Eddie's heart skips a beat, delight flooding through him.

"Princess!" he beams and wastes no time rushing over to you and dramatically clutching his chest. Not caring one bit about the sneers from Jason and his idiot squad, he doesn't care about his don't fuck with me facade around you, you're the only person that reduces him to mush.

"I've missed thy maiden far too much and almost succumbed to a painful case of grumpiness" you snort and cuddle into him.

"I missed you too Ed's" you wrap your arms around him and feel the tension in his body ease.

"What happened to that family thing you had?" He asks curious and you shrug.

"Yeah turns out my aunt left her douchebag husband last night so she's staying with a friend instead of us for a little bit. She's okay which is the main thing" You cuddle back into his arms needing this hug as much as he does.

"At least the grumpy asshole might cheer up now" Jeff comments but swiftly shuts up when Eddie flips him the bird. At least with his princess here the day is looking infinitely brighter.

❤️

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hey!

Since I started playing August last year I'd been lurking on the reddit (since I don't have an account) and always found the posts of the person who was writing "what choices determine Cove's X" so insightful and loved reading them

recently, i played the baxter DLC (still am not over it, it's my most favourite thing ever; i just love our pepe le pew) so I spent a lot of time on the reddit just reading up about him and what others thought bcs i LOVE deep analysis on characters that I've liked and I stumbled upon a bunch of your comments (which again, loved reading!) and I put a name to the comment

found the same username on tumblr and simultaneously found out you were the one who goes into the games files and wrote those posts I loved so, AH! Hi!

hahah my 'fangirling' and backstory aside, right after I played Baxter's DLC I felt like I didn't understand the reasons behind his actions? I know everyone talks about how he has self-worth issues and wanted to just be a memory but I don't get how that all correlated to completely detatching and not wanting to be a part of MC's life? Like did he care at all? If he didn't, why keep your number and the gift you gave him in one of the memories (Sightseeing?). But if he did care, how did he so easily at the beginning distance himself professionally? AND THEN REMINISCE ON ALL OUR MEMORIES TOGETHER BUT GO BACK TO PROFESSIONAL; LIKE WHAT WAS THE INTENTION

I feel like it is such a stupid question since it seems like everyone else gets it and the game explains it so many times but I just did not get it 😭

so if you could! could you help me understand it a little better? (and if you have talked about it before, no pressure to rewrite it all here I'd happily read another post of yours about it if you could kindly link it!)

i hope that makes sense haha, hope you have a lovely day and genuienly THANK YOU for what you do with your blog! its so great and even if you don't answer this ask i will LOVE reading everything you still put out!

-jaycee <3

*ahem*

Firstly--AAAAAAA >//////<

Thank you so much!! I do my best to help out so people can understand the code, and at times I just see it as something fun for me. So, when people enjoy them as well, it makes me so happy~

Also, I'd be delighted to answer your questions about Baxter! His DLC is absolutely packed so I get that sometimes it's hard to absorb it all. You asking someone for "help" and wanting to understand (rather than simply giving up or writing the DLC off) is admirable, honestly, not something to feel stupid about!

For me personally, I do believe that there are layers to it, and I'll try to do things in a different enough way/simplify them linearly in case that might help. Included will be quotes from the game to help things flow best.

All that said, let us now go on this journey into Baxter's mind together! ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

(note that this got so long that I put a TL;DR/summarized version at the end, I just thought it was important to go into as much as possible; I also have a Reddit comment here that has a smaller/quoteless explanation)

Childhood and Early-to-Mid Teens

Let's take this chronologically. Picture a young Baxter Alexander Ward all the way back in Golden Grove. He's a rich boy with rich parents, and by rich, we're talking really rich. What already is so much to an adult is virtually limitless in the mind of a child, and it earns him a certain reputation amongst the population. Everyone knows the name of the Mr. and Mrs. Ward's only child, and it makes him extremely popular.

However, that doesn't mean he has true company, especially as his neighborhood situation is quite the opposite from the MC of either Our Life version, who are given one or two easily-accessible friends depending on the game.

"The land my family home was built on… I suppose you could call it somewhat remote. It's a fair-sized estate, situated a little ways off from the rest of the town. So, until I moved into college dorms, I'd go as far as to say that I'd never had neighbors before."

In other words, there's no one around his age nor does he have a sibling to play with. This isn't a big deal at first, given that he's young, innocent, and raised where anything he wanted was in his parents' budget. He's expected to act a certain way, certainly, but he can't understand the idea of needing anymore than what he has: he's the cute rich boy that has "everything" and that every kid wants to be close to.

So much so that it gives him an ego about it.

"What I do distinctly recall is that as a child I unequivocally thought I was better than other people. That those who met me were lucky, and I could pick anyone I wanted as company. The onus was on everyone else to impress. "If someone was boring or maybe I just didn't like the colors they were wearing that day, I could find a new playmate, easily. After all, I had the most to offer. "Naturally, what I was 'offering' was what my parents had. A big, cool house, exciting outings, the best toys. It wasn't until I was eleven or so when I developed my first stable friends. They might not have been rich like me, but they had their own charms. Those ties couldn't be replaced."

"I loved it when they would come and visit; there was scarcely anything better. They never got over their sense of awe, and I ate it up."

"Becoming attached to other people, especially those people, made me realize what I'd believed wasn't true. And it was so obvious. They were wonderful. I felt things I never had before. "All it took was being who they were. It didn't matter what their parents did. No fancy venue could top genuine comradery with their company. "And for whatever reason, I was in the club, and I was happy. The person who was lucky to be there was me. "I had wanted my friends to feel the same way towards me. To have that kind of incredible effect on another person for no reason other than that I was Baxter."

Thus, the confident boy Baxter sees in the mirror everyday, like a framed painting of the kind of person everyone wants to be, becomes distorted. Kids didn't flock to him because he was "Baxter," but because he was a rich boy who could wow them. He felt that even the friends he did manage to acquire only hung out with him because they were lovely people, because they also were not immune to being awed by his rich boy things, and because he got lucky.

Qiu - who's part of his friend group - being his first crush likely doesn't help matters. It's no longer about his own personal satisfaction, where he shows off and the kids involved do little more than stroke his ego; now there are kids who are the ones offering him something, and it's something he didn't even know he was missing.

This begins the initial spark of self-worth issues for Baxter, and it's a spark that snowballs as time goes on. He doubts himself, he doubts his ability to make his friends happy in the way that they make him happy, and he - when he's fourteen - goes so far as to doubt the impression something as simple as his hair gives off.

"The generous might say I could count it as black, or that it was 'black in the right light' as my parents placatingly put it. "The fact of the matter is that it's a dusty gray."

"Who would notice a color that wasn't exactly black? And why would they care, even if they did? "Me. I noticed. I noticed and it bothered me, so I dyed it. "Was it something I wanted only for my own preference, or was it because I believed if I saw it as an imperfection then that meant everyone else did? "Probably the latter."

(note that this is around the time that an MC might meet him in Soiree and potentially become his second crush)

So now you have a double-edged sword of sorts where Baxter wants to be good enough as he is, yet is actively covering up the parts of himself that he deems as flaws to be corrected.

In trying to craft this "perfect/better" version of himself, he's created a scenario in which he cannot win. Even if said version could make people happy, he is still not the real version of himself and goes on believing that any amount of joy he does create isn't even "him" doing it anyway.

This is already excluding the fact that his parents are *:･ﾟ✧ garbage ✧･ﾟ:* who always wanted him to act a particular way, and he knew they'd take issue with him if they didn't raise him personally.

"They understand care through the lens of control and protection. That's been their way ever since I was young. In that sense, they treat me no different from a child. "But, of course, they are quiet, educated, esteemed, and a tad old. As is their company, most days. That's not the environment to act as a kid. "That meant I've always been expected to behave with the maturity of someone their own age, or perhaps even older, somehow. "A bit of a paradox, isn't it? Do everything as an adult would while getting the respect an infant does."

"They're family and I'm their son. That is what matters at the end of the day, blood related or not. "I'm thankful for that as well. "Now, if I wasn't the boy they raised together in any capacity, then there would be problems."

Even the air of sophistication he has comes from his upbringing (though he's at least made that his own). There's the Baxter he actually is, the Baxter his parents expect him to be, and the Baxter he's trying to build up for himself to be someone he thinks can make those he cares for happy, all things that he tries to deal with himself as if that's at all manageable or healthy for him.

To the surprise of no one, things still aren't perfect. Without a trust that his friends like him simply because they like him, he doesn't realize - or refuses to contend with - the truth of the situation, and the age gap between them starts causing difficulties.

"I was older than all of them. As sheltered as I was, I got along better with kids not quite my own age. Immature as always, hm? "Life changed fast then, and the years between us became more noticeable with every day. I never reached a point where I felt like I knew what I was doing before suddenly, it was as if I didn't belong with them anymore. "That they didn't have time to keep me around with the differences in our schedules and priorities. And I accepted that. So, the friendships ended. We stopped talking as young teens, and I haven't even seen them since I left for college in 2015. "I thought they mattered to me, but when have I done anything for them? Why did I deserve to be liked and included when all I did was want that to happen and abandon them when it didn't?"

Now we're getting closer to the white-and-black-haired Baxter we know as, at the time he leaves Golden Grove, he's just one year away from his visit to Sunset Bird and simultaneously no closer to knowing what he's doing. He's broken off from his old, cherished, and only significant friend group, and now he's all the way on the other side of the country in Virginia by himself.

He's still chaotic, still kindhearted, yet has no clue that he deserves to have the kind of companionship he longs for. In the year of him being at college, he fails to make those kinds of connections, whether intentionally or otherwise.

"Instead, you could say I don't have many friends. I spend the majority of my time on my own, though I do attend parties and other gatherings when I am able. "I do not have anything quite similar waiting for me there. Don't feel bad about that. "It is only to be expected. I did move across the country. It is a fairly common phenomenon for those of us who do. I'm a regular fish out of water, if you will."

"It hasn't been easy to find anyone to reminisce with, not for a while. But then again, I only developed a sentimentality once I'd gone off to college. "I was too young and proud for that sort of matter before then. There wasn't anything in my life to harbor much sentimentality for. I suppose leaving was the catalyst. Isn't it always? "But once that part of my mind had developed, there wasn't anyone around to share the emotions with. My classmates and I… we don't have that kind of relationship."

His parents are also just as controlling as ever, only allowing him to enjoy his semester off from college under their rules and in a place they personally chose and are comfortable with. Baxter, who had no interest in going home to Golden Grove and thus agrees to the terms, can only make himself comfortable by finding his own ways of having fun, such as renting a car despite being underage.

"At a minimum, I can honestly say that I wish that I missed it, if that makes sense. I don't know how you feel about your hometown particularly, but you should at least be able to appreciate that I spent all of my youth there. "I'm not so jaded as to totally discount the place, far from it. But anything I liked about my home wasn't exactly exclusive to that locale. The US is a big country, and there are plenty of beautiful things to see wherever you go. "I've experienced enough to know that much, at least. So no, I don't miss it. And I won't be going back. "If my parents wish to see me, they'll have to be the ones visiting where I am.

"Mother and Father agreed to me vacationing on my own, but under the condition that they would have the choice of where I stayed. "California being fairly close by, and Sunset Bird being so quaint, not to mention our prior excursions to the area, they concluded that this was the easiest way to keep me out of trouble."

Basically, it's all going back to his line about expecting him to behave as an adult whilst treating him like a child. He's permitted to vacation by himself but only in a town as "boring" as Sunset Bird where there would naturally be very few teenagers around his age. His streak for being a bit of a rebel reflects that.

What he doesn't expect is to meet a new group of people and the MC in particular, who unintentionally challenges his negative view on himself.

Step 3

From the very beginning, Baxter takes immediate interest in the MC and Cove, wanting to make one of those "blissful, temporary relationships" that will last the summer. Already, we have something of note, which is the 50/50 success rate he ended up having: MC and Terry were all for the absurdly friendly monochrome man that swooped into town, whereas Cove and Miranda were more hesitant (and thus didn't spend as much time with him) because his directness tended to put them off.

"I care a great deal about what I say and that it makes the correct impression. Yet I am not always successful. My approach is off, really."

"Now, this may be a complete shock to you, but… I've been told that I can come across as a bit too forward. I know. It can be hard to believe. My intent is to be open with people so we can connect. It almost never works out that way, though. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I don't possess a knack for making friends. "It was obnoxiously easy when I was a child. Especially due to that aforementioned big, cool house. But now I keep finding myself at a loss for how to do it. With the hit-or-miss endeavor, the vast majority of the time I come up with a miss."

"And I've never been in a stable, long-term relationship. They've all been brief, and varying levels of disastrous."

Put more simply, Baxter knows what he wants but doesn't understand what people want out of him (believing more that they don't want him at all). On some level, he's flying blind and simply does what he can to put his best foot forward, not wanting to miss opportunities when they present themselves to him. He's someone who likes seeing people thrive and enjoy themselves, and it's even better if he knows that he caused it.

"I live for approval."

Thus, as the "perfect summer tourist" who wants to vacation and have a fun time with those that he can, he seeks to do everything possible to make it memorable. That doesn't mean that he goes out of his way to do things he doesn't want to or portray himself as this person who doesn't even resemble who he actually is, but he puts on an air of not having any flaws that would cause him to be any form of burden to others.

This is even excluding the parallel of a group of four friends that he's involved with yet feels distant from or like he doesn't belong in at the same time; history repeating itself and what not, though in his case it's more like a self-fulfilling prophecy, emphasized by the possibility of him asking the MC out on a summer fling.

"I don't care about what label you'd choose to put to it. I could be your boyfriend, or nothing at all. "And you can also change your mind without consequence, if you find out it's not what you imagined further down the line."

Baxter gives the MC every out he can to make things as convenient as possible for them, not only so that the relationship isn't serious and they don't have to worry about it, but so they can break it off whenever they wish. He knows full well that even the person he's presenting himself as won't please everyone and sets everything up so he can almost anticipate the ending if the MC gets bored with him because he fails to impress.

He's interested in them, attracted to them, and feels that he'll enjoy their company, but he only thinks he can do the same on the short-term; that small amount of time where people are still learning about one another where little else is hoped for beyond good things.

Another way of looking at it is based on Baxter's view of control.

"It might not surprise you to know that I can be a touch… particular. I know the importance of coherence, with individuals acting in a well-coordinated fashion. And I like things to function well-for systems to operate smoothly. "I confess, you could call me controlling, at times. Not with people, but with processes. Especially when it comes to enacting plans. I'd much rather act under my own steam than follow someone else's lead. "I'm only flexible with the personal, not the business, aspects of life."

His relationship with the MC is, on some level, a process. It's something for him to carefully plan out and calculate to make it the best he can for them. Getting more personal would involve him revealing the parts of himself that he finds distasteful and believes the MC will as well.

Of course, he doesn't anticipate growing attached to them, which brings in the "risk versus reward" aspect. This can be seen when Baxter initially agrees to have drinks with the MC in the morning that he hates so much, where the safe option would be to simply postpone until another day, except he wants to spend time with them as soon as possible.

In that respect, it's not unlike him struggling to decide on the type of ice cream he'd like.

"My problem is this: I'm unsure if I should get a dessert that's to my usual taste. If I do, I'd be certain to enjoy what comes from the ice cream truck. That would be nice. "But, on the other hand, this may happen only once. Perhaps it'd be more rewarding to get something new, an option that would be challenging to find in a common store. "Which will add more to the experience? Indulgence or novelty? I want to make the right choice."

However, his risks don't end up panning out well in his mind because he's unable to get past something so minor as forgetting his wallet, when all he and the MC had planned to do was have a nice time at a cafe in Drinks. In his mind, the Baxter he's trying to present had failed, and what else can he do at that point (under his perceived logic) but do what he remembers worked from childhood?

"It's a question of knowing the right people who know the right people. We could have even had full backstage access with the main cast if I'd asked. "I do try not to lean on that kind of thing too much, if you can believe me. I appreciate it might not look like it now. You could say it's a means for me to preserve my sense of independence. It's easy to be popular if you can foot the bill, and I don't want that to be what draws others to me. "But after all that, here I am, leaning on the same old crutch. Nothing has changed since I was six."

"I suppose that was part of the issue. I didn't consider myself appealing enough as a person to be worth the time. So, I wanted the support of an exciting or interesting backdrop for meetups. "But… it shouldn't matter that much where you are if you enjoy who you're with."

Baxter expects perfection out of himself in the same way that his parents expected things out of him, and the limitations follow accordingly. He wants little more than the MC's presence and it is up to him to "repay them" for it. When he was a child, he was the one everyone else had to impress, and now it's the other way around: he has to impress those he wants to be around.

Except he's only human, and aiming to be the perfect person for the MC all summer simply isn't feasible, which he takes with every ounce of criticism one can imagine.

"This whole situation… it's asinine. I haven't known you long enough to be causing this kind of trouble. I'm quite literally a stranger. And I won't even be here long enough for that to change. As welcoming as you all are here, that can't be forgotten. "This was-I was-only ever supposed to be a part of the fun. A worthwhile piece of summer scenery. Someone who added to the experience, not held it back. You shouldn't have to baby me! To sit there and spend your time making me feel better when I don't keep it together. "The mess I am in the mornings, the drama I cause in the evenings: the person I am when the show is over. Those aspects shouldn't be any of your concern. I don't provide that support to you, do I? And how could I when I don't know you? "No. It's not fair to make you worried or, worse, guilty over what happens to me. What matters is that when we're together it's for the pleasant parts of existence. The less ideal shades of life can be managed separately. "That's all I wanted."

Two things to note as well is that he'll say all of the same dialog even if he and the MC have experienced Hang or Planning (where Baxter can comfort them), and there's a dialog path in Sightseeing (i.e: the moment most players will play first) where he'll openly say that he hopes they count for "more than strangers."

(He's additionally rejected the idea that he knows the MC despite relishing every given opportunity to listen to the MC babble about even the most mundane things.)

So not only will he deny to himself that comforting the MC was worth enough to count (or unintentionally block it from his mind), but when it comes to things becoming more personal, suddenly he's "just a stranger/near-stranger." The MC can be comforted when they need it but not him, and he's just some nobody tourist when it comes time to put any value on himself...

whether that be the simple things like driving everyone around, to the stuff that takes effort to notice like him seeing that the MC wanted to ride in the passenger seat, to the more complex like literally saving Miranda's entire birthday party.

"I couldn't have devised a more pleasant way to spend my time here, even if I tried. And to be frank, I have tried. I didn't come to Sunset Bird totally devoid of any plans or ideas. "You and your friends have invited me to participate in an event with great significance to you. It's a profound gesture to show to a relative stranger. "When it's over, and I'm long gone from here, I hope you can all look back on this party for years to come-maybe for the rest of your lives-and treasure the memory. "And if I am a part of that memory, then that is satisfaction enough. Though perhaps I'm in danger of giving my contribution too much credit."

A hypocrite (I say this affectionately, I swear) of the highest order; there are rules for himself and no other rules for everybody else. The things he does are never enough whereas everyone else does plenty by simply existing and giving him the time of day.

Leaving the way he does with no contact and little hope of seeing each other again is the inevitable result of the process he'd put together for his time with the MC and his summer at Sunset Bird. From the beginning, he's had a time frame to keep to, an intent to not get attached, an expectation that no one would get attached to him, and an idea that he would leave as little more than a memory.

"Only lately it's been different. Incredibly different. I almost worry my luck won't last. It will all be over soon. "I wish… I could stay."

Except he does get attached, just as the MC gets attached to him (in what he can admit in Step 4 is the most stable relationship he's ever been in), and now all the control he feels he had goes out the window. That's why he has the potential to get upset if the MC keeps pushing his buttons by questioning him.

"I would've preferred it to have been an enjoyable time having my company while I happened to be here, that was the intention. It seems I've ruined that on the whole. I accept the blame for that. If I had behaved better this wouldn't have come to a close on such an abhorrent note. "However, I am not an irreplaceable part of your life. I was a tourist, a novelty. And now I'm not even that. So don't bother with this."

To him, everything is so obvious: he got "lucky" getting to hang out with his Golden Grove friends, who were simply so nice that they continued bothering with him at all despite his flaws. Considering how that ended, he expected the same where no one would bat an eye if he left.

The MC trying to hang onto what they have isn't a sign that he had done anything right, but that the MC is being their sweet, considerate self in thinking about him. He's had at least five years of criticizing himself, of trying to make people happy yet downplaying it when he does, that everything the MC says goes in one ear and out the other.

"I heard you then and each reasonable suggestion to salvage the situation, but I brushed you off as if you were the one being dramatic. Or that you were lying."

At some point between having his Golden Grove friend group to now, his priorities had changed. He'd given up on having true value to people and instead focuses on creating moments (an appropriate word to use given how the game works) with them. It's a natural progression from not believing he's important to not believing he could ever possibly be.

Even basic traits he does have that one will likely see as something to adore, he won't attribute to himself.

"Now, I do admit, though, that isn't what one might call a grand love story. It's simplicity itself. "I'm not the most romantic or sentimental person in the world. I know that can be at odds with my formality, yet it's the way I am."

He'll say he's not romantic nor sentimental while being one of the most romantic and sentimental people in the game, so either he's unaware of it or refuses to associate positive words like those with himself. On the flip side, he can falsely associate others with credit for things they've done without acknowledging the finer details that might negate his point.

For example, in the Wedding DLC, Baxter gives so much credit to Cove for "staying" and "trying" without understanding that Cove didn't have a choice on whether to stay or leave the MC initially due to still being a child (who absolutely would have left and in fact did try to leave in the Step 1 DLC). He's also one of the few characters who doesn't consider Cove "clingy," probably because he's just as clingy if not more so.

By unknowingly projecting his self-hatred onto the MC's view of him, he's come to the idea that the MC has already gotten as much out of the relationship with him as possible without things completely falling apart, and daring to want anything further is his own self-interest/ego getting to him.

It's even to the point of deciding that everything is his fault if the MC kissed him in Planning when they weren't dating.

"I must apologize for that. I shouldn't have done it. Even at the time I knew I shouldn't have. That was a bad idea. One that only managed to complicate our relationship further. "I shouldn't have involved you in more of my selfishness."

So his conclusion in the Step 3 ending is that he's lost no matter what and genuinely cannot comprehend the idea that he had done anything right for the MC to want to stay in contact with him.

If the MC contently accepts separating from him, then that proves to him that he isn't someone worth sticking around for. If they instead get upset or want to stay in touch, then he has somehow done something wrong in the way he went about things and presented himself. It all goes back to being a scenario he's set himself up not to win.

"In short, what I'm saying is that I'm a fraud in all regards. You can't take any of it seriously, including what color my hair is."

"I don't deserve to have that kind of relationship with another person. That's why. I don't contribute anything. "Maybe I can impress others for a time, but how do you go beyond that? I can't say what it means to be significant as a person, to be irreplaceable. "And since I don't have the answer, I certainly wasn't going to assume I'd do it by accident. What does it take to add value to someone simply just by being there? I tried, but I never knew. "In my eyes there's a world of humans living freely among one another, while every connection I create is so fragile. If I make the wrong step I might hurt them, or be hurt myself, and if it's strained at all it will break entirely."

The sad part of it is that it makes sense, in a way. The things he did for the MC - baring perhaps that damned chocolate fountain - were almost effortless to him. He wanted to do them, so why would he think he did anything special?

One of the very few times he's willing to talk in any way bad about another is only if the MC uses Jude and Scott's relationship as a reason for why they could keep in touch. That's when his cynical side comes out.

"Of course, my rather reasonable prediction is that it will not last. Most relationships don't."

As things were that summer, Baxter viewed the MC as someone he would love to know, but not someone who wanted to know him because he doesn't think he's likable; that the slightest inconvenience to them - to anyone - would make him not worth keeping in touch with any longer. The MC also has friends who have been around longer than him, and he's never considered that he could have any role amongst them.

Tempting fate was never his intention, yet that's exactly what he does in believing they'll never meet again, drawn together as if the longing makes them magnetic to each other.

Step 4

As is standard with the inevitable passage of time and growing older, Baxter is slowly finding himself and improving as a person over the five years that he and the MC are apart. Some things change and others stay the same, whether for better or worse.

Though, any positives aren't particularly noteworthy to Baxter himself.

"I can say that I've improved some talents over the years and found a less eye-catching sense of style, but for anything meaningful there's been no growth."

Due to his self-worth issues, he never thinks what he does is good enough and is wholly focused on where he's yet to improve upon, even though he is fully aware about the parts of himself he has worked on.

"You don't need to worry. I'm not quite as sensitive as I used to be about mistakes. I will survive this, pride as wounded as it may be from these trials and tribulations."

"Part of the tragedy of adult life is learning to roll with the punches, so to speak. I suppose I should be proud of the fact that I can at least handle it much better than when I was younger. "Thinking about what kind of panic a younger Baxter would have been thrown into at the prospect of a missing shirt on an important day-"

Under that lens, it doesn't matter what he does or how he deals with the issues he feels are a burden to himself and/or others; there's always an asterisk - that he's attached to them - to act as a "yes, but..."

"I'm fortunate that thanks to my upbringing I happen to be well acquainted with formality and what it takes to authentically achieve it for an event. It's a unique kind of direct experience to wield. "Additionally, I deal well with the high level of control and detail-work one must take in a stressful event. "When it comes to work, I absolutely can make decisions. It's only in my personal life where I lack conviction. "And that's most suited in bursts with different people rather than a long-term position in a consistent group. You can easily get sick of someone who needs everything to be 'just so'."

Similar to the weddings he involves himself with as he graduates and gets a career as a wedding planner, there is an ideal final product to work towards, but one he could never conceivably be happy with because he's already starting from a place of seeing himself as someone worthless as an individual. It shapes said final product into something entirely unrealistic, never mind completely unachievable.

As for figuring out a life for himself, that goes hand-in-hand with where he ultimately chooses as his first place to live: Prism Vista City, which Mr. "Definitely Not Sentimental" ends up getting attached to.

"This, ahem, particular location was intended to be only a starting point. I was coming from the complete other side of the country, and I at least knew I enjoyed the area. "I expected to relocate once I had my bearings. It wasn't my intention to linger where I might not be welcomed. "But who could've guessed it was harder to pack up and leave everything behind once you had silly things such as an 'actual apartment in your own name' and a 'real career' tying you down? "Weeks passed, then months, and then, perhaps inevitably, I came face to face with one of the reasons I developed such a positive outlook on this state to begin with. "You know, it never ceases to amaze me. California is directly beside Oregon. I could practically walk there if I was industrious, and stupid, enough. "Despite that, being here is a wholly different experience than what I had being raised in the neighboring state. "Sometimes it seems as if I'm still a tourist. That I don't belong here, and everyone who passes by can smell the otherness on me. "Other days, I have the confidence to think I've found my own place in the world…"

That's one thing that never changes about Baxter in virtually all of his life: the desire to simply belong somewhere. What does change is how he approaches that want.

He wanted to belong with his Golden Grove friends, but fell out with them due to the circumstances and chalked it up to a failure on his part. When he wanted to belong with his Sunset Bird ones, he'd already decided himself that it would never happen to save him from any potential disappointment, and that simply being there for a summer would be enough.

In adulthood, he's given up on such things entirely. No more friends, no more flings, and even his most consistent contact - his parents - have been cut out of his life (though in the latter case, it's for the better).

"What happened, I do exactly… that to everyone who unfortunately crosses my path. "The acquaintances I made at college, dancing partners, the friends I had since childhood; my parents, though, that is an entirely different story. "The point of the matter is, excluding those I interact with regularly due to work, I have no relations whatsoever. That's simply the way it goes."

"To start, I haven't spoken to my parents in, mm, a few years now. That's what I meant when I included them in the list of relationships I haven't maintained. "Don't worry. It isn't a painful topic for me, exactly. Mostly I find it… disappointing. Frustrating? Certainly awkward. "Before I cause too much concern, they've never done anything to intentionally hurt me; my parents have always cared for my well-being. "And I can't deny how much they have done for me - all the opportunities and advantages I had because they provided them. They gave me the best they knew how and- "This is not as nuanced as I might be making it sound. "What a novelty it would be if I could speak favorably of my own family. Can you imagine? "That's not the case, however. "What I am trying to say is that my parents are, on the whole, good to me. And they do love me as their child whom they raised for nearly two decades. "Just as I still feel compelled to give them credit for the minimum, I'm certain they're telling their acquaintances endless excuses for why I'm so distant and unagreeable with them. "They haven't given up on me, in their own way. "But all that does not make them good people. "I can assure you that because they are not good people. I'm merely a rare exception to the unpleasantness. "My parents are selfish- they're sheltered. Even as adults."

"Imagining myself as not their son and not someone they loved seemed meaningless at the time. They did love me and that's what mattered. "Of course, it's not always enough, is it? "If I wasn't theirs, either through birth or adoption, if I was someone else's son, they… would hate me. "I know I'm foolish, on many counts. It took me a long time to realize that them being hypocritical shouldn't reassure me the way it did. "Baxter Ward could have as many 'shortcomings' or 'problems' as he did and it'd be fine because it was 'different' in that case. There were reasons, can't you see? "But they couldn't see that other people deserved the same kind of understanding. "And that some things weren't 'problems' in the first place…"

The true tragedy of it being that it's heavily implied that Baxter's parents did attempt to teach him or at least act in a way that would lead him towards a life without any meaningful relationships, which is what he got when he became an adult but not ever what he truly wanted.

"And their nonsense priorities and concerns are what my parents expected from me! "How ironic that I can finally see the silver lining of my lifelong struggles thanks to them. "If I never realized how poor my connections were, or if I never cared that my relationships were nothing more than associations based on conveniences, maybe I'd have been who they wanted."

Arguably, Baxter is at the most "successful" place in his life: he might not be rich anymore, but he's making his own money with a job that suits him, he has a nice apartment, and he's living comfortably.

Except he's not happy, and convinces himself that it's as good as he's ever going to get. It's both the highest and lowest point of his life.

"Of course, I wouldn't be able to understand the viewpoint of someone willing to commit themselves to another person for the rest of their life. "It's what makes for a good planner. I can get invested just enough in the premise to truly create something special, but I'm not attached to the real relationship. "And I'm not disappointed when it's over. "It's been years since I was careless enough to be hurt by anything. "I'd given up on trying for more than what I already had. Then I told others, and myself, that meant I was always content. But honestly, it made me bitter. "I didn't become the person I wanted to be. I didn't achieve the kind of life I'd hoped for."

He couldn't even maintain his relationship with dance, something he'd adored since he was young and now limits to lessons given to wedding couples.

"In a way, I fell out of love with that passion. "It became tedious and unsatisfying to do it with complete strangers, and I didn't have enough hours in a day to dedicate to a long-term competitive partner any longer. "But perhaps I should've tried harder not to give it up entirely. "How embarrassing… even my choice of hobby revolved around having a serious and understanding relationship with someone else. "The precise matter I've had a lifelong struggle to obtain."

As for the MC, Baxter misses them desperately, but goes about his life as though he doesn't. He's committed to viewing himself as someone who doesn't deserve them and that what he did was the right thing to do.

It would seemingly be "easy" then to let go of anything that reminds him of them, in hopes of either limiting the times that he finds himself thinking back to those moments or steering himself towards moving on, but he can't.

The MC's souvenir (if they gave him one)...

"I am fond of it even now. I've never been able to part with it. But isn't that what souvenirs are for? Keeping for the long term? "I'm being entirely reasonable for holding onto that after thoroughly leaving everything in Sunset Bird behind."

Their number...

"I had your number all along. "Of course, I never looked at it over the years we were apart, but didn't have it in me to delete it either."

Even the khaki shirt he wore during Mountain (if he and the MC were dating at the time and they invited him up to their room)...

"It remains my stolen property to this day."

He keeps all of them, unable to let go of the feelings the MC caused within himself but locking them deep inside rather than addressing them. He has the very method for contacting the MC at any time to reconnect, to explain himself, to apologize, to confirm or reject his own doubts over what happened, but he doesn't out of fear.

"I said it before- my concern was protecting my own feelings. Anything I did to that end felt justified. "The more time and experience let me reflect on my actions, I only became more convinced I should stick to my word and not trouble you further."

"I've also missed you over those five years. "And Terry and Miranda and Cove and that summer in Sunset Bird, but mostly, it was you who I thought of. "During that trip, I did feel wanted. "You made me feel wanted. And… important. "It was exciting and amazing, and felt impossible it could last. The shine would wear off eventually, as always. I didn't want to see it happen. "What if I seemed pathetic for being attached to people I met on a short vacation? You had your real group of friends who lived with you there already. "Or what if you stopped responding to me after realizing I wasn't that interesting? Or why would I have even assumed there'd be a reason to talk to me at all once it was no longer convenient? "I'm aware that's not a kind way to view you, but it wasn't that you'd done something to make me believe it would happen. It's my viewpoint for every situation."

Baxter never once thinks that the MC is a bad person, simply that he is the problem and even the best of people will "understandably" lose interest in him if there's any interest to begin with. As someone who likes control and has been conditioned to stray away from more personal relationships, it's advantageous to him to remain in his self-sabotaging mindset.

It's what he's used to.

"I can't afford to flitter off on vacations whenever the mood strikes the way my parents can, but I have a very comfortable existence. "It's nice, if lonely. "Of course, let's not pretend I have anyone to blame for that other than myself. I ended every relationship I had with my own actions. "It's the story of my life. I want to be liked, but I don't want to be important. "A suitor for a season, the planner at a wedding- it's that kind of role I'm comfortable in. "Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to people who are wanted by everyone else. They don't need me. I can be someone, I can't be 'the one'."

So when his Step 4 begins and the MC unexpectedly shows up back in his life, five years after Baxter expressed confidence that they would never meet again, he can barely handle it. Without his say so, he's being confronted with feelings that haven't faded, and ones he already thinks are ridiculous of him to have considering how short of a time he'd known the MC.

The best he can think to do is to put on an air of professionalism and brush the rest off. He'd already left, not contacted the MC for so long, and had remained determined to never see them again, so he doubles down on it.

"I'm merely an employee of your friends. Please feel free to ignore me entirely."

However, it's not tenable, because Baxter has never been someone with the impulse control to keep him in check. Even in the few days he knows that the MC will be around and then leave afterwards, holding himself back from doing what he wants isn't something he can keep up for that long.

In front of people like Jude and Scott who he doesn't know, it's at least easier, but around someone like Xavier who he has some form of friendlier relationship with (only a day after he'd conveyed to himself and the others that he's nothing more than the wedding planner), he's already dropping stories about the past.

"As soon as it comes to you it appears my reason goes out the window. Along with much of my dignity. "But that is how it is."

"Enjoying myself in your presence is the most natural thing in the world. Frustratingly so, at times. I find myself letting go of more than I intended to."

It's also not that Baxter doesn't want to talk to the MC because, if the MC tries to get him to talk during the ride back from the bakery, he deliberately makes it a game of rock-paper-scissors that they'd be guaranteed to win if they wanted to. He could've shut them down entirely if he didn't care, but he finds a middle ground of technically not agreeing outright while still letting the MC talk to him.

"The petty types of decisions that were best suited to be decided with randomness mattered little to me. "It was far more amusing to see who would use the advantage they had to win and who would be willing to take the loss, and why they seemed to do so. "At the bare minimum I'm not that much of a brat any longer. "As an adult, I use it mainly to get away with not making decisions of my own. Whoever is playing with me has the responsibility to win or lose because what they're up against is preordained. "I don't even need to choose which symbol my hand takes. It's easier that way."

Not that it means he's alright with it either. Baxter is already under the stress of planning a wedding in a matter of days and now has to deal with seeing the MC again, sometimes one-on-one. He doesn't want to be cruel to them, doesn't want things to be so difficult, nor did he want the MC to be "forced" to go with him to the bakery (on a suggestion he couldn't have known would lead to it), but that's what ends up happening.

"I'm not any less immature than I was five years ago, it seems. I've been incredibly rude to you, and that is inexcusable. "You're not unwelcome near me. Of course not. "However, I'm here to plan Jude and Scott's wedding. My priority is that only, and I don't want to get caught up in anything else. "There's no need to reminisce. I hope that's not insulting, it's honestly not meant to be a strike against your character. "You are a lovely person and have many wonderful friends. You don't need me to be an active part of your life."

"I apologize for what happened between us, I honestly do regret it. "I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I was unable to keep my word and have bothered you yet again. "I'm thoroughly humiliated and have attempted to get in your way as little as possible. Though I'm unable to quit outright; I couldn't do that to Jude and Scott. "We are both aware that I am fully incapable of making you happy. But in four days you'll return to your life blissfully free of my presence in it. "Please tell me, what can I do for you? I simply don't know…"

It feels terrible for him, but this is the cycle he's gotten himself into: wanting to stick to what he'd done in Step 3 under the belief that the MC would be better off without him, feeling nostalgic for the past to the point where it ends up coming out, behaving distantly as a result and hating himself for it, then apologizing just to do it all over again because he's constantly going against what he actually wants.

"Every time I'm arrogant enough to believe I know what I'm doing and that I'm in control- I don't and I'm not."

"From the moment you walked into that restaurant, my actions were nothing but self-preservation and damage control and, occasionally, reminiscing to an extent I was pleased with. "Yes, I had a 'professional commitment' not to let personal matters impede the work that needed to be done, but my distancing went far beyond that. "In the end, I was using their marriage as an excuse. "If not for that, then there would have been something else. Some trivial reason for keeping you at arm's length. That likely doesn't shock you."

Baxter is essentially shielding his heart from the very thing that would protect him from his own attacks on it. He goes so far that he considers texting the MC directly to be overstepping boundaries (even if it's for work), all after continuing to let go the most whenever he's reminded of times with the MC.

He's aware that he's attached and readily admits as much when it comes time to.

"Even I can admit I wouldn't do this for every client. "And somehow, that makes this worse. It's painfully obvious I have some personal investment, enough to merit this. "More than I intended to be. More than I ought to have. "I wouldn't have done this if you weren't here… "Even though Miranda was the client's sister- "I wouldn't have offered. It'd be overreaching, to do as much as I have. "I've gone beyond the line of pure professionalism more than once already. The cake is the icing on top."

"Well, naturally, it's against my better judgment to make anyone uncomfortable. "Of course, in such a tight spot Jude wouldn't have questioned any help he was offered. "But what would Miranda have thought? And Terry as well? If some strange man they knew long ago was getting that personally involved in their situation? "I wouldn't have crossed that line, no matter how much sympathy I had for Jude's position. "So, where did my confidence come from? Very simply- I thought you would understand. "That I had good intentions, that the odd lengths I went to was merely how I am, that it was okay to let me be involved. And if you did understand, everyone else would as well."

Deep down, he knows that he is not a stranger; that he knows the MC and trusts them on a level deeper than he thought possible before meeting them. The MC brings out the best in him while simultaneously revealing the most vulnerable parts of himself to himself, which gives him all forms of conflicting emotions.

"I… "It's odd, really. I'm the one who left. "And yet I haven't stopped seeing you as someone important to me. Important in my life. "It truly does seem as though everything I did was for no reason at all."

"It's been hard not to feel nostalgic, this past week. We've had quite a stroll down memory lane. Sometimes by happenstance, sometimes because I went out of my way to do so. "I have… fond memories of those days in Sunset Bird. Treasured memories. "Like most treasures, they're things to be taken out and admired from time to time, and then put away again. "Though, some are too delicate for even that. They should never be touched. "This evening is a reprise of something I never wished to relive."

To put it in another way, though Baxter cherishes the time he spent with the MC, anything that brings him back to such times confront him with everything he's tried to avoid.

Yearning for the things he'd tried to put behind him, the what ifs of things going differently, and the doubts of all he's done thus far based on his own conclusions...

"Back then, during my tourist phase, we took that brief trip to the mountains. On a hike, we passed a tree that had fallen across a stream. "If you can picture that, it was as if we were on opposite sides, and I couldn't take the path to you because it looked risky."

Not unlike his fear of the ocean, Baxter's biggest hurdle is that final step past the point of no return: taking the plunge and trusting in his ability to survive.

"It seems endlessly deep and unpredictable, with powerful waves and rapid currents. "And there are creatures lurking in there. Some of them are larger than me. It's unfathomable. You don't play with something like that. "If I enter that water, I'll never return from it. The ocean will swallow me whole. That's what I think."

It's only by the end of the wedding reception that he finally crosses that line and has the epiphany necessary to deal with everything that had happened: the opening of the oven to check the result of a baked cake rather than leaving it a mystery, the flick of the switch to look at a room he'd always kept in darkness prior, and the throwing of himself into deep water and realizing he can still breathe.

"In the past, I spent every moment around other people thinking of the limited span of our acquaintance. As if I wasn't seeing them at all, only the imminent departure. "Our arrangements fell in line with that. A clear timeframe, limited from the outset; predetermined rules set in stone. "It was that way five years ago. It was that way now. "We'd cooperate for a short period in service of Scott and Jude's wedding, and that would be that. I've said as much myself. More than once. "The problem is, as I only recently realized… "I forgot about that. "You see, I thought, completely and earnestly, that I didn't need to speak with you now, here, when I was feeling so… sensitive. "We could simply pick up where we left off later tonight or tomorrow. The fact that we no longer had a 'reason' to interact didn't come up as part of the consideration."

When he wasn't the one setting the rules, when he was the one caught off guard by someone he cared so much about reappearing into his life, when he was forced back into reliving past regrets and under the pressure of facing them all over again when their second/third time together was over, that ended up being when he found what he needed to talk to the MC. That was when he finally had to listen to what his heart was saying rather than constantly denying himself.

Perhaps even most importantly, that was when he had to face the fact that what he did - the suffering he put himself through for five years - had achieved nothing of value, and it's only through acknowledging it that he can keep it from happening again.

"When I left five years ago, that didn't make me happy. When I kept you at arm's length after meeting again, I was unhappy still. "If it doesn't need to be that way, if I was wrong, then… I don't know, honestly. I've never considered it a viable option until moments ago."

"It had been so long since I'd known what it was like to be included, to be around people who'll refuse to let you be left out, no matter how hard you try to weasel out of it. "Terry, Miranda, and Cove were too kind, but it was your gestures specifically that are at the heart of this matter. "Here's the truth: if you didn't ask me to dance again, in the afterhours of another event we helped create like you did then, it would have broken my heart. "That would mean definitively that I lost what we had. "But… if you did ask it would be more painful. Because that would mean- "It would mean even after everything, you hadn't let me go. That you accepted me still. "That you always would have, that I should've believed that all along, that the only thing I've done was hurt you and myself of my own accord. "It's horrible. I didn't want to know one way or the other."

The uncomfortable truth, a placating lie, or the blissful void of not knowing anything at all: those were the choices he had and he finally chose the uncomfortable truth, all for the closure the MC deserves and the potential prospect of a better future if he can only make it past the obstacles he'd set up for himself.

"But I can see now that I'm also wrong for making another decision for you. Even if the conversation went disastrously, you were owed a better explanation and an apology. "You had never asked me to leave you alone, I created that fiction. "I hope you can accept that I did care for you then- I care now. Of course, as ever, none of it counts for much if it's kept entirely to oneself."

"It's… a little hard to approach what I've sowed over the years. So many mistakes. "And even now, when I hope to make things right, to make things last, I'm forced to admit that I'm ignoring the reality of the situation. "This doesn't come down to what I want at all. I don't have the right to put myself before you. I never did."

"I suppose that is the true story of my life: me not understanding a thing and getting it all wrong at every turn. "But rather than dancing around this, I'll say it directly: not trying to stay in touch with you is something I've regretted for a long time. "I will always regret the days I lost, even now that we've reconnected."

That doesn't mean everything is magically fixed, nor that he won't fall into some old habits. He has to catch himself when he automatically excludes himself from the MC's meeting with their moms, and he'll still be apologizing and criticizing himself long after the MC has forgiven him.

"You've never allowed me to wallow in my misery, except for when you had to. When I made you have to because you couldn't get a hold of me. "But when I see you, I'm reminded of what it is like to be seen. "How it feels to have someone who knows you, cares about you, has memories with you, who wants to make more memories together. "And I tried to undo that- "Twice. By keeping you as far away from me as I could."

"Unfortunately, I've yet to think of a good reason why this admission isn't another of my patently bad ideas. It isn't as though I've been thoughtful in return. "I can't stand doing anything in the morning, even if I can pretend to, for my clients. As you know, I can't afford elaborate trips these days. "My only remaining social contacts are limited to the wedding industry, not performative theatre or owners of fancy cars or the like. "I've never been a good partner, even a good friend, to anyone who has crossed my path."

"My few victories were hollow and I'm still sorry I took that out on you at the start of this."

Nevertheless, he has no desire to run away from the MC now, because he never had a desire to run in the first place. He just needed to understand that it was okay to want, and that he wasn't the worthless person he thought he was so he could stop projecting how he felt about himself onto how people feel about him.

This makes way for Baxter to experience a lot of things that most people would have long since had at that point in their lives: he gets excited simply by having a person hanging out at his house, is incredibly pleased to have someone he can be (dance) with, and he's so amazed that he can have these things in his life that he's actively eager to prove to the MC how much he'll be sticking around, to the point of being ready to visit them at the soonest time possible.

"Hallelujah. Admittedly, a part of me was convinced I wouldn't go through with it. What if you thought I had lost my mind to follow you right after we barely reestablished a connection? "But having this last day together, knowing it was the last, was the final push to pursue what I actually wanted."

His story, essentially, is about a fall from issues of self-centeredness just to pendulum swing into ones of self-worth instead. It's about balancing on a tightrope of bringing short bursts of happiness to others while trying not to let his ego take hold of him again. It's about denying himself what he wants and refusing to hear otherwise before finally recognizing that he deserves to be happy.

That's Baxter Ward.

TL;DR:

Baxter starts as an egotistical child - encouraged by his rich parents and the kids constantly impressed by his showing off - but that changes when he obtains genuine friends and learns the value of real relationships.

Realizing that he'd relied only on what his parents had to make connections with people, Baxter doubts his own worth as a person and is unable to imagine that people would feel differently about him than he feels about himself.

Baxter falls out with his friends due to the age gap and not having time for each other, coming to the conclusion that he'd not done anything for them.

Under the belief that he has no inherent long-term value, Baxter goes on flings and seeks to create fun moments with people rather than anything that would require revealing more of himself than he feels is attractive to others; this has the side effect of making him highly critical of himself over even minor mistakes.

Baxter goes to Sunset Bird meets the MC, who (along with the MC's friends) makes him feel a sense that he might actually be someone important to others, which he then actively tries to convince himself out of due to fear of risks/the unknown.

After leaving the MC on no contact, Baxter continues to miss them, but feels like he would only bother them further if he saw them again even if it were just to apologize.

Baxter ends up seeing the MC again in his Step 4 and is confronted thusly by his unfading feelings. This leads him to try and maintain the distance he'd created in an attempt to protect himself, yet he's unable to keep himself from letting loose every now and then because it goes against what his heart wants to push the MC away.

Though horrified by the idea that what he'd done in the past might have been a mistake and preferring (at the start) to go on without knowing, Baxter ultimately reflects on his actions and acknowledges to himself why he's been doing what he's been doing, and that he doesn't want to let the MC go again without laying everything on the table.

[masoncantthinkofaname]

hey Mason!! First of all, you're my favourite shifter here and in tiktok!! your stories,experiences and ur advices, i absolutely love to read them. i always feel delighted whenever you post here or there. i can read about ur experiences for hours long, i would love it if you continue to share whatever you wish to share with us! thank you for spending ur time & energy in making such posts, they're so helpful and i appreciate each of them. i would love to hear more about ur experiences and ur perspectives, like how does it feel to have been alive for countless years now? i remember u still feel like you're at the start of ur journey, that makes me assured that i won't get bored of being immortal when i become one and I'll always get to learn & experience more with shifting! Do you ever feel like your view in life has become far more matured as compared to other people here since you've been alive for so long? Also does it feel weird to be without technology in ur medieval drs when u r so used to being surrounded by them here? how do u manage & handle such drastic changes? I admire u so much. i would love to hear storytimes about ur drs if u can share them. 💕

Your words made me smile, thank you! I will definitely try my best to continue sharing stories and motivation as long as my health allows it💚do you people here prefer storytimes, or advice? Or a bit of both, of course?

As for your questions. I do not see myself as above anyone here, in this reality I too am still human, and I struggled with shifting for many years as well, I understand everyone deeply. But that being said, having experienced so many lives, including being a deity, I feel like I'm able to approach things a bit calmer and possibly more rational than most. Time is barely of importance to me anymore, weeks, months, years, I've spent so much time outside of this reality, that it's sometimes hard to remember that time is a huge deal for a lot of people here.

I'm not as easily bothered by basically anything, compared to how I used to be. I'm not stuck to this reality in the slightest, and I'm able to feel a lot of compassion for those around me, it's easier to understand certain reactions or behaviours.

About your question regarding technology. I think it's important to remember that I've lived for far longer without it, than I have with it at this point! To be completely honest, it's more the other way around. Recently I came back from a shift, people were talking around me, someone was vacuuming, the laundry machine was on, and I found myself so incredibly overstimulated. I love helping people, and I love talking with friends, but at times, having to answer 10 dms and even more comments makes me want to just shift again and not come back /lh

It's often weird getting used again to the customs of this place. Sometimes the lack of respect people have for each other really baffles me. And I much prefer the other times I (have) live(d) in over everything we have here.

I really appreciate your message, I'll definitely try to post more stories! If anyone has anything in specific they would like to hear about, feel free to ask me💚

[psylocke142]

Night of fireworks

Jihyo x fem!reader

synopsis: Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt as if your heart burst along with each explosion in the sky. Dreading the end of the festival. This is the last summer you will spend with Jihyo before you part ways.

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: none(?); maybe some angst; goodbyes; definitely some angst

a/n: i was surprised with the results of my first fic(?), not sure what to call it. thank you if you read that and left a like or reblog <3.  i was expecting nothing tbh so i was so happy to see it do better than i expected.

i was listening to Night of Fireworks by Xdinary Heroes and was inspired to write this work. i chose jihyo because i've been missing her zone & one spark era lately. DMs and asks are open. i’m still new to writing so any suggestions or comments are appreciated. apologies for any errors.

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

Jihyo looked beautiful today. She always did, but today you felt mesmerized by her. Even with the lack of light outside, as the sun had already set, Jihyo seemed to glow in your eyes.

“Come on y/n, don’t get lost.”

Your hand was grasped by Jihyo’s, pulling you along to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Jihyo looked back towards you. Blinding smile crossing her features, making her glow even more.

Your mushy thoughts and gazing were suddenly interrupted.

“There you guys are, we’ve been looking for you two everywhere.” Nayeon huffed.

“These two have been running my pockets wanting to play every festival game.” She continued. The culprits, Momo and Sana, happily ate away at a huge bucket of cotton candy. Which was also bought with Nayeon’s money. No remorse in their eyes.

Mina just silently greeted you two with a smile and waved as Nayeon clung to her arm in defeat.

“Please tell them that these games are rigged for you to lose money trying to win stupid stuffed toys!” the eldest whined.

It was the end of summer, which meant that the city’s annual summer festival was in place. The six of you had decided to come to this year’s festival. You were all still adjusting to the adult world; the youngest of your group just finishing university, others securing new jobs, and the rest of you were piled with work. This left little room for your friends to hang out like before. There were still a few of you missing tonight.

Jeongyeon and Tzuyu couldn’t make it, the vet center they’re working at had them stay for the night shift. They explained that some of the animals get jumpy with fireworks, so they were quick to oblige. Chaeyoung and Dahyun volunteered to stay behind with them to help, expressing concern over their friends being left out. Really they just wanted to play with the puppies and kittens all night.

Your group of friends sought a night of enjoyment and unwinding. The girls were all glad to be able to have found time to gather and spend together. Jihyo was particularly delighted that majority of your group could make it. Wanting to see your girlfriend even more happy you had a plan. Tonight every wish Jihyo had was your command.

Jihyo wanted funnel cake?

You bought her some.

Jihyo wanted to go on the bumper carts?

You teamed up to annoy Nayeon by cornering her and continuously crashed into her cart.

Jihyo wanted a ‘stupid stuffed toy’?

You played the festival games until you won her a cute stuffed elephant.

Much to Nayeon’s dismay. Momo and Sana gave her puppy eyes and promised to treat her to dinner if she won them something. She relented of course. Surprisingly, or not, Mina won a medium-sized panda on her second attempt of the ring toss.

Despite being able to enjoy the festival and being with your friends, there was a gnawing feeling eating away at you. It would creep up on you throughout the night. Not letting you stray too far from the reality of tonight. A reminder of the ticking timer in your chest.

This summer festival would be the last you get to spend with Jihyo.

Jihyo had gotten a promotion. Said promotion was a significant milestone in her career, as she was still a rookie in her office, only having worked for her company for two years. This was a chance she couldn’t turn down, it would be unwise to do so.

However, there was a major downside to this promising opportunity. It required her to relocate. Jihyo had to move to the company’s prestigious headquarters — in Paris. She would be moving to a beautiful and alluring city while gaining valuable experience for her work, but it also meant she had to leave her current life behind. Her friends, family, and you.

Jihyo didn’t mind the idea of starting fresh in a new country. Her ambitiousness and work ethic would make that a smooth process. What weighed heavily in both her heart and mind, was what it meant for the two of you.

Despite your willingness to move to Paris and follow your girlfriend, she protested. You had just secured a job with your dream company a couple months ago. Following Jihyo meant giving up the job you dedicated your blood, sweat, and tears for. That was something Jihyo couldn’t allow. The memory of you jumping in joy when you landed the job fresh in mind. She couldn’t take that away from you by asking you to leave with her. Hesitantly you obeyed Jihyo, not wanting to further upset her or cause any more turmoil.

Uncertainty filled your hearts. Fear of what the distance, different time zones, and unforeseeable changes would make of your relationship. So you both reluctantly agreed to not let it reach to a point of no return. Not wanting to taint the beautiful relationship you cultivated throughout the years.

To set aside the worries and stress, Jihyo invited the group to the summer festival. Afterall, this would probably be the last time she gets to hang out with everyone for a while.

Jihyo’s main reason for coming to the summer festival was to see the firework show with you. She wanted to spend a memorable night with you before the end.

As you prepared to leave to watch the show, Jihyo said her goodbyes to your friends. Both sides making promises of keeping in touch.

The conversations between Jihyo and the girls made your heart clench, knowing that you were going to have a similar talk later that night. Taking in the fact that you would have a different goodbye than your friends. One more permanent.

Once again Jihyo was leading you, hand in hers, to a vacant park that would have a nice view of the firework show. Once again, you just cherished the sight of her.

As you sat down on the grass, waiting for the firework show to start, you realized that the night was ending. Without thinking you held onto Jihyo’s hand tighter. In response, the shorter girl placed herself between your legs. She wrapped your arms around her as she leaned herself into your front.

The distant crowd began to applaud and cheer as the countdown for the show began.

Colorful lights began to erupt into the night sky. You felt your chest constrict tightly with each explosion that fired into the sky. Dreading the end of the festival.

You looked up into the sky, at the fireworks.

Then you looked at Jihyo.

Her face was tilted upwards looking at the sky. Big round eyes reflecting the colorful lights. Soft black hair cascading down her profile in slight waves. Mouth slightly agape and forming a bright smile. Face expressing momentary awe and joy. You couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of love for the girl in your arms — the girl who held your heart.

Fireworks were nowhere close to shooting stars that you could wish upon. Still, you hoped that they could grant you just one wish. You gazed at the fireworks and you prayed to the explosive colors in the sky. To let you stay here forever, with Jihyo.

As the build up for the grand finale of the firework show began, you felt your heart’s timer begin to run out. The night was over. You held Jihyo tighter. Buried your head onto her shoulder. Trying to ingrain this moment into your brain.

Before the final fireworks went off Jihyo stood up unraveling herself from your warm embrace. Her back towards you.

“y/n…”

“it’s time.”

You hesitated to stand up. Not quite ready for what was to come.

You thought that maybe it was just you who felt devastated to have to say goodbye. Until Jihyo turned around and lifted her head to look at you. There were tears that had already fallen from her eyes and new ones that threatened to fall. She ignored her tears and just smiled at you.

Jihyo grabbed both of your hands to hold in hers. She observed your face intently. Slowly nearing towards you. She closed the small distance between you. Lips meeting in a gentle but desperate need to be together.

Her hands came up to caress your face but stopped when she felt the tears that ran down your cheeks. Tears that you hadn’t realized had fallen. Jihyo pulled back and wiped away your tears.

“This is what’s best, right Jihyo?” you muttered. Suddenly unsure of what you had both agreed upon. Not quite set on letting each other go. Not set on saying goodbye.

“Yes,” Jihyo quietly replied as her hands roamed your shoulders. Her body pushing against your front to be as close as possible. To savor your touch for these last few moments.

“I love you Ji,”

“I always will.” you whispered as you moved a strand of Jihyo’s hair to tuck behind her ear. Your other hand finding her waist to hold.

“So will I, y/n/n. I love you too.”

Jihyo pushed herself even deeper into your hold, enveloping you in a hug. You reciprocated her actions. Filling as many gaps between your bodies as you could.

The remaining fireworks shot upwards into a final explosion. Finally the ticking timer in your heart went off. Heart bursting alongside the lights in the sky.

Without hesitating you brought your lips to your lover’s. You emitted all the love you felt for Jihyo into the kiss. Your last kiss.

As the fireworks began to fade, you both pulled away. Jihyo brought her hands to yours. You stared down at the connected limbs. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You willed yourself not to cry as you looked up. You wanted these last moments with Jihyo to be as clear as crystal.

The girl before you still glowed in the dark night. She looked stunning, angelic even, despite the tears in her eyes. Those round mesmerizing eyes held something scenic, a view filled with sadness and love. Far more captivating than any shooting star or firework show.

Thousands of unspoken thoughts were behind both of your eyes. Thoughts that you were able to comprehend without either of you having to voice them.

Jihyo gently let go of your hand, her fingers softly lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The inevitable end of the festival has come and so has the conclusion of your time.

You felt yourself wanting to reach out, to hold her hand tighter as her fingers began to slip away, a last attempt at grasping this fleeting moment that you wished could last forever. The look in her eyes pleaded for you to not make this any more difficult than it already was. A mixture of sadness and adoration. Your own gaze reflected Jihyo’s. A shared understanding; this parting, though painful, was necessary.

Jihyo was the first to speak.

“Goodbye, baby” she solemnly drawled.

“Goodbye, love” you returned.

Still rooted in the same spot, you watched the love of your life walk away. Tears now freely falling. Heart in ashes.

The night of fireworks is over.

[dragon-ascent]

Another year draws to an end~ what a ride 2024 has been! Lots of stuff happened: I finished postgrad, started a job and I even got engaged just this last week to the sweetest man ever! In some attributes, he even reminds me of Zhongli a bit <3 oh, and he follows this blog and acknowledges Zhongzhong is THE husband ever so hiii V you know who you are bestie ;)

This time last year on my blog, I had about 800+ followers. Now, I have 3.1k and counting, which is just, aaaaaa! It makes me so happy to see that I can dump my brainrot about Zhongli all I want here and people are actually interested in listening ;u;

I'm definitely disappointed that the year of the dragon didn't exactly herald any Zhongli lore, but as Ei says, his story is far from finished. So I'm still excited to see what direction his tale will take! I personally am still huffing the sun god theory copium, but any Zhongli crumbs are a whole buffet to me.

You can expect to see lots and lots of Zhongli food from me in the coming year, so stick around for that! I know I have many inbox messages to get to as well so pls be patient :') oh! And dare I say I have a Zhongli longfic in the pipeline finally? Need to work out the kinks and things, but when I do roll it out I think I'll upload a chapter per week. So if you want a more immersive fic with a fleshed-out world, keep an eye out for it~!

I'm rambling like Zhongli here but lastly, thank you all SO MUCH for all your support!! You guys really DELIGHT me with every lovely message you send, and comments and reblogs too, and lord knows my heart flutters and I literally SOB (/pos) when you say you love the way I portray Zhongli!! (If you've been here long, you'll know I've written about Zhongli doing calligraphy a couple times. So this year's birthday art with it actually happening? I am on CLOUD NINE)

Here's to a beautiful 2025! Love you all soooo much mwah!

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall has arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, gaze always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, marked by the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the mark and its location in such graphic terms it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says in a voice normally revered for executioners, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger and more volatile cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers.

Or to convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the reckless among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the hop in his step and the proud set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the blood from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy enough to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the galaxy. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be cowed by a little gossip.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

He goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered, "You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, expression so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 16: Frightening

We have many examples of Lilia catching people by surprise, including Ace (four times), Azul, Rook, Silver, Vil (three times), Grim (three times), Trey, Deuce, Cater, Sebek (twice), Silver (twice), Crowley, Riddle, and a ghost chef.

Malleus comments that Lilia and his Tsum both tend to pop up out of nowhere without warning.

Lilia may have passed on this habit to Silver, who scares Deuce on accident by coming up behind him without warning, but Lilia seems to do be doing so intentionally:

Lilia comments that his tsum appears to enjoy catching people by surprise, and when Silver comments that Lilia seems “oddly delighted” at having their rules broken during Halloween Lilia responds, “You're just imagining things. I'm certainly not giddy at the prospect of getting to scare people to my heart's content.”

(Silver: “Father seems to be getting a kick out of this.”)

Sebek says that Lilia spent over a decade scaring them, and “his level of expertise and experience isn't just leagues beyond laypeople's—it's in a whole other dimension!”

When a child tells Lilia that he is not scary he offers to prepare something “a little higher-level” and Silver and Sebek intervene, saying, “I think your fullest efforts would be more than most children can handle!”

We hear about what may have been one of these “fullest efforts” from ten years ago:

Sebek, Silver and Malleus all describe a “particularly blood-curdling” halloween that involved Lilia wriggling “like some sort of venomous snake, and his laugh rung hollow...I felt I might be cursed just listening to it.”

Sebek says that children and adults alike shuddered in fear and raced to their homes to wait out the nightmare” and Silver says “I heard that some children who saw him ended up wetting the bed that night,” which is later hinted at having been Sebek himself.

When Cater says that Lilia can get a little scary when he “Lilia starts getting screamy in Pop Music Club practice” Malleus, Sebek and Silver all insists, “The true Lilia is far worse than that!!!”

Silver apologizes for not being scared by the prefect’s attempts to frighten him, saying, “you'll have to do better than that. I've been trained by the best— my father.”