#I'm going to need a long... long mourning period...

[yuansie]

(3) even when there was rain, sunshine came

pairing. caleb x fem! childhood friend! non mc! reader (x childhood bsf! zayne)

synopsis. caleb planted a seed in your heart when you were both young, nurturing it without meaning to until it sprouted and blossomed. it shouldn't have grown this much, not when you knew you could never have him.

genres/aus. angst, fluff, f2l, unrequited love, childhood f2l

warnings. mentions of death, attending (a) funeral(s), lots of crying, reader goes down an emotionally unavailable time period but worry she feels better afterwards, small and and brief mentions of hatred oops, and cursing bc someone now does that double oops! if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

rating. pg-13 whoops.

wc. 5 k

a/n. not proof read as always lol also... mayhaps a double update is coming... maybe... also that last bit may be wonky bc obvi i havent graduated from uni yet so ion know how that looks like WHOOPS ❤️‍🔥

your fifteenth spring teaches you the reality of what it is like to truly mourn for someone. the news came to you in the midst of exams week at the aerospace academy, and it came to you in the form of your dad’s lieutenant colonel—his best friend. when you open the door to your dorm, you knew what it meant when you saw the man stand before you, his cap tucked in between his arm and side, his gaze downcast. your ears rang so loudly that you didn’t hear when he apologized.

and the rest of that week went by in a blur.

you took your exams and promptly prepared for the funeral the farspace fleet would give your dad in skyhaven.

it was an odd feeling.

attending your dad’s funeral in skyhaven was like a nightmare, a surreal experience that you wanted to wake up from. you always thought your dad would die of old age and be buried in bloomshore’s cemetery, long after retiring. yet, here you are: at the farspace fleet, watching as the general gave a speech about the brightest alum of the aesrospace academy and the best colonel he had the pleasure of training when he was a lieutenant. honestly, you don’t even pay attention to the old man. you know your mom isn’t either. you pay attention to the casket, the way the polished surface shines brightly against the unforgiving sun.

it’s an odd thing: attending a funeral when there is nothing in the casket.

because your dad died in the deepspace tunnel, the only casualty of the patrol team he was leading. you heard of his pilots’ recounts of the event, heard of it from his second-in-command. everything was normal, everything was going smoothly. then, the space felt weird. everything felt still for a second.

there was a vibration in the air, a low hum that intensified.

“your father gave the order for the patrol team to turn back.” a pause. “we were turning around when a vortex opened and…”

the deepspace tunnel.

what an unpredictable and unforgiving thing.

you blink, and suddenly there are people you’ve never seen before giving you their condolences.

“i’ll be organizing a small funeral for your dad,” your mom mumbles to you in between the shower of apologies you receive and the pitying gazes.

you glance at her. “do you need help?”

she shakes her head. “it’ll be small… just family.”

you suck a breath in and your finger twitches in your lap. “can zayne—”

“his family will be there,” she grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “they’re family, too. do you want caleb there?”

caleb.

there is a tinge of anger that tugs at the strings of your heart, searing ardently within you.

even now, when you think you can move on from the idea of him—the thought of him—he still manages to slither back in some way.

you shake your head. “no. i just want zayne there.”

what’s it to caleb, anyways?

he stopped caring in eighth grade, so he won't care now.

and you don't have time to mourn over a living person who broke your heart.

your mom was quick to organize your dad’s funeral. a week later, while you’re on spring break, you find yourself at the kitchen table with your mom.

“what do you want in the casket?”

you tilt your head at her question. “excuse me?”

she continues filling out some paperwork. “what do you want to put in his casket for tomorrow? i’m putting in his awful collection of vinyls.” she chuckles, but you see the slight tremble in her fingers.

your dad often joked that he’d like to be buried with his vinyls so no one else could have them—he mostly said that because his best friend always eyed them when they were students in the academy.

what do you want to bury?

you think of his cap, the one that sits in your dorm right by the picture of zayne you have on your desk.

“nothing.” you finally say. “i… don’t want to put anything in the casket.”

you want to keep your dad by your side, you don't want to forget him.

“okay.”

and this time around, the funeral feels real.

your throat feels tight, your heart beats faster than usual. the sky weeps along with your heart, you feel like the world is spinning too quickly and that you’re about to sink down.

everything feels like a mess.

your mom stands to your right, her eyes fixed on the casket that’s being lowered into the ground. she moves forward, standing in front of the pit. she says something you cannot hear, kisses the white flower in her hand and lets it fall inside.

a squeeze breaks you out from your daze, warmth seeping into you. from the corner of your eye, zayne nods at you. with a gulp, you take a step forwards, then another until you're in front of the pit. you stare down at the casket.

this is too real.

standing in front of his casket makes it too real.

the man who called you his little star, the man who wasn't always around but tried to be, the man who never read you the classic bedtime stories and instead told you about the different jets in the fleet, the man who made you fall in love with the sky, the man who loved you more than anyone ever will and proudly told you that as if it were an undeniable fact—he is dead.

your dad is actually gone.

dead.

and your knees give out. you’re unsure whether you’ve been crying from the start but you are now: the tears rapidly fall down your cheeks, burning in excruciating pain. you don't care about the mud that gets on your clothes, all you can focus on is that emptiness and pain you feel, the wide hole that sinks into your chest.

a warm hand touches your shoulder, gentle as if to not break you further. arms circle around you, carefully bringing your head into a familiar crook. zayne exhales softly, a hand running up and down the length of your back. the umbrella he held up now lays forgotten on the ground.

“it hurts,” you croak, grabbing a fist full of his coat. “it hurts so much, zayne… make it stop.”

he continues to hold you. “it will hurt for a long time,” he says. “because healing takes a long time. you’ll learn to live with this one day… maybe not now, but one day.”

you can only gasp in response, clinging onto zayne as your sobs begin to take over, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “he’s dead,” you shut your eyes and press yourself closer to zayne, “he’s gone.”

you feel him shake his head. “he isn’t. he lives right,” zayne leans back, the hand that once held your head now pointing at your heart, “in here. he’s always going to be there with you.”

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and the faces you see everyday you can never put a name to. you talk to your mom every day, and you delude yourself into thinking that clipped responses are better than none at all.

it’s the most you can do, after all.

you talk to zayne less despite having lived in the same city for four years now. you pull away from him slowly, taking small steps away until the gap between you has grown into what it is now: a canyon. the distance was already there when he left, so it shouldn't matter if it's grown more now that you’ve done the same.

and the small girl you left behind? the one who made the sun rise? you haven’t spoken to her once since your dad’s funeral in bloomshore. you didn't even tell her of his passing—you just stopped talking all together, and in between your fresh sorrow and her constant messages, she stopped trying to get a hold of you, as if coming to the slow realization that you're… done.

honestly, you don't blame her for stopping. you were a bitch, the remnants of a heartache mixed with your grief drove you to give her the cold shoulder.

you’ve pushed them all away and locked yourself in the prison that is your fear: the fear of getting too close and experiencing that pain once again.

because you don't think you can allow yourself to mourn for the dead ever again.

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and somehow you’re a week away from graduating. you’re surprised the academy even let you get this far—after all, your score on that exam was just fine.

the heat of summer is unforgiving: it beats down on your back as you climb down the jet, the sweltering heat making you take quick strides across the practice field, unfastening your helmet with a flicker of your hand. you’re practically booking it towards the locker room.

“how are you feeling, miss valedictorian?” a classmate runs up to your side, matching your quick pace. “you got your speech ready?”

you don’t spare a glance and continue walking. “i have everything ready.”

they whistle. “wow,” they awe, “that’s our legendary miss valedictorian for you.”

the title makes you roll your eyes. “i thought i told all of you to quit it with that.”

they shrug, still following you as you enter the locker room. “everyone knows it’s true. even the academy praises you.”

the prodigy of the aerospace academy, y/n l/n.

just like your dad.

you tune out the voice of your classmate, getting rid of your flight suit and equipment, and storing it neatly inside of your locker. you adjust your clothes just as fast before you're out the door, already heading towards the gates. there’s a man that stands not too far from you, his back towards you. there’s also a girl talking to one of the guards nearest to you, though you can't see her as the guard covers her from your line of sight.

you aren't even a step outside when a hand latches around your wrist, and you freeze because you know who it is.

how could you not? his warmth is so familiar to you, even after all this time.

what surprises you the most is the fact that he's here. why is he here? he lives so far away from the academy. how is he here?

he says your name quietly. “we… should talk.”

your heart lurches, but still you don’t pull away. “i thought you were busy with med school...”

you can practically hear the way zayne raises a brow at your words.

“how would you know?” he asks, his tone void of any real malice—just pure curiosity. “we haven't talked since august.”

“i… go through your moments… sometimes…” you mumble in embarrassment, “you were studying not too long ago, right?”

his hold on your wrist loosens and tightens at the same time, his touch hesitant. he wants to hold on tighter, but is unable to. zayne holds your wrist gently, thinking as if you are to crumble if he were to hold on any tighter. he breathes slowly, “can we talk?” he quickly adds on, “privately?”

you nod and grab his hand, leading him to your apartment.

and as you walk away, you don't hear the call of a familiar name.

“pips!”

you awkwardly sit next to zayne in your living room, knees touching. your leg bounces, and you refuse to look at the older male.

zayne wordlessly places a hand down on your knee, stopping it from moving. “…there’s no need to be nervous.”

“there kind of is,” you grumble. “i didn’t think you’d ever visit me over…”

the distance, you want to say, but the words lodge themselves in your throat. you tap your finger against your leg now.

he hums. “well, i wouldn’t be here in the first place had you not started to pull away.” zayne breathes in slowly, carefully grabbing your hand in his. “i don’t blame you for anything. i just… want you to know that i’m always here. it doesn’t matter if you start pulling away because i’ll just follow you. i just want you to know that.”

you grip his hand at his words. “i’m a terrible friend,” you mumble. “how can you not blame me for this? how can you even say that?”

“because you’re still mourning,” he replies. “i know you—that means i also know how much your dad means to you.”

means—present.

not meant—past tense.

because you still miss your dad. you miss the summer days in verona where he’d carry you on his shoulders. you miss when he would talk to you about the new jets on his fleet. you mourn not only him, but the future you never got to live with him. he was supposed to watch you graduate, watch you work your way up in the ranks of the fleet—his fleet, he was supposed to be there when you ask him for love advice, he was supposed to help you move into your apartment after freshman year at the dorms and haul everything inside because he would never let his little star move a muscle.

“but i should be over his…” death. you still hate saying that stupid word. “but instead, i’ve let it consume me. you don’t blame me for that? for letting my fears influence me?”

you know that zayne knows: you pulled away because you’re afraid of losing him like you did with your dad. you’ve thought about it, about a world without him, when your mind can’t rest during the late hours of the night. each time you would end up silently weeping. there are no words to describe a world without him in it.

“of course not.” he knows. “i understand.” he always does. “i can’t make promises that i don't know if i’ll be able to keep because the future is unpredictable, but i can promise to take care of myself for you to ease your worries.”

and just like that, the knots in your chest untangle themselves. your shoulders no longer feel heavy, and you can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“you…” you tilt your head to look him. “you’re too good to me, zayne li.”

“i’m supposed to be good to you,” he lets out an amused chuckle. you take in how he looks now, how he looks older and more mature, how his hazel eyes have more brown in them than green hues right now, how his lips are curved upwards just the slightest bit. “i’m your best friend, you know?”

the book you had been reading for the month lays discarded on your chest, your back on your bed as you cover your mouth, shoulders shaking. zayne stares at you with a deadpan on his features. “you still haven’t made any friends?”

he gives you a pointed look from his sitting position against the bedframe. “have you made any friends?”

you stick your tongue out at him. “touché.”

zayne blinks once before leaning forwards to pinch your cheek, stretching the skin out. you furrow your brows and flick his wrist. “what are you doing?”

the corner of his lip lifts. “pinching your cheek.”

“no shit,” you scoff, huffing through your nose in amusement when his hazel eyes widen at your words. “what? don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming?”

he clears his throat and lets go of your cheek. “i certainly didn’t expect such a colorful word to be a part of your… everyday vocabulary.”

you shrug and roll off the bed. “the officers have a nasty influence on first years,” you scrunch your nose, “even worse when flight training starts. they just bitch about everything.” you sigh, “obviously, i don’t speak like this to the officers… or anyone.”

“then why say it around me?”

“because i don’t have anything to hide from you,” you reply, “i tell you everything. i’m always going to be the most relaxed around you—that won’t ever change.”

zayne smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “you don’t tell me everything.”

you purse your lips. “yes, i do. i—”

“you never told me you liked caleb,” the smile still doesn’t leave his lips, and you tense at the statement. “but i knew that you did.”

you blink a couple of times.

the stupid kiss.

you never told him about what caleb did on the night of his fourteenth birthday. you didn’t tell him of the pain.

and you won’t tell anyone; no living soul will ever know.

looking away from him, your gaze falls on the snow globe on your nightstand. “and you never told me you liked her, but i knew you did.”

“i don't.”

your eyes go back to him, watching as he takes his glasses off. “i don’t like her… maybe i never did.” the last bit was quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear. before you can question him, he looks up and eyes your neck. a finger comes up to point at his own. “you don’t wear it anymore.” you know what he’s referring to.

you think to the box that sits underneath your bed in your mom’s house: the box that holds everything related to him—the pictures, the necklace, the notes and the doodles and the paper airplanes… everything. “i threw it away as soon as i left for skyhaven.”

the male hums. “is that so?”

you nod. “yeah,” you breathe out.

there was no point in bringing a piece of caleb with you when all you wanted was to forget him.

“it’s getting late,” zayne mumbles. “you have a spare room, right?”

“about that…”

zayne stares at the empty room you show him down the hallway from your room. he turns his head towards you. “why… is it empty?”

“i’m the one doing the visiting,” you say, “not the other way around. i found no need to set up the spare room…”

“i see…”

you smile at him, “we can sleep in the same bed.”

he furrows his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. “what?”

“c’mon!” you nudge his shoulder. “it’ll be like old times!”

zayne sighs and pinches his nose. “you are a woman, and i am a man.”

“…and?” you raise an eyebrow at him. “are you saying you’re going to eat me up or something? should i be worried?”

“of course not,” he says quickly. there’s a slight frown on him that confuses you. “but… am i not a man to you?”

“of course you are,” you answer, leaning forwards. you reach out and grab onto his cheek, pinching it. “but i trust you enough to not do anything.”

“…i see.”

there were no classes for the rest of the week for the graduating class, meaning you no longer had to wake up in the crack ass of dawn to get ready. unfortunately, habits are hard to die, so despite having turned off your alarm, your mind wakes you up when the sky is a faded, dark blue. immediately, your mood sours as you stare up at the ceiling.

you lay in your bed for a fee seconds longer when you’re suddenly aware that your right side is empty and cold. with a yawn, your cold feet hit the ground as you stand up and quietly search for your missing friend.

zayne lifts his brows when you walk into the living room, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “did i wake you?”

you shake your head, padding over to where he sits on the couch. the cushion sinks when you sit down, your head immediately falling on his shoulder. “i’m used to waking up at this hour…” you squint at his hands. “are you studying?”

he nods, ready to say something but the word die at the tip of his tongue. zayne watches curiously at your outstretched hand that open and close repeatedly.

“give me your notebook.”

he does so without any complaint. you scan the contents quickly, gaze flitting up to him afterwards. “i’ll help you study.”

zayne chuckles softly, and shakes his head. “i appreciate that, but you should sleep some more.”

“i’m already up,” you say through squinted eyes. “besides, it’ll be like old times.”

“ah yes,” he hums, nodding once, “back when you were in middle school and i helped you study.”

except you never actually studied. zayne would read the questions out loud once, you would answer perfectly, and then you would decide enough was enough before spending the rest of your time reading with him.

friday morning comes in the form of a quiet and empty room.

when you wake up, your left side is empty once again. in the span of the week, you’ve come to learn that zayne has the habit of waking up earlier than you do. sometimes he’s up an hour before you, other times it’s half an hour.

you breathe in and exhale slowly, blink once at the roof and then stand up. the drowsiness leaves your body as you begin to get ready: you brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face before wiping it away, you put your uniform on, you comb through the knots in your hair, and you place your cap on your head. your eyes move towards your desk, eyeing the black cap that sits on it.

you’ll be able to wear it soon.

you slip your socks on, and move into the living room. zayne sits at the table, his laptop open in front of him as he highlights something on his notebook. he looks up, his hazel gaze locking with yours. he gestures at the steaming cup of coffee in front of the chair next to him, and you head towards it.

“i thought your graduation was at nine,” he says, eyes going back to his laptop. “why are you already ready?”

“force of habit,” you shrug, grabbing the cub. the warmth seeps into your fingertips, and you raise it to your lips, pausing, “and my class has to practice once before the ceremony. we’re supposed to be there an hour from now... head for breakfast afterwards,” you snort and shake your head, eyes narrowing in mirth, “someone called it brunch in the group chat. another person called them a dumbass.”

zayne’s lips quirk upwards as you finally take a sip from your cup. he watches you with a quiet intensity, one that somehow warms up the tips of your ears, yet you tell yourself to not dwell on it because he’s just zayne, the boy you grew up with.

“you sound happy.”

you bring the cup down to rest on the table. “i am,” you breathe out.

the rest of your time before heading to the academy is spent by quizzing zayne. he answers everything perfectly, and you promptly congratulate him every time, to which he huffs a laugh through his nose. when it’s time for you to leave, he offers to give you a ride and you accept.

his car is, as always, clean. it looks like it just had the day he bought—you were with him as he walked around the dealership, scrutinizing every car and analyzing every thing he learned about them until he found one he liked. it took almost two hours, and you were tired as hell, but it was worth it. he drove you to a small cafe afterwards, his treat. and though you were still mourning for your dad, despite it having been a year later, that day you felt the first semblance of normality.

the car comes to a stop, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“i’ll see you later,” says zayne.

you give him a smile. “yeah, see you later.” when you open the door, he grabs onto your wrist. you look back.

“you’ll be free afterwards, right?”

“well, i know that there’ll be a party to celebrate… but that’s in the evening, like at nine.”

he nods. “good.”

zayne doesn't say anything afterwards and only bids you goodbye, promising to see you in a few hours. with a small wave, you watch as he drives off, leaving you alone at the gates. you breathe in slowly and exhale.

you take a step back, twist around and begin to walk to the gates when you suddenly stumble forwards, your cap falling off your head and landing on the ground with a thud.

“shoot! i’m so sorry about that!” a voice rings out from behind you.

with a sigh, you lean down to pick up your cap, dusting it off. you glance behind you: there's two, tall guys. one has short hair, and he has his friend in a headlock. the one in a headlock has brown hair, bangs covering his face from your judging eyes. you turn to face them.

“my friend here sure is clumsy,” the guy laughs, tightening his hold on the hunched over friend. the friend grunts in response, trying to pry off the arm around his shoulder. “oh shit,” the guy gasps, seemingly having realized something. “you’re a graduating senior?”

“that’s right,” you say.

the guy beams, his free arm stretching out towards you. “congrats, senior!”

his enthusiasm brings a small smile to your lips, and you give him a firm handshake. “thank you.”

“caleb,” the boy snaps his head towards his friend in the chokehold. “i can’t believe your clumsy ass bumped into our senior!”

the name makes your smile curl downwards.

“ah, senior! don’t tell me we upset you!” the other boy panics.

you shake your head, eyes closed. “no,” you grimace, “but i do have to get going.” you put the cap back on your head, and with a small wave, you walk away.

“caleb, why the hell are you staring? show some respect!”

caleb.

what a way to sour your mood.

the practice was chaotic, to say the least. after you dropped a bomb on them with the salutatorian, everyone began to shout questions directed at the two of you. you got so fed up you yelled at them to shut up or else you wouldn’t go to breakfast with them afterwards.

which leads you to now.

you sit at a table with your classmates, all of them staring at you.

“…so, i didn’t want to give the speech,” you shrug and poke at the food in your plate. “big deal.”

“but why?” someone asks, followed by a quick no offense to the salutatorian.

“they have more memories with the whole class,” you answer. “it didn’t feel right for me to be up on stage and give a big speech on memories and stuff. made more sense for someone who actually spent time with the class to do it.”

when you look up from your plate, you see that everyone’s mouth are wide open.

“…what?” you grimace. “did i say something wrong?”

“you’re surprisingly cool.” someone says.

their comment makes you snort. “very cool of me to do that, huh.”

someone ends up pointing at you. “you just laughed.”

chaos erupts once again.

“holy shit, she just laughed for once!”

“knock it off before i regret being here,” you give everyone a pointed look.

they all still, mumbling apologies. in the next second, everyone starts talking and taking turns to ask you questions.

surprisingly, you don’t mind the attention. you don't mind talking to your classmates like this; in fact, now there’s a tinge of sadness that settles into your chest.

you should have talked to them more.

you swear you see the person siting next to you start crying during the salutatorian's speech.

as you stand at your assigned spot, hands holding your diploma behind your back, you see the same person start to cry harder once they’re tapped out by their family, their rigid posture crumbling.

your eyes rake over what you can see: there’s people waiting to be tapped out, some are crying, some are laughing and happy. and then you see him.

zayne naturally stands out: tall and lean, a head above the shorter crowd. the sight is comical, making you puff out your cheeks in an attempt to not laugh. he stops a few steps away, takes his phone and snaps a picture of you, all the while having an arm behind his back.

“you blinked,” he hums once he stands in front of you.

you narrow your eyes slightly at him.

with a chuckle, zayne taps your shoulder, his touch warm despite the layers of your uniform that separates your skin from his. your posture relaxes, the rigidness melting away as your lips curl upwards. he brings a small bouquet of flowers, not flashy like the ones some of your classmates are receiving. a few hyacinths and irises, their blues like the color of the sky you love, held together by a white bow tied around the stems.

“congratulations, y/n.”

you take the bouquet from him, and look at him, the small smile you had now a grin. zayne’s eyes look like a light green underneath the harsh glow of the sun, much like the green hues of the gemstone aventurine, with small specks of amber in them.

he takes a step forwards, arms slowly wrapping themselves around your form. your cap almost falls off as your throw your arm around his shoulder, the bouquet clutched tightly as your free hand flies to keep your cap against your head. laughter bubbles from your chest and falls from your lips, loud and cheerful for the first time in a while.

“thank you.”

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[anjelicawrites]

Another blurb that ran away from me and developed on its own. John Price x reader. SFW but 18 + only please!

If this was an 80's movie, this would be the moment when the record scratches into a halt, and you'd say something like "Yeah, that's me! And if you're wondering how I got here...", meaning hovering near your front door where Captain John Price is shirtless, eating a bowl of muesli with the most believable case of bed hair, as your ex is trying to win a stare contest against him, well, it's all your ex's fault, to be honest.

The asshole, meaning your ex, had decided to ditch you, after a five years relationship, when you two were talking about getting married, for a colleague, who had fucked him for a while and then moved on to someone else. The asshole, your ex, had then tried to start things back with you, right when you were out of the mourning period and did not want to try again: he's lost his chance and you're nobody's bloody rebound, right? No, it seemed, since he kept sending you gifts and flowers you promptly threw in the trash, kept calling you multiple times every day, even managing to get a hold of your new phone number, changing his whenever you tried to block him. He had even started to pop by your house, every Saturday morning, to rope you into these long conversation, which ended with him either telling you to rethink your decision, or that he will wear you down until you'll forfeit your silly ideas.

Suffice to say that your nerves were frayed, you had been stress baking for the better part of two months, bringing the excess of it you couldn't share with your neighbors to the base, counting on the personnel there to demolish the daily equivalent of the production of a small bakery.

You didn't think anyone would notice how anxious and tired you have been, how easily a noise would startle you or that you were constantly near tears because of every small mistake you did at work; for the most part you were right, no one took notice, no one but Captain Price.

Being the person who is at the end of the chain of organization and storage of all the reports written in the base, means him and his men interact with you constantly, mostly because they're late with their paperwork and you're tired of waiting. You're the one who keeps order in the chaos with a level of patience and over fixation Price has only seen in people ready for martyrdom, or serial killers. He likes you, genuinely, for the glimpses of personality that you let out at work, hell! Even when you have to pop by his office to remind him of the reports you're still missing, you're never an asshole, just someone who knows he's overworked, who understands it, but who is in no better waters than he is, so please, can he help you out at the best of his abilities? Absolutely, ma'am, and not only when paperwork is almost swallowing the two of you, you just need to give him a chance!

You never meant to share your issues with him, the guy is a colleague and you aren't even military bloody hell! But that fateful Friday afternoon you were truly at the end of your rope, desperate for a solution that seemed to elude you (despite everything you didn't want to go the police) and he was there, up on the roof where everyone goes to have smoke in peace, his eyes so soft and understanding that you had opened the floodgates, told him everything because you needed a sympathetic ear (you didn't cry, even though you almost did when he had put his big hand on your shoulder to comfort you).

He had listened, intently, unlit cigar forgot in the pocket of his military issued shirt. He had mulled over everything while you were busy blowing your nose and his lips had curved in a smile that spelled trouble.

"It's a bit cheeky." You had responded to his plan. "And I can't ask you to do that."

He had finally lit his cigar and stared at you with eyes so full of mischief you had felt warmth flood your whole body.

"You're not asking, love, I'm offering."

You had rummaged into your purse to find your own cigarettes, and to take a breather from his blue eyes boring into yours.

"Do you really think it would work?" "Muppets like him hold more respect for another man's words than they do to anything else."

And they probably don't want to mess with someone who is in the military, you think.

"What if he doesn't pop by tomorrow?" "Has he, ever?" "Nope."

Anxiety sank her claws into you again: not another Saturday morning lost listening to your ex's whines and bitching!

"Let's do this!" You quipped, before you could change your mind.

Price arrives at the brink of dawn, strangely chipper for someone who must have had just a handful of hours of sleep. He makes sure to park his car where it can be easily spotted and to give you one old T-shirt of his for "realism" (the theater kid in him is having a field day, the early Internet days troll is elated: he doesn't get to be this petty at work as much as he likes).

You are still half asleep, this must be why you keep stealing glances at him as your brain keeps telling you how handsome he is in civilian clothes, and without a hat, how big his shoulders are now that he's sitting on the tiny chairs in your kitchen, drinking tea from one of your cat themed mugs.

"You hair needs to be a bit more tousled." You say, when you hear your ex's unmistakable ring at the door.

Without thinking you push your hands in his short strands and just scruff everything up, until he looks like he's fresh out of bed.

"It's showtime." He winks at you.

You try not to stop breathing when he removes his hoodie and shirt: Jesus Christ the man is packed and clothes don't make him justice! You have to force yourself from staring at the dark hairs on his chest, and the dog tags glinting in the morning sun.

Leisurely he grabs the bowl he's filled with yogurt and muesli, his naked feet slap on the tiled floor; you can't see his face, he's already sporting the most bored, uninterested expression he can muster.

From the kitchen you can hear your ex's indignant "Who are you?", followed by Price's "Who are you, mate.": how does he know that your ex hates when he's getting a question for an answer?

"You're in my partner's house!"

You can picture the way his cheeks must be turning red with anger, what you can't imagine is the long, bored, stare that Prices gives him, scanning him head to toe, only to get back to his breakfast, because the other man is not a threat.

"So, you're the loser who's sniffing around what's mine when I'm away, defending this Country."

You cringe: it's a bit too macho and chauvinistic for your tastes, but there's a message that needs to be send.

"What's yours? What's yours?" Your ex screams. "We've been together for five years!"

There's a bit of silence, broken only by Price's munching on the muesli.

"You forgot about that when you decided to go fuck that other bird, didn't you?

This is your moment. On a whim you remove your jogger pants before you join John, who is still leaning against the door frame: you're going off scrip a little, but it shouldn't be an issue.

"John? What's the racket?"

Your hair is already a mess, thanks to the ungodly hour your alarm clock had awoken you, add your naked legs and the sleepy way you're rubbing your eyes, you look like someone who has been fucked into the bed and is still trying to collect their bearings.

"Nothing, love, go back to sleep."

Your ex is fuming when he sees you slide under John's arm, who hugs you closer to his big body and kisses the top of your head.

"What's this?" Your ex screams in your face. "This is John, the man who has been making me happy ever since you left me."

Your ex is gasping, you're enjoying the way he's not finding his words.

"You didn't tell me!" "I didn't have to, it's none of your business who is fucking me so good I don't have to fake an orgasm or two to inflate his pride. You should have listened to me when I told you I'm not interested anymore."

Around your shoulder John's arm tenses when you ex lifts his hand, as if he wants to slap you.

"You're nothing but a cheap whore." "Who will not fuck you for all the money in the world." You hiss.

Calmly, John pushes you behind him and stands in his full height in front of your ex.

"Listen, muppet, I'm letting you go easy this time because I don't want to cause a scene. You call my partner a whore, you keep harassing them, and you'll have to eat through a tube for months."

The sheer malice, the threat that's lacing John's words sends a shiver down your spine: he's not playing around for the sake of this whole scene, he will hurt your ex if he keeps popping back in your life. You know you shouldn't like this, but you're so done with him stalking you that a part of you is preening.

John stands tall in front of you, arms crossed despite the bowl; you can't see the way his whole face turns dark when a joyless smile graces his lips, you notice the slight hip trust he does, as if he's challenging your ex to come at him. He doesn't pull away from the doorway until your ex slams the door of his car and races away as if the Devil is on his tail.

When he turns around all that malice is gone, back is the man who had consoled you on the rooftop, who is ten times more handsome when he looks like he's just rolled out of bed.

"This was funnier than I thought it would be!" You say.

You don't know when your laughing turns into hysterical sobs, all you can feel is John's warmth when he hugs you tight, his hands caressing your back with soothing, gentle motions, the rumble of his voice as he repeats sweet nothings until you stop, still enveloped in his safe embrace.

You know you shouldn't, because this man has helped you in this strange way, but you don't want this hug to end, or to him to go back to his home. You want to stay locked in his arms for the whole weekend and it's not because you have been ready to move on from your past relationship.

"I ought to feed you a proper breakfast, it's the least I could do!"

He doesn't stop hugging you, yet it doesn't feel awkward, as it should, you two are two strangers, basically!

"You don't have to, love, it was my pleasure."

Price would have been lying if he were to say that he hadn't noticed you, back when you started at the base: this cute thing with a spine of steel who had slapped ridiculous stickers on the work laptop and who had, somehow, trained his scary lieutenant into finishing his paperwork in time, if not with a smile under his mask, at least with some energy. He had never made a move because he knew you were taken, he didn't want to be a willing wedge in your, seemingly, happy relationship. Knowing what a muppet your ex is, he would have followed his instinct and courted you away from that imbecile. Now that you're still in his arms he wonders if you'd let him take you out on a nice date to show you what a real man looks, and acts, like.

"No, no, please! Let me!"

You're still pantless when you start dishing out containers of baked food: biscuits, half of a Sachertorte and too many muffins that he cares to count.

"I'd spare you Lieutenant Riley's cookies, they're basically sugar and I need them for his next batch of reports."

John leans against the kitchen door frame, arms crossed against his naked chest.

"Don't tell me that's how you trained Simon into finishing his paperwork in time."

You turn around, a whole plate of waffles and pancakes in your hands.

"Sorry?" You don't look at him. "I didn't mean to."

You look so earnest and embarrassed that John can't help but laugh: no one will ever be able to waterboard this information out of him.

"Let me treat you to a nice breakfast out. It's the least I can do after you have been feeding me and my men for years."

Only now you seem to clock on the fact that you two are way too undressed than what is proper.

"John, you already did so much!" "Don't let my tone fool you. It's only a tactic to discover how you managed to bend Simon's stiff neck."

You both know he's lying or that this is not his real endgame, the only question here is: do you want to play along and see where all of this will lead you?

You set the plate on the overcrowded table and take a big breathe: why shouldn't you? You'd beat yourself up for the rest of your life if you'd let a nice specimen as captain John Price slip from your fingers!

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Stay With Me, Stop Stammering 

Joel Miller×Reader

Summary: Joel's hockey team is choking and you're sick of hearing him complain about it.

Pairing: Joel Miller × Reader

Warnings: No-no words, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, face fucking.

Word Count: 1.1k

Notes: Barely proofread we die like men. I challenged myself to write as many blowjob fics as I could in 24 hours and this is #1. I had fun so I'll probably do it again. Sorry about the gif but it's hilarious and weirdly relevant. The team, while not explicitly mentioned, knows who they are and better pull it the fuck together next season.

Playoff hockey season begins as the best of times, and inevitably becomes the worst of times for Joel Miller.  Seemingly every season, his team shows up, shows out, and then chokes right before the final round. 

This season is no different, except now Joel has recruited you onto the bandwagon; so here you sit, dressed in victory green on Joel's couch, watching as he mourns. 

It's game five of the conference finals, and Joel's team is, as is tradition, fumbling. The poor man is not coping well, moaning and groaning with his head in his hands, occasionally yelling at the TV when the goalie lets yet another one in.

And sure, you've grown to like hockey. You like watching grown men hit each other, you had fun cheering when Joel took you to a game last season, but you don't care nearly as much as Joel does. Sure, you feel bad that he feels bad, but it's not that serious.

What is that serious, unfortunately, is how bored you get between periods. The action stalls, old retired players you don't know or care about commentate using jargon you haven't bothered to learn (no matter how many times Joel has explained offsides and icing to you). And Joel… between periods, Joel is insufferable. He checks the box score like he hadn't just seen the game in real time, cross referencing it with his fantasy league, lamenting points he would've gotten if "they would just fucking do something."

You can see the writing on the wall at the end of the second period. The opposing team is up 4-2 and Joel's team is playing like shit. His head is in his hands, elbows rested on his knees. He groans in annoyance before locking eyes with you across the couch. You can tell he's about to open his mouth to complain and throw a hand up between you two, palm flat in Joel's direction.

"Nuh-uh!" You cut him off before he can begin. "I'm watching the same game you are, I know the team sucks. They're shittn' the bed, no defense, you hate the goalie, am I missing anything?" You rattle off all of Joel's usual complaints, smirking when his face scrunches up in annoyance. You reach across the space between you two on the couch and pat Joel's cheek gently.

And Joel tries, to his credit. He tries to keep quiet, to not complain, but a text from Tommy, who in true little brother fashion roots for whatever team is playing against Joel's, sends the man into a tailspin. He turns his phone screen to face you, scoffing at Tommy's admittedly funny message, starting to rant.

This time you let him go for a minute or so, long enough for you to toss a throw pillow at his feet, tie your hair up, and kneel in front of him, hands resting on his knees.

"And look, I know he's your favorite player, but if Se-" Joel's brain goes mercifully blank when you drag your hands softly up his thighs, venturing under the legs of his shorts. "When did you get down there?"

You laugh, bringing your hands back down to his knees before leaning forward and biting gently at his inner thigh. "Need to shut you up, Joel," you mumble, nosing at his hardening length. "They're not gonna win no matter how much you yell."

Joel groans softly, head lolling against the back of the couch. "You don't know that. They could still pull out a win."

You roll your eyes, fingers dipping into the waistband of Joel's shorts, telling him to lift up so you can drag the fabric down his thighs. His cock springs free, slapping almost comically against his belly before you close your hand around him, stroking lazily.

"Next period is in like, five minutes," he warns, hips bucking gently. 

"Don't worry, I'll be done in time for you to watch them lose," you chuckle, darting your tongue out and swirling it around the head of Joel's cock, smiling when you hear him hiss above you.

"Evil," he moans when you take him in your mouth, your laugh vibrating around him as you sink down fully onto his length. One of his hands cups your cheek gently; in stark contrast, Joel winds your ponytail around his other hand, tugging your head up until only his tip remains between your lips. You swirl your tongue around him, moaning quietly at the taste of precum that steadily dribbles into your mouth.

You know what's coming, what he wants, but you also know he's going to wait until you're ready. He loosens his grip on your hair slightly, letting you bob on his length, take him to the root, kitten lick across his tip. When you tap his thigh twice, his hand tightens in your hair and he pushes your head down until your nose meets the thatch of graying hair at the base of his cock, unceremoniously pulling you back up only to push himself down your throat again.

The commentators drone on dully behind you as Joel fucks your face, his eyes never leaving the TV as he strains to hear the talking heads over the wet sounds of his cock in your mouth. He's not normally this quiet, usually he's a big talker, but this is his team, this is his game, he isn't about to miss anything important.

With less than five minutes before the third period begins, commercials run, breaking Joel from his hockey trance. He finally looks down at you, lips swollen, hands gripping the couch cushion on either side of Joel's knees. You lock eyes and he smiles softly. "Always know how to make me feel good, baby," he muses, holding your head so just a few inches of his cock stay buried in your mouth. He pushes his hips off the couch, fucking up into your wet heat. "Gonna come so hard down your throat, gonna feel so good I won't even care when my team loses," Joel groans, earning an eyeroll from you.

The commentators return, talking over footage of Joel's team scoring a goal during the first period. "Fuck, baby," Joel whispers, eyes glued to the TV screen as they replay the goal, each time in slower motion. His hips stutter. "Gonna come, baby, holy-" 

Joel spills down your throat with a loud groan as he watches your favorite player slo-mo chip the puck into the goal, holding your head as you swallow around him. When both teams skate back onto the ice, Joel lifts you off of him, taking your ponytail out and putting the elastic on his wrist. You help Joel pull his shorts back up and he keeps his legs wide so you can move to sit between them, leaning your back against the couch and settling in for the third period.

Joel massages your scalp as you doze through the end of the game, leaning your cheek against his knee, placing a gentle kiss there as his team blows their shot at the finals once again.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 18 - Morning Tide

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.5k words. More fluff and filler with a little bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in. Good soup.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, period- omega is on her period. (What you think just because the omega’s all sad she’s not going to be regular? I wish), alcohol, mentions of blood, nightmares, mourning.

AN: I have 2 more chapters in this arc, I will post them this month then taking a break until after the new year. I will also be doing a little re-write of this chapter and chap 17, you shouldn't notice anything too different but if you come back and it seems 'different' that's why.

Previous - masterlist - next Bonus AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake in pain. Your body throbs. It is an all too familiar pain, a dull throbbing that travels through your body with each pulse of your heart. You turn over in bed. The sun is up. You've been in bed for longer than normal. You move your body to get up when a stabbing pain hits you so hard you yelp, your hands flying to press on your abdomen. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You throw the covers back forcing yourself out of the bed. You let out an annoyed sigh when you see the red stain on the bedding. You knew this was going to happen eventually, even if you were kind of wishing it wouldn’t. 

Everything aches. Even your head feels stuffy. You just want to crawl back into bed but you have stuff to do. You go over to your bag, the one you still haven’t properly unpacked. You pull almost everything out looking for the bag of toiletries you know is in there somewhere. 

You take it out to the bathroom. You hope they packed you something even if it’s just tampons or pads, anything. You look to your left. John’s door is completely closed for once. Maybe he’s still trying to air out the lingering smell of vanilla and leather that hangs heavy on this floor. He and Kyle must have really had a good time. 

You can hear voices downstairs so at least someone is up. You don’t really care though; you need to sit down. Each step sends shooting pains through your body. Everything about this sucks, but you’ve been through periods alone before. You can do it again. 

You make it to the bathroom pulling everything out of the bag until you find what you’re looking for. They did pack you pads and tampons, and that makes you smile a little. Maybe Dr. Piper did this a long time ago. You take your time changing and cleaning yourself up before getting up to leave. Standing up makes you dizzy and you brace yourself on the wall. 

You hope you don’t bump into anyone. You just want to get into your room, curl up and sleep, sleep until this is all over. You’re not that lucky though.   

“You okay lass?” Johnny asks. Your head is pounding as you turn to look at him, your grip a vice on the bag in your hands. You see his nostrils flair. You must smell awful, but there’s no way you have the energy to hide your scent right now. You try to move back to the bedroom but you’re unsteady on your feet, wobbling as Johnny comes behind you.

“Easy lass. What’s wrong?” He holds you up as you blink yourself back to reality. You get a surge of adrenaline and push yourself off his chest. His hands stay on you as he studies your face. He brings the back of his hand up to feel your forehead. 

“You’re burning up love,” he says. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes you nervous.

“I’m fine, it’s my period,” you say. His hands don’t leave as he looks around your face. 

“C’mon,” he says, guiding your body to John’s room. You don’t want to bother him.

“Johnny, I'm fine. I don’t want to bother John,” you say. He’s guiding you back over to your room. You try to turn your body in but Johnny continues stopping outside John’s door and knocking. You slump up against him, your body feeling weak and heavy. You just want to sleep. 

John opens the door and you blink at him. Screw it, you’re in too much pain to care or feel embarrassed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, but it’s quieter than you expect. His hand comes up to touch your face. 

“You’re warm,” he says looking back up at Johnny. 

“Period,” Johnny says. Price lets out a sigh, his fingers running down to your chin. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Lay down, I’ll get Gaz,” John says. Johnny pushes you through to the master bedroom guiding you over to the bed. You can smell John’s scent in the air, and when you make it over to the bed you can smell him on the pillows. 

“Get in. I’ll get you some painkillers,” Johnny says as he pulls the bedding back for you. You would rather be in your own bed but you are in no mood to fight. You just want to lie down and nap. You put the bag on the bedside table and get under the covers, pulling them up under your chin as you start to shiver.

“It's cold,” you say when Johnny comes back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. 

“I’ll get a fire started. Then you’ll be nice and warm.” He takes 2 pills out and hands them to you. You drink them down. Each movement hurts. Your head is starting to spin as you lay back in the bed. 

Kyle comes through the door next. He looks over at you, then Johnny. 

“I’m fine,” you say but it comes out as a slur. You’re starting to lose your grip on consciousness. You need to rest. 

“I’ll take the first shift.” Kyle nods at Johnny as he bends down in front of the fire. Kyle’s still in his pajamas, you think as he pulls his shirt off over his head and climbs into bed behind you. You didn’t even need to ask, you didn’t need to say anything, they just slipped into the routine like they’ve done this a thousand times before. 

Dr. Piper must have really taught them well.

“Jesus, you're burning up,” Kyle says, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at his touch. Pain shoots up your body and you groan bringing your legs up to your stomach.

“S’okay, relax,” Kyle says as his scent washes over you blocking out the scent of alpha in the room. It calms you down almost instantly. You look over at Johnny still bent down in front of the fireplace. You let out a long sigh letting the tension from your body go. 

“That's it, relax. I got you,” Kyle says, his lips up against your ear. You try to stay awake but you can't for long. Kyle’s hand comes up to stroke your hair and it's enough to lull you to sleep. 

...

You dream about the loch, but the loch is filled with blood. Thick and dark red. The stones are all are white. You look down and you’re naked. Blood drips down your arms, from a gash on the side of your neck and your side—exactly where Dr. Piper cut you. 

You look back up and see John standing waist deep in the water. He's naked too, or topless at least. You can’t see his bottom half. 

He turns when he hears you move the stones crunching under your feet. He has bullet holes scattered across his chest. Blood pours out of them. He holds his hand out for you.

You don’t want to take it. You stop at the edge of the blood filled loch. The smell of blood is strong in the air and it almost makes you gag. You shake your head and try to back up but it’s like there's a wall behind you. Not a wall a person. 

Their hands grip your shoulders pushing you into the thick liquid. 

“No, please.” You're trying to turn around and stop them, but they’re stronger than you. Before you know it, you’re standing next to John. He smiles at you as he grips your arms. The hands leave your shoulders, and it's like there was never anyone behind you. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he says. You don't know what he's apologising for. He pulls you into his arms hugging you right before falling down with you, pushing you under into the loch.  

…

Someone is shaking your shoulder calling your name. You blink your vision fuzzy. Pain radiates through your body. 

“Dr. Piper?” you ask. Cold hands find your face. 

“Just me lass.” The familiar Scottish accent drags you back to reality. You blink trying to clear your vision. He brushes hair stuck to your forehead. A thin sheen of sweat has built up on you but you still feel cold. 

“Time for some more painkillers.” You nod, moving to prop yourself up. You can’t feel Kyle behind you. The room is dark, the only light coming from the fireplace and the room door. Johnny brings the glass to your lips and you gulp a few mouthfuls before he gives you the pills. 

You look over at the doorway. John is standing there leaning on the doorframe. You can see the concern on his face. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Sorry I stole your bed,” you slur, sleepiness over taking you again.

“Shh, it’s okay, just rest,” Johnny says, stroking your head. You close your eyes. “Kyle will be in soon.”

John’s pacing the kitchen. It’s the morning of the third day since your period started and for some reason it feels wrong. He can’t put his finger on it. He’s not sure why. You looked so pale and weak when he saw you last night. He barely slept through the night, his mind plagued by all the horrible things that could happen to you. 

“Anything?” he asks. Simon sighs again looking at John over the laptop.

“The same as I told you 5 minutes ago. Keep giving her painkillers. Make sure she eats at least once a day. If her temperature goes over 38, then start worrying,” Simon says, reading the instructions off of Piper's handy ‘how to care for your omega’ document from the USB she left. 

“How is she?” John asks as soon as Kyle walks in the kitchen. Kyle looks like he’s just woken up from the longest sleep of his life as he goes over to the kettle. 

“She’s sleeping. Tav is taking care of her,” Kyle says. John sighs looking back over at Simon. “Christ Cap, you need to relax. You’re stinking the place up.” 

He moves to the back door cracking it open. The smell of his worry is almost overwhelming. Kyle moves to look over Simon’s shoulder 

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“John thinks there’s something wrong,” Simon says, scrolling through the PDF. Kyle looks over at John who’s leaned against the counter tapping his foot. 

“It was like this last time,” Kyle says, trying to be reassuring. He doesn’t know how much it’s helping though. 

“She had Dr. Montgomery last time,” Price says. There’s a hardness in his voice. 

“She’s fine John. Go for a run, it'll make you feel better,” Simon says. John lets out a sigh looking over at Kyle pouring himself a cup of tea. 

“Call me, if anything changes,” John says heading for the door. Simon sighs, raising an eyebrow at him. John nods heading upstairs. 

“I’ve never seen him so on edge,” Kyle says sitting down at the island next to Simon. Simon lets out another long sigh. 

“What?” Kyle asks. Looking over at him his eyes are focused on the laptop. 

“He misses her.” 

“Yeah but he’s giving her space,” Kyle says, sipping on his tea. 

“Forced proximity would do them both good. After this is over, we should figure something out,” Simon says, closing the laptop lid. Kyle chuckles.

“I told him the same thing a few days ago.” 

“When John gets back, we’ll go to the shops,” Simon says, getting up and heading to leave the room. Kyle looks out the window into the garden. It’s snowing. He smiles while taking another sip of his tea. You like the snow. 

You take a deep breath in. You’re enjoying the smell of nature filling your nose. You can smell John and Simon too, their scent is strong in the air even though they’re outside. Both the alpha's have been throwing punches at each other for the better part of 15 minutes.

Your head is still spinning, and you thought fresh air would help. You’re still in pain, but you slept for almost 3 days, every moment other than when Johnny or Kyle would wake you up to eat or give you medication. You don’t remember much and you were too embarrassed to ask Johnny or Kyle what had happened. Probably just what you’re used to; the periods after heat are always the worst. 

The first thing you wanted to do when you dragged yourself downstairs was go outside. Your body is stiff, your energy levels next to nothing, and your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet. You just needed some fresh air, to feel a cold breeze on your skin. Lucky the snow had melted and the sun was out or you don’t think they would have let you outside at all.

“C’mon Riley!” John shouts as Simon’s right hook hits the boxing pad. He's not putting his full weight into it. He’s not putting all his effort into it. John can see the frustration in his face. It’s been like this for weeks. Simon can’t keep this up, it’s not good for him. He’s reverting inwards. 

Simon throws another punch.

“Better,” John says. He turns. He can see you sitting on a chair next to the back door. You like to sit outside. Johnny and Kyle don’t let you stay out for long though, at least not while you’re still recovering. 

Simon throws another punch. John turns his attention back to him. 

“Distracted?” Simon asks, wiping away a bead of sweat before it drips down his eyebrow. 

“Never.” John smiles pulling the pad off. 

“Still think you can still beat me?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“When you’re throwing right hooks like that, no problem,” John teases him. Simon scoffs.

You watch as John and Simon both start throwing punches at each other. You hear the skin to skin contact from each block or hit. You can’t tell who’s winning, but you want John to win. At least you think you do. Warm hands come and rest on your shoulders, you look up to see Kyle behind you watching them.

“Ready to come back in?” he asks. The hot water bottle you have under your blanket has gone cold but the thought of moving anywhere right now just makes you wince. 

“Who do you think will win?” you ask, watching John land a decent hit on Simon.

“John,” he says. You smile watching them tussle. John does seem to have the upper hand. A shiver runs through your body. 

“Come on,” Kyle encourages. He gently squeezes your shoulders. You nod, gripping the blanket and hot water bottle letting Kyle lead you inside. His hands don’t leave you as you make it into the kitchen.  Johnny is ready with a glass of water and some pills. You hand him the hot water bottle and take them.

“Where do you want to go?” Kyle asks, his hand falling down to the small of your back. You’re not sure. Maybe you could use a nap but the thought of climbing up the stairs doesn’t sound fun. 

“Sofa?” you say, leaning up against him. Kyle nods and you walk through to the living room. The fire is almost constantly going, keeping the old house warm. There’s one in the master bedroom too. You enjoyed the sound of it, the popping and crackling of the wood. It helped you sleep. 

“TV?” Kyle asks. He puts his arm round the back of the sofa and you sit laying against him pulling the blanket over you. Even with the fire you still get the shivers. Kyle pulls you up against him projecting a calming scent into the air. 

“You did good,” you say, your eyes feeling heavy as you watch the show on the TV. Kyle just hums, shuffling so you’re more comfortable up against him, his hand rubbing your arm. 

2 days later Kyle and Johnny said they want everyone to eat dinner together tonight. Normally you would all eat at different times. Kyle would cook or people would make their own food. This time though they insisted on everyone sitting for a ‘family meal.’

You don’t know how you feel about that but you don’t really have much of a choice. You don’t want to cause problems. You have still been avoiding John but you’ve been missing him more and more. There’s an ache that comes when you think about him. You dream about him, sometimes good, sometimes bad. 

Maybe this is just what healing feels like.

“Can I help?” you ask Kyle. 

“Of course. What do you want to do?” he asks, stepping back from the potatoes he’s peeling. 

“I can do that if you want?” you ask, pointing at the veggies. He smiles, nodding, and you wash your hands, rolling your sleeves up. You pick up the peeler and continue from Kyle's work. 

“What’s for dinner?” you ask. 

“Steak, roast potatoes and veggies,” Kyle says. You nod, putting the peeled potatoes into a pot with water. “You know if there is anything you fancy you just have to say.” 

“I don’t really know what I like,” you say. You had a controlled diet in the bunker. When you were on the base you got to try all new things. You miss the puddings; they were your favourite. “I like everything you cook.” 

Kyle chuckles coming back over next to you, putting some carrots down. 

“Hey Gaz, do we have any beer?” Johnny asks coming into the kitchen. 

“Yeah in the fridge,” Kyle says. 

“Can I try one?” you ask. They both look at you as Johnny cracks the can open. 

“Are you sure?” Kyle asks. Johnny scoffs. 

“She’s an adult Gaz,” Johnny says, pushing past him and stepping in front of you. “Course you can have one.” He hands you the open can. You accept it. It’s cold. You bring it up to your nose to smell it. It smells strange, not like anything you’ve smelt before. 

Sometimes the Professor would drink whisky. He would get drunk and then come and berate you, take his anger out on you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, on him. This doesn’t smell like that though, like it’s weaker and there’s a hint of fruitiness to it. 

You look up at Kyle and Johnny looking back at you. You watch them as you take a sip. You didn’t expect it to be fizzy. If anything that shocks you more than the taste. It’s earthy, mellow, not as sweet as you were expecting but strangely refreshing. You go back for a second sip. It has a bitter after taste but in a good way, and it has a burn too, when it slides down your throat.

“Well?” Johnny asks, almost like he’s impatient. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, nodding at him. He smiles, turning back around and going back into the fridge. 

“Take it easy though, yeah? Wouldn’t want you drunk and disorderly.” Johnny winks before heading through the dining room to the living room. You put the can down and get back to peeling the last of the potatoes. 

“Have you ever had alcohol before?” Kyle asks. You shake your head, and your head swims for a second. You see Kyle taking out a glass and a bottle of something out the fridge. 

“What’s that?” you ask as he pours a red liquid into the glass. 

“Wine, want to taste?” he says, offering you the glass first. You nod, taking it out of his hands. It smells stronger than the beer, you just go for it and take a sip. You immediately pull a face. It's strong and bitter. You hand it back to him, forcing yourself to swallow. 

You cough, reaching over for your beer, taking a few gulps to get rid of the taste. He chuckles, taking a sip of the wine before placing the glass down on the kitchen island. 

“Wine can take a little while to get used to,” he chuckles. You go back to the vegetables finishing up and letting Kyle check your work. He smiles telling you you’ve done a good job. You feel like he would have said that regardless but you blush at the praise. 

You finish your beer while Kyle tells you more about his family. That’s how he learnt to cook, his mum and aunts. 

“Do you think you’ll get to see them?” you ask. He shrugs then shakes his head finishing off the glass of wine. 

“I don’t think so. Usually I wouldn’t see them until after deployment has ended.” You can smell his sadness in the air. Now you feel bad that you’ve upset him. He looks at you and smiles anyway. 

“Another?” he asks, pointing at the empty can. You nod. He goes into the fridge handing you a new one. By the time you’re halfway through it your head starts to feel funny. It’s good though, you feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t even flinch when John comes into the kitchen to ask when the food will be ready. 

“15 minutes.” Kyle smiles as he shows you how to cook the steaks in a heavy cast iron pan. You watch as John smiles at you before leaving back out the room, your head follows him and goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Why don’t you go sit with him. I can finish up here,” Kyle says. You look back at him spooning butter over the steak. 

“I’m okay here,” you say smiling at him. Kyle hums going back to focus on the food. You look back at the door John left through. You miss him, you can’t help it, it’s the bond. You rub the back of your neck.

“Do you have a girlfriend Kyle?” you ask. He laughs looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know what to say.

“I don’t have time for anything like that,” he says, pressing down on the steak in the pan. You watch it sizzle as the butter melts over it.

“Why not?” 

“Work takes up too much time. Most people don’t get it: why you have to be away for so long, why you can’t talk about work. It makes it difficult to form relationships when you’re not around most of the time.” You can hear sadness in his voice. 

“How about the others? Simon and Johnny?” You swill the beer can in your hand. 

“Same story, too busy for girlfriends.” 

“What about John?” You raise an eyebrow. He looks over at you for a second taking the pan off the heat and turning to the kitchen island. 

“John likes his job. He’s good at his job. For him it’s a lifestyle.”  Kyle sighs, taking a sip of his wine. “That's why he’s the Captain.”

“That’s why he’s the alpha,” you say under your breath. He's a good alpha.

“Well, I think we’re almost done if you want to set the table?” he asks. You nod, going into the cupboard and bringing out the plates. You take your time. Maybe if you take long enough you can skip dinner. The table is round. You take the centrepiece off, moving it to the kitchen as Johnny comes out from the living room into the dining room. 

“Almost ready?” he asks. You nod. He smiles as you come back with knives and forks. Johnny helps you finish setting up. Kyle comes over, bringing over the food. Johnny sticks his head into the living room and calls Simon and John before sitting down and patting the chair next to him.

You smile. At least you’ll be sandwiched between Kyle and Johnny. Or at least that’s what you thought before Simon sits down on the other side of you. John sits opposite smiling at you. Kyle comes over with the pan walking round the table and putting a steak on each plate. 

Johnny gets up suddenly and heads into the kitchen coming back with beer and passing them around. You reach over and pick yours up, cracking open the top. You feel relaxed as soon as you take a sip. At least that's a good thing, because you don’t know how awkward it would be without. 

“Looks lovely,” John says. 

“Yeah, don’t listen to what Gaz says, we all know who really cooked it all,” Johnny says, nudging you before reaching forward for the roast potatoes. He spoons some on your plate first—more than you think you’ll be able to eat—before doing the same with the veggies.

“I won’t be able to eat all that,” you say looking up at him. He chuckles winking at you. 

“I bet you will,” he says. He’s not wrong, after a few bites you realise you’re actually very hungry and manage to finish everything even going back for more potatoes to soak up the gravy Johnny heavy-handedly poured on your plate. 

You didn’t talk much but you listened to everyone's conversations. It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Maybe that was thanks to the alcohol. More likely though it’s because this is your pack and there is no need to feel awkward around them. 

“What was that place in Las Almas Rudy and Al took us to?” Johnny asks, leaning back in his chair. 

“Which one?” Simon asks.

“The one that had the really good tamales,” Johnny says.

“No, the one we went to after that had the bottomless spicy mojitos was the best,” Kyle says.

“I don’t remember that one,” Johnny says, frowning. 

“Yeah, ‘cause it was bottomless mojitos,” Simon chuckles. You take a sip of the beer as Kyle laughs, your eyes resting on John. He’s looking round the table, listening to Kyle until they land on you. He smiles at you and you smile back. You like seeing him smile.

“Las Almas is in Mexico right?” you ask looking around the table.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, nudging you. 

“I’ve always heard about it. I think the Professor used to holiday there,” you say pushing the last of the food round your plate. “He had a house in Florida too. He always talked about going there one day. It would have been nice to see the ocean.” 

“Dr. Montgomery told us about the house in Florida,” John says. You look up at him. 

“Florida is nice. Lot’s of beaches and the everglades,” Kyle says.

“Pff, Wyoming, supervolcano, geysers shooting hundreds of feet in the air,” Johnny says, throwing his arms up.

“Alaska, it’s cold and quiet,” Simon says. You turn to him. 

“That sounds nice, a lot like here,” you say. He smiles at you. 

“What about you, Cap?” Kyle asks. John presses his lips together thinking for a few seconds. 

“Texas, big food, big bases—” groans around the table stop John as they all complain about his pick.

“Pick somewhere without a million military bases,” Johnny says, shaking his head. You chuckle as you watch him defend his pick. 

“Fine. Arizona, Grand Canyon,” he says, his new choice met with a slew of agreements and head nodding, while he rolls his eyes.

“Anything for pudding?” Johnny asks looking back at Kyle. 

“Yeah,” Kyle says getting up. 

“I can help,” you say, standing up almost as fast and pushing your chair back. Suddenly you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness and you lean forward bracing yourself on the table. Johnny and Simon are both stood up now, their hands on you as you slowly sit back down. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the air, it feels like everyone is holding their breath as you reach over to pick up a glass of water.

“Christ love how much have you had?” Johnny asks in an effort to lighten the mood. His hand falling to your thigh. You look over at John, he’s not smiling anymore his body angled forward like he’s about to jump over the table to you. You sip the water letting the dizziness subside. Everyone slowly sits back down returning to their original positions. 

“Four,” you count in your head looking around at the empty cans on the table. “Maybe five.” 

You feel guilty. You’re not sure why. You should have been more careful. You like the way it makes you feel though; it’s relaxed you and you needed that tonight. 

Johnny squeezes your thigh as Simon stands back up starting to clear the table. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, hanging your head as you see John relax back in his chair. 

“C’mon, none of that,” Johnny says, his hand moving from your thigh to pull your chin up. “Maybe just no more for now.” 

You nod at him and look over at John. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Here you go. Jelly and ice cream,” Kyle says, putting a dish down in front of you. So that’s what the red wobbling thing in the fridge was. 

“How old are we, 5?” Johnny asks, pulling his own bowl closer to him. You’ve never had ice cream before but you’ve seen it in books. You always thought it should be in a cone not a bowl. You pick up your spoon and scoop some of the ice cream up. 

It’s cold and tastes amazing, like vanilla, sweet and creamy. You can’t help letting out a hum as it melts on your tongue. You go back for more immediately. You like the feeling of letting it melt slowly in your mouth. You look around the table at everyone looking at you.

“Good?” John asks. You smile nodding at him. 

“Take it easy though or you’ll get brainfreeze,” Johnny says as you spoon more in your mouth. You frown at him. He just chuckles. 

“I like the ice cream,” you say. Johnny chuckles. 

“Wait till you try chocolate ice cream.” 

“Or strawberry,” Kyle says. 

“Should pick up some neapolitan when you’re out next,” Simon says. 

“Good idea,” Kyle says. You’re not a big fan of the jelly’s texture but it’s sweet and works well with the ice cream. They all go back to talking again about past missions but mainly places they’ve eaten around the world. By the sounds of it they’ve travelled a lot.

This was nice. You find yourself switching between John and whoever is talking. Maybe he won’t realise how much you’ve been looking at him, but since you catch him glancing at you just as much, you’re not so sure. You feel your cheeks heat up everytime he catches you, and you don’t know why. 

By the time everyone is finished eating you are feeling tired. You even hear Johnny yawn a few times between anecdotes. You find yourself leaning up against him, your head feeling heavy and your belly full. Now would be a perfect time to just crawl up into your nest and sleep. 

“Tired?” Johnny asks, turning to kiss the top of your head. You hum at the warmth as he wraps his arm around you. John looks at his watch. 

“It's late, we should get to bed soon,” he says. 

“Football’s on tomorrow night. We should get some snacks in,” Kyle says.

“And more beer, I think we drank it all today,” Johnny says. You look around the table. You haven’t had anymore but they weren't shy guzzling them down.

“It’s a plan then. Will you join us?” John asks you directly. You pull your head off Johnny. 

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about football though,” you say as John smiles, letting out a chuckle. 

“It’s okay, we’ll teach you,” he says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he leans forward getting up. “You did a good job, the food was lovely.” 

You smile at him nodding. You almost want to follow him as he heads back into the kitchen and you hear the back door open and close. 

“C’mon lass, let's get to bed. Leave Si to clean with Gaz,” Johnny says getting up. 

“I don’t mind helping,” you say, following Johnny. 

“It’s okay,” Kyle calls but you’re already sleepily following Johnny upstairs. You’ve been sleeping back in your bed finally letting John have his back. Johnny and Kyle cleaned your sheets and flipped the mattress. They did it all without you having to ask or do it yourself. When you tried to thank them they wouldn’t have it. 

“Sleep tight yeah? Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Johnny calls before turning into his room. You think he shares it with Simon, or maybe Kyle, letting Simon have a room to himself. You look into John’s room. You liked sleeping in John’s bed; his scent on the pillows relaxed you. It’s a good smell, a safe smell. Your alpha will always feel safe, unless you break the bond with him. 

You walk back into your room, your body feeling light for the first time in what feels like forever. You smile thinking about the meal and spending time with them all again. It felt right.

As you turn the light on your eyes are immediately drawn to the scarf tied on the headboard. The happy feeling is immediately overtaken by sadness and guilt. It doesn’t make you feel happy anymore. It doesn’t make you think of the good memories you have of her. 

It doesn’t even smell of her anymore. 

You run your fingers over it. You don’t want to see it anymore. You don’t want to just shove it back in your bag though, that doesn’t feel right. You look out your window. It’s snowing again. Johnny said it might do this for the next few days. It gives the whole home a cozy feel, like in the storybooks you would read as a kid. 

You turn the light off, cracking the window open slightly letting a cold breeze waft in. The outdoor light makes the snow look magical as it falls leaving a thick layer on the ground. You get into bed pulling your duvet all the way up to your chin. You let out a long breath watching the snow fall until you fall asleep. 

...

You dream about the loch. The stone shore is covered in a thick layer of snow but it’s warm and the sun is high in the sky. You look back down and see Dr. Piper stood on the shore. You walk up to her and she turns smiling at you. 

“Hey,” you say, leaning up against her. She’s wearing the scarf. It blows in the wind. 

“How are things going with you and your alpha?” she asks. 

“Good,” you reply. It’s a lie but you’ve never had any problems with lying to her before. Only this time she lets out a sigh. There’s a change in the air, and the sun is blocked out by a cloud. Her body tenses up and you stand up straight. Even the waves on the lake pick up. 

“Why are you lying?” she says, her voice low. It’s not a tone you’ve ever heard her use. Low and grumbling, almost like an alpha. You back away from her, goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You don’t get far, suddenly you’ve backed up into a tree and you can’t move. 

She walks over to you and you can see the anger on her face as the wind starts to pick up. You’ve never seen her mad like this before, it reminds you of when the Professor gets mad. Dr. Piper doesn’t get mad but right now she is. 

“I’m trying,” you say, trying to move, but it feels like something is holding you in place. She walks up to you, her face centimeters away from yours

“You’re not trying hard enough!” she shouts and it makes you jump. Fear runs through you. You want to get away but you can’t, you can’t move. Dr. Piper lets out a long sigh and brings her hand round to the back of your neck. 

You want to scream, you want to fight her but you can't, you're pinned up against the tree. 

“Such a bad omega,” she says as she presses her fingers into the back of your neck. You gasp and then everything goes black.

…

You snap up in bed, your body thick with sweat as you pant. Your hand comes up to your chest as you try to calm down. It feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. You swing your legs out the side of the bed. The outdoor light is off. You shiver as the wind howls through the crack in your window. You get up to close it. The sky must be clear because the moon is lighting up the untouched snow covered fields. 

When you turn to look back at your bed, the moon is hitting the scarf perfectly lighting up the blue tones. It makes a shiver run through your body.  

You take the scarf off the headboard and open your bedside table drawer putting it in. You swallow the lump in your throat and walk out the room. You need to see John. You’re not sure what you’re going to say but you just need to see him. You knock on John’s door. 

He still has it cracked open and you hear him getting up from the bed. You didn’t expect him to be awake, but maybe it’s not as late as you think. Maybe you haven’t been asleep for too long. He opens the door. He’s shirtless, and heat rushes to your cheeks as he looks down at you. He smiles. 

The hallway is dark, and the only light is coming from his room. The shadows across his chest make all his muscles and scars look more defined. You move your eyes back up to his face. It makes the dark circles under his eyes look bigger, almost like he hasn’t slept in days. 

He smells good, safe like an alpha. You miss him. You look at his deep blue eyes. He always has such a soft expression. You almost forget what you want to ask him, losing yourself in his eyes.

“The loch,” you say before you forget. “In the morning, could we go?” 

“Of course,” he says smiling. You suddenly don’t want to leave. You let out a sigh turning back towards your room. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You turn back to look at him and nod. 

“Sleep tight,” he says as you walk into your room. 

“You too,” you say before closing the door behind you. You lean back against it hearing him go back into his room. 

You really do miss him.

It’s still snowing when you make it to the loch. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been out here. The wind has picked up and you’re running Dr. Piper's scarf through your fingers. Johnny is with you, the others get out of the car slowly. They’re giving you space but you feel like you don’t want it. 

You walk down to the water's edge. The wind seems stronger down here. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Johnny says, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You appreciate the warmth, his contact. 

“I do, I have to move on,” you say looking down at the colourful silk scarf. It doesn’t smell of her any more. It’s just a scarf. Each time you look at it, it makes you sad. You’re sick of being sad. You want to move on. With Kyle and Johnny. Simon and especially John. 

You miss her but Johnny’s right, you’ll never forget her. You need to hold onto the happy memories. She was always there for you. She would always be kind to you. When you were in the bunker she was the ray of sunshine that kept you going. Her blonde hair always reminded you of the sun, just like the mural in the bedroom. 

You look over the patterns on the scarf. There's an anchor and a rope line. Life-preservers. It’s blue with spots of red and green. There’s waves on it. The loch seems like the perfect place. You look out at the water. The sunlight peeks through the clouds and reflects off the water. 

You close your eyes bringing the scarf up to your nose. There’s no smell any more. The smell of beta doesn’t even remind you of her, it makes you think of Johnny and Kyle first. Your pack. They will always be your pack. She trusted them. She left you with them. 

The crunching of pebbles makes you open your eyes. Johnny is gone, and you turn to see Simon by your side. You tense up, but his hand comes to land on yours, covering the scarf bunched up in your fist. 

“She loved you,” he says. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. He looks down at you. His expression is soft, his eyes looking almost golden. Snow gathers on his hair. He has blonde hair, just like Dr. Piper. 

“I loved her too. She was like a mother to me.” 

“I know.” 

“I feel like if I let her go I'll forget her.” 

“You won’t. You don’t forget important people like her. You don’t forget people you love.”

“You think?” you ask looking up at him. 

“I had a nephew.” 

“Simon—” 

“He was probably too young to even understand who I was. But I remember him, every day. The memories never go away.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaning up against him. He never speaks about his family. You had no idea he had lost people too.

“You don’t have to do this. You could keep it as a memento,” he says, taking his hand off yours so you can see the scarf again. 

“I can’t. Every time I see it I think of the pain she went through. I need to move on, for the sake of the pack,” you say looking out over the water. His arm comes around your shoulder. You can smell his alpha in the air. The ground after rain. 

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asks. You shake your head. 

“I just wish I could have said thank you. I wish she knew how much she meant to me.” You sniffle, opening your fist and letting the scarf blow out in the wind, holding one of the ends with your thumb and finger. 

“She knew, that's why she saved your life. She did it because she loved you,” he says, squeezing you tighter against him. You hold your hand up a little higher. The wind here is nice and strong. You want it to be carried far across the lake. 

You sniffle. Suddenly you don’t want to let it go. Maybe you’re not ready. You blink your eyes letting the tears run down your face. It’s cold, and they sting.

‘Let go,’ you think, ‘it doesn’t have to be this hard.’  

You let out a sigh. The wind is almost pulling the scarf out of your hand. She would have loved it here. 

You open your fingers letting it fly off. You watch your arm still outstretched as it’s picked up higher into the sky. 

She would have loved it here. 

Your eyes follow it as it floats through the air. Suddenly it stops falling down to the water. You can see it floating on the top before the water drags it somewhere else. Too far for you to see. 

She’s gone. 

You feel numb. You thought maybe it would be freeing but there’s still an ache there deep inside you. You were bonded. Maybe that will never go away. Simon and Johnny are right, you’ll never forget her, you have to focus on the good memories. 

The atmosphere changes and you feel empty. You shiver, goosebumps rise on the back of your neck and your hand goes up to rub it. Simon looks down at you. 

“You okay?” It’s such a simple question, one you’ve been asked countless times over the last few weeks. 

“No,” you admit, but you don’t know what to say. Simon moves in front of you resting his hands on your shoulders bending down so his head is level with yours. He’s blocking your view and you look up into his eyes. 

“It’s okay.” His hands come up to cup your face. “You’re not going to be okay for a long time. It will get easier though. I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, sniffling. He wipes your tears away. 

“I never make promises I can’t keep,” he says in a low voice. You let out a smile. He smiles back and pulls you into his arms. His hug is warming, tight. It’s what you need. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as his chin rests on your head. 

“Thank you,” you breathe, letting his scent fill your nose. The ground after rain and gunpowder. He hums, his chest vibrating as you press yourself up against him. 

This is your pack now, this is your safe space. You feel another hand on your back opening your eyes to see Kyle. He rubs your back but you don’t want to leave. You shiver again though. It’s cold. You need to curl up in your nest and sleep. 

You wish your nest was here.

You break away from the hug letting Kyle lead you back to the car. Johnny and John are leaned against the hood as they watch you walk over. They look sad. John has his hat in his hands. His eyes never leave you as you climb into the car. 

You sit in the middle with Johnny getting in next to you. His hand comes to rest on your thigh. You lean up against him and close your eyes. 

She’s gone. It’s time to move on, it’s time to fix the bonds, tighten the threads. 

It’s time to focus on your pack.

next Bonus Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[oacest]

Patsy Kensit in Hello Magazine, Dec 19 2000

Was the news that Liam is having a child with Nicole the final nail in the coffin?

It's killed off any feelings - especially because of the way it was handled. He didn't tell us himself, we had to hear about it through the newspapers. But it didn't break my heart and I'm not devastated. People are feeling sorry for me because I'm on my own, but I'm not with anyone because that's what I want. I'm taking time to learn from this huge mistake and I couldn't possibly impose a male figure in my two boys' lives so soon after a marriage break-up.

But you must have felt devastated at times.

Of course there have been times during the last five months when I've felt devastated. The split was like a death. We were together for five years - and with that man it felt like a very long time! But I've been through all the selfindulgent romanticising and the pain. It's cathartic talking about it and you have to mourn it. There were some fantastic times but they weren't based on real emotions - you can draw your own conclusions from that. It was a false sense of things. I can honestly say that life is fantastic now. I'm so happy. I'm so pleased that all the mess I used to have to deal with is not my mess any more. I've moved on. I have a one-year-old son and an eight year-old son and they're the most important people in my life.

You recently said you cried every day for three-and-a-half years. Were you unhappy in the relationship quite early on?

Oh, much earlier on. I suppose my heart was first broken when the stories about other women started - I think before we even got married. Liam went missing the first week we moved in with each other. Then I'll never forget the Q Awards a couple of years ago when Liam chucked a champagne glass at the wall and stormed off, leaving me there on my own talking to Rod Stewart, who I'd known for years. It was so humiliating, I came out and there was someone from the News Of The World with a picture of Liam in a pub with some girl while I'd been in America. He said something like, 'Are you going to leave the love rat now?' And all I could say was, 'I love him.'  I can laugh about it now, but it's unacceptable when someone walk out the door and they tell you they'll be back at ten o'clock but actually come home four days later - when you didn't know  whether they were lying dead in the gutter or were with another woman. We had a baby. You can't live like that. It's not normal. It takes two people to kill a relationship and I reacted to his behaviour, but I wonder whether anyone else would have reacted differently under the circumstances. It was hard for me. I don't have the backup of a mother. I think I put all my love and energy into one person - the wrong person.

Did you think Lennon's birth would change things?

Anyone would hope so, but I spent five years trying to understand why he did the things he did and I cried too much over it; I don't now. I look at pictures of myself when Lennon was three or four months old and I look so unhappy. Now I have a twinkle in my eye again.

Why were you so swept away by Liam?

Circumstances. I was with Jim, who was obviously a completely different type of person. He worked very hard and encouraged me in my career, too, so we ended up spending so much time apart. I told Jim to his face about Liam - that I felt I was with someone who needed me with him all the time. And then, as work came up, gradually I didn't want to take it on because I was afraid to leave Liam alone. You can't imagine what it's like to call home five minutes after you've left the house and discover that person has disappeared - and then doesn't come back for three days.

Were you kindred spirits at the start?

No. We had nothing in common. We were very attracted to each other and it probably didn't go much further than that. I just got swept away. There was a lot of lust - but that quickly dies, doesn't it? I think I loved him. There was definitely a period of time when there was a lot of potential that didn't get realised. The idea of being consumed by another person and wanting to spend every moment of the day with them is a wonderful ideal and it was something I thought I had at the beginning.  But there has to be an intellectual meeting of minds to back it up. I didn't pick a book up for five years and I'd always been a book head.

Is Liam not a bright guy?

I wouldn't want to comment on that. I'm talking about these things in a forthright way because I think people are appalled by the way he's behaved. But I'm not any more. I'm not surprised. How could I possibly have expected somebody who was behaving that way to change? Now I understand that it's not necessarily your fault. The things people do are not because you're not enough for them; it's within them. I'm just surprised I put up with it. But it's not for me to be negative about him now because that's going to hurt Lennon.

Liam was a 22-year-old rock star. Don't you think you should have known better?

Liam wanted to be with me and I wanted to be with him. But I should have known better. The writing was on the wall, what with his disappearances and constant reports of him being with other women. But I was convinced it wasn't true when it obviously was. I chose to believe it wasn't true until something that's plain to see was obviously happening. I can honestly say that I don't feel anything at all for Liam now. I really don't.

Did you ever think, or hope, that you might be reconciled?

There were a good seven or eight weeks when I felt sad about the split because of Lennon. But even before the most recent news, I knew it was the right decision. My life changed so dramatically: I was getting work offers when before I hadn't for five years. People didn't want to employ me because it was too much of a risk. I was a strong person but I don't know how anyone could deal with the things I had to deal with.

X

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[sexcromancy]

it's so bonkers that every time angel comes back on btvs he acts as though it is buffy who doesn't want them to be together. bro YOU left HER. and she begged him not to... but every time he comes back he is like. why do you have another boyfriend. why can't we be together. I can resist temptation [immediately proceeds to get overwhelmed and back out]. and my favorite - in the s1 angel episode with buffy, when she comes to find faith, he YELLS AT HER about how he is building his own life and moving on and how dare she come back here expecting something. when she was literally not even there for himmmm oh my god he makes me sick. okay anyway. analysis. there's a very interesting meta aspect to this re: the different television shows. when angel is on btvs or vice versa, there is an artificial limit to how long they can be there. it seems to be pretty much one scene at a time; angel is in the s4 buffy episode a bit longer but not by much. that limit has to be reflected somehow in their dynamic, hence the heightened tension of every interaction. there has to be a reason they can't stay, and/or a reason to leave. there's also genre to consider. buffy has to have forward momentum in her journey bc she is on a Coming Of Age Show, so she can't be constantly hung up on angel and begging for him to come back. she does periodically make it clear that he is still in her heart, but ultimately, her current relationships are a huge part of the fabric of the show. conversely, angel's genre is noir (as I understand it?) and noir really benefits from a tragic hero mourning a doomed romance. plus, boreanaz is so good at looking miserable. so even though angel chooses to leave, it is framed in retrospect as a choice he was forced to make for Buffy's benefit. he will always, always play the tortured hero here, as though hurting her was necessary and beneficial for her. was it? I guess, because she didn't have to look at his stupid face anymore, and because she does eventually reach a place where - altho she does not outright reject him in the s7 finale - she is able to articulate that she might not need or want him ever again, and she needs to figure that out for herself. crucially the show is only willing to dissipate the long term will they won't they tension as btvs is ending. however, leaving was DEFINITELY good for angel and for boreanaz, because both character and actor were now able to lead his own show. and again it comes back to genre - with an older leading man, angel can be a more serious and lore-driven show than buffy. over and over again when I asked friends who've watched both shows lore-based questions, they said, oh well that's covered in angel. which is INFURIATING. of course the show led by a man is going to be the one where all that happens, especially once Giles leaves. of course btvs has to maintain the emotional core, the relationship focus, everything a Girl Show does. and I'm not even necessarily saying I wanted more lore - generally I get bored by it - but to see such a stark contrast is agonizing. alright I don't have like a cogent thesis for this post but basically that's a lot of stuff I've been thinking about re: bangel now that I can look at the whole thing. There Will Be More

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 12

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Series Masterlist

Three years. Three years was all you got with James Montclair before he unexpectedly died from a heart attack. You two had so much you wanted to do together. You wanted to travel the world and start a family.

All of those dreams came to an unexpected halt and you felt so broken and empty.

James was your savior, salvation. Lover and friend. He was supposed to be there with you forever and this is what became of him? It's not fair. How could someone so sweet, passionate, and understanding like James succumb to such a sudden death? You don't understand it.

After the bishop says a final prayer and James' coffin lowers to the ground, you and James' mother hold each other tight, crying into each other's arms.

You, James' mother, his sisters, and his father, stay as friends and family bid you prayers, sorrows, and well wishes.

When Violet Bridgerton and her family come up next, you toss all propriety to the side. You throw yourselves at the older woman you saw as another mother figure. She gasps as she holds you, her heart breaking for she knows all too well how it feels to unexpectedly lose a husband.

"I know, sweet girl. I know it hurts. Let it all out."

The Bridgertons stand silently in solemn. All of their hearts clenching at the sight of you. You are their dear friend and they all hurt to see you so crestfallen.

But the one most broken of all stands furthest back from his siblings. Practically hiding behind his eldest brother, Benedict Bridgerton watches as you sob into his mother's arms.

He never wished for you to be in the same position similar to his mother's. To lose one's love and dearest friend, he saw how it affected his mother for years. Sure, his mother is happy now, but that was well long after his father's passing.

His concern grows for you. He hopes you don't fall into a deep depression and sadness. He felt helpless when his mother was going through it. He refuses to feel the same now with you.

With a sudden swell of courage and compassion, he pushes his way to the front of his siblings. All of which are too happy to let their brother through so confront you.

After minutes pass, you pull back from Violet and immediately spot Benedict.

"Ben," you say his name breathlessly before you hurl yourself towards him. He quickly catches you, wrapping his arms around you, tight.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispers as he holds you and you hold him.

"Thank you for coming," you whisper back.

Violet quickly gathers her children, herding them inside the Montclair estate where James' parents reside. Everyone leaving you and Benedict be.

A part of Benedict feels odd to be embracing you like this in front of your husband's grave. But you're hurting and need comfort, and that's the priority right now. You're the priority.

____________________

"Perhaps, it would be good for you to live with us for some time," James' mother, Clarissa, says once the guests start dwindling down. Benedict had left to fetch you a beverage. He hadn't left your side for hours.

You sigh, looking down at your black dress, "Won't I be intruding?"

"Darling, you are family. You could never intrude. This is your home now too."

"It's customary for the mourning period to be twelve months. In that time, it's best to be surrounded by your family for support," Violet says as she sits across from you in the drawing room.

"It is also customary to pause social obligations for a short time while you mourn," James' father, Jean Louis, adds, "Which I'm sure you're relieved about," he gives you a teasing wink.

You give a little chuckle, "Yes. James and I weren't very fond of all the balls and dinner parties. At least, I will get some reprieve from that."

Clarissa sadly smiles at the mention of her only son, "Yes, he never did like attending those. Having you by his side made them bearable, according to him."

"I felt the same," you let out a deep breath, "I think I will call it night here, if I may?" you look to your mother and father-in-law.

"Of course, cheri. Go rest," Clarissa stands and kisses your cheek. Jean Louis kisses your head.

Benedict comes back with two glasses in hand and a furrowed brow, "Are you alright?"

"I am feeling quite exhausted so I will be going to bed," you respond.

He nods in understanding, "Alright. I...If you need anything, write to me. I will be here in an instant."

"Promise?" you look at him hopefully.

"Promise."

"Thank you, Ben."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," you respond and nod to Violet before exiting the room.

Violet stands, "I believe that is our sign to leave as well."

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, to you and your family for coming today. It means a great deal to us."

The Dowager Viscountess softly smiles, "Yes, well, Y/N has always been a dear friend to our family. James became dear to us as well after they married. We cared for him, dearly. We are here should you ever need us, Lady Montclair."

"We very much appreciate it," Jean Louis says. He gestures for the Bridgerton family to step out first, he and his wife following behind.

_______________________

A part of you thought that Benedict was being nice when he said you could write him. The thought of writing letters to him again only for them to go unread scared you. But it was a particularly rough day. A week after James' passing, you were struggling to get through the day. You thought you were okay, but you were in the study reading and for a moment, you thought you saw James sitting at the desk, watching you with love in his eyes like he used to. But he wasn't.

That's when you decided to write to Benedict.

Dearest Ben,

I know you told me to write you if I ever needed anything. To be frank, I've been wanting to write you for several days now. However, I have been afraid to since for the past few years, I've written to you and I never received a letter back.

I hope you do read this letter. Whether it is due to pity or you do still care for me, it does not matter. Please, I beg you, just write back.

I need you more than ever right now.

While the Montclairs are kind, loving, and we all share the grief of losing James, I just need someone to distract me. To let me know that this pain won't be forever.

I desperately need your friendship, Benedict. This is all I ask.

Yours,

Y/N

_________________

After reading your letter, Benedict barges into Anthony's study startling Kate and Anthony.

"Brother," he says and nods to Kate, "Sister." He holds up your letter, "Y/N wrote to me begging for my friendship."

Kate and Anthony look at each other and then to Benedict, "I'm not sure what the issue is," Anthony says in confusion.

The Viscountess chuckles and shakes her head, "Dear husband, Benedict is obviously in distress because he is unsure of what the best plan of action is."

Benedict nods, "Yes. That's it," he fully faces his sister, "What do I do? You're still close to Y/N, yes?"

Kate closes the book she was reading and sits up in her chair, "I can't fully give you the extent of Y/N's thoughts and feelings towards you and the end of your friendship. However, I will say that since you cut off contact from her, she seemed to have lost her spark. Yes, she was still happy with the marquess, but you could tell that something was missing from her. She missed you a lot, Benedict."

Anthony slowly nods, "Yes, she didn't want you to leave her side at Montclair's funeral."

"She seemed more at ease after you approached her. Still mourning the death of her husband, yes, but happy you were there."

Benedict stands there contemplating Kate's words, "Do you think it's wise I pick up correspondence with her again?"

Kate shrugs, standing from her spot, "Doesn't matter what I think. All I know is that Y/N has missed your friendship, Benedict, and I know you feel the same." she gives her brother a reassuring pat on the arm before excusing herself from the room.

Benedict then looks to his eldest brother with an approving look, "I'm glad you married her, brother."

Anthony gives a proud, lovesick smile, "As am I."

[kosmogrl]

i completely understand the feeling of homesickness. i didn't even move that far, i grew up in brooklyn and when i was 18 i moved to montreal, where i still live. just over two months ago i became a canadian citizen !! and in the days leading up to and following my citizenship ceremony i would sometimes just sit and sob and sob and sob. becoming a citizen actually makes it easier for me leave and come back, but it still felt like i was giving something up. i was mourning the life i might have had if i had stayed, the guilt i feel for leaving my loved ones and the distance between us, the ways the city i grew up in has changed in the years that have passed. there were reasons i left, there were reasons i chose montreal. i love my life here, i am so incredibly lucky for the people in my life here, living in this beautiful and incredible city, every day even after all these years it still feels so special to finally be in a francophone place after growing up only speaking it at home. but i still feel this deep ache, i try and go home as much as possible but it's never enough, there's never enough money or time, and when i'm in brooklyn for extended periods, i miss montreal. i think anywhere you have roots you will always long for, it will always be a part of you and it will never be enough to not be there. you will want to tear yourself apart to be everywhere you love and with everyone you love. love comes with hurt, including for the places we leave behind.

oh you explained it so well, wow. and yeah when I really think about it, I think it comes down to me mourning the life I could've had if I didn't leave. it's something that eats me alive, I have to work on it. and yeah like you said, anywhere you have roots you will always long for.. nostalgia is a tricky thing. I haven't visited home ever since I left and I think that just makes things worse, maybe what I really need (more like what I know I need) is to just spend some days there again

[syndrossi]

It's finally spring break. *collapses*

Two questions:

1. What do you do to keep motivated and invested when writing epic long fic?

2. More of a comment, but man, I want Jon and Rhaegar to meet Cregan so bad. Or any child their own age that they aren't related to, really. They need friends. Maybe people start randomly bringing their 8ish year old sons with them when in the capital on business for, you know, absolutely no reason at all. It's not like the childhood friends and companions of royalty grow up with connections and positions they wouldn't have otherwise...

3. I lied, third question. Have you ever read the Tamir Triad by Lynn Flewelling? I feel like you should if you have not. It's a gothic historical fantasy in which a prince is murdered, his sister is hidden in disguise as her dead twin brother and haunted by his ghost (literally) to avoid being murdered by her uncle, and she has to somehow become queen to stop her country from being destroyed by famine, plague and war, all while dealing with the whole raised-as-her-dead-twin-brother thing. Lots of magic and political intrigue and character depth. ✨️ Also, there are dragons! 😉

Welcome to spring break! Hope you get to recharge a little.

For 1, it's usually that I'm as interested as everyone else in reading "what happens next" except I'm the person who has to write it. 😂 But some periods are harder than others. I've been going through some health/injury stuff (the foot is both better and differently worse), which can make the brain reach for more instant-dopamine, distracting activities (like playing games, watching shows, etc). Usually I have to impose some kind of artificial deadline to kick myself out of those funks. I do think a buffer makes things so much easier, which is why I mourn losing mine a while back. It's so much easier to add to an existing chunk of writing than stare at a blank chapter document.

For 2--I expect the sequel to Resonant (and perhaps a shorter story in between) might have more of that, but I definitely could see some scheming lords bringing children of an appropriate age to KL for "networking" reasons. Especially Green-leaning ones, though even Rhaenyra's sons are nearing the age of making lasting friendships. We're a bit at the mercy of the candle subplot/immediate aftermath for the next few chapters, but the harvest festival arc could see more courtly intrigue (both on the eligible-widower-Daemon front, and for members of the nobility who are intrigued about these new princes who both have the king's favor and appear to be important politically for the Free Cities).

For 3, I did read that series, a long time ago! I think it would have been in elementary school, but I loved it. As a kid, I don't think I internalized the "dead brother/twin" angle as much, but looking back, oof.

[vermilionsun]

I've seen everyone post their Touchstarved MCs, so I thought why not show you mine as well :)

(Aka, can you tell I'm indecisive?)

Akachi: The Unnamed

“I prefer to count my blessings.”

Pronouns: she/they

Birthday: January 16th — Firstborn; The date the priests took her in

Appearance:

Hair: wavy, mid-thigh length / later shoulder length, white

Skin: very very pale

Eye colour: Gold

Height: 174 cm / 5’7’’

Personality: Benevolent Deceiver — The Sun

Likes: Board games, drinking competitions, children, fairy lights, dressing up, perfumes and nice scents

Dislikes: bad-smelling things, being underestimated, rudeness, being unable to control themselves, the Senobium’s Abess

Fatal Flaw: Can’t seem to break free of their past

Other: 

Thinks of their little group as a found family

Isn’t as hesitant with her hand movements since they grew up unafraid of the curse disguised as a blessing

Isn’t that much into romantic stuff — sure she might fool around a bit with Leander and Kuras but they have made sure they knew beforehand

Have shamelessly commented on Leander’s abs more than once

Loves playing with the children of Lowtown

Considers becoming a teacher someday after getting rid of their curse

She has made living arrangements with Kuras opposed to staying at the Wick (later), but then again, they hang around there more often

Mourns their childhood

Has said “I swear upon my name” when mad multiple times out of habit

Had a mental breakdown once after a very bad encounter and ended up cutting her hair (cutting their hair was forbidden during their days at the temple, and at that moment they felt the need to do something to regain some sense of control over herself), until Aeron found and comforted them before anything worse could happen

Is both super open and very secretive about what they went through in the temple, depends on their mood, honestly

The moment they learned there is an Abess in the Senobium, she immediately got a very bad feeling about the place. They try to excuse it to their past experiences with the cult’s Abbot, but their feelings have never proved her wrong.

Background:

The priests found her in the wastelands surrounding the temple. Some priests argued they were born of the Allmother’s opposing deity, and wanted to sacrifice them in her name, but most were against it and thought of them as a divine gift.

She grew up as a gentle, kind child, but was denied contact with the world outside the temple. That didn’t stop her from periodically escaping to see travelling troupes.

One day, a mage arrived and went berserk the moment she saw them, telling her she had been lied to and revealing the truth of their curse, claiming they raised a child with the same exact curse. The priests escorted her out immediately but it was too late. Akachi escaped that very night.

Arrived in Eridia with the caravan

Relationships:

Kuras — liked

Finds him generally pleasant and amusing, albeit a little scary. If either ever has free time, they take each other on long walks.

Leander — close and disliked

Can see right through Leander’s charm, but plays the whole “how was I supposed to know about how the world works when I was locked away in a remote temple?” innocent card. She knows something's wrong and if they aren't proven right by the end of her stay in Eridia, they swear upon themself she’ll turn back to the temple and curse them out. Truth be told, they find Leander's desperation to get close to her funny.

Vere — close

Has to resist banging their head against the nearest surface whenever he opens his mouth, but finds it very difficult to do so. Hates herself for grinning at his stupid jokes and definitely doesn’t enjoy going shopping with him… or gossiping… or—

Ais — liked

Drinking buddies. With him, Akachi found out she’s practically immune to alcohol. One time she carefully entered the Seaspring, only for Ais to pull them out as soon as he saw her. For some reason, he seems incredibly protective over her after that.

Mhin — liked and disliked

Doesn’t mind them around. Neither seems threatened by the other, there is just this odd dynamic where they can’t figure out what they want from each other

Stats:

Strength — 1

Luck — 3

Wisdom — 3

Empathy — 4

Astuteness — 4

Flower: Snapdragon (Carnation) [True flower — date flower]

Aeron: The Hound

“If I could turn time back, I simply wouldn’t.”

Pronouns: he/him

Birthday: August 19th — Second Born; He chose the date he made his first kill

Appearance:

Hair: wavy, short, dirty blonde/brune

Skin: tan

Eye colour: Gold

Height: 182 cm / 6’0’’

Has a healed scar on his right cheek and a few faded ones on the rest of his body

Personality: Miscellaneous Harbinger — The Moon

Likes: Books, dogs, music, good company, origami, Mhin

Dislikes: Incompetence, loneliness, someone—or even worse he himself—hurting his family

Fatal Flaw: Always believes he takes the best course of action, even if he doesn’t

Other:

Is actively trying to quit smoking

The moment he had money in his hands, he went into the first bookshop he found in Lowtown and bought a book

The best shoulder to cry on & is a cuddly bear

Has earned the title “mother hen” from a few people

He fell for Mhin almost instantly

Stays at the Wick with Arioch

Aeron is the most protective of the three, watching over the other two despite being the middle child

Has become an errand boy and picks up orders for the Wick

Soft spot for that one macabre–themed bakery hidden in a corner of Lowtown

Generally tries to start fresh, avoids committing crimes anymore and hopes he can find a cure at some point

But if needed, he will punch a bitch without hesitation

Always carries a weapon with him, out of habit—usually a handy dagger

Background:

Grew up with a group of orphans in the streets of another city, which they had to eventually abandon due to the increase of Soulless.

Arrived in Eridia with his best friend, who then betrayed and stabbed him, leaving him to die in an alleyway.

Thankfully, that alleyway was the one behind the Wet Wick, and Leander found him quickly.

Relationships:

Kuras — liked

He and Kuras don’t have a particular relationship. They greet each other, maybe engage in small talk once in a while—probably about novels. Aeron’s a frequent visitor to the clinic, either for errands or tending attention to any injuries. Kuras’ also the one who encouraged Aeron to pursue a relationship with his siblings

Leander — close

Good friends. Leander saved him, got him a place to stay for free and even a job right after he was betrayed, effectively saving him from an alternative timeline of chaos and bloodshed that would have gotten him killed. Aeron came to realise that soon enough and promised to repay Leander as soon as he could… except for the drinks; those are, again, on Leander, right?

Vere — liked

Loves this bitch to death, for fuck’s shake. The banter is top tire and so is the unhinged flirting. Of course, they both eye someone else, but practice never hurt anyone, did it?

Ais — liked

The moment Aeron saw Princess, he was on his knees petting her and cooing at her, which immediately put him on Ais’ good side. He doesn’t mind pet sitting this “adorable fluffless ball of sunshine,” as he has called her. Despite all that, Ais is a bad influence for him when it comes to smoking. But, Ais is also his to–go person to help hide a body, if he ever needs it again.

Mhin — liked, developing to close

“Oh damn,” were Aeron’s first words when he saw them. Not quite a romantic at heart until that very moment. Loves to tease them, hoping to get them flustered or at least get pinned to a wall by them again. Mhin seemed to actively try to avoid him at first, then they warmed up, until they pulled away and the cycle repeated itself over and over again. But that’s fine; Aeron doesn’t mind waiting.

Stats:

Strength — 3

Luck — 2

Wisdom — 1

Selflessness — 3

Reading — 4

Flower: Sunflower (Gladiolus) [True flower — date flower]

Arioch: The Alchemist

“Isn’t life too short to be sad?”

Pronouns: they/them

Birthday: June 30th — Third Born; The date their “mother” told them they were born

Appearance:

Hair: none/bald

Skin: dark

Eye colour: Gold

Height: 165 cm / 5’2’’

Is blind in his left eye due to an experiment going wrong. The colour hasn’t changed much, but it looks more faded

Personality: Unforgiven Innocent — The Star

Likes: Dancing, bubbly potions, bad jokes, sweets, journaling, earrings, Kuras

Dislikes: silence, small spaces, lemonade, Vere

Fatal Flaw: They trust way too easily

Other: 

Sees Kuras as a father figure

and also helps him around in the clinic

Gives the best gifts

Has a snack with them at all times

Always perches in a high place whenever possible. Like, they never sit normally. Is that a bird? Is it a plane? Nope! It’s Arioch sitting on a random rooftop!

Has developed abandonment issues

Often suppresses their own emotions and thoughts, maintaining such strict self-control that it occasionally leads to overwhelming impulses to violently destroy something

Once upon a time, they accidentally left their journal unattended and a very sneaky and totally mysterious individual made quick, yet very detailed, sketches of everyone mentioned in there on Arioch’s extra sticky papers

Stays at the Wick with Aeron

Background:

The exiled mage found them abandoned in the wastelands as a baby. She decided to take them in the moment she saw them and raise them as her own

They found out their “mother” was cultivating them as a test subject through some forgotten notebooks. They couldn’t even finish reading before they bailed out of there with what little they had on them that moment.

They literally walked to Eridia, surprisingly without trouble, although they might have noticed some turfs of red hair suddenly appearing here and there as they were getting closer to the city

Ended up stumbling in the Seaspring’s temple

If they had flipped to the last pages, they would have seen her regret and abandonment of her original plans.

The mage was searching for them until the day she died, yet never found them. The closest she got was when she came across Akachi’s cult temple.

Relationships:

Kuras — close

Has grown attached to him. Not in the “I always wanted a father,” sense but in the “you make me feel comfortable enough and you take care of me and we don’t mind me being myself,” kind of sense.

Leander — liked

They find him a little pushy and overdramatic, but other than that they have no reason not to like him yet. It’s nice to let go of those damn bandages for a few moments… or hours—

Vere — disliked

Avoids him if they can. They get an uncanny feeling, like the foxian resides in every shadow they pass. Too much knowledge has hurt them in the past, so they simply don’t want to know whether they’re being hunted down like prey or they're just delusional.

Ais — liked

Definitely wants to see Princess again, but is too afraid to leave the city for now. Ais is all but encouraging them not to visit. They like to joke around with him, though Ais’ violent… solutions are stirring something in them they’d like not to name

Mhin — liked and disliked

They are each other's confront person. They will cuss each other out, then sit at the stairs behind Kuras’ clinic and feed the cats while chewing on sweets. Arioch is Mhin’s first taste of what a family would look like.

Stats:

Strength — 2

Luck — 5

Wisdom — 2

Kindness — 4

Confidence — 3

Flower: Peony (Rose) [True flower — date flower]

Timeline of events:

The triplets Akachi, Aeron and Arioch were born and left in different places (January 14th)

Aeron begins his journey to Eridia with his best friend

Arioch finds out the truth and runs away to Eridia

Akachi finds out the truth via Arioch’s “mother” and runs away to Eridia

Arioch stumbles upon the Seaspring temple

Aeron is betrayed and stabbed & Akachi’s caravan gets attacked

Leander finds Aeron and tends to his wounds, Kuras heals Akachi, Arioch stumbles upon Vere

Arioch gets a room at the Wick and stays there till nighttime

Akachi meets with Leander & then Vere, before heading for the Senobium

Akachi meets with Ais

Aeron wakes up and settles down at the bar, soon meeting with Vere and Ais

Akachi gets attacked again by the Soulless, meets with Mhin and returns to the Wick accompanied by Mhin and Kuras

At the same exact time, Aeron is drinking green booger–shots at the bar (still bandaged up), Arioch descends the stairs and Akachi enters the Wick.

They all just freeze, staring at each other

“Is that a new trend? Foreigners dressing up with bandages, looking all mysterious?” Vere breaks the moment

It takes the three a while to figure out what the actual fuck before Ais casually mentions: “You could be siblings. You kind of look alike. Not to mention…” your curse isn’t said, but heavily implied

Dynamics:

It does take them a little while—especially Aeron—to make a decision on how to move forward.

Arioch knew the moment they made the connection that they didn’t want to lose a potential bond.

As for Akachi… she’s always wanted siblings, so why not give it a shot?

All three just want to protect each other from what they went through

[itadores]

note: had this idea awhile ago, but didn't get around to writing it until now

pairing: gojo satoru & gn!reader, nanami kento x gn!reader

tags: gender neutral reader, platonic relationship between gojo and reader, past romantic relationship between nanami and reader, hopeful ending?

satoru is acting strange. most noticeably, he's been more distant as of late. and for someone as bothersome as him, it's unusual that he's not taking every opportunity that presents itself to irritate you. the peace and quiet is pleasant but unsettling. if satoru's not annoying you as he usually does, it must mean he's up to something. and knowing satoru, it's nothing good.

although you will mourn the brief period of tranquility of your life that is satoru-free, you know that he's most likely concocting up some scheme right now. you won't be able to rest easy if you don't get to the bottom of what satoru is planning. you decide to seek out the man yourself to get the answers you're searching for, but satoru is irritatingly good at avoiding situations that he wishes to evades. he's nowhere to be spotted at the bakeries and pastry shops he loves to frequent, but you can sense traces of his energy all over the place as if he was just there. he hasn't been sent off on any long-term or long-distance missions recently, which you confirmed with principal yaga to be true.

it appears that satoru's current mission at hand is to avoid you. it makes your eyes twitch and your teeth grit in irritation. you will not allow him to get away with avoiding you that easily.

like a bloodhound, you track satoru down. although he attempts to side step and evade you, he cannot do so forever. eventually, you manage to corner satoru after a meeting that required both of your attendance. now that he's within your grasp, you don't intend on letting him go until you manage to squeeze all of the answers you desire out of him.

"why are you avoiding me?"

you're blunt, getting straight to the point. there's no need for niceties or to beat around the bush, especially when it concerns satoru. if satoru had it his way, he could talk in circles and circles until you relented and gave up on the conversation.

"i have no idea what you mean-"

"cut the shit, satoru," you cut him off, giving him a dead stare. your eyes narrow at him. "you and i both know i'm not an idiot, so i'm going to ask you one more time. why are you avoiding me? what are you hiding?"

satoru smiles.

a feeling of dread washes over you.

"guess you'll just have to wait and see," he teases before he disappears before your very eyes. your fist closes around nothing but air, and you curse gojo satoru out under your breath.

unease settles in your chest. you regret ever befriending satoru.

for days after your interaction with satoru, you're on edge. more so than usual. you're not sure what to expect since satoru, that bastard, didn't give you any hints, but you're ready for whatever he may throw at you.

but you are proven painfully wrong when on a walk around jujutsu high, you're greeted with the sight of nanami kento. it feels like you've been physically struck when your eyes land on him. the last time you saw nanami kento in the flesh was over four years ago. the outline of his back as he walked out on the world of sorcery, out on you, is seared into your memory. pressed into the back of your eyelids. there every single time you blinked.

perhaps, you've truly gone and lost it. the years spent as a jujutsu sorcerer have driven you to madness. to the point where you're hallucinating the sight of the only boy you've ever loved. but you can feel kento's cursed energy. it's unmistakably and indisputably him. you would be able to recognize it anywhere. no matter how many years have passed.

your breath hitches when your blatant staring and internal spiraling is interrupted by a slight turn of the head. before your brain can comprehend it, nanami kento is looking in your direction. although you cannot see his eyes, which remain hidden behind a pair of glasses you've never seen him wear before, you know that he is looking at you. the corners of nanami's lips curl into a slight smile, and your heartbeat goes unsteady at the sight of it. nanami kento is still as beautiful as the day you lost him.

as you take a step towards the blond, you make a mental note to strangle satoru later for not warning you ahead of time of nanami kento's return.

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Reference Guide to Seb's Hair(Long post w lots of pics):

I would rate these but I love every version of him too much so I cannot pick 🤭, I'll add some commentary though. This took a horrible amount of time but it was also a great excuse to download and show off a truly terrible amnt of Seb pics(I was in tears half the time bcs of cuteness agression)

0. Testing(Jerez)(February 10th-12th):

Honestly such perfect Seb hair, I find this soooo cute!!! His hair is honestly always so perfect at Jerez testing every season. I love the length and style, he looks so incredibly pretty &lt;3

1. Australia(March 26th-29th):

And now he is...bald. I actually kinda love this hair, he's my little kiwi fruit!! But I also can't help but mourn the Jerez hair. I'm just like: why did you feel the need to go bald, Seb??? It makes him look so young!

2. Malaysia(April 2nd-5th):

3. China(April 16th-19th):

I think the highlight of his bald era is how much he embodies the nickname "sunshine." Like the way his hair and eylashes glow in the sun??? Literally sunshine. Also it's cute to see his hair grow more fluffy

4. Bahrain(April 23rd-26th):

The texture differences are so interesting, I think this length looks its best when it's more fluffy like in the top right pic.

5. Spain(May 7th-10th):

It's funny how his hairline does that point in the middle, again: looks better when he looks unkempt

6. Monaco(May 21st-24th):

Weirdly shocked at how much his hair grew in-between Spain and Monaco??? Also I forgot that those fashion pics were from this weekend, and I was jumpscared by his mohawk look. I think he should keep away from hair product hahaha

7. Turkey(June 4th-7th):

Lego hair looking ass. Kidding kidding, just think his hair looks best all natural

8. Silverstone(June 18th-21st):

Lowkey kinda baffling to me how different his hair looks at different stages of the weekend. The podium hair especially is just soooo different, its very cute but yeah idk

9. Germany(July 9th-12th):

I did not realize he cut his hair again during this season?? Seeing these was very surprising to me, I had thought he grew it out for the entire season but I guess not! But I guess if he hadn't gotten a haircut the entire season, he'd probably have his angelic curls of 2010 by the end

10. Hungary(July 23rd-26th):

Kinda love the looks he was serving this weekend, it's just very spikey and cute(also the cunty sunglasses!!

11. Valencia(August 20th-23rd):

12. Belgium(August 27th-30th):

That garage lighting makes his hair look soooo much more yellow rather than his fair blond in the sunlight

13. Italy(September 10th-13th):

This transitional growing period is not my fav, just the way his hair sweeps in is funny

14. Singapore(September 24th-27th):

Looking particularly blond this weekend!! His hair is just very light and pretty

15. Japan(October 1st-4th):

I think most of these are from post-quali and for good reason; I love the way it looks like he has highlights in all the bottom pics

16. Brazil(October 15th-18th):

I love his scruffiness from this weekend!!! The scruffy stubble is sooooooo!!!

17. Abu Dhabi(October 29th-November 1st):

Pretty cute I think but yeah like nothing can really compete with his hair length in 2010 for me so I look at these and I'm like, ooooo growing longer!!

Conclusion: I think it's fun to get to see the process of someone's hair growing out. I've noticed that a lot of men with short hair get very consistent haircuts to keep their hair generally the same length, and I think that's so boring!! I think it's great to grow out your hair for a few months time because you get to see yourself at all the different stages and experiment with all kinds of different looks! So yeah, props to Seb for serving all kinds of looks this season!!

Also it's always interesting to me how much hair length/style and facial hair can change a person's look, but particularly how old/young they look. Like when he shaved his his head, it made him look so young. But in Brazil for example, with the longer hair and scruffy facial hair, he def looks older!

And of course, let me know which you like the best :D My favorite is Jerez <3

[maream-zaream]

honestly going off nothing I thought fresh was born out of maybe some sort of glitch in a destroyed universe because he’s kinda one of his kind in the multiverse— (in the same branch as endermites and endermen from minecraft?? Maybe because of Error or something..) But the actual lab backstory makes a lot of sense! I just wish it would have been finished or we could have gotten the script for it (but I’m sure I’m not alone in this ajsjdhjssj)

Anyways you said you had headcanons? I don’t have much about him so feel free to share more :DD

Though as I think more about him I’m starting to have a few too. Like true fresh being light sensitive? Ofc the glasses are for hiding him and all but.. it does align with that Headcanon too. (And… I think it would be fun :> )

About the scripts: Me too, buddy, me too T_T. Though honestly the bit of Fresh lore that I'm still mourning over is the forever-awaiting TimeParty Pt. 3- IT LITERALLY LEFT OFF ON A CLIFFHANGER!!

And yeah, despite Fresh being a relatively popular character, his actual lore bits and character stuff (the Roleplays) aren't actually all that well known. Though, I definitely see where you got the glitch stuff lol. I mean, Fresh's comic debut was in Ask-Error lol. And honestly now that I think about it, you could probably make a connection regarding Fresh and (computer) viruses, especially considering his plan during LoveBall...

Anyways, I really like your headcanon regarding Fresh and light!! Actually, I think I'm gonna adopt it myself, especially considering how well it fits with my own HC, like you mentioned!

But yeah, some other head canons I have are (it's long):

One of the reasons Fresh goes after taller bodies is due to how his actual body is quite small. My guess is that he would probably be no bigger than a hand, so he would feel pretty insecure regarding his size lol. Particularly, he would be scared about how, without a host, he's basically a sitting duck. Too small and weak to really defend himself from any attack or find nourishment... I think Fresh is all too cognizant of just how much he needs his hosts. Well, he'd probably never admit that out loud but he definitely knows it lol. So in short, I guess you could see Fresh's use of taller bodies as a sort of overcompensation for his actual size.

After using the 90s as a facade for this true self for so long, I think that Fresh genuinely doesn't know how much of it is fake anymore. Like, I think that Fresh first adopted the 90s stuff purely based on how it would allow him to create a goofy, disarming persona. But over time, Fresh has adapted aspects of it as part of his actual personality and likes/dislikes. Like, I think Fresh genuinely likes stuff like Furbies and rap music, but other stuff like his dislike of drugs and alcohol is a bit exaggerated/put through a 90s-based filter.

Actually, speaking of the drugs and alcohol, I think Fresh dislikes them due to two reasons. 1) They lower the quality/health of a body, making them last for a short time period while not making them the best to feed off of. 2) Fresh himself would never partake because of their mind-altering effects and how they could lead him into dangerous or life threatening situations. I mean think about, this guy's entire thing is how terrified of death he is, why in the world would he use something that makes him vulnerable and less alert to danger and could potentially kill him with excess use? (Also, I think I remember Crayon Queen talking about this aspect of Fresh somewhere in more depth, but that may actually be a false memory idk)

Also, adopting neon-draws-sometimes's HC, I find the idea of Fresh finding some kind of kinship with Furbies really interesting and cute! I mean, it probably speaks to some level of isolation and alienation to find kinship with Furbies' uncanny bahavior and appearance, but I find it endearing never the less! It makes me think of a scene of Fresh hugging a Furby like a lifeline after a particularly bad day, preferably in an alleyway. Though, I guess a more light heartened take could just be him liking how Furbies scare people while still looking "cute" or disarming.

Admittedly this is less so a head canon and more so a story idea or detail: but I imagine Fresh 2.0 as kind of like in-between a stress-induced hallucination and a specter from the future/fandom? Kind of like how the ghosts from A Christmas Carol can work both as just Scrooge's guilty conscious manifesting nightmares or as actual, literal ghosts, if that makes sense. 2.0 works in an ambiguity between reality and fiction, though the emotional harm he inflicts upon Fresh is still very much real.

Actually, expanding a bit more on that, I see 2.0 as representative of all of Fresh's worries and stresses. That 2.0 literally represents Fresh's fear of death and oblivion by showing just how easy he is to be replaced. Just how easily Fresh could die, just how easily Fresh could become disliked and thrown away.

Ok, now let's get to relationship head cannons!! Whoo!:

Ink (also, quick disclaimer, I'm not as well-versed in Ink lore as I am in Fresh lore, so apologies if I misinterpret Ink egregiously here!):

I think that Fresh would try to have a somewhat amicable relationship with Ink, just because Fresh acknowledges how popular and beloved Ink is to the fandom. This would make a relationship with Ink beneficial, as it ensures Fresh doesn't become irrelevant or (hopefully) boring. Furthermore, Ink's status as "Protector" of the multiverse and their close relationship with the Star Sanses makes a more antagonistic relationship a bit more of a gamble. It becomes kind of hard to hunt down a new host if you have two AU-hoppers on your tail, doesn't it?

Though, I'd imagine in actuality Fresh kind of dislikes Ink. Now, I do think that Fresh would understand Ink through the lens of doing his best to make sure that the fandom/creators keep creating in order to keep producing their food/energy source (the paints). Additionally, Fresh would also understand Ink through their mutual sort of self-importance (albeit Ink's is a bit more existential as they see themselves as the only "real" person in the multiverse). Though, I feel like the sticking point would be 1) Ink's reverence of emotions and 2) just how unpredictable Ink can be.

The former is due to how Fresh is shown to absolutely detest his new emotions in the roleplays, becoming scared and angry due to the confusion they bring him. The latter assertion is due to how what Ink does is based on what they think is best for the story/audience. What Ink does depends on what he thinks the creators want from them, making them somewhat unpredictable as they may let even their closest friends die if they think it's what is best for the story. Basically, Fresh doesn't trust how self-sacrificial Ink can be.

Error:

Similar as to what is shown in both Error's and Fresh's blogs, I think Fresh messes around a lot with Error. Error is definitely a very bullyable and entertaining target due to how short his temper is and how easy it is to press his buttons lol. Though, I do think that Fresh has to be sort of careful about keeping out of Error's blast radius whenever he does his pranks.

Though, borrowing from xxwish-bonexx, I do think that Fresh would absolutely hate Error if he ever messed with someone Fresh grew attached to. Heck, it may not even take Fresh forming a relationship with something, I think Fresh would hate Error too if he destroyed/messed with an AU Fresh was planning on using as a food source. Though, if this were to happen, I imagine Fresh would still prank and mess with Error, it would just take on a meaner edge to it.

Dream:

Sees Dream as someone he has to appeal to/ keep on the good side of. This is due to the aforementioned reasoning in Ink's section about how Dream could very easily hunt Fresh throughout the multiverse. Though, I think Fresh is especially weary due to how Dream literally benefits nothing from his continued existence, as well as how Dream is much more motivated by justice than Ink (who would be more tolerant of Fresh due to the creators).

Also, I think that while Fresh is aware of Dream's aversion to killing and belief in second chances, he's also seen Dream's fights with his brother and wants no part in that lol.

Additionally, I think that Fresh would pretty easily be able to predict Dream, as he adheres to a set of moral guidelines that are pretty easy to guess and manipulate.

Nightmare:

Similar to Dream, Fresh would just try his best to stay off NM's radar. While Fresh would more directly benefit from an alliance with NM (NM feeds off of Fresh and his hosts' negativity + NM leaves people vulnerable to possession after attacks), I think that Fresh would hesitate to ever make a formal alliance with him due to the bad cred it would give him. Like, it would make him a direct enemy of the Stars and many of the inhabitants of the Omega Timeline, it would make life unnecessarily harder.

Also, again similar to Dream, Fresh has seen NM's fights with his brother and wants no chance of being caught in the crossfire.

Honestly, I see Fresh as acting as a sort of vulture in regards to NM, swooping in to get a host from an emotionally and physically vulnerable person after everyone's left before getting out of dodge.

Additionally, now that I think about it, both Fresh and NM are pretty self-serving, which I just think would push Fresh even more towards not interacting a lot with him. Fresh recognizes how dangerous Nightmare can be, and unlike Dream NM just sees killing as an inconvenience rather than a taboo.

Bad Sanses (Killer, Horror, Dust/Murder):

I don't honestly have much to say about these guys? Uhm, I think that Fresh would see them as any other Sans, as a potential food source and pawns. Though, Fresh would never go after these guys due to their close relation with Nightmare, best not poke a bear and all that.

Though, honestly, I doubt Fresh would go for them even if Nightmare wasn't in the picture. Horror no doubt has horrible physical and soul health, Dust is too determined and would put up too much of a fight, and I don't even know if it's possible for Fresh to feed on Killer with his soul out like that.

Blue/Swap Sans:

Similar to above, Fresh would see him as just another Sans but can't mess with him due to his close relationship with Ink and Dream.

Now, some aspects of my HCs about Fresh's relations are most likely subject to change, but I think this is a good sort of overview of everything! Honestly, I see Fresh as someone who likes to stay away from big battles and powers as much as possible, so any close relationships he has are probably gonna be with weaker/lesser known characters.

[yourpersonaljaskier]

Hello hello! I watched Whitepine and now I'm insane! I also watched a theory video! I'm very insane and I need to ramble as to what I think is going on

Theory will be under read more, spoilers ahead

First things first:

Who is mrs. Hemlocke, and how long has she been dead?

So, some things to establish the estimated time period:

- steam locomotives and steam engines are around (meaning it's past the year 1712)

- The colour black may be associated with the mourning period (early roman period til the 20th century, now very well known because of Queen Victoria, who mourned her husband for 4 decades til the the early 1900's and wore black daily)

These bring us to a rather specific time frame between 1712 and before the 20th century

Black doesn't seem to be a very 'fashionable' colour, as the theory video I watched relied quite heavily on the idea that the Hemlocke family is in mourning. While the idea in of itself isn't a bad idea, I heavily disagree with this notion for 3 simple reasons:

1. The family isn't in ACTUAL mourning! They wear black clothes, yes, but there's no other indication they're in active mourning. They wear colours not permitted by the mourning rules created by Queen Victoria (assuming they're in England due to the name Whitepine and the general outlay of architecture), which was from 1861 til 1901 iirc, which is a HIGHLY likely time period they were in. Zam participates in hunting, the household isn't in mourning (the women aren't wearing any amount of mourning regalia, ie, veils, jewelry, full black attire, similar with the men), the HEAD BUTLER doesn't tell Ivory about the passing of the hear mistress (which MEANS the mourning period is long over and the topic is dead at this rate, Ivory doesn't need to be a genius to figure out why the mistress is never mentioned), Izzy permits Ivory to be the piano, so on and so forth

2. Serapter doesn't know why the piano room was empty. Her death was before his time, and he seems plenty adult to me.

3. There were no search parties (if she had disappeared), there were no funeral arrangements, no active mention of her or her recent passing, and black clothes are not an indication of a mourning period.

These, to me, are clear signs that the family, at least the children, have long moved on.

Now, how long has mrs. Hemlocke been dead?

Well.

Let's look at the Hemlocke children. So far, we only know that Pyro is the oldest, with the others having to clear indication of when they were born. But, to me, the Hemlocke children all seem to be of a similar age. There are no tutors or extra teachers for the women to learn etiquette, Zam goes hunting and invites Pyro with him, they seem to go out semi regularly as known bacherlors (as none of the children are married), and seem to have a close bond with how they interact with one another

None of the children seem teenage-d to me, but we'll see as the show progresses

In my mind, mrs. Hemlocke died when the youngest was a few months old. It makes the most sense with how the family and household act around her death and items. The piano was moved but is still taken care of. It's tuned with no obvious dust, out of sight and out of mind but with instructions to keep it in good shape

Izzy easily absolves the previous order to not let anyone touch the piano, meaning it's been long enough where she finds it doesn't matter if someone plays it, and as Clown mildly implies, it seems that the order was given by Zombie, as he advises Ivory to not make too much noise

Obviously, as mrs. Hemlocke was the mistress of the estate, all the older staff would have been relatively fond of her and followed whatever wish Zombie made about her items, but as Serapter doesn't even seem to know as to what some of the rooms are for (like the piano room), and that he 'forgot [the piano] was down there,' quite heavily implies her death was wayyyy before his time

To compress: Mrs. Hemlocke died perhaps decades ago, to a point where none of the household is in mourning and have seemingly moved on, with new servants being unaware of the affects her passing had on the family (ex. Serapter)

Who killed Mistycat, and why do people think it's the forest?

I personally think the forest has got absolutely nothing to do with Mistycat's death, and that there's a different perpetrator at hand with no supernatural element. I'll explain after this segment as to why the forest is such a focal point to Ivory, but for now:

The forest is an ominous 'character' and looming figure during the whole episode. Multiple shots include Ivory spacing out and simply staring at the woods in some sort of trauma reaction

The forest is ominous, dense and is eerie due to the atmosphere

Forests are easy ground to get lost in and die

Supernatural activity can easily be tied with a supernatural forest

Misty's death is sudden and seems out of nowhere after a bit of a long shot with the woods

From Misty's injuries, it seems like the attack was quite violent, but it's not above that she fell down the stairs after being attacked. The injuries on the back of her head could suggest a blunt force blow, while the rest of her injuries were amassed from her tumbling down the stairs, which would draw someone to check out what happened, and of course, then the freak out

Do I have an idea as to who it could be? No. Fuck no lol, I'm not a psychic, I just don't think it's supernatural for now. There's absolutely zero reason as to why a supernatural entity would be killing the household now and not then

Why is the forest such a big deal, and Ivory's behaviour

Now. Hear me out on this: Ivory is from a cult like environment, where a settlement was in a similar forest, quite like the surrounding area of Whitepine

Her behaviour, past being autistic, is very submissive, with a fear of authority, the fear of disobeying orders to such an extent that she asks a fellow coworker permission to go outside, and a general reclusive behaviour that I associate with a want to conform and not cause issues for the ones in power

Obviously, all of these can be attributed to Ivory's implied autism, but I think it makes more sense with Ivory's behaviour towards the woods and other people

She seems afraid of talking, saying anything outside of what is asked of her, and even then, she struggles greatly and panics about being in trouble to a near panic attack level. Her dissociation with the sight of forests seems trauma related, along with the buzzing noise she gets after people rush to see why someone screamed

She seems afraid but in an abstract sense. She stares for seemingly hours after being dismissed her first day, just staring at the woods that caused her to zone out first thing

It's not normal behaviour. Even from a neurodivergent standpoint in my opinion. Her anxiety seems to come from an outside place, and Minutetech not knowing anything about her, past where he found her and what she did on the train ride gives me the impression she ran away from her cult, and now associates forests with them, causing her to have bad reactions when on edge or stressed

And that was it! Thank you for the read, hope you enjoyed my unhinged thoughts!!

[abogwitchnamedsage]

𝙀𝒍𝙩𝒖𝙧𝒊𝙖𝒏 𝑻𝙖𝒊𝙡𝒔 𝑾𝙚𝒆𝙠𝒍𝙮 𝘿𝒆𝙫 𝙐𝒑𝙙𝒂𝙩𝒆

[ Week of May 18, 2025 ] /// Primary Game Dev Post

Well, this has been an unexpected week. I had hoped to have a secondary character sprite to share, but life had other plans.

I'm away from home, helping with a funeral and mourning family. I'm away from my usual set-up and not particularly in the mood for creativity.

BUT! I would regret not sharing any little progress that I made this week (and last week that I forgot to share).

The best news I have to share is...the first completed draft of Zevlor's core romance route is complete! *insert copious amounts of confetti and champagne here*

Writing for Zevlor—someone who starts out guarded and duty-bound but slowly reveals tenderness, uncertainty, and (poetic) longing—is just so delicious. I've said it many times before, but I'll say it again...I adore this old man.

And by the watching gods, Zevlor Nation... we will give this old man the love and devotion he deserves!

Right now, his core romance route is just over 9,000 words in total, including dialogue branches. Once all is said and done, it will probably be right around 11,000 (this is excluding parts of the game that aren't romance-route specific). More branches that correspond to specific player backgrounds are needed, but as it stands today, when coded into the game, he has a romance storyline that just works!

A smaller achievement: secondary characters (ones without romance routes but are a part of the story) have been identified, parred down, and will eventually have their own functioning sprites! These characters include:

Lia

Cal

Bex

Danis

Lakrissa

And last but surely not least, our favorite tiefling bard: Alfira!

The overall script is... very much in progress! I'm still getting used to writing fan fiction and visual novels, and I am humbled every time I have to delete chunks of drafts to start over again. (I come from a background in writing periodicals...to all of the fanfiction writers: you are built differently, and I can't comprehend your beautiful big brains.)

While choices in the game aren't critical to achieving a better story outcome (they are just there for flavor and storytelling), I want plenty of options that create player agency and reactive storytelling. Unfortunately for me, that means when I commit 300 words to a chunk of three branches, the player sees only 100 words (just a third of the writing), assuming they don't go back to test the outcomes of other choices. AND because I hate myself, some branches contain five or more player options. I now understand why visual novels don't have as many branching dialogue options as my emotionally-invested heart desires—they're a ton of work!

Zevlor has a TON of history hidden in his dialogue options! Here's a snippet of dialogue from Zevlor that comes from a specific branch where you can inquire about a particular scar on his body, where he talks about his old loyal steed:

ALSO! Last week was a huge milestone in that all of the bachelors' sprites have been finished and implemented into the game. I didn't share a screenshot with the boys together, which is a CRIME.

LOOK AT THEMMMM!! ❤️❤️❤️

This is me, seeing the boys together in-game at last: