#I just want to be gone from this appointment

[sturnsblogs]

DEADBEAT

Fratboy!Chris X Toxic!Fwb!Reader

—

Chris had been helping around your apartment like it was his full-time job. He cleaned more than you did. Did the dishes, mopped the floors, vacuumed, wiped down the counters—even folded your laundry with that terrible little smirk like he was the best boyfriend in the world.

He wasn’t, technically. You weren’t even sure what he was to you now.

But still, he was there.

Every night.

He stayed over almost every evening now, claiming the couch at first but somehow ending up in your bed more times than not. He woke you up every morning with some kind of breakfast—sometimes just cereal in a chipped bowl, other times pancakes shaped like animals, with uneven blueberries as eyes. You never asked for any of it. But he did it anyway.

He kissed your forehead every chance he got. Rubbed your back when you were nauseous. Held your hair when you threw up. Whispered stupid little compliments like, “You’re still so fuckin’ pretty, even when you’re hurling into a Target bag.”

It was weird.

Sweet, but weird.

You didn’t know how to feel.

Especially today.

You were supposed to be getting ready for your first appointment, and Chris was acting like you were eight months pregnant with twins and not barely two weeks along.

He had already laid out your clothes—leggings, hoodie, fuzzy socks. He was fussing in the kitchen about something when you stomped in and rolled your eyes.

“Chris,” you said flatly. “I can dress myself. I’m not dying.”

He glanced over his shoulder, unbothered. “Didn’t say you were. Just figured you’d wanna be comfy.”

“I can decide what’s comfortable,” you snapped.

His brow twitched, and he turned around fully, towel still in his hand. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I just don’t need you babying me every two seconds.”

“I’m not babying you,” he said calmly. “I’m just helping.”

“You won’t even let me carry the fucking laundry basket,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “I’m not disabled, Chris.”

He raised his hands. “Alright, damn. Sorry for wanting to make sure the mother of my child doesn’t pass out trying to lift a pile of t-shirts.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, grabbing your hoodie from the couch and tugging it over your head. “I’m not even two weeks pregnant. Can you chill?”

Chris grabbed his keys and looked at you with his mouth slightly open, like you’d just said something insane.

“You don’t know that,” he argued. “We haven’t even gone to the appointment yet.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” he said, following you as you stormed into the bathroom to fix your hair. “You’re over here acting like it’s not a big deal—”

“I never said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Well, you’re acting like it,” he replied, leaning on the doorframe. “Like I’m crazy for wanting to take care of you.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second, brush mid-air. “You never did before.”

That shut him up.

The silence stretched between you, thick and awkward.

You set the brush down quietly and leaned against the counter. “You never acted like this until I was pregnant. And now you’re doing dishes and folding socks and waking me up with fruit bowls like…” You trailed off.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“Like we’re some happy little family,” you whispered, biting the inside of your cheek.

Chris stepped closer, enough that you could feel his presence behind you but not enough to touch. “I’m trying,” he murmured. “I know I was shit before. I’m not trying to play house. I’m trying to be there—for you, and for the baby. Even if it’s early. Even if it’s small. I don’t want you doing this alone.”

You blinked fast. “I don’t even know if I want to do this at all.”

That made his stomach drop—but he didn’t argue.

He just nodded. “Then let’s go to the appointment. One step at a time. No pressure. Just information. Just… answers.”

You finally looked at him. “You’re still not carrying the damn laundry.”

Chris smirked. “We’ll see.”

The ride to the clinic was quiet at first. The kind of quiet where every little sound felt louder than it should’ve—the AC humming, the turn signal clicking, the occasional thud of the car passing over a pothole.

Chris had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee, thumb twitching like he wanted to say something but kept second-guessing himself. You were staring out the window, arms crossed, chewing on your thumbnail.

Then, he broke the silence.

“You ever think of names?” he asked casually, like it wasn’t the most terrifying question either of you could bring up. “Like… if it’s a girl. Or a boy, I guess.”

You blinked slowly, jaw tightening.

He continued without noticing your change in expression. “I always liked the name Luca. Or like… Mila, if it’s a girl. But I don’t know. That’s probably dumb.”

You let out a bitter laugh and turned your head toward him. “Seriously?”

Chris glanced at you, confused. “What?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Quit acting like you aren’t gonna be a deadbeat dad.”

The words slipped out fast, venom laced in every syllable.

Chris’s hand on the wheel stilled. His entire face went blank—eyes straight ahead, jaw clenched so tightly you saw the muscle twitch. He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask you to explain.

Didn’t laugh it off like he usually would.

He just… went quiet.

And that silence hit way harder than any yelling ever could.

You looked back out the window, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said it. Not because you didn’t feel it in the moment—because you did. You were scared, overwhelmed, angry at everything. But watching the way his whole demeanor changed made something in your chest twist.

The rest of the drive was silent. Uncomfortably so.

Even when he pulled into the parking lot, he didn’t say anything. Just turned the car off and sat there for a second, staring at the dashboard like it had answers for him.

You finally looked over at him.

“Chris—”

He shook his head. “Let’s just go in.”

But his voice was hollow now.

And the guilt settled heavy in your stomach as you followed him into the clinic, the waiting room smelled like hand sanitizer and old magazines. A baby cried somewhere across the room, and you tried not to flinch.

Chris sat next to you, arms folded, legs bouncing restlessly. He hadn’t said a word since pulling into the parking lot. Not when the receptionist handed you the clipboard. Not when you muttered a half-hearted apology while filling out your name on the forms. Not even when the nurse called your name.

Now, you were both sitting in the little exam room. Sterile walls. A crinkly paper sheet on the table. The faint sound of a monitor beeping in the next room over. You were sitting up on the table, feet dangling nervously, while Chris sat in the corner in the little plastic chair like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You watched him for a second. He hadn’t looked at you once.

“Chris,” you said softly, forcing a small smile. “You’re really gonna sit there and ignore me in a gynecologist’s office? That’s kinda cruel.”

Nothing.

You tried again. “Remember when you told me you thought ultrasounds were, like, sci-fi movie stuff? You were so scared it was gonna show the baby waving.”

Still nothing.

You sighed and picked at your nails. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad.”

Still nothing.

You bit your lip, voice going quieter. “I didn’t mean it. What I said in the car. It was a shitty thing to say. You’re not— you’ve been… good to me. Better than I ever expected.”

He finally looked up at you, and his eyes were tired. Really tired.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “You meant it.”

The door creaked open before you could respond, and a kind-looking nurse stepped in with a clipboard and a soft smile. “Hi, Y/N? Ready to get started?”

You forced a smile and nodded.

Chris didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

Even when they told you everything looked fine. Even when they said you might be further along than expected. Even when the doctor turned the screen and pointed out the little fluttering heartbeat—he just sat there. Quiet. Numb. Like he wasn’t in the room at all.

When it was all over and you walked out with a printed photo in hand, you looked at him.

“It’s real now,” you said softly, holding up the ultrasound.

He glanced at it for a moment.

Then looked away.

And you didn’t know what hurt worse, his silence, or the fact that, you were starting to feel truly alone in this.

The ride home was silent.

No music. No small talk. Just the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of a turn signal clicking. Chris kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. You sat with your arms crossed, the ultrasound photo burning a hole in your lap.

You didn’t say anything when he pulled into your spot.

Didn’t say anything when he turned the car off.

But when he got out without waiting for you, that’s when the sinking feeling started again.

You trailed behind him, keys jingling nervously in your hand as he unlocked your door and stepped inside. The place looked exactly the same as when you left it—blankets on the couch, his hoodie draped over a chair, an empty glass on the counter.

Comfortable. Lived-in. Yours and his.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he walked straight into your room and started gathering his things.

Your voice cracked the silence. “What… what are you doing?”

He didn’t look at you. Just grabbed his charger from the wall, the sweats he left on your dresser, the cologne you always secretly used when he wasn’t around.

“I’m gonna head home,” he said quietly. “Give you some space.”

“Space?” You blinked. “Chris—what? Why?”

He finally looked at you. And he looked tired. Not just tired—defeated. Like today knocked something loose in him and he hadn’t been able to recover.

“Because I need it,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t wanna say something I can’t take back.”

You swallowed hard, stepping toward him. “You don’t have to go. I—I’m sorry, okay? What I said in the car, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just being defensive. Scared.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But it doesn’t change that it stuck.”

He turned, walking toward the living room with his stuff in hand. You followed him again.

“Please don’t leave,” you said, voice quieter now. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone.”

He paused.

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath. His back was still to you when he finally mumbled, “Alright. Just for tonight.”

He dropped his stuff by the door and sank onto the couch, leaning back with a long sigh. You stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure if this counted as a win or not.

Later that night, the apartment was dark and quiet.

You couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned under your sheets, the silence somehow louder with the distance between you. And when you finally got up, your feet padded softly across the floor until you reached the living room.

Chris was lying on the couch, facing the back cushions. His chest rose and fell slow and steady—but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

You hovered for a second, then whispered, “Chris?”

He didn’t move.

You stepped closer. “Will you come to bed?”

Still nothing.

“Please?” you said, and this time, your voice cracked. “I can’t do this alone.”

He rolled over slowly. His eyes were glassy. Tired. Quiet.

But he nodded.

Didn’t say anything. Just stood, followed you back to your room, and climbed into bed beside you. And when you curled into him, pressing your face into his chest, he wrapped his arms around you like it was the only thing grounding him.

Neither of you said a word.

You just laid there, skin to skin, heartbeats mismatched—but together.

The only sound was the distant hum of cars outside and the ticking of the cheap clock on your nightstand. You lay curled into Chris’s chest, but he hadn’t held you the way he usually did. His arms were around you, sure—but not tightly. Not protectively. Just… there.

That hurt more than anything.

You shifted slightly, pressing your face closer to the soft fabric of his hoodie. And then the tears came again, slow and silent this time, soaking into the cotton. You didn’t want to cry. Not again. But it was like your body couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Chris. I was just scared.”

He didn’t say anything.

You moved your hand up to his chest, resting it there gently like it might tether him to you somehow. “You’ve been so good to me. I just— I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound that didn’t quite count as a sigh.

“Chris,” you whispered again, voice cracking, “please say something. Please.”

You tilted your head up, your lashes still wet, and looked at him in the dim light filtering through your curtains. His jaw was tense, lips pressed into a line, eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling.

He finally spoke—quiet, calm, and unreadable. “Go to bed.”

That’s all.

“Chris,” you said again, desperate now. “Please—”

You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. Soft. Hesitant. Your lips trembled against his skin.

But he pulled back.

Your stomach dropped.

His eyes flicked to yours for only a second, and there was no malice there. Just hurt. Deep, quiet hurt.

“I’m not ready to pretend everything’s okay,” he said softly. “Not tonight.”

And then he turned on his side, back facing you.

You lay there frozen, eyes wide, heart aching. You wanted to say something—anything—but the lump in your throat made it impossible.

So you just stayed there. Alone in a shared bed.

Staring into the dark.

And realizing that this kind of pain didn’t come from just anyone—it came from someone you loved.

—

A/N- @sturniolosymphony you said him not her

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 15)

TW: yandere behaviour.

Damian was pacing in his room. He was your blood sibling, and yet he was the one that you hated the most. Granted, he deserved it; he'd insulted you, humiliated you, compared you to various disgusting pests, and sicced Titus onto you for his own amusement.

"What do I do to make them love me?" Damian mused. Titus trotted over to his side. "No, Titus, not you. Y/N fears you. And me."

What could be used as an advantage? Obviously not his identity; you hate him and his face. Maybe hair dye or a mask would help. Something to make him less like . . . himself.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked, as Damian scrapped idea after idea.

"I'm adopting a new identity," Damian said. "So Y/N loves me. Maybe if they believe Robin wants to be their best friend, I can get closer to them. But if Robin doesn't work, I'll need another alias."

Dick snickered. "Nobody would ever believe something like that. Robin is known for being aloof at best and unpleasant at worst."

"I'm sure I could manage something. Maybe I could say that I blackmailed Robin into being Y/N's personal protector."

Dick checked his fingernails with apathy. "That does sound like you. But what if they don't believe you, or Robin?"

"They will," Damian said.

*_*_*_*_*_

He struck when you were out of the house. Cass and Steph were wheeling you to a follow-up doctor's appointment. "Come on, Y/N, you have to!" Steph said. "Don't be mad at us!"

"I'm not mad because I'm going to a doctor's appointment. I'm mad because I'm going to a doctor's appointment with you and not someone trustworthy, like Alfred," you said.

"We can be trustworthy! Just let your big sisters look after you!" Steph hugged you tightly.

"Unhand them!" Robin dropped in on the three of you. "Can't you see that you're causing Y/N Wayne even more stress and trauma? Haven't they gone through enough?"

"What the hell are you-" Steph was cut off by a slap to the face.

"Speak when you're spoken to. How dare you claim to love Y/N when you smother them in public in such an obnoxious manner? I'll take it from here. You're safe with me, Y/N."

The smugness emanating off of Robin was so palpable you could have spread it on toast and eaten it for breakfast. "Your siblings are so bothersome," he said. "Luckily, I talked to Damian. He is very eager to make amends."

You looked at Robin as if he were the dumbest person alive. "You talked to Damian and he said that? Sorry, Robin, but he definitely lied to you. Damian is the smallest and most potent jerk I know. I have dreams about exorcising him so the demon comes out and I get a normal, sweet little brother."

"He . . . sounds cold," Robin said, his heart breaking. "Don't you think he reminds you of someone else in your life?"

"He reminds me of Karl, my bully from school. I bet they'd be best friends," you snarked. "They could bond over hating me."

"I'm going to arrange for you to receive private transportation so your siblings don't bother you," Robin said. He sounded uncomfortable, perhaps even disgusted. "Is there anybody you would like me to find? Like a different sibling or your father?"

"I would like to go alone. I don't trust my siblings," you said. "Watching someone go from distant to way too close is nauseating."

"Understood. I'll get you a cab," Robin said. "You won't have to see them. And I'll see what I can do about Damian."

"You really don't have to," you said, as you slowly extricated yourself from your wheelchair into the cab. "Bye, Robin. Don't expect Damian to change or be nice. It's a waste of time."

"It won't be," Robin muttered, taking his domino mask off to wipe the tears pooling behind it. "It'll be worth it."

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Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @kittzu, @justwannabecat, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @vanessa-boo, @jscrawls, @sirenetheblogger.

[moondustbaby]

Everything He Needs

ceo!Rafe x gf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

Summary: Rafe’s ex resurfaces after four years, hoping to reconnect with the son she left behind—but Mason only knows one mom now, and it’s you, who’s been there every single day since. With protective Rafe by her side, You stand your ground in a moment that proves this little family isn’t going anywhere.

⸻

Rafe didn’t usually forget about meetings. Especially not the kind that had him pulling Mason out of preschool early and racing through town with his tie half-undone. But when he saw the name on the appointment email — Savannah Harding — his stomach dropped straight through the floor.

He didn’t tell you until the next morning. Not because he wanted to keep it from you, but because he didn’t know how to say my ex who signed away custody of our son wants to see him again. That kind of sentence doesn’t come easy.

“Are you serious?” you asked, barefoot in the kitchen with Mason in your arms, his cheek pressed to yours like always. “After four years?”

“She left when he was barely two,” Rafe muttered, staring into his coffee like it might offer some kind of answer. “Now she wants to talk. I don’t know why.”

You’d been in their lives for about half as long as Savannah had been gone — two full years of morning pancakes, preschool drop-offs, late-night Lego cleanup. A year of those spent slowly falling in love with Rafe, and the rest spent loving him out loud. You weren’t just part of their routine — you were home.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just kissed the side of Mason’s head and looked at Rafe the way you always did when things got heavy — a silent promise: whatever this turns into, we’re facing it together.

—

The meeting happened at a park. Rafe’s idea. Public, neutral, safe. A place where Mason could play if things got weird — and they probably would.

When Savannah showed up, it felt like watching a ghost walk out of a past life. Same face, same voice. But none of the warmth or clarity you’d expect from a mother seeing her son again.

“Oh my god,” she breathed when she spotted him, eyes already glistening. “He’s so big.”

Mason clung to your leg, looking up at her. “Who are you?”

Savannah crouched, trying to smile. “I’m… I’m your mom, sweetheart.”

He blinked up at her, confused. Then looked at you. You gave him a soft little nod, hand on his back.

He turned back to her and said, deadpan, “No, you’re not. That’s my mommy,” and pointed straight at you.

Rafe’s jaw locked. Savannah’s whole face crumpled.

“I—I just meant, I had you when you were born,” she said quickly. “That kind of mom.”

“Oh,” Mason said. “But you left.”

You swear even the birds stopped chirping.

“Why don’t you go play for a bit, bud?” Rafe said gently. “You want to hit the swings?”

“I want her to come,” he said, tugging on your hand.

You crouched down beside him. “I’ll be right here, baby. I promise.”

—

“I didn’t come to take him away,” Savannah said the second Mason was out of earshot. “I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe he could know me. A little.”

“You didn’t want that four years ago,” Rafe said. “When you signed over your rights when he was only two.”

“I was in a bad place.”

“And now you want a reward for feeling better?” you asked, calm but cold. “He’s not something you get back when it’s convenient.”

She blinked, stunned. “I didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Seeing him not know me. Not need me.”

“He doesn’t,” Rafe said flatly. “He has everything he needs.”

She looked at you then — not in anger, but in realization. Like it hit her all at once. The morning routines. The skinned-knee band-aids. The way Mason looked at you when he was scared, or tired, or needed someone to celebrate a Lego build.

“I just thought I could maybe be a part of his life again,” she said.

“You were a part of his life,” Rafe said. “And then you walked out. You don’t get to walk back in just because it’s easier now. Not when someone else has been showing up every day since.”

She didn’t argue. Just looked over at Mason, running across the playground, yelling, “Mommy! Look!”

“I see you, baby!” you called back, waving.

And that was it — the shift. The quiet moment where she finally understood.

“I get it now,” she whispered. “I really do.”

—

That night, Mason curled up between you and Rafe in bed, clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur.

“Was that lady okay?” he asked, blinking up at you.

“She’s okay,” you said softly. “She just needed to see that you’re happy.”

“I am,” he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Can we get pancakes tomorrow?”

Rafe chuckled beside you. “You’ve had pancakes three times this week.”

“But mommy makes the best ones.”

You blinked fast and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Okay. Pancakes it is.”

Rafe just looked at the two of you, all curled up under the soft bedroom light — his family. The one he fought for. The one he chose. The one that stayed.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: ahh okay sorry this took so long to get up, i kept hating everything and rewriting it like 4 different times lmao anyways thank you for sending me headfirst into this emotional rabbit hole. 🙃

♥️ lani

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[miryum]

Doing Something Stupid (Thunderbolts*!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Warnings: very obscure/small spoilers to Thunderbolts* (the scene I wrote about was in the trailer), allusions to sex, talk of guns, allusions to Bucky’s trauma, Bucky’s metal arm

Standing in the kitchen, Bucky watched as Alpine ambled across the counter. The cat was due for a vet appointment soon and he knew he would be the one taking her. You never liked taking Alpine to the vet because it was one of the few times the cat shook in fear and you would look over at Bucky, wide-eyed and lip practically quivering. With both of his girls looking like that, Bucky always caved.

He was wearing a white tank-top under his dress shirt, eyes scanning over packets that had been sent over weeks ago. He was still getting used to being Congressman Barnes, but he certainly liked the way your eyes glinted whenever you called him that. It usually led to other things that you called him much too old for. He always proved you wrong.

As he was taking a bite of leftovers, sauce plopped down onto his shirt and arm. He looked down and sighed in defeat. Alpine meowed at him, as if chastising him for eating messy food in his fancy clothes. Shrugging the shirt off and running it under some water from the sink, Bucky shot Alpine a glare. “Don’t tell her,” he grumbled. Alpine promptly leapt off the counter and sauntered off.

A while later, Bucky was still flipping through the packets, left arm gone. He heard you before he felt you. Your footsteps were ingrained in his mind and he was sure he would be able to distinguish them out of a lineup if need be. Your hands pressed along his back and then up to his shoulders. He could feel your cheek between his shoulder blades and he felt his muscles instinctively relax. You weren’t repulsed by the raised scars and mountains that littered his skin, leaving patches a bit lighter or redder than normal. Your fingers brushed over them all, just the same, never wavering or disgusted. After years of fearing human touch and all that it had done to him, Bucky was still baffled that yours was the one that could soften him and leave him undone. Wrapped around your finger, Sam used to say.

“What have I told you about eating before an event, James Buchanan Barnes?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

“Did Alpine tell you? Traitor.” He turned around and leaned against the counter, hand instantly finding your hip and drawing you close.

You gave him a knowing look as you stepped between his legs. “Don’t call my baby that.” You glanced down to see the dishwasher running before looking back up at your husband. “Really?”

Bucky shrugged innocently. “It’s efficient. Plus, it needed a good cleaning after last night.”

You scoffed and pushed at his shoulder lightly, knowing exactly what he was talking of. Your hands slipped down to his waist before resting your chin on his collarbone, eyes staring up at him. Bucky silently begged the dishwasher to finish; he wanted to hold you properly, with both arms. Luckily, he got his wish. 

“Gimme a second, doll,” he said, opening the dishwasher and steam gently rolled out. It only housed two plates from breakfast that morning and a couple of glasses, the majority of the bottom rack being taken up by his vibranium arm. Clicking it back into place, after a roll of his shoulders, he could hold you again.

The silence was interrupted by his phone ringing and he let out a low groan, head dropping to rest on your hair. “Could be work,” you coaxed and he reached over to grab the offending device. You were right, as you always were, and you listened as Bucky tried to encourage Mel, the assistant of Valentina De Fontaine, to testify against her employer. You pitied the poor girl, knowing that she was in a difficult position between morality and power. Bucky’s metal hand drew absentminded circles over your waist as the call continued and Alpine mewed from the couch. 

 “Are you gonna be safe?” is all you asked when the phone had been hung up and Bucky stared down at you with that look in his eye. He was planning something that most likely involved guns and superhumans.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s not exactly convincing,” you muttered out, but let your head rest against his chest. You caught his left hand in yours and began to gently trace the golden edges of his knuckles and wrist. Your thumb brushed over the engraved gold strip on his ring finger he had gotten after your wedding. He still wore his ring most of the time, but when he was in the public eye and away from you, he wanted something that didn’t draw attention to you while also silently professing his love. It was for your protection and you understood that wholeheartedly. 

“Doll…” he said in response.

“No, I know,” you sighed softly. “Just please come back to me in one piece. And don’t do anything unnecessary.”

Alpine let out a loud meow that seemed sarcastic, if that was even possible. “I love you,” Bucky reminded you, though he didn’t need to. You knew that he did, unwavering and strong as always.

“I love you, too,” you replied, knowing that no matter what, your husband would find a way back to you. He always did. He was stubborn, something that seemed synonymous with the last name of Barnes. And that stubbornness had served him well numerous times over, always leading him back to you.

Over the years, both of you had changed. But you had changed together. Things were more mellow now than they used to be and you felt more concrete in your love for each other. It wasn’t wild and firey like it used to be when you were younger, but that was something both you and Bucky were okay with. 

“And remember,” you said as he reluctantly pulled himself away from you to go change into something not stained – you would take it upon yourself to clean his shirt, “you have to take Alpine to the vet in two days. She needs a shot, my poor baby.” You moved over to where the cat was lounging on the couch, right on top of the cushions, and gave her a few scratches behind her ears. Alpine let out a rumbling purr, leaning into your touch. Like father, like daughter, Bucky rationalised.

“Of course,” he replied, changing course to step over to you. He didn’t want to get dressed if you were standing there, looking like that. His nose bumped into yours and as his scruff tickled your cheek, he kissed you like he always did; that was one thing that hadn’t changed over your years together: he was still a starved man when it came to you.

...thinking of making this a mini-series. Thoughts?

[tranquilreign]

competitive much? | oneshot

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers, tattooartist au! warnings; swearing, lustful thoughts and slight lustful actions, jungkook's an ass, mental health, anxiety attacks and mentions anti-depressants. word count: 2.9k synopsis: nothing boils your blood more than your co-worker jeon jungkook. both of you competing to be the best, and he always comes out on top. but this time, he takes it too far.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Today might be the worst day of your life. You had finally had a female client who was more than happy for you to tattoo her. She had explained her idea. A snake, but as you went further down its body, it slowly formed into a trail of flowers. It was your clients' way of showing the representation of beauty and danger.

When she first arrived, she was uncertain about what she wanted. However, after a few sessions of conversation and design work, you both agreed on a final concept that she loved. Now, she sat not in your chair, but in your co-worker Jungkook's chair.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Jungkook had emerged from the back just as your client arrived for her appointment. He glanced over your shoulder and scoffed at the design in your hands.

"Fuck off Jungkook," you muttered. "Afternoon! It's good to see you again, Clara."

“It’s great to see you as well! I’m really excited for this,” Clara exclaimed enthusiastically.

You smiled, turning the iPad in your hand to face her. Clara gasped, looking at the design in awe.

"I know we initially agreed on a final design, but if you take a closer look here," you said as you zoomed in on the tail, "I've modified some of the flowers into wilting roses and thorns to further emphasise the balance between beauty and danger."

"It looks amazing! I think this is such a good addition to the design!"

"Great! When you're ready, I can take you through the back to help you get set up with the stencil," you smiled, opening the small door that connected the two registers.

"If you don't mind me butting in." You let your head fall back at the voice. Jungkook. You spun on the spot, a fake smile evident.

"Yes?"

Jungkook held out his hand, silently asking to look at your design, even though he had seen it earlier. Reluctantly, you shoved the iPad into his hands. Clara looked at Jungkook, her eyes filling with desire. This happened every time a female client walked into the studio. And to say it pissed you off would be an understatement.

"You see, changing the snake's mouth from closed to open transforms your tattoo into something far more menacing. While snakes are captivating in their beauty, it’s the moment they prepare to strike that they become truly terrifying," Jungkook explained as he confidently handed back the iPad.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, we'll think about-"

"That is truly amazing!" Clara praised. Jungkook smirked, glancing at you for a moment.

“I’ll get this stencil printed for you and tattoo you myself,” Jungkook stated firmly, as if your presence didn’t even phase him.

"Yes, please!" Clara beamed, allowing herself to be escorted through the back and into Jungkook's chair.

You stood there in shock, aware of how competitive Jungkook was when it came to clients. This felt like a low blow, even for him. You moved to the back and stood beside him, prepared to help as he set up. You hurried around the room, gathering any inks Jungkook needed for the upcoming tattoo. Once you finished, he sent you back to the front desk.

Sitting in the chair at the first register, you tapped your stylist gently against your iPad, having lost motivation to create any new designs for the studio. A few hours had gone by when Clara was ready to leave. She had bid you a farewell, handing over a decent tip for Jungkook.

"Well, how much did she leave me?" Jungkook asked smugly, emerging from the back.

Without saying a word, you slid the money along to him, staring out the window. He slid the notes into his hand and counted each one slowly, trying to rub it in more. Typically, you would bite back, arguing with him for stealing another client from you. But this time, you felt defeated.

"I'm going to go for my lunch," you muttered, pushing past Jungkook and grabbing your worn leather jacket.

Jungkook's smile faltered for a moment, finding it strange you hadn't begun to argue with him. He always liked it when you started yelling at him. There was something about you being angry that really turned him on.

There was no denying Jungkook found you extremely attractive. When you first walked into the studio with your job application, Jungkook knew he was going to hire you immediately. He was truly mesmerised by your work, finding how you viewed art inspiring.

Yet despite his huge crush on you, he would tease you as if there was no tomorrow. Riling you up until you exploded, yelling at him. You'd sometimes even throw a book or two at him.

But you both knew this type of stuff was only banter. Right?

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Without saying another word, you left the studio and crossed the street. You slowly made your way into the coffee shop, sitting at an empty table and ordering a cup of green tea through the cafe's mobile app.

You sat, questioning whether or not you really should be working at the studio when you were barely getting any work done. At the moment, women are the ones mostly looking to get tattoos, which means that it was game for Jungkook.

He was attractive. Very attractive, and he knew he was. Every opportunity, he would flirt with any potential female client who walked through the door. That made sure they would choose him as their artist.

You were so torn. The whole reason you wanted to work with Jungkook is that you had seen his work all over Instagram. And he was good at what he did. An added bonus was that he was incredibly hot. You could have screamed when you first saw him in person. His long hair fell in front of his face, and as he read your application, he gently played with his lip rings.

You couldn't help but stare at his muscular arms. His right arm was fully covered with tattoos that extended down to his knuckles. You noticed the way the muscles tensed slightly as he turned the page of your application. He sat lazily in his chair, his legs spread open slightly, giving you a full view of him. You bit your lip, as dirty thoughts began to creep in the longer you stared. With a clap of his hands, he pulled you out of your fixation.

"This looks really good. But I do have other applicants. I'll get back to you by the end of the week to let you know if you've been given the job or not."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Your lunch had flown by, dreading going back into the studio. Yet, you walked in and completely ignored Jungkook, sitting back down at the register across from him.

Jungkook watched you walk right past him. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was unsure how to take your sudden silence. But he had decided to not take it too seriously. Jungkook was about to speak when you suddenly spoke up.

"I'm not feeling too great all of a sudden," you whispered, your face scrunching in discomfort.

"Oh, well, if you aren't feeling well, go home," Jungkook suggested.

"I think that may be best." With that, you gathered your belongings and stepped out the door, leaving Jungkook behind to look after the studio.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

It had been a week since you had gone home, and Jungkook was growing worried. You had messaged every morning, mentioning how you were feeling worse with each passing day. By the end of the week, Jungkook had decided he was going to check up on you.

He sat at the register, watching as the clock slowly ticked by. He began to grow impatient at how slow the days had been since you weren't in.

It was as if you not being here was making the days drag on for longer. They were boring. With no one to tease or wind up it was truly lonely in the studio.

"Fuck it," he muttered, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling on it. He stuck it to the window and locked up shop early. He walked to his motorcycle, getting ready to head to you.

"I should get her some snacks and medicine."

Jungkook put his jacket and helmet on, speeding off down the busy street to get to the pharmacy before it closed. Luck, however, just didn't seem to be on his side. Every traffic light turned red as he approached the crossings. He grew more frustrated as he drove to his destination, having arrived just a few minutes too late to the pharmacy.

He cursed, thumping his fist down onto his thigh. He spun around, heading back in the direction he came, deciding to just head to the corner shop across from your house.

All he could think about was how unwell you seemed. It was strange of you to be off sick for so long. Even when you were sick with the flu, you'd force yourself to come in until Jungkook had to physically push you out the door to go home.

Now here he was, standing in front of your apartment door, snacks in hand. He was nervous, and he didn't know why. Still, he knocked. He waited for a moment until you opened the door. Jungkook frowned at you. You didn't look sick at all.

"J-Jungkook," you stammered, shocked at his sudden appearance. "Why are you here?"

"You're not sick!" he exclaimed, forcing himself into your apartment.

You closed your eyes, knowing you were caught. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly spun around to look at him. And Jungkook was furious.

"Yes, I'm not sick."

"I've had to look after the studio the whole week, without you! And you've been fine. I should fire you for this."

"Then do it!" you challenged, catching him off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"Go on, Jungkook. Fire me. Honestly, I don't think I care anymore," you continued, crossing your arms over your chest.

"What?" Jungkook asked, more confused than before. You laughed bitterly.

"Oh, come on, Jungkook. Ever since I started working with you, all you have done is make me feel like I am worthless. You sit there and belittle my work, stealing my clients."

Jungkook stammered, not knowing what to say. He stood silent, watching as tears welled in your eyes. You attempted to blink them back, but instead, they ran down your cheeks. It broke Jungkook's heart to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"I'm sorry, princess. I didn't realise-"

"Of course you didn't realise. Because if you're not busy treating me like a slave, you're trying to fuck every female client that walks through the door!"

You had begun to hyperventilate, anxiety taking over you. Jungkook watched as you slowly sank to the floor, eyes widening at your state. Jungkook dropped the snacks in his hands and immediately knelt in front of you. Gently, he took his hands in yours.

"Y/n, try to look at me okay?" he spoke softly. "Hey-hey. Look at me."

Chest heaving, and eyes bloodshot with tears, you attempted to look at him. He guided one of your hands to his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat, his breathing.

"I want you to focus on me and try to copy what I do, okay?" You only nodded.

You watched as Jungkook slowly inhaled and exhaled, his grip tightening slightly around your hand, reassuring that everything was okay. Your breathing slowly began to ease as Jungkook's grip tightened gently around your hand, and you slowly started coming back to your senses.

"Good. Good girl," Jungkook soothed, moving his other hand to stroke your hair.

Having your breathing under control again, you pushed yourself forward into Jungkook's arms, crying silently. Jungkook took this moment to hold you close, looking around the room, noticing the bottle of antidepressants sitting on your coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I know an apology isn't good enough for all the shit I've put you through. But truly, I am sorry," he whispered, gently planting a kiss atop your head.

You pulled back, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe away your tears. You didn't look at him, ashamed of your vulnerability. Jungkook sat patiently, waiting until you were ready to speak.

"I'm- sorry," you spoke in barely a whisper. Jungkook leaned back, surprised at your words.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, princess," he cooed. "If I were aware of how you were feeling. I wouldn't have continued. I guess my way of conveying my feelings didn't come across as intended."

You rubbed your eyes, looking at him, surprised. You hadn't expected an apology or a confession from him. You had expected him to be angry. Furious that you had been skipping work. Yet here he sat, his hands in yours, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"Yeah, you have a funny way of showing it," you spoke, choking out a laugh. Jungkook chuckled slightly.

"You take all the time you need, okay? I don't want you feeling like you have to come into work now because of this conversation."

You smiled.

"I know, I was going to come back in a few days anyway."

"I see," Jungkook muttered. "I know this may seem like a bold thing to ask. But can I stay the night? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine-"

"I'm serious, Y/n," Jungkook cut you off. "I want to make sure you're drinking plenty of water and eating, even if it's a little bit."

You paused before finally nodding. He smiled, standing up, holding his hand out for you to take. You slid your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up into his arms. He was quick to let you go, though, not wanting to smother you. Jungkook watched as you walked off into he bathroom.

Only then had he noticed you wearing a pair of short baggy shorts and a cropped tank top. He bit his lip, trying his hardest not to lose himself at a time like this. Instead, he followed behind you, watching you closely as you brushed your teeth. You spat out the toothpaste and looked at him in the mirror's reflection.

"You know you don't need to monitor me. I'm not going to run away," you teased.

Jungkook hummed, simply leaning against the door frame, watching you with arms crossed. Rolling your eyes, you went back to brushing your teeth. You glanced at him in the mirror a few times, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Y/n," Jungkook spoke suddenly.

You had just put your toothbrush in its holder when you turned to look at him. He was closer than before, but still respected your space. He silently asked to hold your hand, which you agreed to with a nod.

"I love you," he whispered. "Since the day you walked into my studio. I knew I wanted you to work, not for me, but with me. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and you are all that's on my mind to this day. You drive me crazy. So much so I can hardly contain myself when you come into work wearing your cargo's and a t-shirt. It's so simple, but you pull it off like it's nothing. You are simply... perfect."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you pulled him in by the collar of his t-shirt and crashed your lips against his. He was shocked for a moment, then regained himself, allowing his lips to mould with yours. Passion burned inside both of you, as hands began to wander to places one would expect. You only stopped when you felt his hand begin to slide underneath your top.

"Sorry. I got caught up in the moment," Jungkook responded quickly. He stepped back, removing his hands from your waist. A sensation which you missed.

"Next time, we'll go there," you teased moving towards him and running your hand along his chest. He shivered at your touch, something you were enjoying very much. You gave him another quick kiss, leading him into your bedroom.

"I love you, too. Now, let's get some sleep."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

hello there! thanks for taking the time to read this one! i wanted to write this, in hopes it brings some awareness to the seriousness of mental health. i, myself, am currently suffering with anxiety and depression, and have found that, as of recently, writing had been a way to help put me as ease. i hope with me writing this I have not offended as it was not my intention, but to show that people experience anxiety and depression in many different ways, and no one should be judged on it.

if you enjoyed this please consider looking at my other works linked below.

masterlist | requests | request rules | prompt list

tranquilreign~

[inkedinshadows]

And Soon They Were Three

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

Summary: You're waiting for Cassian to come back home and give him news that will change your lives.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Main masterlist | Week Masterlist | Cassian Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

You were fidgety, unable to keep your hands still for more than a minute. If you sat down and tried to calm yourself, all it took was a quiet sound—a leaking faucet, a bird singing outside, hurried steps on the street—and you were up and on the move again. Every noise made you think Cassian was about to open the door and walk in, even though you knew it wasn't him.

He'd told you the night before that he would leave early and come back late. He was already gone when you woke up, but a blueberry muffin was waiting for you on the kitchen table, like every time he had to leave before you got up. He still refused to tell you where he got them from.

But that morning, the usual delicious fragrance made you race to the bathroom before you could even step into the kitchen. Fortunately, it passed quickly, and you dared to attempt a bite, only to devour the muffin once you realized you felt fine. It was your favorite flavor, after all.

The day went by quickly, yet not quickly enough. You had an appointment with Madja in the morning, and since then, you had been counting down the minutes until Cassian's return.

You cleaned the whole house, but it wasn't enough to dim your excitement. You tried to read, but you couldn't focus on the words and had to reread the same page four times before you gave up and opted for a stroll along the Sidra. It didn't help much, though, and you spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between pacing aimlessly and sitting for only a few seconds at a time until you decided you might as well start making dinner.

Right at that moment, you heard the click of a key turning in the lock and the front door opened.

“Sweetheart, I'm…”

You didn't give Cassian time to even finish the sentence before you raced out of the kitchen and straight into his arms.

“...home,” he finished with a chuckle as he hugged you back. He kissed the top of your head. “Hello, sweetheart. Did I miss something? Or are you just really happy to see me?”

You pulled back, a large smile plastered on your face. “I have to tell you something.”

Cassian lifted his brows. He took in your expression and the excitement that seemed to radiate off you in waves.

“Well,” he said with his usual confident, charming smile, “at least I know it's good news.”

At your enthusiastic nod, he gave you a questioning look. “Are you going to tell me or…?”

He left the question hanging, and you immediately grabbed his hand and guided him to the couch. “I think you'll want to sit down for this.”

You could sense his growing curiosity as he sat on the edge of the couch.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “So what is it?”

You stood in front of him, and suddenly, all the ways you had planned to give him the news were gone, completely forgotten, as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

Cassian stared at you for a moment, then his eyes slowly widened. “Wait, what?”

You had thought of different puns and jokes to tell him and let him figure it out on his own, but it was too late now. You only nodded and repeated it, a wide grin on your face. “I’m pregnant, Cass.”

His shocked expression was soon replaced by a huge smile, as if hearing it again was all he needed to truly understand what you were saying, to be sure that you weren’t just messing with him.

He lunged forward, almost tackling you to the ground in the process of wrapping his arms around you and spinning you around. His boisterous laugh rang loud in your ears, but you could only laugh with him.

“I’m going to be a father!” He peppered your face with kisses, his stubble tickling your skin. “Can you believe it, sweetheart? We’re going to be parents!”

You were about to answer that no, you couldn’t believe it. Madja had confirmed it that morning, and though you had been—and still were—overjoyed, it still didn’t feel real. After all the time spent trying, it was finally happening.

But Cassian's excitement had reached a whole new level. He didn't give you time to respond as he set you back on your feet—your head slightly dizzy—and a moment later, he was at the window. He yanked it open and leaned out, his wings folded but still as wide as the frame.

“I'm going to be a father!” he shouted to the world outside. ���My mate's pregnant! We're going to be parents!”

“Cass…” you chuckled, eyes soft and heart full as you watched your mate shout his joy to anyone passing by.

“What?” He turned back to you and in just two long strides, he was at your side again. He cupped your face and pressed a loud kiss to your lips before pulling you into his arms. “Oh, this is wonderful! Parents, sweetheart. Can you believe it?”

You covered the broad hand he’d placed over your still-flat stomach with yours.

A baby. There was a baby slowly growing inside you right as you stood there—one you and Cassian had created, one you had wished and waited for, for so long. And now, in just a few months, the wait would be over, and you would finally be able to hold your baby. Your child.

The more you repeated it in your head, the more it began to feel real.

“Barely,” you finally answered. You looked up at him, meeting his loving gaze as you both smiled. “I’ve never seen you this happy, my love.”

He seemed to almost vibrate with joy, and he was more beautiful than ever. Your mate, your love—and soon, the father of your child.

“Of course I am,” he replied instantly. “We’ve wanted a child for so long, and now the Mother has blessed us with one.”

Taking a step back, he knelt in front of you. His hands settled on your hips, and he leaned in close, lips brushing against your shirt.

“Do you know that, little one?” he murmured. “We can't wait for you to arrive.”

Your heart was so full of love for the male in front of you that it felt like it might burst. There couldn't possibly be enough space in your chest, or in your whole body, to contain all of it.

“Cass…” you said quietly. You buried your fingers in his hair, gently stroking it as tears welled in your eyes. “I don't think the baby can hear you yet.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don't care. I want them to know that they are already loved.”

His mouth was so close to your shirt that you could feel his warm breath through the thin fabric as he added, “You hear that? Mama and Dada already love you, little one.”

He lifted the hem of your shirt, just enough to press a kiss to your bare stomach before rising again. His grin faltered when he noticed the tears now rolling down your cheeks, but you smiled at him.

You looped your arms around him and leaned up to kiss him. It was gentle, tender, an attempt to show him just how much he and this moment meant to you, though you knew no words or gesture could ever be enough.

“I love you,” you murmured when you pulled back and rested your head on his chest. “You're going to be a great father.”

His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you against him. You felt his lips press to your temple, then your hair.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered as he tucked you under his chin. “And I'll try. I'll try to be the best father I can for our child. I promise.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn't need to promise anything, that he didn't even need to try. He was already so good with children. He'd be even better with his own.

But the words slipped away.

All you could do was breathe in the moment and let the realization slowly settle.

You were pregnant. You were going to have a baby. You were about to have the family you and Cassian had always dreamed of.

You'd have to tell your families, you knew that. And the next months wouldn't be perfect or easy. But for now, you could just enjoy the beginning of this journey with the person you loved the most.

You snuggled closer to Cassian, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent—the one you had come to associate not just with him, but with home. He held you tighter, his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm against your ear.

The two of you stood in the middle of the living room—a home that would soon be filled with even more love.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[ldydeath]

Feels Like I'll Die Without You 5 | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: As you and Jiyong meet up for a doctor's appointment and try to navigate your new life new feelings rise to the surface.  Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Angst, language, pregnancy Author’s Note: I plan to wrap this up in a couple more parts so hav faith (or don’t) that everything will work itself out in the end. You can read the rest of the chapters here.

Life had gone back to normal once you’d headed back home. Well, as normal as it could be considering you were having Jiyong’s baby. Jiyong’s tour was in full swing and you were set to hit the road in a few days. You also knew you’d begin to show soon and didn’t know how to announce it to your fans. Maybe you wouldn’t? Maybe you’d just wear baggy clothes all tour and hope for the best. 

When’s the next doctor's appointment? 

Jiyong hardly spoke to you unless it was baby related anymore, which you deserved. He’d confessed his love for you and you’d said no, again. Jiyong deserved better.  You could argue you did too, but in reality you didn’t deserve Jiyong at all. He’d changed from the boy you’d dated all those years ago and you knew if you’d just let him back in you could be happy with him. You just couldn’t. 

Next week, LA. 

It wasn’t ideal having him fly out while he was on tour like this but he’d insisted and at least it aligned with a festival he was doing. You were the one who was going to have to fly across the country to make it back in time. 

Jiyong responded back with a thumbs up and you sighed as you threw your phone back in your bag. You missed the sweet, attentive Jiyong who would FaceTime you and check in with you. You tried not to take it personally, you knew how he got on tour and you did kind of deserve the cold shoulder, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You threw yourself back into your work, at least if you were busy you couldn’t analyze a stupid thumbs up emoji. Maybe you’d confront him when you saw him. You knew you wouldn’t but it was still nice to dream about it. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

LA greeted Jiyong like an old friend, the hot summer air swirling around him as he stepped out of the airport. Thankfully he had his friends with him for this weekend. A random stop on his tour, a doctor's visit with you, and then he’d been gone until you needed him again. 

He didn’t even know how he was supposed to act around you, not since he’d confessed how he really felt the night of his concert. He wanted to get over you, but he knew as soon as he saw your face all the hurt would fade and he’d have to fight the urge to put his arms around you. 

This was not how he’d imagined his life would go. He always thought he’d be married when he found out he was having a kid. Instead something you considered a mistake was what had changed everything. It wasn’t a mistake to him, though. Jiyong has always been pretty good at making the best out of any situation. So he wasn’t married, so you didn’t love him, at least he was still going to be a dad. That was something, right? 

“Hi” You greeted when you spotted him getting out of his car. 

“Hi.” He nodded. There was no signature smirk. No warm embrace. “Let’s go.” 

He held out his arm allowing you to lead the way and you swallowed back all the words you wanted to say. He stood in the hall as you changed, coming in a few minutes after you’d given him the all clear. You’d barely had a second together before the doctor was in the room with you both. 

He was silent as the exam started, keeping his distance. You didn’t realize you could feel so alone in such a crowded room. And then you heard it. A heartbeat. 

“Is that?” His voice cutting through the silence almost made you jump. 

“Your baby’s heartbeat. Yes.” The doctor was warm, friendly. 

Jiyong’s eyes welled with tears, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder as he listened. The sound of his child’s heartbeat was the best sound he’d ever heard. Your hand moved, resting on top of his and he glanced down. The mask he’d been wearing stripped away as his watery eyes met yours. 

“Do you want to know what you’re having?” 

You both nodded, your hand gripping Jiyong’s like your life depended on it. 

“Congratulations you’re having a girl!” The doctor exclaimed, circling some photos on the ultrasound. 

“A girl?” Jiyong’s voice broke and you squeezed his hand. 

He smiled down at you before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. One you’d almost been anticipating and had leaned into. Your eyes slipping closed as the feel of him being so close to you again. It was ridiculous to miss someone that wasn’t even yours. He felt it then, a tiny piece of hope that maybe things could be different. Maybe you felt something more for him too. 

A few minutes later you met Jiyong in the hallway, his earlier demeanor completely gone and the nice Jiyong you’d seen the last few months stood in his place. 

“How long are you in town?” 

“I have to fly out tomorrow. I have a show in Jersey.” 

He nodded and checked his watch. 

“I have to be at the venue soon, but maybe we can talk, after?” 

“Maybe I could watch your set?” You knew it was a bad idea as soon as the words came out of your mouth. 

“Yeah. That would be nice.” He moved, his arm wrapping it loosely around your shoulder as he led you out of the building. 

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

It was weird showing up to an event together. Jiyong threw his arm around you like you were something to protect as he led you inside the building. You used to go to everything together when you were kids, his hand covering your face as he guided you inside just like this. It was almost too much, and you felt silly as you felt tears pricking your eyes. Your relationship may not have been perfect back then but you’d had him and he would’ve done anything for you. Now you weren’t even sure you could call him a friend. 

“Are you ok?” His eyes frantically searched your face as he noticed the tears in your eyes. His hand moving to cup your face and you swatted him away gently. 

“Yeah, pregnancy hormones.” You lied as you wiped at the tears. “Go, don’t worry about me. You have a show to get ready for.” 

Jiyong’s lips formed into a tight line but he nodded his head and moved to the other side of the room. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he just didn’t even know where to start. You watched as he got ready, fighting back the urge to tell him that you got it now, how he felt that night. Why it was so hard to hold someone who didn’t want to be with him. Because maybe you did want to be with him. Maybe it just took you a little longer to catch up. But now you knew you’d messed it up and he didn’t want to be with you. 

“I’ll see you after?” You nodded, taking in his appearance and giving him a small smile. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking out the room. 

You watched the show hidden backstage, Chaerin stood with you in silence. She watched as you watched him, recognizing the look on your face. She’d been there when you’d first got together, when everything had fallen apart too. She’d stayed a loyal friend to the both of you all these years. 

“If you love him you should tell him. But if you don’t, you need to let him go.” You turned to face her. “It’s killing him, he won’t tell you that but it is. So either be with him or set him free.” You nodded and she was gone. 

Once the show was over and everyone had gone you two sat down in his changing room. It was probably the most neutral ground you had with each other, you couldn’t be trusted as your place and you sure as hell couldn’t be trusted in a hotel room. 

“You leave in the morning?”  You nodded. “Is this how it’s always going to be? I see you for a couple hours and that’s it?” 

“It won’t always be this way, Ji. We’re just busy. That’s all.” You turned to face him and he let out a sigh. “You wanted to talk?” 

“I started seeing someone.” Your face fell. Of all the things you expected him to say this wasn’t it. “It was right after you left.” 

“Oh, that’s great.” You tried to keep your voice neutral, a small smile on your face. 

“It’s not serious, but I just thought I owed it to you to let you know.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Ji. We aren’t anything.” You moved to stand up, you had to get out of here. 

“No?” You looked up at him, your eyes watery again. Fuck these hormones. 

“No.” 

“So you don’t love me?” He stood up slowly, crossing the room to stand in front of you.

“I-” you paused, your eyes searching his. “I don’t know.” You whispered, your eyes falling from his face. 

His finger hooked under your chin and he gently pulled your face up to look at his. His face was soft, his eyes bright and full of understanding. As if he'd been expecting this answer from the start. 

“I know how I feel about you. But if you don’t feel the same then I owe it to myself to try and move on.  I love you, I’m always going to love you. I’ll be here for you every step of this pregnancy but I can’t sit around and wait for you anymore.” 

“I know.” You nodded, moving back from his touch. “I just want you to be happy, Ji. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

You collected your things and made your way to the door. Turning to look at him once more. Why couldn’t you just let yourself say how you felt? You wanted so badly to just start fresh with him, have the family you’d both dreamt about but you couldn’t stop sabotaging yourself.

“I’ll see you in a month?” He nodded and you turned, leaving him behind. 

Maybe it would always be this way, a few hours every couple of months where one of you would have to watch the other walk away. Jiyong stood staring at the closed door for longer than he’d like to admit.  You hadn’t said you didn’t love him, you just said you didn’t know. And he felt it again, that little bit of hope he’d had earlier in the day. He’d hold onto that.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @flymetothexmoon @sherrayyyyy

[cupcakefactory]

How about Caleb playing with his mcs hair but its got like super long since he died?!

Sorry i went a little off ask here, if you want me to try again please let me know! >-<

Requests are always open <3

Hair holds memories.

Summary: Caleb had always loved playing with your hair, and then, he died.

Warnings: Reader has long hair, I wrote it with straight hair in mind (Sorry guys, it's just what I have, I didn't want to do curly hair wrong), Grief, Caleb is "dead" for the first half, Hurt/Comfort, Pipsqueak mentioned (is a thea fic), happy endings, implied they're dating at the end!!

WC: 1.1

Calebs' Adjutant: @weepylilguy , @hiqhkey

“Hair holds memories.”

Tara whispered gently into your scalp, She had rushed to your apartment the moment you had called her – no hesitation, she knew you well enough now to know you wouldn’t have called unless you had to. You hated to rely on people, hated to have people rush to your side – or well, you hated to rely on everyone but one person, one person who wasn’t by your side anymore, wasn’t here to comfort you. He was the reason you were in this mess, the reason you were crying your eyes out on your sofa with your once colleague, now friends, arms around you.

It was meant to be a simple haircut, you needed a trim desperately – the ends of your hair tattered and thinning from how dead they were. They knotted easily, meaning your mornings were longer now, and washing it took just as long. The simple solution was to have it cut, you were an adult now, so you booked the appointment, arrived, and sat in the chair like everyone else. It should have ended there; you got the trim and left.

But it didn’t, the moment the stylist asked how much to trim – a smile on her face, you were hit with memories of the last person who had done this, who had asked that question.

Caleb.

Then the memories got worse, Caleb's fingers running through your hair and untangling the knots during movie night, where you sat on his lap in Grandma's house. Caleb braiding your hair for High School when you had stayed up too late studying and were too tired to do it yourself. Caleb washing it when you were training to be a hunter after you fell into a bit of mud during a lesson. Caleb drying your hair every time you washed it when you were together.

Caleb always played, washed, and styled your hair. He seemed to always gravitate to doing something with it when you were together, he smiled all the time as well.

And now Caleb was gone, in a casket 6 feet under – he couldn’t do anything to your hair anymore. That made you freeze, and before you could explain anything, you had run out of the hair salon.

Did you feel silly? Yes. Did it feel like the most pathetic thing you could have done? Yes. Caleb was dead, you had grieved him for months now, and it was just hair; it would grow back, it always did. You had phoned Tara in the middle of this breakdown, and she had rushed over without hesitation.

Her explanation that hair held memories helped calm you, maybe it was just too soon to let go of this part of Caleb. Too soon to cut off the hair he had played with and braided, so, instead you just sucked it up and let it grow. Your morning routines were longer, your shampoo seemed to run out like it was out of fashion – but it felt like you were carrying a part of Caleb around with you still.

Of course, when you re-met at the fleet, it was one of the first things he noticed. It fell to your hips now, and you had done your best to keep it in decent condition, buying the best products and applying them as the instructions told you to. The ends never really recovered, but the rest of it gleamed from the care – it looked healthy as it lay against your back and under the cap you wore.

He didn’t comment on it, although he wanted to. His fingers threaded through it when he hugged you again for the first time, memorising how soft it was now under his fingers. When he got to blow dry it again, it took double the time it did as kids, but he didn’t mind – he got to keep you between his legs for longer, and that was almost like tasting paradise to Caleb.

However, he knew no matter how happy it made him, he should ask.

He did after dinner one day, it had been a year since you had reunited – it felt like a good amount of time to have waited. Honestly, you were surprised it took that long, having expected this conversation sooner.

“Hey.. Pips, why have you let your hair grow so long? It doesn’t look like it’s been cut since…”

He trailed off, knowing you didn’t like reminders of the explosion. Your fork stilled, eyes meeting his that were serious but gentle – he could never hide what he was feeling when he wore them. They were truly doors to his soul. You smiled a little as you answered

“I couldn’t bring myself to cut it; every time I thought about it, I remembered the last time you ran your fingers through it.”

That answer was so simple it crushed him; he had expected you to just say you didn’t want to, or that you were growing it for a charity. Yet, that wasn’t the case – you had grown it so long because of the memory of him. His eyes watered and lips trembled, but he fought it back as you continued to explain.

“I tried to cut it, y’know, went to the salon and everything… but the moment she asked how short I wanted it.. I remembered your touch. It felt like cutting away a bit of you, and I.. couldn’t lose anymore of you.”

He couldn’t hold it back anymore, standing and pushing his chair back before rushing over to embrace you. His arms felt like home as he kissed your head, refusing to let his tears fall, refusing to cause you anymore pain after all he had without even knowing it.

“I’m here now..”

“I know..”

Your arms wrapped back around him, chin resting on his chest as you looked up at his face. So warm, so tender – the face of the boy you grew up with turned into a man, and you weren’t too sure when it happened. The days spent in the sun chasing each other are now a distant memory, one you hold in your heart.

“My hair held the memories of you, Caleb. Held the memories of your touch, your care… it held how much I loved you… and”

“How much I loved you back”

He finished, pushing a strand behind your ear with a gentle smile and a kiss on your forehead. Suddenly, he found himself loving your hair more, because it was evidence right in front of him that you had missed him as much as he had missed you.

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[anakinsdumb]

I'd do Anything for You | Part Two

a/n: so sorry it took so long for me to get part two out! I really didn't know where I wanted to go with this after part one, but I feel better about this new direction, but you'll have to let me know your thoughts!

also just a side note, I wrote this section taking place about a year or so after phantom of the menace occurred, so in the section Ani is around 10ish years old, and I view the reader as a year or two older than him.

part two | part one

pairing: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader (fem reader)

wc: 2,175

*31 BBY*

“Padawan,” your new master, Master Plo Koon calls to you from across the training room, and with a flick of his head, you know to stand and join him at his side. It was only a few months now that you have spent with Master Plo Koon as your new master, after the unfortunate passing of your original master, and you were still getting used to his ways. His status as Master on the Council intimidated you and you itched to meet all of his expectations. Unfortunately, having a master like Plo Koon was not easy for a young padawan, especially since it was an unexpected appointment. He had his missions and plans already scheduled out, and you were expected to follow or wait until he returns, the training to come after his missions or during the downtimes in between said missions, like now. You were grateful for Master Plo Koon, even with the unorthodox training schedule and the loss of connection with other padawans, you knew you were learning at a much faster rate with this firsthand experience of a Master on the higher council.

Just as you joined him at his side, the door to the training room hissed open, revealing Jedi Knight Obi Wan Kenobi and who you presumed to be his new padawan. Rumors had spread this past year around the cliques of padawans that a new youngling was being taken in by Obi Wan, whispers of how much older he was than the average youngling age and how he was supposedly the chosen one. A year or so ago, you were much more comfortable giggling with your other padawan friends over the happenings across the jedi temple, but since the passing of your master, it all felt different. You felt different. 

In the few times you had been back to normal padawan training, it only felt more exaggerated how much different you were now since then. The looks and whispers all distracted your training from Master Yoda. The group you once considered your friends would only look over at you for a split second before turning back to their group huddle to whisper and snickers. It was after Master Plo Koon’s last attempt to reintegrate you back into the average padawan training circuit that he announced his change of plans, you would be conducting your training one on one. 

“Master Plo Koon,” Obi Wan greeted him with a bow, “and you remember my padawan Anakin?” Plo Koon greeted the young padawan with a nod, and introduced the two of you to each other. Unbeknownst to you, Obi Wan had approached Master Plo Koon for advice on how to handle Anakin’s training, specifically with Anakin already feeling ostracized from the other padawans for his age. Obi Wan feared his exclusion from other padawans would hinder his training, and had gone to Plo Koon asking for advice, noticing how you had started to slowly disappear from the group padawan trainings yourself. With the guidance of Master Yoda, Plo recommended that Obi Wan introduce Anakin to you, and when peer training was needed in either of yours training regiments to bring the two of you together, rather than forcing either one of you into a training circuit you felt unwelcomed in. 

Quickly Master Plo Koon had both Anakin and you set up on the training pad, opposite of each other, holding on to faux lightsaber hilts. Without words, he made slight adjustments to your grip on the hilt, and embarrassment crawled up your neck and cheeks in a soft shade of red, lowering your head in apology to his adjustments. Master Plo Koon had already spent previous trainings explaining his expectations on what your grip on the hilt should look like, you knew Master Plo was not upset with you, but you feared his disappointment, that him repeating himself would make him regret his sacrifice to train you. With a small nod in return, he turned to adjust Anakin’s grip. You could hear your master’s soft murmurs explaining why he was moving Anakin’s grip to its new place on the hilt. Looking over, Anakin was nodding softly in agreeance with your master’s explanation, twisting his hilt to understand the new placement. 

After his explanations on the purpose of the specific grip on the hilt to Anakin, Master Plo Koon had the two of you moving through the ministrations of Form V, calling out different positions for the two of you to hit. Plo Koon would pause, explaining the purpose of each position in regards to a duel, the value of a defensive or aggressive stance in different scenarios. After the introductory period though, Master Plo Koon had gotten the two of you in a rhythm, moving swiftly from position to position. His confidence grew further, and decided to turn the two of you in wards to face each other in a faux shadow battle, assigning a position to one of you and quizzing the other on what their stance would be in this scenario. 

For the first time in a while, training had even become fun for you. You had missed your time with other padawans. Even in a serious training block, you enjoyed spending it with another padawan around your age, rather than facing the mirror practicing these ministrations alone, or worse, shadowing against Plo Koon himself. 

A hiss from the door into the training room pulled your thoughts from the ministrations though.

“Master Plo Koon,” Master Adi Gallia greeted, slightly out of breath as she stepped through the door, “a moment?” Plo Koon nodded, releasing the two of you from your training and encouraging the two of you to step outside for your break. 

With a bow, you turn and walk reservedly to the door on the other side of the training room that led to the garden-like platform on the edge of Jedi Temple. Once outside of the door and free from your master’s gaze, you quickly skipped over to the railing of the platform, taking in the busy city skyline of Coruscant. You hadn’t even waited to see if Anakin had followed you, you were just happy to take a break in the city breeze and sunshine. You had almost forgotten his presence in general, until you heard the scuffing of his shoes along the pebbles near you. 

Anakin had followed your guidance out of the training room with a bow, but he had not expected you to take off to the railing with such speed. He followed slowly behind you, keeping his distance slightly, scared that you wouldn’t have wanted him to join you. He was close enough to you that someone looking out might think you two were hanging out together, but far off enough apart, that could he play innocent if you told him to leave you alone.

In his time in the Jedi Order, he has grown used to other padawans looking at him differently and not wanting him to join them during not just their trainings, but also the breaks in between trainings. He had grown more comfortable spending most of his time with Obi Wan or by himself, eating alone in the caf when Obi Wan had been pulled into meetings not including him.

It was moments like that that made him really question his time here on Coruscant, and that maybe he should’ve stayed home with his mother on Tatooine instead of following Master Qui Gon and Obi Wan to the Jedi Temple. As abhorrent as his time was on Tatooine, under the ownership of Watto, at least he was with Shmi and the other children on Tatooine. He felt like he belonged there, he had family and friends there, but here? He only had Obi Wan, he felt so alone.

“So,” Anakin started before pausing again, kicking the small dirt pile in front of him softly, “were you taken into the order recently too?” Anakin asked looking over to you, you still leaning against the ledge, watching the speeders fly by just a way away from the temple.

“No,” You look back confused at Anakin, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve always been a part of the order,” you say turning your gaze back out to skyline. Your home has always been the temple and the order. It wasn’t until recently that you found you out that you weren’t created here, overhearing your master’s conservations about possible younglings on other planets, but you’ve never known a life outside of the order. It was a shock enough to know you weren’t born here, to possibly be from another planet, far from Coruscant, but beyond that, that you might’ve had another family outside of the order. From everything you learned here in the temple, the order is your family.

“Then why are you not training with everyone else?” Anakin asked bluntly, confused as well. “I thought you were supposed to train with the other padawans? Master Yoda and Master Obi Wan told me I was too old to be training with the others, that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, um,” you take a few steps back from the ledge, plopping on the bench, closer to where Anakin was standing. “My first master passed away unexpectedly, so,”

“Master Qui Gon?” Anakin asked bluntly, cutting you off, but by the look on his face you could tell he didn’t mean any harm, and was just curious. 

“Oh no,” you said shaking your head no, with a small smile “my master died on a diplomatic trip about a year or so ago, not Master Jinn. Master Plo Koon had become my master afterwards though since there wasn’t another master available to take on my training.” Anakin nodded, not speaking up, but on the inside he understood. Although he had not spent much time with Master Qui Gon, he still trusted him and was looking forward to him becoming his master, so when he passed, he grieved his loss. He could only imagine the pain you felt when you lost your master.

“Master Plo Koon is much busier than my original master though, so he said it was easier for me for me to do my training on my own, rather than with the larger group.” You added, choosing to forego the additional information that you also felt as though you didn’t really fit in with the other padawans anymore after the loss of your original master. It was embarrassing enough to experience; you didn’t want to recount your insecurities to Anakin either.

Anakin nodded in agreement, adding “yeah, that’s what Obi Wan had said to me too, it was easier for me to do my training outside of the larger group of padawans too” with a smile. Anakin could feel the relief rolling off his shoulders, there was someone like him in the temple too, another padawan who was also different than everyone else. “Which is okay with me, I didn’t really like training in the larger padawan groups anyways.”

“Same,” you nodded at Anakin with a smile, swinging your legs out happily in front on you while sitting comfortably in the bench. “Hopefully you can come to our training times more often though,” and Anakin nodded in return, smiling back towards you, even stepping closer to the bench now, shortening the awkward distance between the two of you.

After a comfortable silence between the two of you, your curiosity got the better of you, you asked “so where are you from?” You quickly glanced behind you to make sure your master was not near the door to the training room, knowing he would’ve frowned upon you asking this question. It was expected that Jedi’s did not speak of their lives prior to the temple, especially since technically padawans weren’t supposed to know of their lives prior to the order yet.

“Tatooine” Anakin said bluntly, with a slight grimace. 

“Tatooine, huh? I’ve never been there, what’s it like?” You asked with genuine interest. You have no memory experiencing any other planet besides Coruscant. You knew there were more out there, between your time learning about the different systems and your time gazing on the skyline, but you have no recollection of time off of Coruscant. 

Still with a slight grimace, Anakin continued “dry…hot…sandy” but exaggerated his grimace on the last descriptive, which made you giggle, making his face light up in return. 

“Oh gross, I don’t think I would want to go there, I don’t really like sand,” you said shaking your head slightly, your face scrunched up slightly with a playful grimace.

Anakin nodded in agreement with a giggle, adding a quick “same” through his giggles. But before the two of you could continue chatting, you heard the door to the training room hiss open from the other side of the outdoor area.

“Padawans,” Master Plo Koon’s voice calls across the outdoor space to the two of you, recalling you two back to the training pad. Anakin follows your jog back up to the training pad happy to return to training with his newly considered friend.

divider by @/cafekitsune, thank you!!

[mercifulbutbroken]

Hey thsc community, can y’all send me some asks ab my characters or headcannons please? Kinda a long day already and I wanna come back home to do something fun—-

[creatediana]

Sarah Bernhardt as Hamlet by Alphonse Mucha - a whiteboard drawing I did while subbing for a few study halls, 4/10/2025

[kakashihasibs]

I'm very glad I'm as stable in my sobriety as i am bc i am definitely having cravings but I'm still able to think that it's not the answer.

[diivineray]

Imagine being so emotionally weak and pathetic that you have to bully your chronically ill daughter to feel better about yourself

[orcelito]

Honestly sooooooo fucked up that I thought my overwhelming daily fatigue and debilitating body pain was a product of the awful working conditions I was under for years and years... and yet, despite being out of work for half a year now, I'm still so fatigued and in pain all the time??? Like come on man that's not fair

Oh well maybe I have liver disease and they'll treat it and then I am magically so much more energized like I was as a kid. We can only hope !!!!

[firebirdsdaughter]

Aaaaahhhh…

… Was reading a (very good!) fic, and the author pointed out that it's Very Interesting that Kubo used Byakuya and Renji to explain Sasakibe's backstory, and I was like… Oh my gods.

Bc a) I love the whole 'I will be your right arm and do what you cannot' thing and b) I was just thinking about how I think that does apply to Byakuya and Renji.

Now it says in my contract I can't put too much stake in Tite 'I never thought we'd make it to the Soul Society' Kubo using too much deep literary symbolism/association, plus this is shonen, where said symbolism/association isn't a main priority (which is fine, BLEACH was my first manga/anime and I still love it in it's silly 2000s nonsense).

But to me… That is so them? It's a point of interest to me that Byakuya ever approved Renji as his Assistant Captain. Like. Surely that's a position that the Captain in question has to approve, since they'll be relying on each other so much. And you can't tell me Kuchiki Rules Lawyer Byakuya didn't do due diligence w/ the candidates. So why Renji to begin w/? Neither manga nor anime ever explains, and it's not relevant to the actual story. Renji bc the plot demanded it. But I also kinda like the idea of Byakuya intentionally picking someone who's a little more brash and aggressive than he allows himself to be. Someone who's more reliant on brute force and forging forward. Although it doesn't ultimately get explored much bc of the nature of the genre and the era it was written in, it comes across as Byakuya choosing someone who can be the things, have the reactions and emotions he feels he must withhold from himself. He's rigid and stoic and stingy about praise, while Renji seems to be pretty friendly with the squad and even has a subordinate that looks up to him. Like Byakuya know he's chilly and he needs someone more passionate and expressive to balance him out.

Which also makes the blood war arc events very interesting to me; unlike the other Captains, Byakuya has an Assistant who has bankai. He could, and by some theories should have had Renji use his bankai to test the enemy. He's the superior officer, technically stronger. From certain povs, it might have made more sense to risk the Assistant Captain's powers. But instead, he does it himself, and even after his bankai is stolen, he keeps insisting Renji stay back and learn from his fight (I do love the little aside in the manga where he tells Renji he's probably not smart enough to test the enemy and Renji grumbles but agrees w/ him, bc it felt so humanising and just… kinda brother-y for both of them). And even while horribly injured, he drags himself back to his feet when As Nodt starts attacking Renji. Now, it's probably also or the sake of the Soul Society itself. It makes sense, esp since they both have bankai, for one of them to stay back. But the fact that he has Renji do so, effectively sacrifices himself from the get-go, is so interesting to me.

And, of course, the very end of that fight clearly establishes how much Renji has come to mean to him. They could have just made him ask about Rukia, as so many of his appearances are primarily focused on her (sigh shonen), but instead, he apologises to both of them, and then the first thing he asks Ichigo is if they're both alive (non sequitur but if they hadn't been I thoroughly think Ichigo would have lied to him to spare him the knowledge, and also I'm a little lukewarm about Ichigo but I loved that moment).

It convinces me that while there was definitely logic/strategy in it, he was also trying to do his best to protect his Lieutenant, esp after shit truly hits the fan.

But to cycle back around to… What ever my point might have been, whether it's intentional or not, I think the fact that it's Renji and Byakuya used to tell us this story of the eternally loyal Assistant, that Byakuya clearly thinks very highly of Sasakibe's loyalty and duty. That it comes right at the start of that arc where the above happens. That Renji and Byakuya are… Aside from Shunsui and Nanao, I think the only Captain and Assistant pair that last the whole story? Oh, and Soi-Fon and her Assistant. And Hitsugaya and Rangiku! That they are one of four out of thirteen pairs that remain unchanged by the end.

I could go into a lot more (finding out the Captain you thought was kind and compassionate is a monster, while your emotionally challenged, expressionless jackass of a new Captain is a genuinely honourable and noble person), but that would get even more nonsensical. The short version is, I definitely think that whole philosophy, that image of the Assistant becoming the indispensable right hand that balances out the Captain, fills in for the things they lack or can't do for whatever reason, is really well displayed by these two, esp compared w/ some of the other dynamics we see (Momo and Izuru's blind devotion to their initial Captains, Yachiru being more moral support/after fight recovery, whatever the hell is the deal w/ Oomeda). Like Renji was his hot headed younger brother he was mentoring long before he and Rukia actually became a thing.

They're not the only ones, of course, Hitsugaya and Rangiku sync very well, so did Isane and Unohana. Kenpachi and Yachiru work, and Ikkaku stands a high chance of fulfilling the same role (albeit they should probably keep Yumichika on hand just in case). And tbh it didn't register w/ me the first time (I think partially bc I was a little overwhelmed by all the Things going on), but when someone else pointed it out… I'm like. Yeah. I think that means something.

[girlyblunts]

Caved and went to my doctor about trying a new medication and I am Zoloft gang now 😔 I don’t want to be on medication again but I’m getting very close to psychotic episodes, basically already had one when I overdosed on thc…. also had an ekg done in office, need to have a 24h heart monitor, and got a referral to a cardiologist to hopefully find out what kind of disautonomia is happening to me