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heytheredelulu · 8 months ago

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Unbreakable - The After Years

Follow up to Unbreakable, my Bucky Barnes x Reader fic.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, sexual references

You don’t get pregnant after that first time. You hadn’t been in your fertile window but were still disappointed with your negative test despite knowing it wouldn’t have been positive when you took it.

When your period came, Bucky brought you your favorite snacks, bought you a new fluffy blanket and a pack of ovulation tests that he gave to you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

The first time you got the smiley face on your ovulation test you nearly tackled him when he came through the door that evening, brandishing the test stick at him and peppering kisses on every bare inch of skin you could find.

He made love to you constantly, regardless of where you were in your cycle, just craving the intimacy of being raw inside you, of the feeling of his warm, thick cum spilling within you. He’d rut himself deep into you, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, desperate to be as far in you as he could physically be.

You knew you were pregnant before you even took the test. You’d been cooking dinner and Alpine had hopped onto the counter, craving a good ole head scratch and the idea of cat fur where you were plating your food sent you into a violent gagging fit.

You called Sarah, Sam’s sister and your best friend and she squealed so loud you nearly dropped your phone. She stayed on FaceTime with you while you anxiously took the test, not even needing to wait the full three minutes for the results because you had a blazing positive the moment your urine passed through the window. You made her promise not to speak a word of it to Sam before you had the chance to tell Bucky.

He could sense something was up the moment he got home. His enhanced senses followed your strange new scent into the living room and when his eyes met yours, he knew- he knew you were carrying his child. Tears brimmed his lower lids the second you stood up and he pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you fiercely as he cried tears of joy.

Bucky was attentive and overly protective of you l you anyways and once you were pregnant he became over the top to say the least. He doted on you constantly, always asking, “Are you feeling okay, Angel?” “Have you eaten today?” “What can I get you?” Sam and Sarah always teased him, saying he would treat you as if you were made of glass.

He accompanied you to every appointment, his foot tapping anxiously before every ultrasound, his eyes wet with tears every time he had the opportunity to see the small little movements on the screen, every time he heard the fast paced thump thump thump of his baby’s heartbeat inside your womb.

The first time he felt her kick- his daughter- his flesh hand was resting affectionately against the swell of your abdomen, where it lay almost any chance he had. You’d been watching a movie, lounged on the couch together with Alpine curled in his lap. The tiny flutter against his palm drew a sharp gasp from his chest, his eyes wide as he whispered in a voice of disbelief, “Angel, I felt her. She’s kicking. She’s kicking, isn’t she?”

Bucky was the first to buy things for his baby girl. He constantly came home with outfits, bows and blankets, excitedly showing you what he’d picked out. Anytime a package arrive in the mail you knew it was something else he’d bought for your daughter, spending entirely too much time online shopping once he’d figured out how to navigate Amazon.

You’d painted the nursery together, laughing and teasing him once you’d finished and he began attempting to put together the crib. The instructions ended up crumpled in a ball as he wiped sweat off his forehead, motherfucking the pieces laid out on the floor in front of him. Once he’d finally conquered ‘the damn thing’ you kissed him deeply as you admired the nursery, the kiss quickly becoming gentle touches and heavy breathing until you made love on the soft carpeted floor. He took his time exploring every inch of your body, his thrusts careful, slow and sensual as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

Your water broke late in the evening, while he was drawing you a bath to soak your sore back and swollen ankles. Bucky raced around the house in a panic, passing the hospital bag several times while looking for it as you watched with an amused smirk. “Baby, take a breath.” You told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Your labor was long and hours blurred together amidst the pain and anxiety but Bucky never left your side. He held your hand, pushed your hair off your forehead and whispered words of praise and encouragement against your ear as he kissed your temple. At one point he climbed into the bed with you, settling his powerful frame behind you as he drew you to his broad chest, holding you against him as you labored until it was time to push. Fortunately you didn’t have to push for long before the tiny cry echoed through the room, choked sobs of joy and relief bubbling up from your chest as you slumped back against your weeping husband.

Once you were comfortable, your small, perfect daughter resting against your chest, Bucky headed out into the waiting room with wet cheeks and a proud grin. “Winnifred. Winnifred Natasha Barnes.” He told Sam and Sarah as they stood up excitedly to hug him after having waited for hours for her arrival.

Winnie was a daddy’s girl and she had Bucky wrapped around her finger from the first moment he held her. She looked like you, with his blue eyes and his dark hair and you frequently argued playfully over whose nose she had. Named affectionately after his mother and your fallen friend and teammate, as she grew into her toddler years she definitely gave you both a run for your money as she perfectly emulated Natasha’s fiery personality.

Bucky couldn’t have been more wrong in his fear of being a father. He was the most attentive and loving dad you’d ever seen and you often found yourself lingering in the doorway at night, your heart swelling with love at the sight of the two of them curled up in the rocking chair after having fallen asleep mid bedtime story.

Bucky loved being a father so much that shortly after Winnie’s third birthday you were pregnant a second time. A boy, much to Bucky’s excitement. He would daydream about playing catch with him, teaching him how to fix up the motorcycle- all while he braided Winnie’s hair and chased her around the yard.

It wasn’t more than a year after Steven Samuel Barnes was born that you became pregnant for a third and final time. Your second son, Anthony ‘Tony’ James Barnes being the final and beautiful piece to complete the family you’d only ever dreamed of.

Winnie was the first to find out about who her dad used to be. She was 14 and had come home from school in tears over the cruel things a particular little shit of a classmate had told her. Before you sat her down to tell her everything, you had pulled Bucky into your bedroom, cupping his face with your hands. “Unbreakable.” You reminded him softly, until he nodded, eyes closed with a shaky breath.

It was easier to show Winnie who her dad really was. You took her to the Smithsonian, walking alongside her through the Captain America exhibit, until she stopped wide-eyed in front of the large picture of her father. The panel detailed his service in the 107th, his capture in Azzano and the heroic actions that took place during his time alongside Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos before the tragic fall in 1945 from the train in the Alps. Once she’d had the chance to absorb her dad’s incredible feats, he took her for a long walk along the shore where he told her his story, in his own words- beginning with his time under HYDRA. He told her fond memories of his years in Wakanda, mentioning how incredibly badass the Dora Milaje are and that she would love Ayo, Okye and Shuri and perhaps one day she could meet them. He explained the blip, how he’d fought alongside so many heroes in order to save the Earth from the Mad Titan Thanos and fondly recalled Steve and Tony- her smile widening into a grin as she made the connection to her younger brothers’ names. He ended his story with you- how you met, how he fell in love with you and how you saved him. He told her how you made him a better man, helped him overcome his darkness and how she, his beautiful, resilient, first born child reminds him everyday that everything he had been through was worth it when he saw her smile.

Winnie got detention the next day for foul language. The principal called home to report that when she’d been arguing with a classmate she’d said- and I quote- “My dad saved the fucking planet, Jessica. Your dad’s screwing his secretary.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @wintrsoldrluvr @terry2227

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel imagine #avengers imagine

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nkirukaj · 5 months ago

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Fawning for You (3)

Pairing: Alastor x Voe (Fem!OC)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 3.5K

3. True Love

Ignoring Alastor was a whole lot easier said than done. He was everywhere, and he was so beautiful. He was at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He even started attending all the activities, just sitting there looking pleasant. What was up with this guy? One day he’s nibbling on her toes and the next, he acts like she doesn’t exist. He’s insane! What do men want? Voe sat there, staring at him, wondering what was going on inside of his sick mind. Was this some new kind of torture that he was trying out just for her? Or was this what he did with everyone? Why had he said they were okay when they very clearly were not? “Good morning Charlie,” she greets the Princess at breakfast Charlie looks up “Oh! Good morning Voe, very nice to see you here,” “Yeah, you’d think so huh?” she said glancing at the unperturbed Overlord.

They sat at the table and Alastor placed plates in front of each one of them, saying nothing to her in the process “Pancakes and eggs my dears, with a little something special added in. Eat up!” “Aww thank you Alastor, you’re quite the chef!” Charlie praises him “Don’t praise him he deserves nothing,” Voe mumbles under her breath, crossing her arms “Like, you should be used to it by now, he cooks all the time. Big whoop,” “You are so good at what you do Alastor!” Angel pipes up “Gotta admit,” he shrugs “He can cook,” “Okay, he can cook, what about it? It’s just pancakes and eggs, I could do that too,” she mumbles “What do you think Voe?” Charlie turns the conversation towards her They watch and wait as Voe takes a moment to gather herself before responding “It’s okay,” she says without looking up Alastor gives Voe the side-eye before facing forward once more. “Can’t just be okay,” Charlie responds “There’s so much love in it,” she smiles sweetly Voe shrugs. “Okay…” “Well, she clearly can’t appreciate love in anything…” Alastor mumbles under his breath “Hmm?” Voe sits up ready for battle “Was something said?” Alastor turns toward her “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, ‘you can’t appreciate love in anything’ because you have no heart,” “What?!” Alastor hums “I shall be off!” and dissipates into a shadow “Wow,” Angel said “These pancakes are good! What’s the secret ingredient?” “Hmm,” Cherri Bomb tastes the pancakes again “Tastes like coke,” “I don’t think I’m hungry,” Voe backs away from the plate and the table going back up to her room.

Sitting at her laptop Voe brainstorms ideas for the theater, what kind of vibe would it have? Old school? Golden Age? Or modern? Probably modern, she thought to herself, writing it down. Modern with a rustic feel? Something minimalistic? Or something sleek? But she didn’t want the bare minimum, she wanted everything! The pit, the orchestra, the mezzanines, the balcony, the works. She didn’t want any corners cut for her theater. But before she could worry about any of that, it was her job to plan it. What did she want?

Well, what she wanted was for Alastor to stop ignoring her, she wanted to sit down and have a conversation with him and live in bliss like normal partners do! But that had nothing to do with the theater.

For the theater what she wanted was white walls, a chandelier (a simple one), stands to buy merch and food, and bathrooms (obviously) all in the lobby. At least 500 pink felt seats (to be on par with a Broadway theater), and a black carpet on each floor. High ceilings and at least 3 floors. A pit for the orchestra, tech rooms, dressing rooms for the actors, and of course a stage. She could figure the rest out as she went along, well she would have to considering she couldn’t think of anything else. “Do I have to buy a building? Or is Lucifer’s approval enough? Who would I even be buying from? I don’t know anyone who sells buildings,” she pulls her permit out of the drawer and reads it again, she sighs thinking of Lucifer. She looks online, finding that the average building costs about $10,000,000. She jumps back in her chair “What the fuck? I can’t spend that much money! I’d be flat broke!” She drops her head on her desk over and over. Why is having a dream so difficult? She skips down the stairs and rushes toward the girlfriends when she sees them.“Charlie, how does the Princess feel about sponsoring one of her people’s projects?” “What do you mean?”

She puts on her people-person voice “I need someone to sponsor my work in the theater so I can pay for things that I need and for the manual labor that I need from people to build it. “Well, sure! How’s 15%?” Voe looks around and takes out her phone to calculate 15% of 10 million “That’s it? I know you have more than that,” “I’m sorry, but my dad doesn’t want me giving too much,” “Since when does he have all these rules??” “He doesn’t want any sinners using me for my money,” Voe scrunches her brows “You’re a grown woman!” “So are you!” “What’s your point?” Her eyes dart around “A grown woman should take care of her own things,” Voe groans “It feels like your dad is doing this on purpose,”“What do you mean, no?”

Lucifer shakes his head “I’m sorry, I can sponsor, but no. You can’t get the whole thing,” “Okay, so can you use your King status to make it so I don’t have to pay?” “No. I will donate, but you have to pay,” Voe is exasperated “Why are you doing this?” “What am I doing?” “Making this harder for me,” He sighs “This is literally a rule for every sinner,” “Really? Because it seems like it’s only negatively impacting me,” “It’s not. I’ve had sinners come up to me and Charlie lying about getting redeemed to get money from us!” “You literally have infinite money!” she laughs in disbelief He groans “Yes, that infinite money is for me and my daughter!” Voe puts her head in her hands “Are you serious?” “Look, if you want to get redeemed you have to work hard, at everything,” “Okay is this like a punishment or something?” “What? For what??” She looks around “Hurting your feelings?” “Voe. Not everything is about you, every sinner has to follow these new rules,” “That just happens to become rules when I want to do something,” “Well, I’m sorry. Those are just the rules now. Many have come before you and many will come after,” Voe throws her hands up “Wow, just wow. Thanks,” she says sarcastically “Voe. I said I would still help. I’ll give you more than I gave the others,” “I just thought we were friends,” she shrugs “Voe. This is business, it’s not about friendship. I can’t just not enforce rules for one person,” “Why not?” His volume increases “Because Voe, you are a sinner. You did wrong. You do not get everything handed to you now,” In this tone, she could almost see him as an actual King. “You fucked up. And now you’re here. It’s not about how I or you feel. You-“ he sighs “Yes, you hurt me. I was in love with you and I’m not over it. I’m not even over Lilith,” Voe is taken aback by his sudden confession “I’m sorry, look I’ll send you the money but you need to leave,” and he exits the room, leaving the doe flabbergasted in her frustration.“Well, he’s not wrong. You were just so lucky that as soon as you dropped into Hell you were the number one baddie on the block,”

Voe scoffs “I still am,” Angel looks at her “Yeah. I had nothing and no one before Val. Imagine being me. I can’t even tell which life was worse. You got things handed to you, and now you gotta work for ‘em,” Voe looks up at the ceiling and sighs “Apparently the King of Hell was in love with me,” Angel sighs “It happens. Look, I’ve fucked so many guys and 98% percent of them fell in love with me. That’s why you gotta nip it in the bud before ya smash,” “You couldn’t wait to brag about that could you?” she laughs Angel Dust smirks and shrugs “I didn’t even know until he told me,” “That’s why you gotta ask, you gotta be careful,” “And how was I meant to ask, ‘Hey are you in love with me? ‘Cuz I’m not in love with you.’?” “Well no. You’re supposed to just tell ‘em ‘This isn’t a relationship’,” She fiddles with her fingers “I just thought it was fun,” “Then you should’ve told him that! You’re telling me that none of the women you fucked on Earth divorced their husbands for you, but you don’t wanna be with her, and now she’s in a custody balle over her kids!” Voe cuts her eye at him “Sorry, just got personal,” She looked down at her phone, that went off saying that Lucifer had sent her 30 million, she sighs “I don’t know what to do,” “I think you need to go and apologize,” “I did!” “Yeah, and then told me about how you got all entitled,” She looks away “Okay, that’s not what I said,” “You didn’t have to say it. You went up to the King of Hell and demanded money. You might as well have tied up his whole family and put a gun to CHarlie’s head!” Voe does a double take “Wait, what? What are we talking about?” “You!” “I-I think you just got personal again,” “Besides the point, you need to go back there and apologize for that tantrum,” She scoffs “I’m not a baby,” “Then stop acting like it! You did wrong, you need to go back and apologize!” “He doesn’t want to see me,” “No no, did he say that? Or did he just say leave?” Angel purses his lips Voe rolls her eyes “He said to leave,” “Then you need to go back up there and apologize for everything,” “How would it look if I came right back?” “Like you wanna fight for this friendship that you claim you had with him. Is he actually your friend?” “Yes,” “Do you care about him?” “Yes!” “Do you care that you hurt him?” “YES! It hurt me to hurt him like that!” Angel gets in her face “Did you tell him that?” “I didn’t know I had to,” “Well, ya do,” She looks away “Okay,” “Honestly? I’d give myself to an Overlord who can admit when they’re wrong,” Voe’s eyes glisten in the light.

_______________________________

“Charlie! Didn’t you say that you convinced Cannibal Town to help you fight the angels with you with a song?”

She nods “Yup! They really adore the theatrics!” Voe clings to her clipboard and hatches a brilliant plan“So you want me to help you with your theater idea?” Rosie reiterates for clarification “Not just you, but your cannibals as well. I need a crew to help build and set things up. If that’s okay with you,”

The Overlord puts her hand on her chest “You have to ask them, not me,” Voe throws her head back “Rosie….” “You know you sinners say you want redemption, but you want us higher-ups to do the work for you,” “How should I do that?” “Just be yourself!”Voe rolls her eyes “Apparently that’s a problem,” “Huh?” She shakes her head “Never mind. Would you like to be part of it?” “Ah ho ho ho,” Rosie laughs, flattered “I’d wanna be the lead,” she and Voe laugh alongside each other “I’m serious,” she says with a straight face and then a smile Voe’s eyes dart around ��Sure!” she agrees “Sometimes,” she mumbles under her breath, knowing she would certainly be the lead “So may I use your cannibals?” she asks, holding the clipboard close to her chest. She psyches herself up to talk to multiple cannibals.

She approaches the children, waving “Hi! Remember me?”

“Hi! Guys! It’s the lady with the tail!”

She nodded as the other children she had met came to see her

“Hi, deer lady! This time we have an arm for you!” the little girl offers it to her

Voe respectfully declines “I wanna ask you something,” she kneels on the ground, her skirt over her knees “Have you ever played pretend?”

“Yes!” the kids shout

“Just yesterday I pretended I was killing David with a shark!” the little girl shouts

“Good job,” Voe pats her on the head “What if you could do that for an audience? Like if you do it in front of people,”

“So people would see me killing David with the shark?”

She nods “Yep! That’s theater!”

“I love theater! I want to do it!” The boy shouts

“Good!"

She gathers them together into a group “Theater can do all this and more for you,"

She moves from the children to the adults, starting with the kid's parents, and moving on to their friends and families. The people slowly agree as their kids convince them to listen, going down a chain of positivity and agreement.

“Okay,” she breathes excitedly “I’ve given Rosie the address please be there next week at 11 AM. Okay? Okay,” and leaves the spotlight “Hey!” Rosie calls after her

She turns around “Yes?” “How’s Alastor been? He hasn’t been over here in weeks and I wanted to give him this,” she holds up a wrapped thigh Voe sighs “I don’t really know,” “Have you asked?” “He won’t talk to me,” “Sometimes you gotta make him talk,” “How am I supposed to do that?” Rosie shrugs “I don’t know, but I do know that if anyone can do it, it’s you,” she thrusts the thigh in Voe’s arms “Now here, give him that, and shoo!” She slaps Voe on the butt and Voe takes that as her time to leave “Yes Mother,” she whispers under her breath

Alastor sat in his radio tower, rereading his list of things to do. He’d completed it, but when he didn’t have something in front of him it made his mind wander. Inevitably, it always wandered to her. He watched her around the hotel, back to square one, as if nothing had ever happened between them. As though he’d never touched her smooth skin or kissed her soft lips, tasted her delicious cunt. His feelings for her were…complicated at this point in time. Sure she had apologized for her actions, sure she had gotten down on her knees and begged. Sure he had thrown her contract in the fire and sure he had forgiven her, but that was during his…overly emotional state, he trusted nothing he’d done during that point. He was starting to question whether or not he’d meant it when he forgave her or if that was the wrong decision. What had she done since? She asked if they were “Okay”, or whatever that meant. What did she want from him? He had given her almost everything and yet she still wanted more? It was ungrateful, unreasonable, it was too much. Alastor didn’t know where they should go from here. All he knew was that she had ruined his reputation, and did not seem quite sorry enough. It wasn’t fair that she got to just move on and pretend like it never happened when he had to deal with the fallout. She got to prance around as if she wouldn’t be the death of him and then still have the nerve to insult his cooking. No Alastor was not sure where to go from here, but it seemed as if every direction was the wrong one.

Voe enters the parlor with the intent of laying on the comfy couch, only to find a certain someone sitting in their chair reading. She thought about turning and retreating to her bedroom, but in the end, decided not to. If she wanted to lay on the couch she was going to lay on the couch. There was no one else there, considering that it was once again at dead of night, but at that moment it felt as though there were oceans between them although they were inches apart. Voe plops down on the couch. Alastor hums to himself as he reads. Voe scrolls on her smartphone, only slightly bothered by the darkness. It was harder for her to concentrate with the backing soundtrack, feeling as though it was increasing volume by the second. Like it was getting closer. “Excuse me, your humming is very distracting,” she speaks low “My what?” he doesn’t look up “Your humming,” “Hmm?” “Your humming,” she increases her volume, “Hmmm??” Voe rolls her eyes and sits up “Your humming…is….distracting,” Alastor looks up from his book “Oh? DIstracting you from staring at your mobile device?” “As a matter of fact, yes it is” “Ugh, busy on Sinstagram. Or telling Velvette more things about me?” She looks to the side “I don’t even have her number anymore,” “Sure you don’t” “What you want me to show you?” “I don’t want you to show me anything my dear, I just want to hum in peace,” “Well, you can’t,” “I think I can,” “You can’t,” Alastor checks his nails “Well if I can’t hum I guess you can’t have your phone,” Voe raises a brow “Excuse me?” Just then, Alastor’s shadow comes and swipes her phone out of her hands “Hey!” it tosses the device “What the fuck!” “Now we both can’t get what we want,” he smirks “You couldn’t just..stop humming?” “No, apparently not,” “Where is my phone?” “I suppose you’ll have to find it,” Voe slams the couch with her hands “What’s your problem?” “I don’t know what you mean,” “That was so petty for no reason,” Alastor sighs “I suppose I’m just petty,” Voe stands and begins checking the room for her phone, it would have been a lot easier if it wasn’t dark. She finds it and uses it to find her way back to the couch where Alastor was watching her search. “Enjoy the show?” she asks sarcastically “Oh yes, quite entertaining,” “Fine, whatever, you win,” His eyes widen “Win? What prize do I get?” he puts his hands together “Me leaving,” she turns towards the stairs “Where are you going to go? Back to the Vees perhaps?” “To my room!” “The one at V-tower or…?” “Oh fuck you!” she takes off toward the stairs and ascends “Uh, rude,” he says in a sing-song voice

Alastor was quite confused about how he felt at this moment, but it felt good to get those things off his chest. Oddly enough, this was something. He spoke to her and gave her attention. It felt like he was playing with her again and Voe loved the feeling and being under his piercing gaze. She adored being seen by him, and she loved that she could have these moments with him and still feel like herself like she wasn’t trying to fit in anyone’s mold. Like she could be truly whoever she was.

She knocks on the door of the golden castle once more. It opens on its own and she enters. It’s a lot more quiet than usual this time and Lucifer is lying on the couch in loungewear instead of in his kingly get-up. “Lucifer?” He sits up quickly “Oh. Hello.” He dusts himself off and stands “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about how our last conversation went. It was quite inappropriate and I so apologize.” “Oh. Thank you. And.. thank you for the money,” she holds up her phone “You’re welcome.” He looks around “Is there something you need?” She purses her lips “Can we sit down?” “Um..sure. Of course. Is everything okay?” Voe takes a breath “No, it’s not. I owe you an apology,” Lucifer sits up, intrigued “Alright?” “I apologize for waltzing in here and acting like you owe me something. You didn’t have to give me anything, I realized that after I acted like an entitled brat,” “I didn’t say you were a brat….” Voe puts her hand up “I was, it’s okay,” Lucifer nods his head in agreement “But I mostly came to tell you this. You are not a toy to me. I value you and our friendship” Lucifer smiles “And I apologize for letting what we were doing get to s certain point without any acknowledgment from me,” “Well I’m sorry too-“ “No, you don’t have to apologize,” “I want to,” Voe sits back to let him talk “I’m sorry for assuming that because we were intimate, that it meant something special,” Voe nods “Noted. But I want you to know that I get that I hurt you, but I never told you how much it hurt me to hurt you like that. You were there for me when I needed you and I never in a million years would ever want to hurt you,” she tilts her head “And I don’t ever want to hurt you,” “I’m so sorry Lucifer,” He scooches forward “I accept your apology,” “Thank you,” she says with a soft smile “Will you ever come back to the Hotel?” He thinks “I’ll think about it,” “We miss you. Charlie misses you, I miss you,” “I will think about it,” She smiles “Okay,” she stands “Thank you for seeing me,” “Thank you for coming by,” Voe waves “Bye,” “Hey,” She turns back toward him “Yes?” “I know you probably don’t understand, but love-“ He shakes his head “It did mean a whole lot that you came back and apologized. One day you’ll know what it means to be in love with someone. You’ll feel so many emotions, like anger, annoyance, confusion, joy, bliss, comfort, and fury, and sometimes you might think you hate them. But at the end of the day, you can’t stand to be without them,” ‘You felt that about me?” “Yes,” “Hmm,” is all she said in response “I hope to see you soon,” “Me too. Come by anytime,” She chuckles “Or you could come by, and see your daughter,” she jokes “Yeahhh..” They laugh together as Voe exits. As the golden doors slam behind her, Voe stops before getting into the limousine, thinking,

Holy shit, I’m in love with Alastor.

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fortheloveoffanfic · 11 months ago

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Mr. Gallagher and Me

Jim x Reader

Author's Note: Its been a year guys, I don't even know if people still want to read this Masterlist Chapter 19 Playlist

Chapter 20

Jim's hopes for his and Y/n's growing family may hit a temporary road block when her concerns about what the university's investigation means for their professional futures are once again expressed.

As they pulled up in front of a sweet two story home that seemed to have been plucked right off a movie screen with a red brick finished exterior, a large cobblestone front yard and bright blue French doors, tucked away just past a part of the house that extended forward, the chatter that had dominated their drive to Malahide died down. Jim himself had only been to the property once before, with a realtor and a small group of potential buyers a couple weeks ago- before he and Y/n had been suspended pending investigation. He’d fallen in love with the spacious five bedroom home after spotting it in an online listing, though, seeing it in person and hearing the realtor say that it was perfect for a growing family had really drove it home.

“Jim,” Y/n scoffed, confused with a bright grin painting her features, “What is this?”

His kids chimed in just as Y/n did and he chuckled softly, “Its the ‘or something’ I mentioned,” he teased, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. First opening the back passenger door for his kids, he made it around to the other side just in time to help Y/n out of the car, “Come on,” he encouraged, taking her hand after shutting the door and engaging the alarm, “You guys haven’t even seen the best parts yet.”

“You haven’t even told us what this is yet,” Y/n glanced at him, squeezing his hand affectionately and placing her free hand at the center of Alannah’s back as she moved to stand beside her, with Ben remaining to Jim’s immediate right.

“This,” Jim explained absently while rummaging through his coat pocket for a single key on a promotional key ring, “Could be our new home, but only if you guys like it,” and he was pretty sure they would. Finally getting the key out, he temporarily relented his hold on Y/n’s hand to unlocking the door, allowing everyone in before stepping inside.

“Oh my God!” Alannah exclaimed as she headed up the entry hall, stopping in front of an open door to her left and a carpeted staircase to her left, “Dad, you bought this?” At her question, Y/n, who’d paused in front of a smaller room, the first room after the front door, set up by the realtor to mirror a playroom, hastily turned to face him, eyes wide and lips agape, as if she were mirroring his daughter’s question.

Before Jim could offer a response, from the living room, he heard Ben say loudly; “This place is huge!”

“Did you really buy this place?” Y/n probed, voice soft and tone firm.

Licking his lips, he crossed the hall and closed the brief space between them, reaching for her hips to draw her near, “You think I’d buy a house, without talking to you first?” He frowned a bit, bending his head a little to meet her eyes.

“I…..” Y/n sighed softly, “Of course I don’t think that,” she sighed softly, “But you said-”

“That it could be our home,” he emphasized the operative ‘could’, reaching up with one hand to cup her cheek, thumb roving across her soft skin under her eye, “I haven’t put in a bid yet, I wanted to know if this was something you guys wanted.” She looked around, and he could tell by the look on her face that she was going to protest that right then probably wasn't the right time to buy a house, so before she could, Jim intervened, “Just look at it, please?” He leaned in, pressing a short, sweet peck to her thin pressed lips, “They already love it, and I promise you this place is beautiful, and the neighborhood is amazing. Give it a chance, yeah?”

She hesitated and Jim held his breath, feeling the boulder on his shoulders melt away a little when Y/n gave in with a private smile, “Okay, but we’re just looking,” she stressed.

“And if we like it…..?”

“We’ll see,” she edged away from his grip in favor of looping her arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder, “Now, I’m assuming you’ve seen this place already, so why don’t you show us around, Mr. Gallagher.”

He chuckled, her openness to the possibility serving to reassure him, “Thought you’d never ask.”

With their arms linked, Jim led Y/n out of the playroom to a larger space, the room Ben had gone into a few minutes earlier, and adopting what he thought was his best impression of a real estate agent, he announced with flourish, “Welcome to the living room.”

“Its beautiful,” Y/n admitted, her fondness palpably genuine.

“It is,” Jim agreed, continuing with his impression, “Here we have gorgeous full length windows, an electric fireplace and of course, an open concept featuring a spacious dining room and a large kitchen.”

Laughing, Y/n shook her head and reached over to playfully swat at his chest, “Stop it. You’d be a horrible real estate agent,” she teased.

“I would be a great real estate agent,” he protested, not taking offense with her joke in the slightest.

Y/n scoffed humorously, “I love you, so much,” she detached herself from Jim, gravitated to the threshold that separated the dining room from the sprawling living room, “But you wouldn’t be. This isn’t even an open concept, at least, this part of it isn’t,” she noted, reaching for one end of the wide, wooden pocket door, pulling it to the middle before reaching for the other, effectively blocking out the living room from the dining room and kitchen, “See?”

Jim huffed, approaching Y/n with a chuckle, “In my defense, that’s a very wide doorway and Angela,” the actual real estate agent, “Completely left that out,” he fibbed.

“She did not,” Y/n shook her head, catching her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes challenged him to tell the truth.

“She did not,” Jim admitted, “I may have forgotten, there’s a very small possibility.”

“Oh, very small.” Y/n played along, looping her arms around his neck, and instead of being able to press their chests together, Jim felt the swell of her cute bump against his stomach, and his hands fell there before slipping to the small of her back, “But I’ll try to not let your forgetfulness impact this experience, even if it means that I can no longer trust your judgment.”

It was easy to tell she was still joking around, so Jim didn’t take any of it to heart, instead pecking her lips quickly before returning, “How gracious of you.” Her soft laughter beckoned his lips closer once more, and they were about to kiss again when, from upstairs, Ben and Alannah called out to them, insisting that they meet them up there.

With a protective hand on Y/n’s back and a close eye thrown on her steps- because his eagerness to protect her had quadrupled since they’d confirmed that she was pregnant- they went up the stairs to meet his kids, who’d slipped into two separate bedrooms; Alannah in the one to the left of the landing and Ben in the first of the three to the right of the landing, both claiming the respective rooms as “theirs”. For a minute, Y/n eased away from him, glancing around the space before asking, “How many bedrooms does….”

“Five,” he offered, stepping close enough to slide his arm behind her back in a more casual embrace, reminiscent of the one they’d shared coming up the stairs.

Her lips quivered for a few seconds before the first, shocked breath parted them, “We don’t need five bedrooms.”

Jim knew they didn’t. Four, or even three might have been fine because they’d determined that they definitely wanted the crib in their room and liked the idea of co-sleeping too until their little one was past the toddler stage. But he was becoming increasingly frustrated with cramped quarters; the smaller house he and Danielle had raised Ben and Alannah in, then his apartment that definitely bordered on feeling like a matchbox on the days that everyone was home. Why not have more space if they could afford it? Why not have an extra room left over in case their friends or family stayed over one day?

“Yeah but it helps, doesn’t it? Ben and Alannah get their own rooms,” he reached over, resting an open palm on her tummy, “And when Jellybean’s ready, she’ll have her own room too.”

“But we’ll still have-”

“A room left over for when people come over. Or we can turn it into a shared office, whatever you want.” Y/n sighed, but he could tell he’d managed to bring her a round a little, at least enough for her to intertwine their hands as they perused the rest of the rooms, making their last stop the master suite.

From the moment they entered, Jim could tell that the window to the left, facing the empty, albeit well-maintained lot across the street had caught her attention. “Could you imagine how this would look at dawn? The sun creeping into the room, all warm and fuzzy, it must be beautiful!” She hummed softly, moving around the room, before pausing at a space between two windows, “Here is perfect for a crib.”

She was right, the area was a stretch of soft white wall between two large windows, where the sun wouldn’t bother the baby too much. If they’d put the bed where the decorative one currently was, they’d also be sleeping close enough to the crib to get to the baby quickly when she needed them. Lingering a couple feet away, Jim observed in silence as Y/n explored the room, slowly moving from the spot she’d pointed out as being perfect for a crib, to the small, walk-in closet and the sizeable bathroom.

“This bathtub is huge!” He heard her exclaim, her audible excitement making his grin broaden. Then, just as he started approaching, Y/n stepped outside. Her smile was bright and there was a shine in her eyes that made his heart swell; he loved seeing her that happy. “Okay,” they gravitated closer, her reaching for his shoulders while he opened his arms to engulf her, “Sold.”

Exhaling, Jim tried to contain his excitement, “Seriously?” he searched her eyes and before she could respond, he teased, “Because of the bathtub?”

Playfully, Y/n rolled her eyes, “Not just the bathtub,” she snorted lightly before adopting a more somber mood, “Its everything; this place is gorgeous. Your kids love it, I love it, the neighborhood seems amazing,” her shoulders relaxed a little, “You were right about the bedrooms, there’s so much space. Room for so many possibilities. And, you know, it just feels like us.”

Jim glanced around the room, drinking in its bareness; like a blank canvas just waiting for the colours of their memories to be splashed across it. That house could be part of their lives, and if it was, then the bedroom they were standing in would become so much more than dark hardwood floors enclosed by soft white walls, populated by display furniture. It would be their room, decorated with freeze frames of their life together and furniture that they’d chosen together. Their daughter would spend at least the first year and a half in there with them and if Jim was lucky, he’d go to sleep in there, almost every night for the rest of his life, next to Y/n.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he agreed excitedly, “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” though, her giddiness was short lived and she sighed heavily, “But we can’t afford this right now.”

Jim’s shoulders drooped defeatedly, “Y/n,” he frowned, reaching to cup her cheek, “We can do this.” He knew they could; he was sure there enough saved up to make a down payment and still live comfortably for a few months, until he either got his job back or found a new one.

“Its just not a risk I think we should take right now,” she cupped the side of his face, dragging her thumb affectionately along the apple of Jim’s cheek, “Let’s just give it some time, okay? We have those HR interviews soon, let’s see how they go and we’ll decide from there.”

Straightening up, Jim nodded and glanced away, “Alright.”

“Please don’t be mad,” she frowned worriedly.

Naturally Jim was upset; he genuinely believed that they were in a position to put in a bid, and simultaneously, couldn’t stand the thought of losing a house that already felt like theirs. But he didn’t want to argue with her and could see reason in her perspective; they had a child on the way and with both their futures hanging in the balance, it might not have been the best time to take a nosedive into the world of real estate. “Not mad,” he promised, chastely kissing her forehead, allowing his lips to linger before pulling away again

As she pulled away from his embrace, she dropped her hands in favor of taking one of his as she began towards the door, lacing their fingers and leading Jim along, “We’re gonna get this place, I know it,” she professed earnestly, mostly in a bid to cheer him up, “We just need to give it a bit more time.”

Time; Jim sighed heavily at the word. Not mad, but dejected, Jim was beginning to feel like all they did was wait on a time that seemed beyond them.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x y/n #the delinquent season #mr. gallagher and me chapter 20 #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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stevishabitat · 7 months ago

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wodneswynn Hey, listen: We're not gonna get anywhere with this "socialism" stuff unless we can establish solidarity networks that provide. real, tangible aid. And I do mean "tangible" in the sense of "you can fill up a box with it."

Back in the old-timey days, when we didn't have things like a minimum wage or gov- ernment assistance, folks didn't think twice about paying union dues every month out of their meager paychecks. And in those days, when it was a regular, everyday occurrence for union people to get beat up or outright murdered for their union-ing, the unions still managed to win a lot of their fights. Reason for all that? The bigger part of them union dues I mentioned "went into a strike fund",

Time on a picket line means time off the clock. And as for me, in this economy, if I go a week without a check, my family don't eat. I go two weeks without a check, and we're homeless. And them's the brakes.

Rjenroses: In my community we started a co-op in order to, in part, purchase things with mass buying power (i.e, we can get things at wholesale if we order enough of them, so we can, for example, eat organic food for about what conventional costs a lot of the time.)

But we also set aside a little money each time we order, and that money helps pay for donation boxes... and the social network we created when we created the co-op means that if someone has a crisis, someone else probably has the answer. "This family just lost their job and can't afford to buy presents for their kids" may get a response of "Here are presents for every single family member" or it might end up with finding a job for the people looking for work, or both, because the co-op membership is diverse and represents a lot of people who are otherwise. very connected in the community.

When a part of town is out of power, it's usually possible to find a co-op member who can run for ice or bring a meal, or offer use of a washer/dryer for the evening.

We had one year where we were making donation meal boxes for a holiday, found out on the last delivery about a family in severe need, talked about it in the co-op group and ended up showing up at their house with not only a meal, but enough dry goods, paper towels, toilet paper, etc. for a month, plus a credit with the co-op for fresh fruits andveggies.

I cannot overstate the power of networking. in your community. This one started out. in a natural parenting group, but quickly spread beyond that, from college students to retirees. It's like a small town, only more open-minded. We started with about 20-30 families. There are now hundreds of people involved.

I had a trans kid land with me at one point and asked if anyone had size whatever clothes and within a few hours we had a box on my porch, within a couple days we had a bunch of things he needed.

The co-op keeps a lending library of tools and weirdly specific kitchen devices like an Æbleskiver pan, a food dehydrator, a capsule maker and a carpet cleaner. The kinds of things people need once or twice a year, but might not have the room to store.

We periodically do a buy of sensory toys and sensory bin supplies, for example, because we have a lot of autistic members and parents of autistic kids,I have bought socks from the co-op that were purple with unicorns farting rainbows on them. We recently got in Black History: flashcards and we've done a lot of Black Lives Matter and Hate Has No Home lawn signs. Pretty much if people want it and we can find it at wholesale, the co-op will order it.

It even spawned a side-business (more than one, actually, but this is the relevant one) of an online app for co-op managing, called http://managemy.coop so that other communities could take advantage of our experience and start out with an easier tool than the google spreadsheets we started out with.

Anyway... if you want to network within your community, this is a really, really good way of connecting with a broad cross-section of people.

nyshadidntbreakit: All that stuff about unions still applies, too. Unions have hardship funds. If you're a union member and you're broke, or you've been fired, or whatever, you can apply to the union for a grant to help you out. The binmen in Birmingham pulled off a months-long strike. recently thanks to the union paying their living costs. Unions force employers to pay decent pension contributions and have safe sick leave policies,

If you're employed, join your damn union!

solarpunk gnomes: You might check out http://www.transitionus .org/transition-towns too. They're trying to build resilient communities by getting neighbors to talk with each other about stuff.

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dubairealestate24 · 6 months ago

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Preparing Your Home for a Quick Sale: A Step-by-Step Guide

Preparing your home for a quick sale involves a combination of cleaning, staging, and effective marketing. This guide provides a step-by-step approach to get your home ready for a fast sale.

1. Conducting a Market Analysis

Understanding the current real estate market is crucial for selling your home quickly. A thorough market analysis will help you determine the best time to sell and set a competitive price.

Market Trends: Analyze recent sales in your area and compare similar properties. Look at the average time houses stay on the market and identify trends that could impact your sale.

Seasonal Patterns: Real estate markets often have seasonal patterns, with spring and summer being peak times for buying and selling. Understanding these patterns can help you time your sale for maximum impact.

For more insights on the real estate market, visit Home Loan UAE.

2. Setting a Competitive Price

Pricing your home correctly is one of the most critical factors in achieving a quick sale. Overpricing can deter potential buyers, while underpricing can lead to a quick sale but at a financial loss.

Competitive Pricing: Set a competitive price based on your market analysis. Consider pricing slightly below market value to attract more buyers and create a bidding war.

Price Adjustments: Be prepared to adjust the price if you’re not receiving the desired interest. Regularly review the feedback from showings and adjust accordingly.

For assistance with pricing strategies, visit Invest in Dubai Real Estate.

3. Enhancing Curb Appeal

First impressions are vital in real estate. Enhancing your home’s curb appeal can attract more buyers and help you sell your home quickly.

Landscaping: Keep the lawn well-maintained, plant flowers, and trim bushes. A neat and attractive yard can significantly boost your home’s appeal.

Exterior Maintenance: Ensure the exterior of your home is clean and in good repair. Paint the front door, clean windows, and fix any broken fixtures to make your home more inviting.

For tips on enhancing curb appeal, visit Dubai Mortgage Advisors.

4. Deep Cleaning and Decluttering

A clean and clutter-free home is more appealing to potential buyers. Spend time deep cleaning and decluttering each room.

Deep Cleaning: Clean every part of your home, including carpets, windows, and light fixtures. Consider hiring professional cleaners for a thorough job.

Decluttering: Remove personal items, excess furniture, and unnecessary decorations. A clutter-free home looks more spacious and allows buyers to envision themselves living there.

For cleaning and decluttering tips, visit Apartments For Rent in Dubai.

5. Staging Your Home

Staging your home can make it more appealing to potential buyers by highlighting its best features and creating an inviting atmosphere.

Furniture Arrangement: Arrange furniture to create an open and welcoming space. Avoid blocking windows or pathways.

Neutral Decor: Use neutral colors and simple decor to appeal to a broader audience. Consider hiring a professional stager to enhance your home’s appeal.

For staging tips, visit Sell Your Property in Dubai.

6. High-Quality Photos and Virtual Tours

In today’s digital age, high-quality photos and virtual tours are essential for attracting buyers.

Professional Photography: Hire a professional photographer to take high-quality photos that showcase your home’s best features. Good lighting and angles can make a significant difference.

Virtual Tours: Offer virtual tours to give potential buyers a detailed view of your home. This can be especially useful for buyers who are unable to visit in person.

For marketing tips, visit Home Loan UAE.

7. Flexible Showings

Being flexible with showings can increase the number of potential buyers who view your home.

Open Availability: Offer showings at various times, including evenings and weekends. Accommodate last-minute showing requests whenever possible.

Scheduling Tools: Use online scheduling tools to make it easy for potential buyers to book showings.

For showing tips, visit Invest in Dubai Real Estate.

8. Making Quick Repairs and Updates

Making quick repairs and updates can enhance your home’s appeal and help it sell faster.

Minor Repairs: Fix any minor issues such as leaky faucets, broken tiles, or peeling paint. These small repairs can make a big difference.

Cosmetic Updates: Consider making cosmetic updates such as new light fixtures, fresh paint, and modern hardware. These updates can make your home look more appealing and up-to-date.

For repair tips, visit Dubai Mortgage Advisors.

9. Negotiating Offers

Be prepared to negotiate offers to achieve a quick sale.

Multiple Offers: If you receive multiple offers, compare them carefully and choose the best one. Consider not just the price but also the terms and contingencies.

Counter Offers: Be willing to make counter offers to reach a mutually agreeable price. Work with your real estate agent to navigate the negotiation process.

For negotiation tips, visit Apartments For Rent in Dubai.

10. Closing the Sale

The final step in selling your house quickly is closing the sale. This involves several legal and financial processes.

Title Transfer: Ensure all legal documents are in order for the title transfer. Work with a real estate attorney to ensure a smooth process.

Final Walkthrough: Conduct a final walkthrough with the buyer to ensure everything is in order. Address any last-minute issues promptly.

For closing tips, visit Sell Your Property in Dubai.

Conclusion

Preparing your home for a quick sale requires a combination of strategic planning, effective marketing, and flexibility. By following these steps, you can increase your chances of a fast and successful sale.

For more information and assistance with selling your home in Dubai, visit Home Loans in Dubai.

#dubairealestate

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royaloak-furniture · 6 months ago

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What are the three basic styles of carpets?

When selecting a carpet for your home, it's helpful to understand the three fundamental types of carpets to make an informed decision:

Cut Pile: This style is created by cutting the yarn loops, resulting in an upright pile that stands straight. Cut pile carpets are noted for their soft and velvety texture, which makes them comfortable underfoot. They come in a variety of sub-styles, including Saxony, plush, and frieze, each with a unique feel and appearance.

Loop Pile: Loop pile carpets are created by weaving uncut loops of yarn into a carpet backing. This creates a more durable and resilient surface appropriate for high-traffic areas. Loop pile carpets, such as Berber and level loop, are well-known for their durability and ability to disguise dirt and footprints.

Cut and Loop Pile: This technique features both cut and looped yarns, resulting in a textured and patterned effect. Cut and loop pile carpets can improve the appearance of a room while also concealing stains and damage. They come in a range of designs, making them an adaptable option for various decorating styles.

Royaloak, an online furniture store that offers quality and stylish home furnishings, has a wide range of carpet options available, whether you prefer the luxurious feel of cut pile, the durability of loop pile, or the unique patterns of cut and loop pile.

#furniture #buy sofas online #buy living room furniture online in india #furniture store near me #royaloak #online furniture #sofas #online furniture store #buy online furniture #chairs online #carpets #carpets and rugs #red carpet #carpet cleaning

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romacharm · 1 year ago

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title: we didn’t get it right, but love we did our best

pairing: tifa lockhart / aerith gainsborough

words: 4.3k words

tags: Major Character Death, Apocalypse, End of the World, mix of modern and canon divergence au, Social Commentary, Angst and Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, can be read without romance, Past Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife

summary:

First, the world ends.

Then, Tifa meets Aerith.

[AO3]

The world ends on a day just like this one. This one, and every day before it.

Tifa is tending her bar. As always. She woke up this morning with a crick in her neck that abates just a bit after some careful massaging. Despite everything, she’s not really a morning person; the sun takes time to seep into her skin. Despite it all, she heads out to run errands at a prompt nine in the morning to get everything set up for Seventh Heaven’s noontime opening.

The thing they don’t tell you, when you try to start something yourself: there is never enough money. Not for the food, for the drinks, for the damn building. Maintenance costs run her out of house and home, into a dingy Stargazer Heights apartment furnished with little else than her bed and a decrepit television set that doesn’t even connect to cable. The room always tastes like static and dust, but Tifa loves it fiercely, because she has no other choice.

This particular morning, she stops by the grocery store to stock up on eggs and canned soup, and a few impulse purchases that she really does believe she’ll eat in the next week—a promise she makes every week and only sometimes follows through on.

(Of course, the irony in this is that there is no week ahead—the time remaining is markedly less than even a day. The soup boils and burns in the fires, and the eggs become soft and yolky, dripping from the fridge.)

After that, she swings by the home decor store to buy new glassware to replace the ones that broke this past month. The store can be described only as the world contained in aisles decorated with pillows reminding one to live, laugh, and love. Harsh, ambient lighting makes the whole store hum an irritating D-sharp. It would be so easy, she does not think, to get lost in these aisles, to be a restless child wandering off, stepping into the between spaces where there is nothing. Oh, there’s the glassware section.

She could easily order the glasses online, but she likes to pick out all her items herself, test their weight in her hands, their smudge resistance, their rigidity. Maybe one of these days she’ll settle for cups made of more plastic than glass, but for now, she’s a stickler for quality, and too much plastic in glassware taints the taste of the drink. She’s been doing this long enough to learn little tricks like that, and hasn’t yet fallen so far as to start sacrificing quality for cost.

She brings everything back home, stows the groceries in the fridge, and lines up the glasses into boxes stuffed with cut-up Styrofoam that she’s accumulated from old packages. Needy fingers make do; she doesn’t always say this, but she believes it, wholeheartedly. The television blares static as she lines up the glasses, humming to herself a tune only she can find in its familiar buzz. Something that sounds vaguely like the opening song of a cartoon she watched when she was little, huddled on the carpet with Cloud and her favorite worn-out stuffed animal. Back then her eyes didn’t burn if they were open for too long, and her hands were always sticky with dirt or sugar.

The glasses are packed up all too quickly, and eleven looms just around the corner. With it comes opening, checking stock, mixing drinks. Another long day, just like the one before it, and the one before that, and the one before that.

That’s okay. Tifa likes what she does. A little bit of happiness in dark times—that’s what she promises, mixing cocktails to take the edge off. So even though it’s tiring, all the upkeep, the obligatory smile, the weird comments from patrons—it’s good work, it’s necessary work, and she does it all to make things just a little brighter, in spite of everything.

Seventh Heaven, on the outside, appears shabby: built mostly out of wood and scrounged-together pieces and located right in the center of the neighborhood, furnished with a big sign Tifa painted herself back when she’d first decided she wanted to be a bar owner and a porch for the people who need a breeze with their booze. She spends the rest of the time until opening polishing the countertop until it shines and reorganizing the lowest shelf of spirits for easy access. The Friday night crowds are the largest, and their drink preferences vary more wildly than on any other night; the shelf is crowded with all sorts of alcohol, chasers, and cocktail ingredients.

Halfway through, Barret—her partner in work, among other things—comes in with his daughter Marlene, who he sets at the bar to play with a stuffed monkey and watch the old sitcom Tifa’s left playing on the TV monitor set up on the wall. Barret then hunches over the bar in the seat next to her, his prosthetic arm thunking heavy on the wooden surface.

“All good?” Tifa asks, turning from the liquor shelf.

“Yeah,” Barret grumbles. “Been tough around town these days. Folks’re gettin’ antsy.”

“And no word from the Shinra rep?”

Barret scoffs. “‘Course not.”

The tragic irony in Barret’s work—and, by extension, Tifa’s work as his consultant-slash-friend—is that he is in many ways the de facto father of their area of the city, but that he is utterly unwilling to play the games of bureaucracy. For the past week, Shinra, the oh-so-godly corporation lording over the city like its own lawless government, has put a pause on all food shipments to the poorer areas of the city, leaving so many people to fend for themselves for food and drink. Sure, it’s driven up business for Seventh Heaven (for now, while people can afford it), and Tifa’s lucky to have Cloud do the legwork in getting supplies when she can afford him, but… well. She hates the hungry look in everyone’s eyes more than anything. The hopelessness.

“Would you get the sign for me, Marlene?” Tifa asks gently, and Marlene nods enthusiastically, happy to have something to do. She jumps down from the barstool and scampers over to the door, where she flips the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. Barret huffs, breathes in heavy and slow, calming the fire in him, as Marlene comes back to his side.

“We’ll be in the back,” Barret says, standing.

“Sure,” Tifa says. Barret makes a lot of the food when he’s not running himself ragged in meetings or distributing resources, and there’s another room back there with a TV and a box of toys for Marlene. A bar is hardly a good place for a child, but the two of them make do.

Barret takes Marlene through the door to the right, and they disappear from sight. Tifa will see them in a bit, once the orders start coming in.

The first customers trickle in—a regular with someone new in tow, a salaryman with a worn briefcase, the woman who always staggers in at opening and stumbles out at closing—and Tifa shuts her brain off, switching into customer service mode. An easy smile on her lips, a bit of sunshine at her fingertips.

The best-worst thing about being the proprietress of a bar with hardly any employees is that Tifa gets neither breaks nor days off. Which she doesn’t really mind, all things considered. A day off means time to think, which means she’ll get in her head about all the things that should be happening that aren’t, or all the things that shouldn’t be happening and are: gasoline-tinged air from permanently whirring machines, mako deficiency in the planet, people with sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks unsure of their next meal. Ash in the air from distant fires, laced with hopelessness. She hates it. She hates all of it.

Cloud comes in around five, after what she assumes is his latest job. He hasn’t told her much about it; hell, he doesn’t tell her much at all if she doesn’t pry, and that was true even while they were dating all those years ago. It’s not all bad, though—he’s just started to look her in the eyes again.

“Hey,” he says, monotone, ignoring all the tables of people staring at him in favor of beelining to the bar. Cloud’s got quite the reputation in these parts—he takes on any odd job for a price, which makes him invaluable. He’s the reason they’re not all dying of starvation, and the reason monsters rarely foray into their sector anymore.

“What’ll it be?” Tifa asks, wearing the smirk she saves specially for him. It’s a habit from all the years they’ve known each other.

“Surprise me.”

“You never like when I do that.” Nevertheless, Tifa turns and plucks out bottles for a new magnum opus.

“I’ve never said that.” She doesn’t have to look to know he’s pouting in that way only he does, half-indignant, half-scowl. Tifa shakes his drink up and pours it: a vaguely pink concoction tinged with lilac extract and citrus, hardened by vodka. This one’s off-menu, one of her experiments. Cloud takes one sip and his nose scrunches up before relaxing hurriedly.

“Not your style?” Tifa asks.

“It’s not that,” he says. She knows him well enough to tell when he’s being polite and when he’s not, so she knows it’s not that he doesn’t like it. It’s that he’s used to eating gruel and protein bars, so anything with flavor can be too much. She knows this, and waits for him to say it. “It’s just… different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

He thinks for a moment, and says, “Good different.”

“I’m glad.” She rests her elbows on the bar and leans over. “How was work?”

“Fine. Today I tracked down someone’s chickens.”

It’s more than she’s gotten out of him in years. Some things do change. “Sounds fun.”

“Eh.” Cloud shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

“So? Got any plans for the night?”

Cloud scoffs. “No. Do I ever?”

“Sounds about right.”

Another customer calls Tifa’s attention, and she’s back in work mode.

Seven comes and goes, and with it comes the arrival of the rest of their friends: Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. The three of them crowd around a table and watch as Barret emerges, haggard, from the back, Marlene sitting in the crook of his elbow. The two of them take the remaining seat at the table and cheering breaks out among them.

“Another day down!” Jessie cheers.

“And another day tomorrow!” Wedge adds.

Back at the bar, Cloud sighs. “Are they ever quiet?”

“I’m just surprised you’re still here to see it,” Tifa says. “Usually you’re home by now.”

Cloud scowls. “I don’t know. I got a bad feeling tonight.”

His intuition is usually right, which makes Tifa apprehensive. All those years in the military, she guesses, honing his senses for danger. Not for the first time, she wishes they lived in a world where Cloud had never sacrificed his body for war, and she had never had to run from a burning village.

She shuts that line of thinking down quickly.

“Tifa, baby!” a regular calls out, clearly high on more than drink. Maybe life. Maybe substances. Not Tifa’s business, anyway. “You doin’ anything tonight?”

“Tending the bar, Jimmy,” Tifa replies, “as always.”

“You oughta get out more,” he says. “See the world.”

“Maybe, if I can find the time.”

“Time’s bogus. Where’re you gonna find it if you don’t make it yourself?”

There’s truth there, the kind that makes Tifa uncomfortable. She laughs hollowly, and Cloud glares until Jimmy plops his forehead down on the bartop, spent.

By eleven, the bar’s mostly cleared out—Cloud’s gone home, as have Jessie, Wedge, Barret, and Marlene, leaving Biggs behind—and there are just a few people left, sad or drunk or both. Biggs has replaced Tifa behind the bar, giving her a chance to take a seat at one of the barstools.

“It’s weird,” Biggs says. “I get the feeling tonight is the last time I’ll see anyone.”

“That is weird,” Tifa says.

“I told you.” Biggs crosses his arms over his chest, his leather harness shifting with the movement. Tifa’s never understood why he wears that, but she supposes it does look good.

Tifa closes her eyes, bracing herself against the bartop. Her eyelids feel heavy; they always do this time of night, even though her schedule is such that she stays up this late every night.

It’s in this brief moment of peace that the first explosion sounds. The entire building shudders, down to the earth it’s built into. Tifa lurches forward; Biggs catches her, extending one hand to catch her shoulder before her face hits the wooden counter.

“What was that?” he asks, looking at the door. The patrons who aren’t dead drunk have crowded the windows, staring outside. One of them opens the door.

“I don’t know.” Tifa stands, wobbly, and makes her way to the door.

Outside is chaos. Fire rains down from the sky, taking with it chunks of metal and burning wood. The city is in disarray: on fire, buildings caved in, people running around screaming, searching for shelter where there is none. Their buildings are not built sturdy enough to withstand this kind of carnage. Tifa’s chest feels tight; she can’t breathe.

“Jesus Christ,” Biggs whispers, right behind her. She can practically hear his mind racing a mile a minute—she and Biggs are too similar in too many ways, and their capacity for worry is one such example.

It’s impossible to tell what the source of the destruction is. Where did the burning start? Where do the fires end? No matter where Tifa looks, there’s smoke and ash and flames, and screaming.

“Get down!” Biggs shouts, pulling Tifa down to the wood of the porch as a chunk of burning metal flies over their heads and into the neighboring building.

“What the…” Tifa can only stare for a moment before her entire body starts trembling.

The wind picks up, whirling all around them, spewing ash and dust every which way. There’s no shelter—there’s no running.

“We’ve got to make sure everyone’s okay!” Biggs shouts over the noise, the din of dying.

“Right!” Tifa nods and takes his hand, letting him lead the way, bracing them against the wind. She doesn’t trust her feet to carry her without support, and Biggs is always steadying, even in the worst of circumstances. They shove their way through the mob of people bemoaning their lack of shelter options, since their homes are all made of wood and cheap metals, easily crumbled in natural disasters. Not like the skyscrapers in the center of town, or the Shinra live-in workers’ homes, all hard steel and indestructible titanium. They’re probably fine.

The first house they stop by is Jessie’s; it takes longer than either of them would like, pushing through a multitude of forces. The door is wide open, and two of the theater girls who live there are huddled under the table. Jessie, however, is nowhere to be found, the buildings on either side of her place having crumbled, and the street decorated in ash. Tifa and Biggs exchange concerned looks and continue on.

Next, they find Wedge’s place, now devoid of the cats it usually crawls with. On a normal day, one can hardly reach Wedge’s front door without being assaulted by at least two cats playing guard duty. Today, not only are there none in sight, there is also the marked lack of Wedge himself anywhere, either; when Biggs pounds his fist against the door, there’s no response. Tifa kicks the door down: they find all the lights off and the inside strangely silent.

The last place they look is Stargazer Heights, the apartment building where Tifa and Cloud both live. But…

The entire building is in ruins. The second floor’s caved in, a rusty chunk of steel laying where Tifa’s room used to be, and the doors on the first floor have all flown off their hinges, exposing their crumbling interiors.

Tifa falls to her knees.

“Cloud…” she gasps.

“He’s fine,” Biggs reassures her, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’s strong. I’m sure he got out before…”

He swallows, not able to finish the sentence.

It’s not fair. Tifa’s chest burns. There are no answers to what’s happening, no understanding, except that they’re dying because the planet is tired and taking it out on tired people—

“I’m gonna take a closer look,” Biggs says.

“Okay.” Tifa’s voice sounds small and helpless, even to her, the single word snatched away by the wind.

“Be right back.” Biggs dashes off toward the building’s husk.

It’s not fair. That’s the only thing Tifa can think, the sentence running through her head over and over like somehow it contains any answers. It doesn’t. Life isn’t fair and money isn’t fair and the planet isn’t fair. And death isn’t fair.

Then when she looks up, the wind whips a plate of metal encased in flames from its course, careening it toward where Tifa sits, helpless. She could do something about that. She could roll away or kick at it. Anything.

She doesn’t.

There isn’t any fighting a dying planet taking its revenge.

Her eyes open to blank nothingness. White space.

Tifa’s head hurts. Was it all a dream? Did she lose it and down all her stock herself?

But no—something tells her everything is real, and she’s—

White spreads out everywhere, reflecting on itself, creating strange rippling light. There seems to be a floor, but that’s white too, impossible to differentiate from anything else. Tifa’s standing on it; that’s all she knows.

And in front of her sits a girl.

A girl in a red dress, the neck cut low and dancing over her chest, spaghetti straps holding it to her shoulders. The hem is laid out on the floor, fanned out around the girl’s knees, which are folded under her.

The girl’s name is Aerith. Tifa doesn’t know her.

She doesn’t know how she knows that name.

“Hey there,” Aerith says. “You’re here.”

“Do you know me?”

Aerith smiles, bittersweet. “I think so.”

“Oh.” Both of them are quiet for a moment, before Tifa finally asks, “Where are we?”

“That’s a tough question to answer.” Aerith brushes nonexistent dust off her dress, smoothing out its folds. “We’re somewhere in between the planet and the conscious world. Something like that.”

“The planet…” Tifa looks around, like answers will make themselves known, but there is still nothing to be found in any direction. “So it was a natural disaster?”

Aerith cocks her head. She looks like she’s listening to something, closing her eyes and running a hand over the floor. Then, she opens her eyes and says, “Yes and no. The thing is, the planet is like us—with boundaries and needs. And when it’s being killed, well…”

“No one in that town did anything wrong,” Tifa says hotly. She takes a step toward Aerith, who doesn’t even flinch. “It’s those—those jerks at Shinra who—”

“I know,” Aerith says. “I know.”

Frustrated, Tifa lets out a strangled noise and buries her face in her hands. It feels so helpless. She feels so trapped.

“So?” When she finally speaks again, her voice sounds hoarse and damaged. Like something is broken. “Am I dead?”

“Something like it,” Aerith says. “When we die, we return to the planet. The lifestream.”

“Right,” Tifa says bitterly. It’s not that she doesn’t have any appreciation for this spiritual crap; she just thinks she and her friends don’t deserve to die for the wrongdoings of the people at the top, the people who don’t care about anything but their profit margins for this quarter.

“The world is ending,” Aerith says. It surprises Tifa less than it maybe should. “If it helps. No one is making it out alive.”

Tifa grinds her teeth. “It doesn’t help.”

“Sorry.”

“And you? Are you dead, too?”

“I’m an Ancient,” Aerith says, “which means I’m just as much a part of the planet alive as I am dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

This is so frustrating. “So I’m dead, but I’m not dead. And everyone I care about is also dead but not dead. And I’m stuck here with… with…”

“With me,” Aerith says. “Not for long. Once the chaos on top stops, we’ll stop being conscious and join the planet for real.”

“That’s horrible,” Tifa informs her.

“I know that.”

“There’s nothing we can do?”

Aerith shakes her head.

All the fight leaves Tifa’s body. Her hands relax, leaving biting crescents in her palms where her nails had dug in too hard. She sits down, swallowing down the promise of tears.

“Hey,” Aerith says, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Tifa replies.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not. But you’re not alone.”

Tifa takes in a shaky breath. At least she’s not alone, and she knows she’ll go out with dignity because propriety states she will not cry in front of someone she barely knows.

“Why don’t we spend our last moments alive remembering all the good parts?” Aerith suggests.

“The good parts?”

“Yeah!” She scooches closer to Tifa and shifts to cross her legs in front of her, heedless of the social rule that dictates pretty girls in pretty dresses should not sit in such ways. “Like, for example, here’s a happy moment for me. I lived with my mom, and I got to spend a lot of time growing flowers. One time I got so distracted talking to them that I fell asleep, and my mom came to find me. When she woke me up… I’ve never felt as loved as I did then.”

“That’s sweet,” Tifa says.

“I’m sure you’ve got something like that.”

She has to rack her brain a bit, but in the end, the question isn’t as hard as Tifa initially thought. She tells Aerith about climbing to the top of the windmill with Cloud as teenagers and tracing patterns into the stars, creating their own constellations that looked nothing like the names they gave them. It was one of the few things to do in a village situated in the middle of nowhere. Aerith smiles at the story, her eyes never leaving Tifa’s face.

“Tell me another,” Aerith breathes.

So Tifa tells her about the bar. About cleaning up Seventh Heaven, buying the building and fixing it up, what it took to build the perfect atmosphere. Her favorite drinks, her experiments. Her regulars. The way she could watch as the stress smoothed away from their brows for just a few short hours every night. The way she believed herself a bit of sunshine for people in the dark.

“I heard about your bar,” Aerith says.

“You did?”

“The planet tells me a lot of things.” There’s that bittersweet smile on Aerith’s mouth again. “I think the idea was we served similar purposes, in our own ways. Me with my flowers. You with your bar.”

Tifa blinks at her. “The planet told you about me?”

“Tangentially.” Aerith lays her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her thumbs. “I always wanted to visit.”

Tifa’s about to tell her to drop by whenever she wants when she remembers why they’re here in the first place. So, instead, she says, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I should’ve…” Aerith trails off, and that thought is never finished. She changes gears. “Tell me more about it? About the people. What it looked like. How it worked.”

So Tifa tells her. Everything. About Barret and his knack for sniffing out the right spices, the tiredness that never seemed to dull the warmth in his eyes. Marlene and her stuffed toys, her favorite shows. About Jessie and Biggs and Wedge, a trio unlike any other, who came and went like the wind when their schedules allowed. About Cloud and the scowl he used to hide how he felt.

She tells her about the tables, the glasses. The colors of the drinks. The string lights Tifa hung up for special events, like Jessie’s birthday and Halloween. The arcade machine against the wall and the dartboard in the corner. The regulars who flirted with her, and the regulars who cursed at her. Aerith listens like there has never been anything more interesting, like Tifa’s handing her an in-depth playbook to a successful life.

“Thank you,” Aerith says, when Tifa’s run out of things to talk about, her throat gravelly and hoarse, “for telling me all that.”

“Yeah,” Tifa says. Something unfurls in her chest; something she doesn’t have a name for. “Sure.”

Aerith looks up into the nothingness. “We don’t have much time left.”

“I didn’t get to learn anything about you!” Tifa protests. “That’s not…”

“Tifa,” Aerith says softly, though Tifa can’t remember ever giving her name, “Thanks. For once, you let me know what it’s like to really be human.”

“You are human,” Tifa insists. “You’re just as alive as me. As anyone.”

She doesn’t know why this is so important to her. Why it matters so much that Aerith knows it.

“It means a lot for you to say it,” Aerith says. Static crowds the corners of Tifa’s vision. Is that an indicator of the end? The finality of everything?

“Aerith,” Tifa gasps, desperate. She doesn’t want to die. Why did she spend all this time recounting her life? What did it matter, in the end?

“I think, Tifa,” Aerith says, “in another world, we would’ve been close friends.”

“More than that,” Tifa assures her.

Aerith’s responding smile is dazzling. Perfectly happy, at peace, her eyes glimmering like polished emeralds. “More than that,” she repeats.

The static bleeds everywhere. The whiteness falls away. Aerith throws her arms around Tifa, holding her close.

Around them, the world ends.

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