#once again it took way too long to craft this post because i had to go hunting for the perfect panels of ichigo's face

[brunchable]

𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Part Six | Eight Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Themes: Forbidden/Off-Limits Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, Mentions of Terminal Illness. Summary: Bucky felt guilty for his outburst on the last session and tries to reach out to Y/N only to be hit back with silence. A/N: Sorry this took so long, I put it on hold to focus on other fics but I think I shouldn't neglect this before I forget the whole story. So now it's back.

taggies: @astrelz @pattiemac1 @mrsevans90 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @strepsils123

@winchestert101 @danzer8705n @bvbygrl-writes @xunquish-blog

“You’ve barely eaten,” Thaddeus commented, voice firm but concerned. The kind of concern that wasn’t warm, but critical. Analytical. The kind that saw weakness where there should be none.

Y/N glanced up briefly, “Just not hungry.”

Thaddeus watched her for a beat longer, his sharp gaze never missing anything. He set his fork down with care. “You’ve been taking a lot of time off work. That’s not like you.”

Her grip tightened on the edges of her napkin. This was it—the moment she had been dreading. She had to tell him. She had to make him understand that there were things more important than his meticulously planned event, more important than keeping up appearances. She opened her mouth, feeling the words rise in her throat like a flood she could no longer hold back.

“I needed a break, Dad. It's... it’s more than just work,” she began, her voice trembling. “There’s something serious going on. I’ve been—”

“I’m sure you’ll bounce back,” Thaddeus interrupted, his tone dismissive as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s understandable you’d feel overwhelmed with everything on your plate. The pressure is high, but that’s why this event is so important. You’ll see—once it’s over, you’ll feel more like yourself again.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, the words she had been so close to saying—the diagnosis, having six months left, the cloud cytoma that was silently killing her—swallowed back down. She blinked, her breath catching in her chest. He didn’t even hear her. Didn’t even realize she was trying to tell him something that would change everything.

She stared down at her plate, pushing a piece of food around with her fork, her appetite long gone. Her voice was quieter now, almost defeated. “Dad... it’s not just the event. I’m dealing with something serious. . .”

But the way Thaddeus barely glanced at her, the way his attention flicked back to the details of his precious event—it was all the answer she needed.

Her voice faded as she realized it didn’t matter what she said. He wouldn’t hear her. He didn’t want to.

With a forced smile, she muttered, “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll bounce back.”

Thaddeus’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Good, because we can’t have any minor setbacks.”

Minor setbacks. The words echoed in her head, hollow and cold. The diagnosis wasn’t a setback. It was the end. But to him, to her father, anything that wasn’t part of his meticulously crafted image for their family didn’t register. 

Y/N clenched her jaw, fighting back the burning in her eyes. She swallowed hard, her voice barely holding together. 

“Dad, I just told you I’m dealing with something serious too...” She shook her head, almost without realizing it, the disbelief clear in her tone. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know what’s going on with me?”

Thaddeus didn’t even blink. “You always know what to do, Y/N. Whether it’s big or small, you handle things.”

Y/N let out a soft, bitter laugh, more of a sigh than anything. “Right...” She looked down, her fingers twisting the napkin again, the weight of his dismissal sinking deeper. He wasn’t going to ask.

Her smile was thin, brittle, as she lifted her head. “Then I’ll handle this myself.”

She pushed her chair back, standing with a grace she didn’t feel, her heart aching in her chest. She turned and left the dining room, the truth she had tried to share now lodged in her throat like a stone.

And just like that, the shadow of Thaddeus Ross loomed even larger behind her. Always there. Always too heavy to escape.

× × × ×

Y/N’s feet pounded against the pavement, the steady rhythm of her breathing syncing with the pulse of the music in her ears. The world around her blurred into the background—the chatter of pedestrians, the honking of distant cars—all of it fading beneath the thrum of her heartbeat and the beat of the song.

This was her sanctuary.

Each step was a way to outrun the thoughts, the confusion, the weight of the choices she didn’t want to face. The streets were her escape, her salvation from the whirlwind of expectations and emotions that had been choking her.

She pushed herself harder, her muscles burning as her pace quickened, legs eating up the distance. Faster, faster. If she just ran hard enough, maybe she could outpace the chaos. Maybe she could leave it all behind.

But she didn’t notice the pair of eyes tracking her from across the street.

Bucky stepped out of the coffee shop, the warmth of his drink still in his hand when his gaze landed on her. Her.

He blinked, frozen in place for half a breath, the world narrowing to just that moment. Y/N’s figure—familiar, graceful, moving like she was part of the city’s rhythm itself—jogging ahead, oblivious to the storm swirling inside him.

“Y/N!”

His voice came out firm, but it barely cut through the noise of the bustling street. She didn’t even glance back, didn’t hesitate as her feet carried her further away, her focus completely elsewhere.

Bucky’s pulse quickened, frustration flaring. He took a step, then another, his long strides quickening as he tried to close the gap. 

“Y/N!” he called again, louder this time, hoping the urgency in his voice would pierce through whatever wall she had up.

Nothing.

His jaw tightened, feet moving faster now, determination hardening into steel as he dodged around pedestrians. She didn’t even know he was there.

The sidewalk grew more crowded, but he didn’t care. He’d been here before—on the edge of something he couldn’t control, something slipping away from him.

Not this time.

She reached a busy intersection just as the light turned red, and Bucky’s breath caught. He was almost there, just a few more steps. But the traffic surged forward, a wall of metal and sound that cut him off. He skidded to a halt, cursing under his breath as cars and buses blurred past him, a physical barrier between him and the only person who’d been occupying his thoughts for weeks.

Too close. Too far. Always just out of reach.

Y/N, completely unaware, bounced lightly on her toes as she waited for the light to change, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her mind still locked in whatever battle she was fighting within herself. She wasn’t running from him—she didn’t even know he was there—but the distance between them stretched, widening with every passing second.

The light turned green, and she was off again, crossing the street with fluid ease, her body moving like it knew only one command—keep going. Don’t stop.

Bucky stood there, the frustration building, simmering under his skin. He clenched his fists, every muscle in his body tense, the urge to chase after her a roar in his chest. But the cars, the damn cars, they just kept coming, and the seconds stretched too long, each one feeling like a chance slipping through his fingers.

Why was it always this way with her?

Why did everything have to be so complicated? He’d thought—after that kiss, after the way her lips had lingered on his, as if she was trying to find something, the same way he was—that things would be clearer. But they weren’t. If anything, it has made things more confusing.

The light finally changed, and Bucky surged forward, crossing the street in long, angry strides, but it was too late. By the time he made it to the other side, Y/N had vanished around the corner, slipping away into the city like a shadow lost in the twilight.

Gone.

Just like that.

His breath was ragged, heart pounding in his chest, but it wasn’t from the run. It was from the weight of everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, swirling between them like a storm he couldn’t seem to calm.

Bucky stood there, staring down the empty street where she had disappeared, his hands still clenched into fists.

He had missed her again. He’d stopped by the clinic just a few hours ago hoping to apologize for how he acted the last time they faced each other—only to be faced byDr. Raynor who broke to him that Y/N was on sick leave. Bucky felt guilt eating him up more after that, he somehow felt like he took part to the reason why she would call in sick.

With a frustrated growl, he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the action would somehow dispel the gnawing feeling of defeat curling in his chest. Why did everything with Y/N have to be so damn hard?

He could still feel her—the warmth of her, the way her presence lingered in the air, in his thoughts, in the way his pulse still hadn’t settled. Even when she wasn’t there, she was everywhere. And he hated it. He hated how much space she took up in his mind, how she was the one thing he couldn’t seem to control or fix.

And this time, he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch up.

× × × × 

Bucky sat on the edge of his couch, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. He stared down at the screen, Y/N’s name staring back at him from the contact list. His thumb hovered over the call button, hesitation gnawing at him. He’d been thinking about this all day—whether to call her, what he would even say if she picked up. But the tangled mess of emotions, pushed him to finally press the button.

The phone rang once, twice. He sat up straighter, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t even know if she would answer, if she would want to talk to him after everything that had happened.

After the third ring, his heart sank as the call clicked over to voicemail.

You’ve reached Y/N. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

The sound of her, even like this, even just a recording, twisted the knife deeper. He lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the screen as if it held all the answers to the tangled knot of feelings he couldn’t begin to unravel. The beep echoed in his ear, taunting him with a decision—leave a message, or hang up.

His thumb hovered over the end call button, and with a shaky breath, he pressed it.

Silence.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face, the weight of everything crashing down on him. He should’ve known. She wouldn’t answer, not after how he’d acted. The guilt gnawed at his insides, relentless and unforgiving.

But even still, some part of him—some foolish, desperate part—wasn’t ready to let it go. His thumb moved again, redialing before he could talk himself out of it.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Voicemail. Again.

His stomach twisted in frustration. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe she was avoiding him. After everything that had happened, he wouldn’t blame her. But still, it gnawed at him. He needed to hear her voice, to know she was okay and tell her sorry for blowing up on her.

He dialed one more time, desperation creeping into his thoughts. But this time, the call went straight to voicemail, no rings, no chance for her to answer.

Bucky dropped the phone into his lap, sighing heavily. She wasn’t going to answer. Whether she was avoiding him or just didn’t want to deal with him right now, the message was clear.

Sighing, he leaned back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea what to do next.

× × × × 

The doctors spread their charts and papers across the table. She’d been here too many times recently, but it never got easier. Her phone buzzed silently in her bag, Bucky’s name flashing again, but she couldn’t focus on that right now.

Dr. Kim, her primary physician, spoke up, his voice steady but serious. 

“Dr. Ross, we’ve reviewed your latest scans, and unfortunately, the treatments we’ve tried—radiation, chemotherapy—haven’t been as effective as we’d hoped, given the progression of your Cloud Cytoma.”

She clenched her hands in her lap, holding onto any shred of composure. 

“I understand,” she murmured, “But... is there anything else? Any other options?”

Dr. Kim exchanged a glance with his colleague before replying. 

“There is something experimental, though it’s still in the research phase. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s showing promise.”

“What is it?”

Dr. Munroe leaned in. “There’s a new procedure being developed in Germany. It uses advanced ultrasound and microbubbles to break apart the tumor. No invasive surgery required. There’s been some success—tumors like yours have shrunk after the treatment.”

She leaned forward, her pulse quickening. “Success rate?”

Dr. Campbell, the oncologist, added, “In one case, the patient’s tumor stopped growing and eventually disappeared. They’ve been stable for over a year. But it’s still in its early stages.”

A flicker of hope sparked within her, but she knew there had to be a catch. “And the risks?”

Dr. Kim’s gaze softened. “The biggest risk is severe memory loss. The patient in Germany survived the procedure, but they lost all memory of their past life. Their identity, their memories—everything was wiped clean. They were alive but didn’t know who they were.”

Y/N stared at the table, the weight of the decision crashing down on her. Surviving, but losing everything that made her who she was... Was that really a life?

“So I could live, but I wouldn’t remember anything? Not even who I am?” Her voice trembled.

Dr. Kim nodded. “That’s the risk. The surgery could save your life, but it might erase everything you know—your memories, your relationships.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. Could she live like that? Could she wake up one day, not knowing the people she loved, or even who she was?

Her phone buzzed again, but she ignored it. “What if I don’t go through with it?” she asked quietly.

Dr. Kim sighed, his voice gentle. “We’ll focus on palliative care—managing your symptoms, keeping you comfortable. But without the surgery... you’re looking at six months.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her thoughts spinning. Six months. That’s all she had unless she took this gamble. Lose her life, or lose her memories.

“I want to try it,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

Dr. Munroe looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with your family first?”

“No,” she replied, her tone firm. “I haven’t told anyone, and I’m not planning to.”

Dr. Kim frowned. “You shouldn’t go through this alone. Is there anyone you trust? A friend, perhaps?”

Y/N glanced at the table, feeling the weight of their concern. “Can you give me something for the brain fog in the meantime?” she asked, steering the conversation away from support she wasn’t ready to accept.

The doctors exchanged a look, then Dr. Campbell nodded. “Yes, we can prescribe something to help, but it’s important that you take it consistently.”

Y/N nodded, grateful the topic was dropped. “Okay. Let’s move forward.”

Dr. Kim, sensing her resolve, gave a slight nod. “We’ll get the process started. It’ll take some time to coordinate, but we’ll make sure everything is prepared.”

As they discussed the logistics, Y/N’s mind drifted. Her phone buzzed again in her bag, but she didn’t reach for it. She didn’t know what the future held, but for now, all she could do was fight the only way she knew how—on her terms.

× × × × 

Steve stood in the middle of his living room, a toolbox open beside him, frowning at the shelf that had been giving him trouble for days. He crouched down, tightening a few screws that had come loose, grumbling under his breath about the uneven brackets. His hands were steady, years of practice with precision making this kind of work second nature. Still, it felt good to be doing something simple, something normal.

Just as he was finishing, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Wiping his hands on a rag, Steve stood up, glancing at the screen to see an unknown number. He hesitated for a moment, then answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

There was a brief silence before Y/N’s familiar voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Hey, Steve... it’s Y/N.”

He had given her his number after they ran into each other at the bar, telling her to reach out if she ever needed to talk. He wasn’t sure if she ever would, but something in her eyes told him she was carrying more than she let on.

He sat up straighter, sensing something different in her tone. “Hey. What’s up? Everything okay?”

There was a pause, and he could hear her take a breath on the other end. 

“Yeah... I mean, not really. I just—" She paused again, her voice lowering as if she didn’t want anyone around her to hear. "I need to talk to someone. Privately.”

Steve immediately switched to concern mode, knowing that whatever she was about to say wasn’t light. 

“Of course. Do you want to meet somewhere?”

Another beat of hesitation, and then, “I’d rather not be out in public.”

“Okay. . . Then come by my place. It’s quiet here. We can talk.” Steve nodded, though she couldn’t see it.

He gave her his address, making sure she knew she could come by anytime, and ended the call. As he put the phone down, his mind raced with what might be going on with her. Something about the way she sounded—guarded, almost like she was on the edge of something big—left him unsettled.

Whatever it was, she was coming to him. And he’d be ready to listen.

× × × ×

Steve had just finished tidying up the last of the tools he’d left out from fixing the shelf when he heard a soft knock on the door. His heart quickened slightly. Y/N hadn’t taken long to arrive, and something in the air felt heavy, like whatever she was about to share would be important.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and moved toward the door, trying to keep his expression calm, though his concern lingered. He opened the door, and there she was—Y/N, standing just outside with her arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to shield herself from the world. Her face had no smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and something deeper, something harder to define.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, stepping aside to let her in.

She managed a small, tight-lipped smile and stepped inside, her movements slow, like she was carrying the weight of whatever had brought her here. Steve closed the door behind her and turned, watching as she lingered near the entryway, her gaze drifting over his apartment like she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

He couldn’t help but watch her, every subtle movement drawing him in. There was something about her that always held him captive, no matter what she did. Even now, wrapped in her own arms, fragile in a way that tugged at every protective instinct he had, she was all he could see. 

“Thanks for letting me come over,” she said, her voice quiet, almost fragile.

“Of course,” Steve replied, nodding toward the living room. “Come on, sit down. You want some water or anything?”

She shook her head slightly, her arms still wrapped protectively around herself. She looked like she was trying to hold everything together, but Steve could tell she was barely managing. He could feel it—the tension, the vulnerability. Whatever she had to say wasn’t going to be easy.

And God, how he wanted to help her. How he wanted to reach out, pull her close, and tell her that whatever it was, she didn’t have to carry it alone. But he held back, knowing she needed space, and his heart ached with the distance between them. He watched as she moved toward the couch, but instead of sitting, she paced for a moment, her hands fidgeting as if she couldn’t settle.

Finally, she stopped pacing, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. “Steve, I... I’m sorry for just dropping in like this, but... I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Steve shook his head gently, his expression softening. “Don’t apologize. You can come here anytime. What’s going on?”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Steve felt like the world fell away. He could see the pain there, something so deep and raw that it nearly undid him. He had the urge to take her hands, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he stood there, waiting, his heart hammering in his chest as the silence stretched between them.

Y/N hesitated, the words seeming to stick in her throat. She looked down, blinking rapidly before finally speaking, her voice trembling. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I haven’t told anyone.”

Steve felt the world shift on its axis. Whatever she was about to say, it was big—he could feel it in the way her voice broke, in the way she looked anywhere but at him. And all he could do was stand there, waiting, hoping that somehow, in whatever way she needed, he could be enough for her.

But the ache in his chest wouldn’t go away. No matter how much he told himself he was just her friend, just her confidant, his heart always reached for more. 

× × × ×

Y/N sat in her car, staring at the empty street ahead. The doctors’ words echoed in her mind. This isn’t something you should go through alone.

Her hand drifted to her phone in the passenger seat, where she noticed a string of missed calls. Bucky. She bit her lip, her finger hovering over his name. The missed calls tugged at her heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him back. What would she even say? 

She hesitated, and she let out a frustrated sigh. Her gaze flicked to her contacts—Steve, Bucky, even Ethan, though her mind recoiled at the idea of involving him. She flicked through more names: high school friends, college friends. None of them felt right. None of them were people she could share this with.

She thought about Steve. He had been so kind, easy to talk to, always offering her a safe space. He had a way of making things feel lighter, even when she was suffocating. Maybe that’s why she had called him instead of Bucky. But now, as she sat in the silence of her car, doubts crept in.

They had only met a few times. Was it really okay to bring him into this? To dump her problems on someone who, for all intents and purposes, was still a stranger? Sure, he had been supportive, and she felt a strange connection to him, but did that mean she could trust him with something this huge?

Her finger hovered over Steve’s name in her contacts. Is this fair? she thought. He doesn’t know me. Not really. What if I’m burdening him with too much? 

The idea of unloading all of her fears, her diagnosis, her struggle onto someone she barely knew—it felt like crossing a line she wasn’t sure she was ready to cross.

A deep sense of isolation settled in. She wanted to reach out, but something kept pulling her back. She felt as though telling someone would make it all real, something she wasn’t ready to face. The truth felt too heavy, and Steve—he didn’t deserve to carry that weight, did he?

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. She hadn’t come to any conclusion yet. For now, the weight of the decision felt too heavy to bear. The phone sat in her lap, but she still couldn’t bring herself to press call.

× × × ×

Steve stood where he was, letting her take her time. He could see the struggle written all over her—her clenched fists, the way her gaze kept shifting, as though she were searching for the right words but couldn’t find them. His chest tightened with worry, but he knew pressing her wouldn’t help.

She looked down, her hands twisting together. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve stayed quiet, his expression open and gentle, urging her to continue without speaking. He wasn’t sure what she was about to reveal, but he knew it was serious—he could feel it in the air between them.

“I don’t have much time,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. It was as though she was unsure of the words, but at the same time, resigned to them. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes with a mixture of fear and sadness. “I have... six months. Maybe less.”

Steve’s heart sank. He tried to process what she had just said, but the reality of it hit him harder than he expected. Six months. Maybe less.

His mind reeled, but his focus remained on her, on the pain she was trying so hard to hide. 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked softly, though deep down, he already understood. 

She took a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor again. “I’ve been diagnosed with something called Cloud Cytoma... It’s... aggressive. The doctors say it’s... terminal.”

Steve didn’t move. His mind went blank for a moment, but then the overwhelming urge to protect her, to do anything to help her, surged through him. Yet he couldn’t—this was something beyond his power, beyond anyone’s power. He could only stand there, listening, his heart breaking with every word.

He took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them but careful not to overwhelm her. He could see her unraveling, her walls slowly coming down, but he let her lead. He was desperate to reach out, to show her she wasn’t alone, but he waited, giving her the space she needed to decide.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not my dad. Not Ethan.”

Steve’s heart clenched at the mention of her family, at the weight of the burden she had been carrying alone. How long had she been dealing with this? How many nights had she faced this terror in silence? He couldn’t imagine the strength it must have taken to even say it aloud now.

“I don’t want their pity,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t want to be a burden, or... or have them look at me like I’m fragile, like I’m already gone.”

He knew exactly what she meant—the fear of how people would change around her, the fear of being seen as something less than she was. But Steve couldn’t see her that way. 

“I get that,” Steve said softly, his voice steady, even as his emotions threatened to crack. “It’s hard enough just dealing with this without everyone else changing the way they see you. But you’re not a burden. And you’re not fragile. You’re still you, no matter what.”

Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and for a second, Steve felt his own composure wavering. He took another step forward, his heart pounding. 

“You came here,” Steve continued gently. “That means something. Even if you don’t want to tell anyone else, you told me.”

She looked down again, her hands trembling slightly. “I don’t even know why I came to you... I barely know you.”

Steve took another step closer, his voice soft but sure. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s not as close. Someone who won’t look at you with pity, who won’t make it worse by overthinking. I get that, too.”

The truth was, he wished she had come to him sooner—not because he could fix this, but because he wanted to be the one she trusted, the one she turned to when things were darkest. 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Steve. I don’t even know if I want to fight it.”

Her voice cracked, and Steve’s heart shattered. He could see the weariness in her, the exhaustion from carrying this burden for so long. He took the final step forward, closing the distance between them completely.

“I know what it feels like,” Steve said, his voice gentle. “Trust me, I do. I’ve lived it, too.”

For a moment, his gaze softened, the blue of his eyes reflecting not just sorrow but a quiet understanding that came from experience. He wasn’t just Captain America. He was Steve, a man who had lived through loss, who had faced the end more than once. And in that moment, she saw it—saw that he wasn’t offering empty words. He was sharing something real, something deep.

Without thinking, she stepped closer, her hands still trembling, her heart heavy. Steve didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms, offering her the embrace she so desperately needed, and she pressed her face against his chest, her breath catching as tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

But she didn’t break. She refused to break.

He held her gently, his hands resting on her back, his warmth surrounding her in a way that felt safe. Steve didn’t speak, didn’t offer any more words. He simply held her, letting her feel, letting her cry if she needed to, while he stood firm, the steady presence she could rely on.

And in that moment, Steve knew—even if she didn’t feel ready to fight, even if the future felt uncertain—he would be there. For however long she had, he would be there.

× × × ×

Session 5

The room, as always, was quiet, the tick-tock of the clock filling the otherwise empty space. It felt strange being here again without Y/N. The last few weeks had been intense, and Bucky found himself thinking back on their sessions. Things had been complicated, messy even, but there was something about having Y/N in that seat opposite him that made him feel understood—seen.

But today, it was back to Dr. Raynor. 

"So still not wanting to talk?" Raynor asked, tapping her pen against the clipboard in her lap.

“How can I talk when there’s a million different things in my mind?”

Dr. Raynor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his vague response. "Care to elaborate?"

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t want to talk about Y/N, not with Raynor, not with anyone. But he knew Raynor wouldn’t let it slide. She never did. 

“It’s... nothing,” Bucky muttered, though the image of Y/N with that other man—Ethan—flashed in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, even though logically, he knew he had no right to be upset. She wasn’t his, and she had never promised him anything. Still, it burned.

Raynor didn’t push right away. She waited, as always, for him to come to his own conclusions. After what felt like an eternity, Bucky finally spoke again. 

“I just... I feel like I’m back at square one.”

Raynor leaned forward slightly. "With what, exactly?"

“With... everything,” Bucky sighed. "Trying to figure out who I am. Who I want to be. And... letting people in."

Raynor nodded thoughtfully. "You were making progress, Bucky. But this sounds like you’re questioning that. What’s changed?"

Bucky’s jaw tightened. Y/N, he thought. But instead, he said, "Maybe I’m just overthinking it."

Raynor gave him a long, knowing look before jotting something down in her notes. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just scared of letting someone in, and now you’re finding reasons to pull away."

Bucky didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure how he felt by Raynor’s words. 

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[just-shairahhh]

The Way I Couldn't Love You

~ A "The Way I Loved You" story continuation.

Summary: Will you and Eddie get a second chance at what you lost? Or will the history tear through everything you had once built together?

Note: This post is a continuation of the story, "The Way I Loved You".

"And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again. Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. "

Everyday. Every single day of the first year since you moved away, you imagined in your head what it would be like to see Eddie again. A thousand scenarios swirling in your mind, tentacles of the nightmare you had to live through every day, creeping into your broken heart and imprisoning it in a tight grip, as you lay there. In the same dark corner. For hours. Until sleep showed you some mercy and reeled you in. Everyday.

Anger. Hurt. Betray.

You’d imagined it all. It was as if you could picture his stormy, hazel eyes pierce into you, the storm brewing in them upending your life all over again. And then you stopped. Squeezed your eyes tighter and stopped. You could feel the bile rising in your throat at the mere thought of seeing hatred in the eyes that had only ever looked at you with love. Pure, selfless love. No, it was too soon. You can’t see him yet. So you picked up your phone from the corner of the sofa you had slammed it in and replied to your sister’s text in a single word, “No”. And that was the hardest thing you had ever had to write, which was funny because once in a Spell-Bee competition you thought, “Embourgeoisement” was hard.

Your sister’s question did not leave your mind for the rest of the day, though. Or the coming week. Or the months that followed.

“Eddie was here again. Asking for an address or a contact. Said he really needed you. And that everything was falling apart. He looked worse than before, y/n. Should I send him your address?”

What did he mean everything was falling apart? Is he okay? Are his parents hurting him again? You tried to shut the voices out. You'd be back home on the next flight if you let them come in. Plus, he had Shannon now. He would be okay.

"I am sorry, Eddie. There's nothing more I want than to be right next to you. But if I fall again, I won't be able to get up. I can't. I need to heal. I really, really need to heal. I cannot live in this pain anymore. I am so, so sorry". You whisper into the night as you snuggle further into your pillow.

.....

“I don’t want dinner, mom! Leave me alone. Please.” The last word already more breathless and shakier than you’d like.

“That’s too bad. Cause I got you your favourite; that disgustingly sugary sweet abomination in the name of coffee” Eddie said as he entered through the door and made a very disgusted face as if someone had asked him to take Tabasco shots. Someone had once, by the way. It was you. And he had still made a better face. “And Chef Eddie’s personally mastered craft, tacos and enchiladas.” He said, proudly smiling and throwing around chef kisses.

You gave him a blank stare. And a second later, he relented.

“Fine, my abuela made them. God, woman. Lighten up. You broke up with an el tonto. I always warned you he was an el tonto. Not even a real man. Maybe you were a bigger idiot. But eh, what’s done is done. I’d say we celebrate”.

And just like that, at the mention of Josh, fresh tears broke free, replacing the now dried ones.

"Hey, hey, hey. I am sorry. I was kidding. Come here.” Eddie stepped in closer, about to engulf you in a hug.

But you pushed him away. “Go away, Eddie. Seriously. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“I will not, y/n. Not unless you eat. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything for hours.” His light-hearted banter now long gone, a more assertive voice stepping in. You knew it meant that he was concerned but you hated when he took that voice with you. It was very different than the one he took with Shannon. That concern was always laced with a soft plea at the end or a light kiss behind her ear.

Shannon. Just her name, brought out the anger you’d been trying to hold in.

But you try once more to not let the agony engulf you. To not be the person you are about to become if Eddie does not listen to you. “Go. Away. Eddie. I will have the food when I am hungry.”

Eddie, however, was not having any of it. “Come on, here. Let me get this for you. If you try one –”

And that’s when you lost it and screamed at the last person you ever wanted to raise your voice at. “GO AWAY! WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!” He tried to reach out again but you swatted his arm away. Hitting him on the chest once. Twice. Thrice. So he would just listen to you. Why is he not listening to you? He needs to go.

The long suppressed agony now letting itself out completely. Josh was not a good boyfriend to you. But he was a good friend before that. And when you broke up with him, you knew you’d lost that. This was all Eddie’s fault. He left you. All alone. And he went to Shannon. And you thought maybe, just maybe if you start dating, it will all go away? This... this hurt. All this pain. But it did not. But you knew. In your heart, you knew that it was not Eddie's fault. That he did loved you. He would do anything for you. Just not in the way you wanted. And that tore at you every day but that was not his fault. It couldn’t be.

And then you realise you that you are still hitting him. What are you doing? You stop as soon as you realise that and look up. There he was, your best friend. Taking it all in. Not saying anything. You feel so awful, so absolutely broken. And you feel tired. So very tired. So with a barely held sob, you slump forward, into his arms. Which were waiting for you, as if knowing. Waiting. Understanding.

So, you sob harder. Because that was the first day in all these years it had truly set in that Eddie would never be what you craved in him. You'd always thought one day it would all come back. That he would come back. But now you knew that he won't. He would always be here though. Just never yours.

But what you didn’t realise that day was Eddie’s heart was also breaking. If not more, then just as much as you. That was the first time he felt his best friend was slipping away and he was unaware. So very unaware of how much his best friend had loved this guy who broke her heart. He cursed himself for not understanding the gravity of the situation. What he didn't know was that, the sobs breaking through his chest, causing tremors in his heart were not for Josh but for him.

You didn’t notice the bandage on his knuckles for the next few days. You also didn’t notice that Josh Lawson was gone longer than the bandage had stayed.

And Eddie never told you either.

.....

“y/n?”

“Eddie.” You whisper softly.

You couldn’t recall how long you were spaced out for. When cold, familiar tears slid down your cheeks as easily as they used to, only then did you start to process the situation again.

“I- I... I have a few engine supplies to check. I should...” Buck slowly started.

No! Evan! What must he even be thinking? You slowly raise your eyes up at him. Expecting the worst. But his kind face only held understanding in them. He gave you a tight lipped smile before taking a few steps backward.

“Oh, this” you softly started and he followed your eyes and and looked down at the basket in your hands.

“Right.” He quickly took the box from your hand. “Muffins are my favourite! Ooooh, blueberry!” He gave you one last smile and walked back.

You still hadn’t looked at Eddie but you could feel his eyes follow you. With a deep breath, you somehow muster the courage to look up and nothing would have prepared you for what you saw.

You wished it was what you feared it all those years ago. You truly did. Anger. Fear. Betray. But he wasn’t any of those things. He was simply... lost.

Third Person POV:

There comes a time in everyone’s life when we lose something precious. A person, a memory, an object, a feeling; something we always, effortlessly considered a part of us. We would look everywhere, drive ourselves insane and would not know how to survive without it.

But then we learn. Slowly. Painfully. We grasp on how to survive without it and we start living again. But then one day, it turns up. But by then we don’t know how to feel. We have learnt to live with what we have lost but that doesn’t mean we have not felt incomplete in our existence. And just like that, we are back to the day we lost and we were lost. As clueless now as we were then.

Eddie Diaz was lost. He didn’t know how to take in what he had learnt to let go, now standing right in front of his eyes. The day that y/n left, she didn’t just take away his best friend, she took a part of him with her. A part that he had willingly given away to her to safekeep the first day he saw her across the fence looking at him with eyes that promised him the world. A part that was always meant to be hers.

A soft sob escaped y/n’s lips. Tears now freely slipping down her face. She had run this day through her head uncountable number of times. She thought it would all come back. The ghosts of her night and the nightmares of her day. The girl she used to be. But they didn't.

All that came back were the memories she had long buried down. But this time they didn't strike her like a snake, angry and hissing, it's fangs out, ready to poison her. This time, the memories hugged her like Eddie used to. Soothe her like Eddie used to. Make her feel understood... Like Eddie used to. And in that moment, all her doubts dissolved, and she knew that she had made the right choice when she decided to leave. Had she stayed back, she would have started hating Eddie, every memory she had of him and she knew that she would have started hating herself.

But she had still done Eddie wrong. She knew that. While her heart had healed for her, it also tore through her for what she had broken. There was no escape. Her only escape from everything life threw at her for the longest time, was now standing right in front of her; eyes wide, mouth agape and tears, years worth of tears threatening to spill through the barriers of his eyes behind which Eddie had managed to hide himself for a long time now.

"You're not in uniform" y/n whispered out. Her heart had started to spiral down several dominoes of emotions. And she could no longer think straight. Instead, she decided to focus on the patterns on his mustard yellow shirt.

"Yes, because my uniform totally should be your first concern after you just up and left the night of my wedding. While you're at it, why don't you go inside and check the logs to make sure whether I was on time for my shift or not?" Eddie replied.

What further pushed y/n down the ledge was the fact that Eddie did not shout, or scream or throw the words at her. He simply sounded... Defeated. Long gone was the boy who held fire in his eyes. Standing next to her now was a man who had seen it all fade away.

Soldiers. Friends. Humanity. His best friend. His Marriage. And maybe somewhere, himself. Or atleast the version of him that she used to know. She could not stand there pretending he had changed when she was the one who pulled away first.

So, she kept quiet and focused on the colours running checks on his shirt.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You left me, y/n. Why." He did not ask it as a question. More like a statement. As if he too, had gone through that one moment he found out y/n had left. For a very long. In a never ending loop. And when you do that enough, your mind starts to give you answers. Not the one you necessarily seek but the ones that bring out your worst insecurities. And there he was, her heart's closest confidant doubting all that he was, for himself and for her, on the basis of a single memory that turned both their worlds upside down all those years ago.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you would be there for me forever but you weren't. During the worst trials of my life, you weren't".

She could feel his voice tremor slightly as he slowly stepped closer. A single treacherous tear making its way down his beautiful face.

Y/n's POV:

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you'd always be my by side. But maybe you didn't mean those promises enough"

Brown. White. Blue.

"Or maybe I wasn't enough. Your family obviously knew everything. And our friends did too, I'm guessing. Everyone content with your decision, happy for you. I felt it."

Brown. White. Blue.

"And there I was, the only one left in the dark. Driving around like someone took away a part of my soul. And guess what? That is exactly what happened".

Brown. White. Blue.

"And I waited. For the longest time. Because I couldn't have imagined my life without you. Because I loved you. And I thought you did too. So why?"

"It's because I loved you." You scream at him through the tears, each word that he had said, striking all the cords that you had yourself been stricken by before.

You looked up at him through your clouded eyes and knew, that still, he had no idea.

Well, what time like the present? Infront of a firehouse, where he works. Where you'd come to meet one of his colleagues. What would be a better place to share the most vulnerable, sensitive corners of your heart?

"It's because I loved you that I let all the hurtful emotions of a teenage heart tore through me but stayed by you when you needed to talk about your relationships. It's because I loved you that I stood beside you and fought against your family so that you could marry the woman you loved, when all I wanted to do was scream at you, ask you to not marry her. It's because I loved you that I left the people, the home and the family I'd known all my life so that I didn't end up hating you. Everything was always because I loved you. And it was because you couldn't love me back".

You fall apart, sobs wreaking through you but no sound making it out because you were pressed into his comfortable, warm chest. One hand tightly holding you, as if he still couldn't believe you were here, as if you would disappear if he let go. The other weaving through your hair. Like he used to do all those years ago, something he knew would always calm you down.

And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again.

Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. As everything started to make sense to him.

"You know I loved you. I always did." He spoke softly into your ear. His voice heavy with emotions, trembling at every pause. His cheek pressed against your hair.

You could feel the realisation coursing through him and the guilt digging in his chest. It was Eddie. You knew him better than yourself on some things. The way he pulled you closer and tightened his arms around you, burying his face into your hair; told you enough.

"Yes, you did. But not the way I loved you. And that is so okay. I couldn't be more at peace. But that's now. That was not what was going on then. I needed to leave, Eddie. I am sorry. I really did. Every corner of that town spoke to me of us. I felt suffocated in my own home. I needed to be there for myself. I never meant to leave you. But if I hadn't, I would not have been able to be there for you either". You whispered back. Putting it all in your words. Hoping he would still get you like he always did.

He nodded. Just once. Softly.

"There's a chinese place down the block. I just got off duty. Wanna get some food? Maybe I will tell you about this y/e/c eyed beauty Buck couldn't stop talking about ever since he met her. I'm guessing that would be you?" Eddie smiled down at you. It wasn't a lot. But it was a beginning. Or the promise and hope of one. But where would you be today, had you not been living for the hope of it all.

"Actually, tell me about you first. And the very handsome Christopher. I know there's a lot to catch up on but spring rolls are a very good place to start. But then we are jumping right back to what Evan said about me." You smiled back as he led you to his car, shaking his head at you.

Things might not be okay for a long time maybe. It will take time and efforts. A lot of both. Some things you've to let time heal, others you have to work on for an even longer time. But it's efforts you're willing to put, maybe more than Eddie this time. And that's okay. Both of you are gonna be okay.

"Oh, you won't believe who I met in LA. And right on my first week. A little piece of shit we went to high school with. It was so annoying. Character development really is not for some people. Also, about Evan.... Uhmmm..."

.

.

.

[honnelander]

Hi there! Hope you are doing well. I was just wondering if you quit the “go fish” series. If not— there’s no rush. I just wanted to check in and ask how you are and share my compliments for you. I really like your writing style and how you beautifully capture every moment. Sometimes I even go back to reread your go fish series and appreciate how well you paint the atmosphere and each character’s essence. Are there any authors you take inspiration from or books you recommend?

If you are nervous about finishing the series— don’t be. You’re clearly gifted and should trust your intuition. Remember to take care of yourself first. I think your audience will adore anything you post, so don’t stress over it. And if you have a writer’s block but are still pushing through it, good luck. Thanks again for sharing your meticulously crafted work with the community.

hi there 🥹 thanks for checking in (you and everyone else who has been kind enough to leave asks in my inbox and comments on my posts)

I haven’t quit the series, it’s just taking me a hell of a lot longer to finish it than I ever expected due to a lot of different things. I had hit a writer’s block, have scrapped what I’ve started a few times, or didn’t like the idea I had and I didn’t want to rush anything or put something out there that didn’t feel authentic to the series that has touched thousands of people 🥹😭 I want to get this right.

Since writing has been always something I’ve enjoyed getting lost in, I thought now would be a good time to get back into it, especially since I have a lot of personal stuff going on.

Monthsssss ago I had finally started writing the next part for go fish! that I absolutely loved and then, quite literally had forgotten about it. I just went back to my work and re-read it, and it’s already 4.9 k words! I would love to just post the parts that are finished, because the actual confession everyone’s been waiting for months for isn’t done and will probably be another 3,000 words or so. (I tend to get carried away 😅)

So let me know what you guys would prefer! The finished part is 2.3k words. Would you guys like for me to post that? Or just wait longer to read everything at once? It’s definitely be over 6k words, which is how massive the last part was….(I honestly just might post what’s finished bc I feel bad to have left everyone hanging for so long 🥲)

And thank you, thank you, thank YOU for your (and everyone’s!) kind compliments and high praise- I really don’t feel deserving of any of it but it all truly means so much to me. 🥹🤍

To answer your question, I actually don’t really have an author or inspiration that I draw from 🤔 I used to read a ton as a kid (books and fic) and I guess that has helped me find my writing style? I also write things in a way that scratches an itch I have when I look for fic to read. I want just enough details to set the scene and the feelings of the characters but not be bogged down with too much that it drags the pace down 🫠 I’ll never forget when I read IT by Stephen King and it just dragged on FOREVER bc he would write so much word vomit that (in my opinion) took me out of the story and frustrated me. I wanted to get to the good parts but also not miss anything important, so when I write I try to get to the point 😂😅

[freyito]

I need more Gallagher, I think I’ve read everything x reader about him

So here are some ideas, you can also do other characters with this of course

Gallagher x reader he’s had a long day and accidentally snaps at you. hurt/comfort

Gallagher x reader you accidentally fall asleep at the bar while he’s closing up. Fluff

Gallagher x reader the once married got divorced years past you meet again and realize your still in love trope…

Gallagher x reader close proximity. Smut/fluff

Gallagher x reader he’s the first person to buy you flowers. Fluff/comfort

Gallagher x reader after an argument you go missing… perhaps on your own terms out of anger or your actually kidnapped, either way soft fluffy ending

Gallagher x reader comforting after a nightmare, could go either way or could be both

That is all, 👋👋👋👋

✭ pairing(s): gallagher x gn reader

✧ a/n: URGH ANON YOU GAVE ME. SO MUCH INGREDIENTS. I HOPE YOU KNOW IM THANKFUL. while i love EVERYTHING YOU'VE GIVEN ME :3... i've chosen the first three ehe :3... this one will be based off the third one YAAAY. ALSO HAPPYYYYY NEW YEAR!!! kinda happy this one will be my first post! i had a lot of fun with it if we couldnt tell ^^

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, previous relationship, so much yearning (but like. not enough.), fear of commitment, mention of weight loss, depression, SIOBAHN THE GOAT, little bit of lore-building (he has a dog.), not proofread

✎ wc: 8k

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ

He was never like this. He had never lingered on his past for too long, an irrational fear of having it chain him down. After all, today’s Gallagher could be different from yesterday’s. No matter how well crafted the lie was, there were always some sort of leaks through the cracks, like just how much he loved you.

He was never made to be loved and love. He was simply a lie, and he knew that. He perpetuated this lie to you for all those years, simply because he was too greedy to admit his own nature (or perhaps, creation). Because, like the selfish creature he truly is, he did not want to let go of you. Most people seek out love, and he was no different, meme or not. He was created with the heart of a human, so who would fault him for making such an error? He lived and loved like any human would, no?

He wanted to be stubborn, by god, he wanted to be stubborn. And he truly was, right up unto the end. He held onto you like a man starved, only a step away from getting on his knees and begging you. But in the end, his love won out. You wanted the divorce, and he didn’t want to hurt you more than he apparently was, so he went through with it.

It hurt. It truly did, it hurt so much he still feels the sting after years. He tried to rationalize it every day he could, tell himself that you would’ve found out eventually, and he would’ve ceased to exist. But that made it even worse, it made him curl up on himself on those lonely nights in the room that was supposed to be yours, it made his throat tighten and his hands shake and he felt like such a goddamn fool. Someone like him shouldn’t be crying. There was no room in his facade to cry. So why did you make him feel this way? By now it had been several years. He should be over it. But he isn’t. And he resents himself for that.

You had moved on by now. A nice quiet life away from the heart of Penacony, a promotion, and an absolutely positive attitude once you weren’t weighed down by the ring. It’s not like you disliked Gallagher. There were never any fights, no contempt for one another, no reason to think he didn’t love you. But you were scared of the commitment. It only took you two years to realize. How did you stay with your job so long, but not Gallagher? You didn’t know. And it only served to make you feel even worse about the divorce.

You always find yourself thinking of him now and then, his face never truly leaves your mind. You couldn’t keep a partner for long at all, always searching for some little piece of him in them. While you didn’t want to, your subconscious was just as stubborn as the man himself. The two of you didn’t text anymore, and you assumed he had your number blocked. So, you yourself had assumed he moved on, and in the silliest, saddest part of your mind, you chose to accept that. Perhaps he got a new partner, maybe he’s even married again by now. He deserves it, you think. He was one of, if not the kindest souls you had the pleasure of meeting, let alone sharing a few years of your life with. So, you hoped he was happy.

Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. His days had become so monotonous that they started to blur together. Wake up bright and early, get some breakfast (which consist of the most mediocre meals, cereal and/or poptarts. Milk if he’s lucky enough), rush to work, patrol, break, patrol, home, and back to sleep he goes. He barely takes much care of himself anymore, his stubble much more of a mess than when you left him, hair still untamed. He’s done his best to watch himself and keep up, but in the end, the most he can do after work is drag himself to bed.

He’s missed your face oh so terribly, missed your laughter and humming and simply your voice. What a treat it would be to come home to that once more, sweep you up off your feet after you’ve had such a long day and pamper you in bed. He’d go on and on about how you need to eat properly, get enough sleep, and take care of yourself. Even if he’s had a stressful day, even when it is so very apparent by the way he dragged his feet when he came through the door, the way his voice was low and groggy and he could only get a few words out like he didn’t want to speak, the way his eyebags had gotten deeper, he still had his priority; to care for you. Now, he’s met with no one to care for, refusing to acknowledge himself without you.

Days off for him are a rare occurrence, and when he does get one, he chooses to sleep most of the day. He’d do it every day, if he could. He’ll get up and allow himself a shower, perhaps order some food if he really feels like it. But going out now, even to just treat himself, it’s impossible. Gallagher doesn’t want to bear facing the world without you. Even if it has been three years.

It’s obsession, he tells himself, though it is not. He loved like a dog, and had convinced himself since the moment you two started dating that there would never be a rift or a tear between you two. Years later he still grapples with the truth. He understands that perhaps there will never be a second chance, given how long it has been, especially without so much as a text from you. But, he wants one. So badly. He’d do anything, as he’s repeated to himself so many times, to have you back. To love you once more, to truly love you. And he hates himself for it.

Lately, his schedule has changed. He gave his supervisors full control over his schedule, choosing to open up his availability when you left. Only now had they taken full advantage of that, with the vacancies the Bloodhounds had after the Charmony festival. Despite being Head of the Bloodhounds, a different team handled the schedules, and completely disregarded the years of his life he gave to the Bloodhounds and flip-flopped his schedule around. He was pulling more doubles than ever, night shifts that turned into day shifts, his days off dwindled to one, and ultimately his health was thrown into limbo. Due to the changes, he was unable to sleep properly, at most, he got three hours.

Because of this, he didn’t have time to go to the Dreamjolt Holstery, choosing to put his job over his hobby. Which ultimately made him feel worse. While he tried to protest the changes to his schedule and the fact that it’s been stressful on him, his superiors ignore this, continuing on with the rough and unpredictable schedule. It takes a while for him to break, as strong as he is, he can only take so much.

Time blurs together for Gallagher, what felt like years could be just months, weeks, or days. Everything felt the same to him, even with his skewed schedule. Somehow, in between his shifts, he finds himself at the Holstery, hazy and tired out of his mind. Thankfully, there weren’t many patrons tonight, a few vagrants like himself spread out within the corners. Siobhan was surprised to see him, schooling her expression into neutrality when she saw his state.

Disheveled, tired, near half-dead. He greeted her with an unintelligible mumble, slumping down into a chair. He passes out right then and there, ultimately succumbing to the stress that had fallen on him over the years. Siobahn stares for a moment, unsure of what to do. When Gallagher had stopped showing up at the Holstery without a word, she was worried. The hound always found his way back, but he had been gone for months. And now here he was, in arguably worse shape then he had been for several years.

Coincidentally, you had a week off because of the Charmony Festival (and the subsequent tragedy that happened after), and you found yourself quite bored. It had been quite a while since you drank, seeing as you really only trusted one bar. You chose to leave it be after the divorce, not wanting to disturb Gallagher at all. But you can’t help but miss it. Surely it’s been a long enough time by now, so why not go pay the bar a visit? Surely Gallagher has moved up.

After a couple moments of debating, pacing around your apartment and thinking out a very overcomplicated plan of action if he were to be there. You’d leave immediately of course, avoid any of the awkward conversation, or perhaps any spite he had towards you. What if he came in while you were mid-drink? Then it feels like it’d be unavoidable… Still, you muster up your courage and walk out of your apartment. There shouldn’t be any hard feelings, anyways, right? It had been quite some time, and you two must have moved on by now. Surely you two would be okay if you were to meet again…

The cool(ish) night air calms your nerves, though. You can’t remember the last time you had a nice night stroll like this, even in the buzzing streets of Penacony. The city never truly slept, no matter what had transpired even seconds before. The dead of night could be just noon for people, or even morning. As such, most businesses kept running 24/7. It was always odd to you, even as a Penacony native, but you got used to it eventually. Bright flashing lights in your face at almost all times when you were out, endless ads about random things you’d never need for your daily life, and salesmen trying to corral you into their stores, to get you to buy luxuries even you can’t afford. Such was life, there was no tranquility in most Hours, anyways.

However, it all goes silent the minute you enter the elevator in the Reverie. The idle chatter from the lobby is shut away by the metal doors and a ‘clink’, as the elevator starts its ascent. You stand square in the middle, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for the elevator to reach the floor. You can’t help but grow nervous with each second, all those silly, impossible events happening in your head again. What if you did see him? What would you do? It’d be hard to act normal after all these years.

Before you can answer your question, the elevator doors slide open, and your legs carry you through the hallway without hesitance. It’s much more quiet here, a light, jazzy tune playing in the Holstery. There’s no chatter, barely any clatter of the shaker or glasses, if any, and you know you’ve found an opportune time to show up. It had been so long since you’ve even visited the Holstery, your irrational fear holding you back. The amount of dates you and Gallagher had together here, impromptu or planned, was innumerable. You always loved watching him work, and sometimes he allowed you to get behind the bar yourself, teach you how to make certain drinks. Those moments were always special, as were most in the relationship.

When you step into the bar proper, Siobahn looks at you, then smiles gently. She had been the first to know about the divorce, from both you and Gallagher. Given how she was the only coworker Gallagher had liked, and how close you two were when you started dating him, it was only fair she knew. Not that there were many people you two talked to much. But she was supportive of both sides, never taking one or the other.

In front of her, a drunkard with brown hair is passed out on the counter, head in his arms as he snores. You shrug and walk around him silently, a few more chairs down, before sitting down. Siobahn raises an eyebrow and looks between the two of you, before taking a step over so she is standing in front of you. She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, then shakes her head and smiles even wider. Her eyes dart once more to the drunkard, and you turn to look out of curiosity.

He was wearing a white dress shirt and a vest, sleeves rolled up. The scars on his arms were impressive–

Ah.

It clicks only then, the man is Gallagher. You feel your stomach flip-flop, but your expression remains neutral. You don’t know whether you should just walk out now, reach out and tap his shoulder, or just talk with Siobahn. You want to do all three. So badly. You want to leave and avoid this awkward situation before it happens, but at the same time you want to see his face again. You also would love to catch up with Siobahn, seeing as you haven’t seen her in quite a while. But your focus is drawn to Gallagher.

He looks a bit thinner than you remember, more ragged even though you can’t see his face, and suddenly your nerves turn into concern. He never drank alcohol, as far as you knew. He despised the stuff, and really only enjoyed mocktails and virgin drinks. So, why did he decide to drink himself to this point…? In the end, your curiosity wins out, and you lean over, before standing up and sitting closer to him, just one stool between you. He doesn’t smell of alcohol, which soothes your nerves a bit, so you reach out and tap on his shoulder.

He flinches harshly, jerking up with a sharp breath and a cough, before looking down at you. His eyebags are heavy, eyes having a hard time staying open. His stubble is more of a scruff, one that looks quite itchy.

“Oh,” His eyes light up just a smidge when he realizes it’s you, a big, dopey smile spreading across his lips. “It’s you.”

The words are spoken with no ire, like you expected. Instead, he looked like some lovesick puppy, all smiles and sighs as he stared at you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter. It’s been far too long since someone’s talked to you like that, let alone looked at you like that, and you are glad it is Gallagher himself.

He does his best to blink the sleep from his eyes, before reaching up and rubbing at them. He takes a deep breath, a sound you fondly remember, one he made in the morning when he didn’t want to go to work but had to. And you find yourself pining for him. You turn your head away quickly, gathering your thoughts and looking to Siobahn for help. What could she do? You don’t know, but you sincerely hoped she could come up with something.

“Ah, well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you,” She smiles gently, clearly holding back the word ‘two’. She herself doesn’t know exactly who she’s addressing, seeing as Gallagher’s finally awake.

“Yes, I didn’t expect to see you… or Gallagher here tonight,” You do your best to smile through it, but you can feel Gallagher’s hazel eyes burning into the back of your head. You are at war with yourself, telling yourself you can’t be feeling this way for Gallagher, just because of one look. Yet at the same time, you’ve missed him so dearly, it’s hard not to fall. Even with how ragged he looks at the moment.

Behind you, Gallagher sighs, yet you don’t turn to look at him, too afraid that if you were to catch another glimpse, you’d do something that would be contrary to the divorce and what you had told him. Siobahn shoots a quick glance to him as if now asking him to help, but when you don’t turn around to look at him, his shoulders slump. While what you said held no venom, it didn’t hold the fondness he was hoping for, either.

With a grunt, he pushes the stool out and stands up, shaking his head. You finally turn around, but he doesn’t look back, his footsteps slow and sluggish as he finally exits the Holstery. You turn back to Siobahn and the two of you share a look, falling silent for another minute. Perhaps Gallagher didn’t want to see you at all, and his smile was more out of formality and politeness than anything. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, but you did your best to shrug it off. There was no real reason to feel like he truly wanted you back, anyways. It’d be selfish to think so.

“I guess he’s clocking out, then…” You mumble, an attempt at a weak joke.

“He had to quit about a month ago, actually,” Siobahn shakes her head, wiping down a glass quickly, before setting it down and leaning on the bar. “That’s the first I’ve seen of him since he told me.”

“I see,” You nod, looking down on the counter. You assumed Siobahn wouldn’t let him sleep on the job, anyways, so it made some sense. But why? As far as you remembered, he quite loved this job. “May I ask why?”

“Well, he said it was because of the Bloodhounds changing his schedule,” She shrugs, “So I took his word for it. He didn’t tell me much, though. And we haven’t really talked much since then. What about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s been… a long while. Since I’ve even texted him,” Saying that makes you feel… horrible. You’ve barely talked to him, and yet he gives you one silly little smile and suddenly your heart is singing for him. “I didn’t expect to see him tonight. Well, I did, but I also didn’t.”

“Y’know, since that was the first time I’ve seen him in a bit… he also looked kinda rough. Real rough. But I mean the way he smiled at you…”

“I know. I know, I noticed it too. Both things. But I don’t think his smile means anything with the way he walked away,”

“He seemed more hurt than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that, aside from when you two were married. Not that I’m saying you should get back together, but, he seemed quite–”

“I knowww…” You groan, lowering your head. “I’m starting to regret my decision, not like I can change it now, but the way he looked all sad and like a goddamn puppy, ugh.”

Siobahn chuckles, raising an eyebrow. She allows you to wallow in the silence for a while, before nudging you. “Perhaps it’s time to make up? Only if you want to. But I mean, if you’re feeling this way after, what, two years? Then, maybe…”

There’s a teasing lilt towards the end of her words, and when you look up at her she tilts her head with a small smirk. You hate to admit that she’s right, but also a part of you truly wants to. You’ve missed the intimacy he provided, the way his heart would skip a beat whenever you cuddled up to his chest, even after a couple of years, the way he’d fidget with your fingers when you held hands, or simply the way he’d look at you, how reminiscent his gaze was earlier of you’re previous days of love. Ugh, the more you thought the more you made up your mind.

“Fiiine,” You huff, as if you truly didn’t want to. But the way you get up hastily says otherwise.

“Oh, you’re really gonna try? You’re going to show up at his door?”

“Yeah. I am. I think it’ll be more… I dunno. It just makes more sense.”

“I’m cheering you on,” She chuckles once more, “Text me about the results once you're done. I know it isn’t my place to know, but… well, I’m pretty curious.”

“I will, I will,” You sigh, giving her one last wave before you head out of the Holstery all too quickly. It’s not that you didn’t want to continue talking with Siobahn; you truly did. But if you stayed any longer, you’d convince yourself to leave Gallagher be. And maybe that would be a good thing, but you already made up your mind. You could be chasing after a ghost for all you cared, but you figured you had to try.

The walk to his apartment was full of doubts. The night felt colder than ever, and you did your best to tell yourself to keep going. Perhaps you should’ve stayed at the Holstery and at least taken a shot for confidence. Every single part of you, even your heart, told you to just leave it be and go back to your own apartment. You see him once after a couple years and you decide to make everything right, now? But your legs keep walking, and you can’t tell if you hate it, or love it.

Before you can reach a definitive conclusion on whether to just give it up or go through it, you’re at his door. Suddenly it’s a lot more intimidating than you hoped, almost comically eerie, and you haven’t even knocked yet. Sure, it could seem all sorts of wrong for you to show up at his door, for you to even remember where he lived. But there’s no use worrying about that now, you’re stuck here whether you like it or not, and the only way through is, well, through.

You raise your hand and knock, once, twice– and the door opens. Gallagher stands in front of you, barely registering that you even knocked, looking just about as miserable as he did when you saw him at the Holstery. He blinks, trying to wash away his fatigue, before your presence finally registers.

“Mh, sorry, I can’t listen to your sales pitch,” He mumbles, as you take a couple steps back and he closes the door behind him.

“Gallagher.” That’s all you have to say, and he practically flinches, eyes widening for a second.

“A-Ah, sorry, I didn’t– I have work,” He stumbles over his words for a moment like he had on your first date, then immediately schools his expression back into something more neutral, locking the door quickly, before trying to walk past.

Against your better judgement, you reach out and grab his wrist. He pauses and looks back at you, and you swear you see a twinkle in his eye. Though, aside from that, you can feel the worry fester in your gut. If he has work, it’s so very selfish of you to pull him back. But you do.

“I’m sorry, I just,” You don’t know what to say, but neither of you pull away. Your hand loosens around his wrist, and it takes every bit of self control to not reach down and grab his hand. He’s still so warm, as warm as you remembered, and even though he looks quite beat, he still looks like the man you loved.

The silence stretches on for an unbearable amount of time. Gallagher doesn’t pry his wrist from your hand, despite how late he was for work already. He can’t find the strength to do it. He’s longed for something like this moment for quite some time, and now that he has it, employment be damned. His supervisors couldn’t give a damn about him, so why should he have to feel bad for being late? Plus, he had wanted this. So goddamn badly. If he pulled away now, all those nights hugging pillows and ‘i’m sorry’s didn’t mean much anymore. Perhaps they’d mean he had moved on. And he should be okay with that. But he wasn’t.

“I missed you,” He finally manages to speak, turning his entire body towards you. Once more, he looks like some lost puppy, and by the Aeons do you want to reach out and pet him.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can get out in your fluster. You missed him, yes, and seeing him was only such a painful reminder of that. But at the same time, seeing his state, and remembering the piss poor excuse you left him with, how could you not apologize? ‘I’m just not ready’, what a joke that was. You loved him, dammit, and you weren’t ready? He gave you everything, he was ready. He was more than ready. And somehow, after three years of him cuddling up to you every night, cooking for you, making special drinks, all those sweet nicknames and the way he softened up after an especially rough nights, it took you a year of being in a relationship and two years of being married for you to tell him you weren’t ready?

Not only that, but he had given you no pushback. He didn’t beg you to stay or try to talk some sense into you, he just nodded and let the process start. That was it. You don’t know what impression it gave you, whether he wanted you to be happy or if he didn’t care for it at all. But hearing his words now made you realize what a fool you had been.

“Don’t– Don’t apologize. It’s my fault,” Gallagher finally wrenches his wrist free from your hand, only to put his own on your shoulders. “I wasn’t enough, so I oughta apologize.”

“No, no! That’s not what it was,” You place your hands on his biceps instinctively, and– Aeons, they’re still big– squeeze. “It was me being stupid. That’s all.”

“You’re not stupid,”

“Well I was for the way I left you,”

“No, don’t talk about yourself like that,” He finally lets go, hands falling to his sides with a huff. “I wasn’t enough, I get it. There’s no reason to apologize to me–”

“There is! You were more than enough–” You find yourself getting angry at his words. You pause, taking a deep breath and calming yourself. “I just… This isn’t about that. Maybe it is. I don’t know. You look like– You don’t look well. And I’m worried.”

Another silence falls between you two, making your stomach flip-flop. You can’t push away the previous exchange, and no doubt you’ll need to return to it later, but at the same time you didn’t want to keep him.

All you can do is nod fervently, because you worried that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t shut up. You didn’t want to make him late for work, but at the same time you wanted to tell him to just stay home and talk now. There was no way he could get work done in that state, especially at his rank. Before you can speak your mind, he’s halfway down the hall. However, he stands up a little taller, rather than dragging his feet as he walks away, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride along with butterflies in your stomach.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

Eight hours feel like twelve hours while you wait. You decided you’d busy yourself with some chores at home to clear your head, but it ultimately made the day feel even longer. For the last couple of hours, all you could do was sit on your couch and fidget. It felt like you HAD to wait for this moment. If you started something now, you would be betraying a part of yourself.

All you had to wait for was a notification. Part of you wanted to just go over to his apartment and wait out the rest of the time. You felt an overwhelming need to apologize, your nerves eating at you all day. Seeing the shape he was in, the melancholy that lingered in the air no matter his sappy smile or his posture, you wanted to take it all away. You wanted to say it was some sort of savior complex, but to tell the truth, it was your feelings. Your silly, pathetic feelings. One little look and suddenly you were rethinking everything that had led to this point.

You could worry about it all day, but you could never reach a conclusion on whether you should give it up or push through to have this talk with him. All you could do was hope that something positive comes out from this. At worst, nothing would truly change in your life. You’d carry on as you have been, one step at a time. At best… perhaps you’d get a second shot. If you did, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let it go so easily. You wouldn’t let him go.

Just before you lose your mind, your phone vibrates. You’re way too quick to check the notification, like a lovestruck highschooler. It’s been quite some time since you’ve seen his name pop up on your phone, and just that causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach, despite your nerves.

“I’m on my way home now, if you’d like to meet up at my place”

It’s so oddly formal, coming from him. But you suppose you aren’t any better, your own texts coming off just as awkward, a simple ‘omw’ sent back. You didn’t mean to be so curt, but if you hadn’t been, you would’ve started to overthink your answer, even to just a simple text.

With a deep sigh, you get up off your couch and grab your keys and wallet, shoving them into your pockets. You take another moment at your door, trying to compose yourself. It feels quite right to see him again, to talk with him again, and you can’t stop the guilt from creeping into your veins. You are hoping for… more, again. After you left him for something so very selfish. You had stopped talking to him about three months or so after the divorce went through, rationalizing it as the fact that you and him needed to move on. You couldn’t just stay friends, and you didn’t want to impede on his own life. You made up all sorts of scenarios to keep your mind at ease, and for all you knew, you lied to yourself so that you wouldn’t look like a fool running back.

Yet, here you are. Yearning for more, more, more. You wanted to apologize– you did apologize. But you felt the need to do more. You didn’t know what was going on in his head, you barely understood why he looked like such a mess, and you, for the most part, wanted to somehow swoop in and save him. Like a hug and a kiss would fix all that was wrong. Maybe it would, but usually, that wasn’t how the world works.

Before you make your anxiety worse, you open the door and decide to push through. It’s all for clarity, at the very least. You aren’t doing this to possibly get back together with him, it’s to provide you, yourself, and Gallagher clarity. Clarity. All you can do is repeat that word to yourself as you lock your door and make your way down the hallway.

Each step makes you feel heavier, as you dread what’s to come. Every possible outcome starts to scare you, good and bad. You shouldn’t be that scared, with the way Gallagher acted around you, even if it was just a few minutes in total. But you can’t help it, the sudden wave of guilt twists at your gut and claws at your mind, and it takes all your strength to not turn on your heels and high tail it back to your apartment. You don’t know how many more times you will fight with yourself over this, but you can only hope this will be the last.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

Gallagher’s apartment isn’t necessarily as well-kept as it was when you two lived together. It isn’t exactly messy, you can tell he tried to clean it up in the few minutes he had from getting back from work and you coming over. But overall, there was a certain air of… melancholy. Bitter and thick, reflecting Gallagher’s state.

He himself seemed too nervous to sit down, choosing to stand by the couch and mess with his tie. He looked even more tired than before, voice rough with exhaustion. You had asked multiple times when you entered his apartment if he’d like you to come back after a later time, and he said it was fine each and every time.

“Would you like something to drink?” His voice comes out a tad weak, looking down at you with an oddly sheepish smile.

“I– No, I can get something myself… if that’s okay,” The last thing you’d want to do is make him work more.

“No, I’d really like to. Please? I promise I want to,” He gives you the look, soft eyes, sheepish smile, once again, like a lost puppy. “Please.”

You can’t help but sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. It’s the kind of look he used when he wanted you to stay a little longer in bed when you two woke up (despite the fact that you both had work most of the time), and you cannot find the strength to say ‘no’ a second time. You give him a pitiful nod, and off he goes to the kitchen.

While he busies himself with the drink, you look around the living room. Not much has changed, save for your own items that were missing. Dog fur clung to nearly everything, as was the norm. He had brought his Doberman into the relationship, the sweetest pup you’ve met (aside from maybe Gallagher himself), who had endless amounts of energy. He had named the dog ‘Whiskey’, which… didn’t fit the dog at all. But who were you to judge? You had a puppy and a boyfriend at the time, so you were happy. You did kind of miss the dog, seeing as your apartment didn’t allow pets of any kind.

You wanted to ask where the dog was, looking over the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Gallagher was completely zoned in, a couple of different bottles of drinks and syrups on the counter, a couple ice cubes in a rather fancy whiskey glass, all while he was mixing the drinks. It is a sight for sore eyes, the tranquility of it all. There had been quite a lot of nights where you had sat exactly where you are now, and watched him work. He always loved mixing drinks, on the clock or off the clock. And you were more than happy to try most of them. His concentration softens his features, and for a spell he looks younger, more energetic, and not as weak as he has been.

You catch yourself blushing, and quickly turn your head away, turning your focus down to your hands, fidgeting nervously. What were you going to ask? Right, ask about Whiskey. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and force your mind to keep quiet. You can’t help the influx of memories that wash over you, especially in this space. Being not only close to Gallagher, but your old home, there’s a warmth that burns in your heart, one that can be extinguished all too quickly.

Before you can fluster (or perhaps hurt) yourself more, he’s placing the whiskey glass in front of you. It’s a nice, vibrant red, no doubt something fruity. A mocktail he made you quite a lot, one that you were always worried he would get sick of making. But, apparently not.

“So, uhm,” He starts, taking a seat on the couch as well. He leaves one cushion between you two, unable to allow himself to get closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You didn’t expect him to start with that of all things. What did he have to apologize for? “What do you mean?”

“I dunno. I feel I have to. I don’t think I was…” He trails off, a note of sorrow in his voice.

Two years, he reminds himself. Two years, and he still felt this way. He wallowed every night, begged whatever force was out there for it to be different. Once again, he knew it was dangerous. There was no love for something such as him in this world, and yet he held onto the thought of you every waking day. For all he knew, you could be his undoing. If you were to find out the “Gallagher” you knew was not the Gallagher he was… it scared him. Yet, it scared him even more to be without you. Is it truly so bad to look for a warm hand when the clock stops ticking? Would it be wrong for you to be his final memory?

“I don’t think I was enough.” He says in an infinitely weaker and mournful tone. He looks away from you, shrinking in on himself.

The words themselves stun you. Suddenly, your throat feels tight and tears prick at your eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You stare for a moment, taking in the way he finally seems smaller. A man you’ve always known to be strong, who you swore you’ve never seen be emotional aside from the day of your wedding, curled up in on himself, vulnerable. Somehow, hearing them now, it hurts even more than it did earlier. And you realize you have to prove him wrong, to tell him it was you, not him, wasn’t enough.

In a moment of selfish action, you scoot over next to him and reach for his hand. It is warm, and it trembles. But he doesn’t swat your hand away, nor does he look at you. After a beat, you grab his other hand, squeezing both.

“Oh, Gallagher…” You mutter, looking into his eyes even though they avoid yours. “That’s not it. You were more than enough, I promise you. You really were.” You squeeze his hands once more, to prove your point. “Somehow, I got it in my head that.. that I wasn’t ready. Even after all the time we spent together. And that’s on me– It really is.”

Finally, he looks up at you, his eyes glossy, mirroring your own. He squeezes your hands back, and relaxes just a little.

“I didn’t mean to rush you…” He responds, voice slightly shaky. He forces a small smile onto his lips however, and it makes your heart stutter.

“No, no, it wasn’t that. I was ready. I swear. I just– I should’ve talked to you, instead of doing what I did,” You huff, shaking your head. “It was unfair of me to come to that conclusion just because of some anxiety.”

“Well, I don’t think you should blame yourself like that,” Even his voice softens as he straightens up, turning his entire body towards you. “I really do wish you would’ve talked to me, but… if you were anxious… I mean, I get it. But don’t talk about it like that.”

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. All you can do is nod and meet his gaze, unable to tear yours away from those hazel eyes.

“... I mean, it was pretty expensive for something as simple as that, but– Sorry, bad joke,” He chuckles sheepishly, “But it’s okay. If anything, I’m glad we’re talking about it now, instead of never…”

His eyes rake over your face, down to your hands. He takes another breath like he’s about to say something, then pauses, shakes his head, and chuckles once more.

“I’m sorry,” Is all you can choke out, your hold on his hands loosening.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to apologize. I get it, I really do,”

Gallagher lets go of your hands as well, turning his hands over and presenting his palms to you. It’s a gesture that is so small and from the outside would seem meaningless, but something you always quite loved– as were most things you have seen tonight. You had a habit of playing with his hands whenever you could, running your thumb over the back of his hand when you two were holding hands, messing with his fingers to annoy him when you were watching a movie, and tracing over the creases in his palms to calm yourself down if your mind wouldn’t shut up. It helped when you were anxious, or when you couldn’t fall asleep.

Without thinking, you use your thumbs to trace over the creases in his palms, hands still rough and calloused as you remembered. For a moment, it helps calm your nerves, allowing you to think clearly. Yet, despite that, you can’t form any proper words. You untense and allow yourself to really, truly breathe. After a beat, he drops his hands into his lap, eyes searching your face for any sort of hesitance. You find yourself chasing after your hands for a moment, catching yourself and clearing your throat as you pull away.

“... I have a question. That you can say no to, okay?” He leans back, trying to seem more confident, but he wears an unsure smile on his lips.

“Okay,” You nod, your stomach, once again, flip-flopping.

“I… want to try again. If you feel the same, of course. I just…” There’s a subtle blush that dusts his cheeks as he looks around the room, reaching up and scratching at his stubble. “I meant what I said earlier today. I missed you.”

Your mouth goes dry. It isn’t something you expected– though, it is quite welcome. But you can’t help but hesitate, it sounds a little too good to be true. You bite your lip and allow the question to hang in the air for a second longer, still unable to conjure up a response. You’d tell him you’d love to, but–

“Just– Just a few dates, here and there. We don’t have to pick up where we left off,” Gallagher chimes in at your hesitation, before shrinking away, worried that he’s being too invasive.

You look down to your lap, trying to string your thoughts together and form a coherent response. This was the best possible scenario you had hoped for, so why do you feel so unsure? You fidget with your fingers, all sorts of ‘what if’s popping up in your head. What if it ends up like last time? What if this isn’t just a case of ‘right person, wrong time’, what if it always had been ‘wrong person, wrong time’? You loved Gallagher when you first started dating, you loved him when you married him, and evidently, you loved him even after the divorce. And yet… it was hard to say yes. But you couldn’t let your anxiety eat away at you this time, you promised that to yourself at that moment.

“I’d like that,” You finally speak, voice quieter than you anticipated, and shy.

When you look up at Gallagher, you can tell he’s trying to hold back his own little celebration. He opens his mouth to say something, moves a little in his seat, then closes it. His hand raises from his lap for a second, before he places it back down. Eventually, he figures out what to do. He flashes you a simple grin, the kind that made the corners of his eyes and his nose crinkle.

“Great. Yes. Totally. Okay, I’ll uhm– well, my schedule isn’t the best anymore, so… I don’t know. I mean, this can be a date, right?” He stumbles and trips over his words, unsure if he should let his excitement be visible or not. You haven’t seen him this flustered in a long, long time. And it warms your heart.

“It can,” You chuckle, tilting your head. “I mean, I did kinda miss our movie nights.”

“Perfect! I’ll, uh, well,” He moves to grab the remote off the coffee table, eyes flickering over to you in a bout of nervousness. “Guess I’ll get it started. Ah, wait– do you want some popcorn, or anything…?”

“Ah, actually… Can I ask where Whiskey is?” You can’t help but go back to the dog, as if having a movie night without the pup felt wrong.

“Oh, I-I left him in my room. Didn’t want him to annoy you or anything… uhm, did you want me to go get him?”

“Yes. Please.”

At your eager response, Gallagher practically scrambles to get up. You listen to him pad down the hallway to his room, before he opens the door. The minute that door opens, you hear Whiskey’s claws scratching at the hardwood floor as he runs to the living room to check out the new smells. He wasn’t much of a pup anymore, around 3 years old now. His floppy ears bounce up and down as he runs to you, and he practically crashes into you when he jumps up onto the couch (and ultimately into your chest). You can’t help but laugh as his entire body wiggles in excitement, licking at your face and sticking his nose into it every time you turn your head to avoid his barrage.

Gallagher can’t help but chuckle as he watches, taking his seat back, betraying you and leaving you to fend for yourself against Whiskey’s storm of kisses. Gallagher can’t help but ‘subtly’ reach over and wrap his arm around your shoulders. He figured since you were just soooo defenseless, why not sneak in? Despite the awkward, childish anxiety, like you two had just started dating from earlier, this feels so very… normal. Regardless, you didn’t have time to react either way. Whiskey was relentless with his kisses, determined to make up for the several years he didn’t see you.

Eventually, you are able to pry the dog off of you, and the space calms down for a moment, despite the excited wagging and half-lunging at you. Considering how much he has grown, it’s kind of hard to pull him back. But within a minute or two, he finally calms down, finding his peace on your lap, laying his head on your leg and staring up at you with big ol’ eyes, begging for attention every time you stop petting him.

“Let’s see…” Gallagher hums, finally turning on the tv and figuring out which streaming service to use. “What are you feeling? Horror? Classic? I’m game for whatever.”

“Hmm,” You tilt your head, scratching behind Whiskey’s ear. “I dunno. You pick.”

With a huff of approval, Gallagher chooses a streaming service, quickly scrolling through a couple of movies, before choosing a thriller. Why not be a little cliche? Even if you were used to this stuff by now, he can’t help himself. You can’t help but chuckle and smile at his choice, looking up at him through your lashes quickly. In a moment of selfishness (or perhaps lovestruck idiocy), you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, before leaning your head onto his shoulder fully.

Gallagher can’t help but smile like a fool, hand squeezing your shoulder. He dares not to look down at you, as if he was afraid this wasn’t real. Ironic, coming from him. But, he couldn’t help it. Something he yearned for after so long, finally in his hands… Someone he had yearned for. Whiskey, however, is quite displeased with this show of affection, giving you a lethal side-eye, as if to say ‘how dare you show him love and not me.’ Such betrayal that you have shown Whiskey, choosing Gallagher over him.

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[crowsbeak-cos]

Christmas miku!

A brief, probably unhelpful rundown of how i impulsively made this cosplay in two days (with a LARGE helping of creative liberty) - part one!

(I'm writing this at eleven pm)

This entire cosplay was literally only because I saw this arch downtown and thought it would make for a cute asf picture - and I WAS RIGHT IT DID - but that does mean I had to majorly improvise.

First off- this entire cosplay was made out of a thrifted prom dress (thank you local liquidation store for selling formal dresses for eight dollars) and about half a yard of the cheapest sherpa I could find (thank you Joann Fabric I love you Joann Fabric). There are a LOT of deviances from the original outfit - most notably, Miku has her normal hairstyle (long ass pigtails...). My regular Miku wig is, naturally, horrifically tangled from being stored incorrectly, so I ended up going for the wig I bought for when I eventually do Vampire Miku. It's a lot less bright and obviously a lot shorter, but I kind of like the dark green? It feels a little more Christmas to me. Miku also wears gloves (fuck no) and has knee-high red boots instead of the thigh-highs and mary jane heels I went for. Let this be a lesson in creative liberty - if you are in a rush and it isn't for a competition, be lazy.

I can go more into detail on every thing in part two, but the dress was literally just three rectangles i stitched together and then took in to fit. Shift dresses are easy, I'm lazy, and I can't be bothered to make an actual pattern for one of these even though I've made at least four at this point. I was also very lazy when it came to finishing my seams- all I did was go in with pinking shears. It's not a competition piece- I don't have to care.

The capelet was equally simple - I literally used the math for a half-circle skirt pattern (aka I used this calculator: https://byhandlondon.com/pages/circle-skirt-app thank you for existing) to cut my outer and lining pieces. The capelet is the only actually lined piece on this cosplay because ONCE AGAIN. I did this in two days.

The collar piece and the tie were pretty easy, i ended up making essentially a tube of sherpa and added a snap for the closure. The tie was made kind of how you make an actual tie, just cut way shorter, and stitched to one end of the collar piece. The star (which is made of my good friends cheap craft foam, hot glue, plastidip, and spray paint) was glued onto the sherpa collar so that it covers the snap and makes everything look relatively seamless. I just hot glued it, the sherpa is thick enough that the glue soaked into it pretty well and the star should stay in place for a long time.

The hat. Exists? I honestly don't know if it's even made the way you're supposed too - it's kind of janky, but it works for what I need. Everything got a (very messy) helping of sherpa for trim and then Fran and I absolutely booked it downtown and half froze to death shooting these! Big shoutout to that random security guard for not yelling at us for lurking in that lobby with the camera- it was so cold and I cannot afford the medical bills that come with frostbite.

I'll go into more details and talk about the shoot itself in part two- for now thank you for reading my arguably slightly deliriously written post and I hope you had a good holiday <3

[mikashisus]

Memories of You

“i’d cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. i’d write love poems to the parts of yourself you can’t stand. i’d stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you i’m not afraid of your dark.”

— andrea gibson

summary: In which, Barbatos reflects on a distant past, a time where he felt the cruel sting of first love.

pairing: venti x fem!reader

content warnings: death, angst

wc: 1.7k

author’s notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for awhile. decided to post it here since i dont want it to go to waste yk.

i recommend listening to iris by the goo goo dolls while u read! enjoy! <3

Aether shuffled his way through the busy streets of Mondstadt, craning his neck to look for the ever playful bard.

This time of year had rolled around once again: the time of the Windblume Festival.

Mondstadt was a romantic and free city, without the rule of royalty. And although many years had passed since the people last saw their beloved archon, he still wandered the streets as a carefree bard— an archon hidden in plain sight, though his "disguise" actually should've given him away a long time ago.

At the sound of singing, Paimon gasped and grabbed Aether's attention by pulling on his arm. "Look!" She pointed ahead, where Venti had been standing in front of the mighty statue of Barbatos. "The tone-deaf bard is performing again! Let's get closer!" She floated above the heads of the crowd, glancing back at Aether while he struggled to get to the front.

Akin to Venti's many other songs, this one told a story of a harrowing tale. Of a love found through festivals and flowers, of a maiden with stars in her eyes and a smile as warm as the sun.

She was as beautiful as the sky on a cloudless night, with grace like that of royalty. Every word she spoke flowed off her tongue like liquid gold, and each press of her fingertips were as light as a feather. Crafted from the finest marble and made to be worshipped like a goddess.

She fell in love with a boy, one filled with determination and courage. A boy who cared a little too much for others and never for himself.

A boy who sought freedom, up until the very end.

The story continued, with the girl clueless as to the boy's death. Not having witnessed his final moments and final words, she was left in the dark, never to know he passed on because his form was taken on by someone else.

His memory was preserved, and she found him after a long while of wandering on her own. Tears were shed, and wine was brewed in celebration, and as the Anemo Archon bestowed a blessing of protection onto her, he whispered to her through the wind and together they created what was now known to be the Windblume Festival.

The people of Mondstadt joined in, and the tradition was carried down through the generations. The song ended on a happy note, but Aether could sense there was something more to the story.

As the people around him clapped for Venti's stellar performance and eventually dispersed, Aether took his chance to finally speak with the bard.

"Ah, Aether! Paimon!" Venti greeted with a smile, his voice a little strained. There was something clearly wrong. "How are you enjoying another Windblume Festival? Is it as exciting as the others?"

Paimon hummed excitedly. "Mhm! It's so nice seeing the city decked out! And I bet you're having the time of your life with all this wine too!" She pointed accusingly to the wine left at the foot of the Barbatos statue, along with multiple bouquets of cecilias.

Venti laughed nervously before clearing his throat. "Shh!" He brought a finger to his lips and spoke softly, "Don't blow my cover!"

"Who was that song about?" Aether questioned, getting straight to the point instead of beating around the bush.

He knew Venti was familiar with whomever was in that ballad, as he knew many people throughout history and was knowledgeable on many events. He knew how the Golden Apple Archipelago was formed (because he was behind it), the history of all the festivals in Mondstadt (because he created them), and especially— what happened 2,600 years ago during the reign of Decarabian.

Venti's face fell, a solemn smile adorning his lips. "Ah, that. Nothing gets past you, does it?" He tried to lighten the mood with a small laugh. He sighed, "Meet me at Old Mondstadt. I'll tell you the story in full there. But first, there's something I must do. I'll see you there."

Aether nodded, watching as Venti disappeared into a gust of wind and dandelions. He followed the bard's orders and began to trek into the mountains, ignoring Paimon's theories and complaints on the way.

The wind blew especially hard here, a testament to the ruins that withstood time. He wandered the outskirts as he waited for Venti, taking in the breathtaking scenery.

A gust of wind blew his braid around, and he squinted his eyes until it died down a little. There was no doubt in his mind that that had been Venti making a grand entrance. He turned to his right, and sure enough, his suspicions were correct. The lonesome bard stood there with a look of nostalgia in his eyes and a small bouquet of cecilias in his hand.

"It was over two thousand years ago, before the fall of Decarabian," he began, his tone turning serious. Aether could tell he was no longer talking to Venti, and was now speaking with Barbatos. There was always a notable difference between the two.

Venti was a carefree bard who represented the true meaning of freedom. He had no worries and lived everyday to its fullest. He traveled the world and sang songs from the past, present, and even the future. He was jovial and exceptionally fun to be around. Barbatos on the other hand, was on the calmer and wiser side. He was full of regrets, and although being labeled the god of freedom, he wasn't free in the slightest. He carried the memories of his fallen friends, and held a deep rooted fear of the heavens above. He's seen the cruelty of the world, experienced it for himself, and drank his worries away until he felt numb.

He was kind and gentle towards his people, loved them with all his heart and protected them from threats. He promised them everlasting freedom, even if it meant giving up his own in turn for it. He never abandoned them, and always listened to the prayers they whispered along the wind. He tried his best to answer said prayers, giving hope to his people and blessing them with joyful days. He walked among them, saw them as equals and never as inferior.

Among the gods Aether has met, two have struck a serious chord within him. The gods of freedom and wisdom, two who were the kindest and most loving.

"I met a girl..." Venti continued, taking a sharp inhale. "Well... my friend did. The two of them met during the rebellion. They loved each other dearly, and before I knew what was happening, I had also fallen in love with her." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"I watched as they lived out their days happily together, despite what was going on. I thought it cruel to wish that was me loving her instead of him, but... I supported them, because that was the only thing I could do." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "And then it happened... my friend passed, and his final words to me were a song. I ascended to godhood not long after, and brought his memory back into the world."

"And now his form represents what the Anemo Archon looks like..." Aether said softly, receiving a slow nod in return. It was crazy to think about that: that the Anemo Archon statue in the city, and the statues of The Seven littered throughout Mondstadt depicted the nameless bard's form, and not Barbatos'. In fact, he never realized that until now.

"I couldn't let his memory be forgotten." Venti shook his head. "And now it never will be." A small silence passed as the three of them let that fact sink in. Venti closed his eyes and continued his story. "After his death and my ascension, I found her again. She was older— she was a mortal after all. And her beautiful features had not changed at all. Our reunion was bittersweet, as it wasn't me she was looking at, but my friend. It hurt, but I dared not tell her my true identity.

"We continued on, and I got to love her in his stead. I wrote her poems and sang her ballads, even sung some of the ones he dedicated to her. As the Anemo Archon and the god of freedom, I sought out peace and freedom for my people. I made festivals, one of them being the Windblume Festival. I dedicated the festival of love and cheer to her, and in the song I wrote about her, I tweaked the story a little.

"I changed it so that both her and I created the Windblume Festival. That way, she would always be a huge part of Mondstadt's history. Just like my friend."

"What happened after?" Paimon asked, a little too invested into this story. So much so, that she didn't realize how much of an impact her question had on him.

He bit his lip, his eyes turning glossy as he looked down at the cecilias he held tightly in his hands. "She died, never knowing what truly happened to the one she loved, and never knowing that I am Barbatos." The wind picked up, a clear sign of his bubbling emotions, and he made quick work to calm down. He couldn't be seen like this, vulnerable and upset. It tarnished his image as a jovial bard.

He led them inside the ruined tower, descending a few sets of stairs until they reached a spacious room. He walked ahead as the other two gawked in wonder, and knelt down next to a masterless vision. Her vision. He placed the bouquet of cecilias overtop of the vision, closing his eyes and paying his respects before he stood back up.

"It's okay, though. She didn't need to know that I am Barbatos to know that I loved her."

author’s notes: didn't realize until after i wrote this that the windblume festival was created FOR the anemo archon & not by him 💀 mb ig

barbatos created ludi harpastum tho, i do know that. i think i got the two mixed up when writing but wtv. we'll just pretend he created the windblume festival lmfao

this was written before the events of 4.0.

masterlist!

[rapha-reads]

Unrelated things I manage to evoke in my thesis on Beauty and the Beast, modern fairy tales and self-love (titled From Folktales to Fantasy: Beauty and the Beast, Contemporary Rewritings and Self-Love), a list (caution, long post ahead):

Hayao Miyazaki's environmental tales.

In contemporary rewritings of folktales and fairy tales, these revised critical versions often follow the major issues of the time: the feminist tales of Angela Carter or Margaret Atwood of the 20th century are amongst the prime examples, but one may just as well cite Hayao Miyazaki's contemporary environmentalist and anti-war stories.

Arthurian Legends:

Nonetheless, ages change, people’s priorities change, ways of life change, and with these evolutions, heroes and stories mutate too. They evolve, but they’re never forgotten. King Arthur and Merlin are still household names, even after a millennia and a half of legends; their stories followed the times and took on new shapes to keep on meaning something to their audience.

Le Roman de Renart and "Le hérisson, le chacal et le lion" (the hedgehog, the jackal and the lion, a traditional animal tale in North Africa, Tamazight in origin):

Animal Tales are the first chapter of the ATU Index, going from ATU 1 to 299, in which the characters are talking animals usually interacting between themselves (think Roman de Renart or the tales of the hedgehog, jackal and lion in North Africa).

*On the subject of the hedgehog, the jackal and the lion, I really recommend looking up their stories. If you like cartoonish stories of the clever fox and the stupid wolf, Tom and Jerry style, you will like them.

Narnia (actually referenced a few times, the thesis does talk about Fantasy, but CS Lewis is quoted only the once):

In the dedication of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis wrote “some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again”. As the reader ages and grows up, the taste for stories also evolves.

Neil Gaiman (completely out of the blue, I just wanted to quote him at least once):

the classic tale of Beauty and the Beast with all its space left to creation easily lends itself to the new scene. “Fairy tales”, Neil Gaiman writes in the introduction to Fragile Things, “are transmissible. You can catch them, or be infected by them.” They are, in their most basic form, in the bare bones of their structures, the “currency we share with those who walked the world before ever we were here.”

Doctor Who (I will find a why to quote DW in any circumstances, just watch me):

“The Universe generally fails to be a fairy tale. And that’s where we [the helpers and the leaders, heroes, doctors, teachers] come in.” That’s where writers and storytellers come in. Crafting stories is recreating a kinder, more merciful and fair world, where good wins, evil is defeated, love is everything, good deeds are rewarded and bad actions punished, justice is served and honour is upheld.

Edith Nesbit's The Story of the Amulet + more Narnia, because I will also find a way to talk about the Pevensies:

Harper spends six weeks with Rhen and Grey, and when she comes back to DC, six weeks have also passed. This is different from most Fantasy novels which actions happens in both Primary and Secondary Worlds; from Edith Nesbith’s The Story of the Amulet (1906) to Lewis’ Narnia, the passage of time in the Secondary World never matches the passage of time in the Primary World—the Pevensies spent close to two decades being kings and queens of Narnia, and yet at their return in England, not a single second had gone by, and they were back to being children again, a fact that I have always found cruel; they were adults, competent and regal, soldiers, scholars and diplomats, and then they were back to being children, powerless and ordinary.

Yet another Narnia quote - in my defence, I use Tolkien's On Fairy Stories as one of my major reference, so I had to give some room to Lewis too - + me being very French:

C.S. Lewis does write that “adventures are never fun while you're having them” (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Narnia book 5), but après la pluie le beau temps—storms never last forever, and the adventure always ends. That is what Fantasy tells the reader: you will go through hard times, but there will always be joy to find after the sadness.

MeToo, Greta and Malala (I swear it makes sense):

Belle just wants to be left alone with her wood-carving tools. What introvert passionate about their hobby doesn’t understand that? Lucie wants revenge on the man who hurt her; that is the whole point of the MeToo movement. Nyx wants to save her people and is ready to sacrifice herself for the cause; real life heroines fighting for their ideals are the idols of today (Greta Thunberg, Malala Yousafzai…). Harper represents the everyday life of millions of poor, disabled people, not only in the USA, but across the world. Beast wants to be loved; don’t we all?

*I actually really love that one tiny paragraph.

The "we live in a society meme" (aka the beginning of the descent into madness of the writer):

In meme terms: “we live in a society”. And that society can be crushing, draining, destroying. How then does one uphold one’s sense of self and worth when everything conspires to ruin and empty one’s heart and mind? Even though the meme is originally absurd, it quickly became a satire of the world in which we live now, where there is no place nor time to slow down, to just breathe, to take care of others, to take care of one’s self, because there is always a bill to pay, a meeting to run to, a deadline looming close, a train to catch.

Queerness (by the way if you guys know any queer retellings of B&tB please send them my way):

Depending on one’s level of ease and comfort, the co-existing inside the community requires more or less efforts and concessions to one’s authentic identity and tastes. Consider, for example, the way homosexuality and any form of queerness have been and are still viewed in many parts of the world throughout time: the main history of the queer community is to hide away an authentic, personal part of who they are in order to stay safe within a larger community that discriminate against expressions of queerness.

The "mortifying ordeal of being known" meme (sos, the writer has lost the plot):

By agreeing to play the game and follow the rules, no matter how adverse to one’s authentic nature, we tacitly agree to be seen. There is another meme, that first appeared in an essay for The New York Times in 2013: “the mortifying ordeal of being known”. The full quote goes like this: “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” In essence, trying to hide and conceal one’s authentic self is to deprive yourself from being truly known and loved for who you are; it is to take the risk of being only superficially known and loved for who you pretend to be, the role you play, the mask you wear.

The "I can fix him" meme (what the heck is the writer talking about):

Here is a third meme, much more recent, born on Twitter in 2019: “I can fix him. I can make him better.” While the urge to help your neighbour is perfectly honourable, it can sometimes take on a sort of narcissistic veneer: it becomes no longer about the person you want to help, but about the power you can exercise over that person by turning them into the exact image of them you have, no matter if this image coincide with their authentic self or not.

Shakespeare (hell yeah, finally! Okay, it's not R&J, but still; who am I if I am not rambling about Willy):

The self is not a stable entity. It evolves, adapts to its circumstances, to the situation at the hand. “All the world's a stage and all the men and women are merely players” (As You Like It, 2. 7. 139), Shakespeare was already writing at the end of the 16th century. The deal has not changed. Everyone keeps playing a part that they believe is what society demands of them.

And finally... Kintsugi. Just for fun:

The Japanese art of kintsugi consists of repairing broken pottery with gold, letting the breaks and the defects visible, thus making them part of the history of the piece. Being broken therefore is not a sign of weakness; it becomes another sort of beauty, a sign of strength. The Beast’s curse breaks him down to his base nature, but ending the curse does not mean that the breaks disappear.

[oc-siblings-bracket]

OC-Siblings-Bracket 1.13

info down there because these posts are long ↓

Riley & Kiara Parker by @attorneybout

Info:

OKAY. SO. leaving out a lot of details because their story takes place entirely in a huge crossover roleplay and it'd be fucking wild if halfway through i was just like "so anyways, dimentio-" so we will not do that <3 no info about these guys is on my blogs. they're only on discord sorry.

ANYWAYS.

so. riley and kiara are sisters, with riley being th younger sister, at 12 (kiara is 16). kiara's dad actually found riley alone in the woods one day, and, with seemingly nobody else looking for her, took her in. neither he nor kiara knows about her biological parents but judging from how riley acted and how scared she seemed when he found her he hopes they never come back for her (they will! well. her bio mom will. her bio dad isn't relevant)

riley was basically very jumpy and anxious for the longest time because of how her mom treated her but eventually she came out of her shell and now shse's so sillygirl /pos she's very close with kiara and also close with kiara's friends it's really nice. kiara is really quiet mostly but undeniably Very Cool and she's also a streamer (sometimes she streams playing games with her friends or with riley too!)

however! a lot of stuff happens to riley, like an obscene amount. she got possessed, once. she got kidnapped into a fucking void dimension for a while. and she even got mind controlled. and kiara couldn't take seeing her sister hurt so often and even though she can't do much she has to try to get her sister back, so she ends up joining this vaguely shady organization who promises to help get riley back.

and! it works. sort of. they manage to catch the guy who mind controlled riley, with some outside help, and kiara questions him for a way to reverse the mind control. but he say he can't just reverse it like that. BUT. he offers her something. if they let him go, he'll give them something that they could use to try and reverse engineer a way to get riley back.

but if kiara lets him go, then he could go on to cause more mayhem. mind control more people. possibly even destroy the world.

but like. small price to pay for your sister being okay. so kiara, after some hesitation, lets him go. and, for the time being, they've even gotten away with it. sure, someone else got mind controlled, but not riley. never riley again. and nobody suspects that they let him go, at least not to her knowledge.

but she still feels a little bit bad about it. i mean, who wouldn't? sure, she can tell herself it will work out and that they had no choice, but she knows it's not true. and the truth is, riley wouldn't have really wanted that. but riley, despite having more confidence in herself now, is insanely self-sacrificial, and would have said it's better for everyone if she was simply gone forever if that meant everyone else would be safe.

other fun bonus things include:

riley is a realm-hopper. she doesn't know it yet. realm hoppers can basically teleport and travel between dimensions. kiara is vaguely aware of this but hasn't told riley about it yet

riley is trans!

kiara she/they swag

kiara is nonverbal at times

one of kiara's friends is also siblings with one of riley's friends but they're less iconic so i'm submitted these two instead. but their names are liberty (libby for short) eagle lawson and justice forall lawson and i need you to know that their parents are fucking insane for that one

kiara aroace swag also

riley lesbian swag

kiara doesn't share all of the same interests as riley but she always knows so much about riley's interests second-hand

kiara taught riley how to do crafts

they have a cat!! the cat's name is kiki :) i'll include a picture of her too but that's just for infodump purposes. kiki is actually named after a nickname riley used to call kiara

riley (first image) drawn by me and kiara (second image) made using this picrew https://picrew.me/image_maker/92646 and kiki (third image) made using this picrew https://picrew.me/image_maker/1713721 if i'm lucky enough to get motivation i might draw them together because i really need to anyways honestly

Additional Cat Photo:

Mischief & Magic Grape by @mystic-sunni

Info:

Mischief Grape is a Adventurer who travels around to the islands in Poptropica. With how much he travels he helped many people and became a hero to many. Magic Grape is his little sister just a year apart. Magic Grape is a well known author who has many successful books and is very kind to people. They both love helping people whenever they can. Also fun fact about Mischief Grape is that he has some clumsy moments that definitely are only seen in cartoons.

[streets-in-paradise]

Hi!!! Newly obsessed anon here!!! I hope this is ok for the description, english isn't my first language:

I'm chubby and really short with long dark hair. Stubborn, bookish and a homebody I love to bake and do fiber crafts like sewing and that sort of thing (writing this I'm thinking maybe I was a hobbit in another life). I'm quiet around strangers but cannot shut up around people I'm comfortable with. It takes me a while to warm up to people but once they're in I'm fiercely loyal (help hide a dead body no questions asked). As far as preferred gender goes I'm bi so I don't really mind either way.

I apologize again for any mistakes and thank you again so much for this blog. I love all the analysis you do as well as the less serious posts (not to mention the fics, I've binged your entire Troy masterlist three times by now)

Hi, anon!!!!

Don't worry at all about the language barrier, english is my second language too, and besides I understood you perfectly :)

( imagine me as we speak giving you a strong hug 🤗 Not only you follow my regular troyposting, you read my troy masterlist three times? i am fill with joy!! Bless you, anon. I will love you forever 💕💕)

You are such a sweetheart, and I am matching you with the sweetheart boy that has spend its time around the hobbits lol.

Your match is Paris

-The movie doesn't show it, but he had a shepherd past. This is a detail of his backstory in mythology that isn't acknowledged there but I still like to keep somehow. Troyverse Paris grew up as a prince alongside Hector, not away from his family like in the myths, but shepherd Paris was still a thing at some point in my mind.

-I like to imagine it was after some mischievous screwup he did, something like when he stole the horse as a ten year old, but happening when he is older/a young adult and leading to harsher consecuencies Hector couldn't save him from.

-Maybe his father thought it could be a good lesson for him to be sent for a while to live with the common people and do a peasant's work. As a king, Priam strikes me as the sort of righteous and optimistically excentric ruler that would consider something like that.

-That's how you meet, helping Paris adjust to the farming life and eventually befriending him. At first it was from amusement on your part, because he was terrible at it and it was kind of fun to see a spoiled royal trying to emulate the farmers. Everyone made fun of him, but you took pity of the poor guy and approached him with kindness.

-Given Paris is easily trustfull of people that treat him well, and very charming, he clinged to you from the very first moment. Not only he sincerely appreciated your help, he wanted you to like him.

-The guy would seek your company all the time regadless of how you feel about it. Think of Shrek and Donkey: you got yourself a chatty tag along that would be acting like you are already besties and getting too personal because of his easy going, trusting nature.

-The thing is that, as long as you start feeling comfortable arround him, turns out you both were like Donkey all along and the people near you are the ones trying to make you both shut up.

-You become protective of him, showing early glimpses of your very serious loyalty for the new friend you have made.

-Perhaps I am about to get a bit historically inaccurate in this point for embracing the hobbit philosophy, but here we go: you showed him that all what nobles believe of the smallfolk isn't allways true.

-He got there as a punishment for his hedonism, sent to work with the peasants as if they were an example of sacrifice and privation. What he found in you was someone who worked hard just to be able of indulging in the little pleasures. Stuff like a well provided table, or simple yet beautifull clothing self made from begging to end. In the humbleness you lived, your efforts were a road to comforts and not pridefully endured privation from pleasures.

-Because of you, his time as a peasant didn't become an abstinence of everything that is beautifull and pleasureable. You would share with him the best baked treats, make nice clothes for him, teach him your silly little songs to sing while caring for the sheeps or the funny ones for the tavern. He loved all of it, and loved you for guiding him in the exact opposite route his father expected of his time to learn with your people.

-Speaking of things that amazed him from you, the round forms of your body were his delight. Another aspect of you that escaped the imaginary of the nobles, even among wealthy people with the means to keep themselves well fed your looks were unusual.

-Perhaps because they give it for granted and don't cook it themselves, they didn't have the same ritualistic enjoyment of food he learned from you. For Paris, the consecuencies of it on your looks weren't a downside for a lack of self restraint, but a sign that you enjoyed life.

-An irresistible one, by the way, because he loves your body and enjoyed himself with every bit of accidental sight you gifted him with.

-When he starts flirting, you think it's because he wants to convince you of doing something for him or believe that flirting is simply part of his sparkling personality.

-Maybe you aren't necesarily a self concious person regarding your looks, but the funny, handsome companion you got for yourself is the Prince of Troy.

-Unless you would be strictly against it, i believe it's most likely our lover boy would prove how serious he is by literally making love to you worshipping your body to the last corner.

-By the time he is ordered to return to the palace and resume his functions as a prince, you are in a lovefull relationship and he inmediately decides you are coming with him.

-He introduces you to his family as what he considers you, his beloved, … And you know what? They go along with it. Because Priam would literally do anything to not loose Paris. Do you think that a peasant partner is the weirdest thing he could tolerate from his romantical indulgences? Canon indicates otherwise lol.

-Hector is so used to Paris's unhinged behavior that it doesn't even surprise him that much. He could totally tell he would get involved with a peasant, although he thought of it more as an erotical adventure of the ones usual in him.

-The surprise for him wasn't Paris getting together with someone of the smallfolk, but Paris being commited to a relationship. The whole thing of him walking happily with you expecting to be acepted is kind of madness when he thinks about it, but exactly the kind of hopelessly romantic naivety his brother carries on main.

-With him you discover a " bookish" side, getting interested in tons of complex topics through asking him about his maps or making him ramble political things just to get closer.

-In his palace, Paris provides you with all the higher pleasures that he knows and enjoys. Starting with the luxury fabrics of wealthy clothing.

-I already said this before in another post about Paris, but I will say it again. He orders the best clothes to be made for you, then has you modelling for him.

-He would get artists to portray you in fancy art just so he can exhibit it and talk endlessly about your beauty.

-He would defend you against the ones that are demeaning towards you because of your humble origins or your appearance and you would fight against anyone insulting him for being effeminate/lacking interest on fighting.

-Remember you said you are " help you hide a body" loyal? Well, … you both would probably end up hidding a cause of death for many. The Queen of Sparta on board of the ship back home from that peace mission.

-You are so adorable that when you visited she fell in love with you both, … Who can blame her?

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

im new to the acotar fandom but my goodness my heart just melts for gwynriel ❤️ ive been reading some posts on gwynriel/elriel and heres a couple of observations:

1. az for sure lusted over elain, but i dont think he has real feelings for her. or if he thinks he does, its not genuine. it felt like he sort of force himself or lied to himself to have those feelings bc of the fact that az mentioned the 3 brothers and 3 sisters pairing to rhys when he told az off for kissing elain.

2. if sjm straight up said that lucien and elain are mates, that means someone is az’s mate. she may or may not be introduced in the book yet (hoping its gwyn). we all know how much az longs for a mate. once his mating bond snaps to whoever it is, do we really think he would reject or abandon his mate? for elain? this is a guy whos practically desperate for a mate. i dont think he would just choose elain over her bc he lusted over elain for a little while.

Sorry I have left this in my ask box for a million years!!!

yay! I am glad that you love gwynriel too <3 they are such a unique couple and encompass a lot of traits from my favorite SJM couples to create their own dynamic and I cannot wait to see it play out in canon <3

Azriel is a tragic and extremely damaged character. He was denied the love of his mother as a child, and was treated like trash by his family. He never knew love and comfort in his formative years, and all these years later he has never had a healthy attachment to a female. He developed a savior complex at a young age. What people don't realize is that as a coping mechanism for this lack of healthy attachments as a child, he has only ever fallen for women who are emotionally unavailable and he subconsciously knows will never love him back. He fell for Mor because she was miserable in her life and was everything that he couldn't be: warm, bright, and capable of love. He saved her in a way that he couldn't save his mother and took those attachment issues and latched them on to Mor. I think Az knows that she is bi, but subconsciously tortured himself with the idea of this unrequited love because if he lets go of it, he has to finally come to terms with his childhood trauma.

Mor shows time and time again that she can take care of herself, and when she slept with Helion I think that it snapped something in Az that was just a drop of water in the waterfall of his emotional turmoil. Instead of dealing with his trauma and emotions, he finds his next target to transfer his attachment and self loathing issues to and that is Elain. Azriel holds the mating bond in high regards- to the point that he is so worked up about Elain's that he thinks the Cauldron might be wrong. Because he believes that the only way for another female to return his love is for them to be bound to him (which is incredibly unhealthy). However, the scent of the mating bond between Elain and Lucien bothers him so much because he KNOWS that Elain could never be his the way he wants a female to be- but it is easier to keep in the same 500+ year torture pattern than to break the mold. Being with Elain would only further his emotional attachment issues because Elain will always be attached to Lucien in some way- even if she breaks the bond. She will never be fully his like he so desperately craves.

We all know by now that SJM is a fated mates writer and is someone is mated to another, she takes the time to craft the couple's personalities to fit with each other without being the same. Lucien is one of her favorite characters- for him not to end up with his mate that she has spent years talking about them as a couple together and how they will heal is shortsighted on a lot of the anti-elucien stans.

This is the beauty of Gwynriel. Az saved gwyn, but did not form a romantic attachment to her. Then, unlike with any other female, he trains her in a group and privately. Az respects Gwyn as a person first, not as an unattainable love. He trusts her to get herself out of situations (look at the blood rite) and pushes her to do more. His shadows, which are a physical manifestation of his inner darkness and his soul, dance and play and are intrigued by Gwyn in a way they have never been with anyone else. Gwyn and Az will be the ACOTAR friends to lovers couple. They will build a foundation of friendship that blurs into being in love with each other. For Az to truly get over his trauma, he and gwyn need to choose each other for who they are without a bond, and then a bond can snap later. He needs to have someone love him without any strings attached.

(Feysand is enemies to lovers, Nessian is grumpy x sunshine, Gwynriel is friends to loves, Elucien is reluctant soulmates and second chance romance, and Emorie is chosen soulmates).

In the bonus chapter, SJM clearly puts the nail in the coffin for E/riel with her use of negative prose and Rhys (who in her mind can do no wrong) warning Azriel off of Elain. Then SJM shows us the interaction with gwyn and has positive prose and connotations noted in their interactions, that he feels at peace and something settles within him. She basically just threw in a million different phrases that she used previously for mated couples to tell us "LOOK HERE. LOOK AT THIS." And then she said in an interview that it would be obvious who the next book was about? I am sold its an Azriel book. I don't think elain has hit her rock bottom yet. In ACOMAF, Feyre hits her rock bottom, in ACOSF, Nesta is at hers, in HOF Celeana is at hers, and at the end of ACOSF Azriel is at his. If she set up the next book to truly be Elain's then she would have added elain into ACOSF and made her a more prominent character. Instead, the next two who have the most page time other than Nesta and Cassian are Azriel and Gwyn. Which mirrors what she did for Nessian in ACOWAR. Every pattern says that the next book is the gwynriel book.

Sorry that this kinda turned into a rant lol

[eigwayne]

Today's Project: Creature Crafting!

This is a method of inspiration for creature designing, for any gentle readers who are writers or artists or game masters- or anyone, really, your purposes are none of my beeswax. If it looks useful or fun, try it!

I might have posted this method of monster creation before, but if I have it's been a long time and I'm almost certain I didn't include pictures last time. So please enjoy it today, despite the weird fish monster I greeted you with.

What you do is take parts of skeleton illustrations, mash them together, and draw a new form around it to turn this chimeric mess into a new creature. I primarily use illustrations of extinct animal skeletons, which adds a prehistoric feel and lets me decide whether and where to add feathers, fur, osteoderms, and spikes without the original animal informing the decision.

That is, in theory. If you've read about paleontology you'll probably catch your knowledge of the actual animal creeping in a little too much. It's one thing to go "The original's eye sockets are the middle ones, not the big ones in the back." It's quite another to get stuck on "This torso was a mesohippus so the front feet have to be hooves no matter what." If that's the case, purposely adjust the design to be different and that should reboot your creative juices. No one needs to know the original animal had hooves if they no longer appear in the final result.

Actually doing stuff:

TLDR Short Version:

Gather reference images. Suggested sources are extinct animal skeleton illustrations.

Cut into three pieces: heads, torsos with front legs/flippers, and hindquarters with rear appendages and tails.

Shuffle each category of parts up.

Select one of each type- one random head, one random torso, one random tail.

Sketch new creature based on the random parts.

Add details, embellishments, or notes based on the new creature from the sketch.

The Details:

To start, gather your references. I cannot supply mine because I printed them out and no longer have links, but search for things like "paleozoic skeleton illustration", "extinct animal skeleton", or "dinosaur skeleton reconstruction" to start. I advise using "extinct" or "reconstruction" and synonyms thereof in pretty much any search to avoid getting recent dead animals, human remains, or reconstructions with fleshy bits and exteriors that might influence your design. Also illustrations are easier to interpret than photos once they're cut up. Trust me.

Once you have your source images, you can go digital by slicing the images and saving the pieces as different layers or images, or manual by printing them out and cutting them with scissors. I cut mine into three parts- head and neck, front limbs with torso and spine, and hips/hindquarters with rear appendages and tail. Keep each type/category of part together and once they're all cut up, shuffle the stacks.

I suggest keeping the parts in a folder (or physical parts in an envelope) so you can use them in the future. Mine are separated like so:

Also if you're smarter than I am, you'll flip your images so they're all facing the same way. I have six envelopes instead of three because I forgot, resulting in "heads facing left", "heads facing right", "torsos facing left", etc.

To start creating, select one piece from each pile. I like to arrange mine at the top of a sheet of paper, photocopy it so I can keep the skeleton images but reuse the parts again later, and sketch the animal on the photocopy. I did one this morning and took photos to illustrate the rest of the process. First, my paleo parts:

I'm pretty sure this is a terror bird's tail and a mesohippus torso with that turtle head. First, sketch the basic shape this creature suggests. I usually start with the hindquarters and back, then sketch in the upper legs (because if there are issues, I'm most likely to change the feet over anything else, to make things more logical, but the shape of the haunches usually stays close to the same).

That torso tells me this is most likely a four-limbed creature. The tail is unfortunately from a photograph so parts are hard to make out. I'm not sure what that thick bit of pelvis in front of the tail is, so I'm most likely going to ignore it. Maybe I'll make the rear legs a little chunkier to suggest it's there. The front limbs have a slope to the shoulder blade so even if I didn't know this is most likely a mesohippus, I'd give it a horse's shoulder because that just makes sense with the bone shape.

After the shape of the animal is down, you can evaluate what details it tells you. This one, despite the claws in the rear, looks like a grazing animal so I decided it uses the strong beak and feet to eat grass and dig for tubers. It has high protrusions on the spine above the forelimbs, where the withers would be on a horse, but with the low head and neck, it doesn't looks very rideable. So I sketched a rear view showing the high spine compared to the round sides. Then I sketched the feet to sort those out (this is where the "This was a mesophippus" thought I mentioned earlier happened, which is how this creature got stumpy claws on both rear and front toes later). And I did a couple different possibilities for the facial horns, with the thought that maybe the males have big horns for defense and display. Then I figured, why leave the lady turto-rhino-phosrhaco-ponies out, and figured they can have out-sized horns too.

At this stage, I add notes to myself. I know my handwriting is bad so here's the most relevant ones:

maybe add some fur or fat

no good for riding if domesticated

-if adding fur, could turn into hump (this is in reference to the tall withers)

grazing and digging (with an arrow toward the hooked turtle beak)

floppy ears could work but it'd look even more rhino-like

And that's the gist of it! After this, you can move on to a new creature, try something different with the same skeleton, or polish this animal up a bit.

Want to see a similar method by a professional illustrator using just skulls (3D rendered, no real skulls involved), with dynamic results? I happen to have found one today! Try this video from Youtube channel Jazza: Drawing Insane Creatures from Mystery Skulls!

And here's another example from me:

Happy Chimera Creature Crafting!

[calamity-bean]

belated review of 2022

I'd intended to post this around the New Year, which would've made sense for a "recapping the year" sort of post, yeah? Unfortunately, the days around NYE ended up being rather stressful. My cat was sick — she's fine now, nothing to show for it but a few funny bald patches where the vets had to shave her — and so at the time I was far too busy fretting to want to write this. But I figure it's still early enough in this year to reflect on the last one.

I've always struggled with social anxiety. I'm much better at handling it now than I was as a teen — at least, I'm much better at acting chill despite it — but I still often find it very difficult to put myself into new situations or get to know new people. As an introvert, it's just so easy to find an excuse to stay home, y'know? My kitty cat is at home! Why wouldn't I want to stay there with her?

But, for 2022, I set myself a goal. Every month, I would try one new thing. A class, a social or hobby-based group, an activity — something new, preferably something that got me out and about, meeting new people with interests or experiences similar to my own.

I didn't meet my goal of one a month. But I did:

— Join a really great book club! It took a couple tries, but I found one filled with intelligent, interesting, compassionate people who enjoy truly digging into the themes and ideas of whatever we read. The people in a book club, imo, are far more important than the books themselves, and this group truly brings me back to the good-spirited debates and meandering conversations I so enjoyed as a lit major back in school.

— Start dancing! And I have never been a dancer. I have always been stiff and self-conscious about my body; I've never been good at catching the rhythm of music and certainly never impressed on the dance floor of a wedding reception or a club. But I love my dance classes. Dancing with other people (like, holding each other and whatnot) took a bit of getting used to — I've never been comfortable touching people I don't know — but the other regulars at class are all fun and respectful, and I'm enjoying getting to know them. And I'm still a bit stiff, yes, but improving fast.

— Start learning Spanish! For practical reasons as well as simply the pleasure of learning. I ought to have learned better Spanish long ago anyway, better than the very little I knew before, and although obviously much more time and practice are required to get me anywhere near proficiency, I can at least say that I've kept up my Duolingo streak unbroken since the day I started months ago.

— Find a board game group! I've only been a couple times so far, but it's a fun way to spend an evening and I mean to go back again.

— Work out semi-regularly! I don't know exactly how regularly because I don't keep track and I do not fucking intend to. In the past, I have found that trying to hold myself to a strict gym routine was not productive. It created a sense of pressure that I found exhausting and demoralizing rather than motivating, and once I failed to keep to the schedule, I'd give up. So now I go to the gym when I feel like it, go for a walk when I feel like it, do it for however long I feel like it and don't worry if it's been a while. And doing it this way makes me actually look forward to the way my body and mind feel with exercise rather than dreading the obligation.

— Try a few yoga classes! I'm still not sure whether yoga per se is for me, but I think it, or something like it, would be good for me. I get cardio, but I need to find a way to build strength and flexibility as well. I have made a (semi-regular) habit of informal stretching, though, which helps.

There were also a few things that I tried but didn't stick with: a different book club whose style didn't suit me, a social group where I didn't vibe with the people, etc. In those cases, I went a couple times and then decided they weren't for me. But at least I tried them. And I have managed also to find time for my arts and crafts, which are not new things but are important to me.

2022 was not all good for me. I know that this post paints a very rosy view; like much social media, it focuses on the positive to the point of coming off pretty boastful, I fear. Rest assured, my loved ones and I have faced our own sorrows, misfortunes, setbacks, and disappointments this year as well.

But I'm much luckier than many, and I'm really glad to have put myself out there and pushed myself as much as I did this year. It's led to some awkward situations! Some bitter political fights with strangers, some weird first (and last) dates! But also a lot of enjoyment, intellectual stimulation, variety, and acquaintanceships that I hope can become friendships with time.

I have not made a formal resolution this year, but I intend to keep up the new hobbies I found last year and continue trying out new ones. I hope you, too, found something you loved in 2022, and I hope we all find peace, respite, and fulfillment in 2023.

[hsr-texts]

Vacation Log: Zamboanga City

Hey guys! After such a long vacation, I am finally home with proper wifi to use and I can tell you all about my wonderful trip to Zamboanga City! Long post ahead

First Day

It actually wasn't too eventful when we got there because my brother and I were so tired from the trip there and ended up napping for 5 hours since I didn't sleep at ALL the night before. The flight was at 5:40am so we had to get there at 3am and I couldn't sleep at all. 😅

After that my mom went to coordinate with the office of tourism to get us our stops for the next few days.

We had dinner at the hotel. My meal was Korean Chicken with garlic rice and a strawberry milkshake.

The meal itself was quite nice and I enjoyed that they added these chip things into the garlic rice. They warned me that the chicken might be spicy but as I ate it, I was wondering whether I just had a high spice tolerance or if it just isn't spicy at all.

Either way, we went to bed after that.

Second Day

For the second day, we had breakfast at the buffet. I got a ham and cheese omelette, rice, beef stew, and some bread with butter and strawberry jam

Once breakfast was finished, mom coordinated some trips again because we needed a ride.

Since my mom booked a trip SUPER FUCKING EARLY we had to buy food from the mall since there's no way we'd have enough time to eat breakfast with that sort of schedule.

On the way to the mall, my mom got an idea to get a ride from the taxi driver for a city tour on that day so instead we sorta went all over the city to check out all the notable locations.

The driver was really nice too, great guy.

The city tour was so FUN!!

Our first stop was this really fancy Church and I took a bunch of pics, trying to pretend I was a professional photographer codjodbskx

Then I got to go to Fort Del Pilar

There was a museum inside!! I learned so much about my country's history before colonisation!!!! It was one of my favorite experiences that day

Among our stops was a trip to a butterfly garden, it wasn't very noteworthy though since it was kinda small and didn't have that many different butterflies 😅

But after that we got to go to the Yakan Weaving Village where I got three beaded bracelets and three earring sets :D

I think my mom also got some fabric from them

And not too get all sappy about this but I felt... happy when I bought the bracelets and earrings. It felt like I was connecting with and supporting my own culture. Growing up, I felt alienated to most of my peers because I struggled speaking Tagalog. Most people thought I was a foreigner in my own country even though I've lived here my whole life. I tried to get in touch with my roots by researching our history and culture but... I didn't feel like it was enough. I get insecure whenever my mom points out that I have an American accent whenever I try to speak Tagalog, which discourages me.

But that trip to immerse myself in my own culture felt so lovely to me. I was able to learn all sorts of new things! I found out that the process of weaving took 4 days to create and that the Yakans were modernising the craft a little. It gave me hope that such practices won't die out any time soon and that our traditions could live on for very long.

So that was day two, a great tour of the city while learning all sorts of new stuff about Mindanao culture. Apparently they also speak Chavacano according to the nice driver who told us some interesting stuff about living in Mindanao.

After the tour, we bid the driver goodbye and had dinner at a Japanese restaurant.

Third Day

Yeah we had to wake up early and left the hotel at 6am to go island hopping at the Once Islas. We rode on a boat to see 11 of the islands.

At one point we wanted to take pictures near some rock formations and something absolutely insane happened during this

So let's paint a picture first:

Imagine like this very rocky environment and I'm having difficulty traversing the land due to exhaustion. I see my brother getting his picture taken because he wanted a new profile picture for his facebook page so he poses like he's watching the sea with a contemplative expression. My mom is facing towards him with her back against the rocky wall.

I decide to rest a little so I was about to place my hand on the rock but I suddenly notice something long and bright green on the spot where I would rest my hand. My eyes adjust and realise...

It's a fucking snake staring at me.

It was about the size of my forearm and had such large black eyes. Honestly it was cute at first, especially since it was just sitting there.

I stepped back and calmly tried to tell my mom, "Mommy, don't panic. There's a snake beside you."

She turned around, saw the wild snake, then screamed.

But then started recording the snake??? 😭😭😭

Yeah so the tour guide brought us away from the snake but for some reason we just went further into the rock formation area instead of just leaving. We took a few pictures there and then returned to the beach.

When we went back to the area where the snake was, it was gone.

After that we went to the last island to swim at the ocean then finished the island hopping there.

On the way to Merloquet Falls, I decided to play HSR and won my 5050 at my second pull! I was so so happy I got Blade.

Then we got to Merloquet Falls. The way there was really long, like there was a shit ton of stairs.

Though, a dog kept following us all the way. It kinda freaked my brother out since he's a germaphobe.

Yeah so we got there and there was another dog apparently and at this point my brother was pretty upset because he didn't want to swim in a "germ-filled" place

Meanwhile I was ecstatic because holy shit the falls were BEAUTIFUL

We were just gonna hang around there but then I got bored since there was no signal or wifi there so I went for a swim in the river near the falls. It was really fun. There was no sand (I hate sand) and the water was perfectly cold!

After we were done we had to go back through the stairs and it was hell for my legs. I was so exhausted I think I almost passed out by the time I got to the van.

My brother told me not to keep the aircon up so high because I could get sick from the cold but I didn't listen

Spoiler alert: I should've listened, got sick as soon as I got back to the hotel and couldn't last dinner before I got back to bed and fell asleep

Fourth Day

Woke up early that day again but was at least able to get some breakfast at the buffet. We went to Pink Beach and at first I was like "That doesn't look very pink" but then I got closer to see it up close and turns out there were little red pieces of coral fragments mixed into the white sand, which made it look rather pink.

So yeah we swam for a moment but mom told us we'd be getting a tour of the lagoon so at first I was a little miffed about being interrupted from my swim session but got over it.

We got a tour of the mangroves as well and I was really impressed by how clear the water was. I could see all the seagrass under the boat and the air smelled so clean.

I listened to the tour guide talk about the place and how the seagrass filters the water which is why it was so clear. He also explained how caviar sorta hurts the ecosystem due to how its made so he showed us the alternative to caviar, which was these sea grapes.

Then he asked us if we wanted to hold a jellyfish and that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so obviously I accepted. Feeling the jellyfish was so fun, it was red and soft and slimy. It fit perfectly in my palm.

So after that we swam a little bit, had some lunch, then went back to the hotel to shower.

After the shower, we rushed straight to the mall to go see Barbie and Oppenheimer.

Barbie was awesome and is now my favorite movie ever next to like- Puss in Boots: The Last Wish.

I didn't feel too keen on watching Oppenheimer because it genuinely just doesn't seem that interesting to me but I was willing to sit through it since my mom and brother were looking forward to it.

We were going through the movie but then there were scenes of nudity and definitely not safe for children scenes. My brother is like 16 so he was allowed into the theatre after my mom showed his ID but he got disturbed by the nudity scenes and left.

I thought it was fine and kept watching it for my mom's sake even if my brother left but then she also decided to leave since she didn't want to leave my brother alone.

So yeah we didn't get to finish Oppenheimer.

After that we had dinner at KFC and decided to go shopping. I got a new jacket and a nice portable charger.

Then we went home.

And that's pretty much the end of the vacation since we left the next day.

More on the snake

so apparently we looked up what type of species the snake was extremely dangerous??

my mom keeps saying I saved her life but honestly I'm still horrified because I was a second away from accidentally touching that thing.

If I was too late in noticing then I would've been in a world of trouble 😭😭😭

[virtue-and-beneviolence]

hi hi!! it took me way too long to decide on someone for this event, but i did it!! congratulations to me. and it’s hakkai <3

okay so let’s just start at the beginning bc idk what else to do. so i’m aromantic, but cupioromantic, and idk why but hakkai... i’m pretty sure he’s the closest i’ll ever get to experiencing romantic attraction lol. like, i get all giddy and happy when i see posts about him on my dash, and sometimes i get a butterfly-esque feeling... tingly stomach. no clue why he does that, none of my other f/os or faves or whatever do that to me in this extent. i guess he’s just special <3

that said it took me an awfully long time to add him to my f/os because he’s been doing the weird teenage love feels to me for over two years and i only started self-shipping with him two weeks ago. which is also why i ended up choosing him for this, he deserves more love from me!!

apart from the teenage love feels he’s just so pretty, and sweet, and cute, and kind, and asdghjhfhjg you know. wonderful little guy i wanna hold and kiss him so bad. oh and i want to braid his hair while he’s playing video games or smth... just casual physical touches.. idk. i’m a simp for him i can’t help it

aaalso i very much headcanon him being into pottery!! i tried it out a bunch of times and i absolutely suck at working a potter’s wheel bUT i believe that hakkai is a lot better at that than me and i think we could go on cute little pottery dates where he tries to teach me how to use a potter’s wheel <3 and we could also decorate his pieces together bc i am good with clay, just not those damn wheels. and that would probably end up in us making a ton of those frog mugs with a lil frog at the bottom that you can only see if the cup is (mostly) empty... and then having to gift some to our friends because we don’t need that many mugs plus i love gifting my friends hand craftes stuff, and i bet hakkai does too.

i feel like he’d be soo embarassed about it first and get very flustered when we cuddle for the first time but i have real experience with this one for once so i would probs initiate it when i’m comfy with it (which would be pretty early on lol) and i don’t think he could say no to us cuddling. and i bet he’d immediately text mitsuya abt it as soon as he’s alone again, excitedly spamming him talking abt how nice it was. and he’d probably forget to mention that we just cuddled so mitsuya thinks that we fucked and then hakkai gets even more embarassed. he’s a dumbass but he’s my dumbass, and he’s adorable i love him. (also i totally never accidentally did the thing where i excitedly told someone abt my cuddling experience and forgot to mention that it was cuddling. nooo. this could never be inspired by myself /j)

more random headcanon stuff but i love going berry/fruit picking, and he’d totally agree to go do that with me no questions asked... so yeah us going berry/fruit picking as dates. maybe even mushroom picking if he likes mushrooms bc i don’t but i like picking them and know a bunch bc i used to go do that every year with my mom when i was younger.

i’m bad at describing myself but i hope you got somewhat of a grasp of me through this and the few interactions we’ve had adfjjshg. (also, suggestive stuff is good tho anything implying me bottoming is a no bc it gives me dysphoria. but otherwise yes to that 👁)

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◇─◇──◇── @appreciatingtokrev  x Hakkai! ──◇──◇─◇

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□ Where do I begin with you and your hunk of a man? He's so incredibly supportive of you and always willing to go above and beyond to encourage you in anything you want to do.

□ And yes. That has resulted in him throwing 40+ mugs so you could give them away to friends and family when your hyperfixation was all things clay related. And he did it with a smile.

□ You gave took turns massaging each others' hands a lot in those weeks. He has such pretty hands.

□ You're actually not allowed to touch his hair when he plays video games with the guys, Smiley has forbidden it. He gets too sleepy and makes them lose </3.

□ You're also not allowed to touch or kiss his neck when he plays bc it bricks him up so fast. And the guys all groan bc when he gets a very specific kind of whiny, and then disappears for the night they know exactly who to blame.

□ Mitsuya just chuckles and tells them to shut up and let the boy get lucky.

□ You may have tried to be generous a few times under circumstances that the guys could still hear and well,,,,to the is day Mikey will sometimes mock Hakkai's moans.

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Nothing to say here but forgive me hakkai for i have sinned against your with these hcs </3 lmao

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Come make my day, tell me about your self ship, and get some hcs of your own.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts, as always lol

You thought your first week back at work went pretty well. You only cried five times. Bradley only threatened to retire early seven times. You only called your parents in a panic twice. And you only fell asleep in your office once.

A win is a win 🤷🏻‍♀️

When you offered him the pizza box with an innocent smile, he shook his head. "I already had four slices," he whispered. "I'm not trying to get a dad bod already." You pressed your lips together and said, "I have a mom bod." "You're perfect."

🥺🥺🥺

"Yes. I want you to ask for it." Bradley took a step closer to you as he grunted, his hand flexing at his side before inching toward the fly of his jeans. "Okay," he rasped before licking his lips. "I want to undress you." He swallowed hard, pupils blown wide. "And I want you to warm my cock with your perfect pussy while I suck on your tits." "Oh my god," you gasped, already squirming with need as his words washed over you. "That was a lot more descriptive than I thought it would be." His cheeks grew pink as he took another step in your direction. "You wanted me to say it."

The six weeks didn't change anything between them 🤭😏

"Jesus," he groaned, finally pulling his body a few inches away from yours. You wobbled a bit when he helped you stand, and you could feel his cum dribbling down between your thighs. "That looks so pretty. I can't believe you wanted us to use condoms." He shook his head and muttered, "The creampies are just too nice." Then he opened the pizza box, stacked up the last two slices and devoured them as he followed you to bed.

This is so Bradley, including the little post sex snack of cold left over pizza 😅

"Don't mention it, Lieutenant Commander," he replied with a wink as Jake set down an overstuffed diaper bag and some toys. While Cat was wearing her dress whites, Jake opted for a tuxedo, and frankly it was startling to see him dressed that way.

Jake's already getting a feel for his wedding look 🤭

"Not very long ago," Cat said with a smile. "Just a few weeks. His first word was 'Mum'." "His second word was 'Dad'," Jake added, giving his girlfriend some side-eye. "It was," Cat said quietly as Jake took Rose from your arms.

Aww I love that for Jake and Cat (even though she's still a little reserved)

"She would never spit up on her godfather," he drawled, tickling her belly until she made a cute gurgling sound. Bradley silently goaded his daughter to do just that, but to no avail.

Haha this rivalry won't ever end 😂

"Yeah, I heard," Bradley replied, mopping up Rose's mess at the same time he tried to burp her so she didn't do it again. "I'm just in the middle of a huge betrayal at the moment."

He is as BG said soo freaking dramatic 😂

Listening to you read about a spy princess with magical powers was something new for him, but Bradley loved your voice so much. As soon as you finished he whispered, "Will you read it again?" You looked up to see both children sound asleep on him and smiled. "You really want me to? Because neither of them are listening." "I want you to."

🥰🥰🥰

"Yes," he replied, clearly proud of himself. "Your mom sent me a foolproof recipe for blueberry muffins, and I think I fucking nailed it, Sweetheart." "Don't swear in front of the baby," you murmured, kissing him a little awkwardly with Rose strapped to the front of him. "Thank you. This is really sweet."

So cute!! Is Bradley now gonna come into his baking era after the cooking era? 🤔

You watched him run his fingers through his hair a little nervously before he turned toward the refrigerator which was still covered in ultrasound photos. "It's not fancy or anything like that. I didn't even know you could make them fancy when I started it the other day. Which is just silly, because there's a whole aisle dedicated to it at the craft store, but I didn't realize that until I got there, and then it seemed too complicated."

When he said "whole aisle at the craft store" and "too complicated" I knew he was talking about scrapbooking 😅

"Uh," he whispered, handing you a yellow binder, "it's a scrapbook." The cover said Happy Mother's Day in silver letters with your name at the bottom, and when you opened it, the first page was covered in photos of you holding Rose. Tears welled up in your eyes as Bradley said, "Like I said, it's not the best, but I tried. I think I should have found a prettier binder-"

So cute and thoughtful 🥹🥰

Bradley was halfway through the Mother's Day FaceTime call with your mom when he realized his undershirt was on backwards. All he could do now was try to act natural, like he hadn't just fucked his wife until she was screaming into his pillow.

🤭🤭🤭

Your words hit Bradley in the chest as he took the photo. He had never celebrated a single Father's Day in his life. Well, none that he could remember. Certainly Carole had made a huge fuss over her husband with Bradley when he was tiny, but he had no memory of any such things. As far as he could recall, there was nothing related to the holiday in any of the boxes you and he sorted through in his storage unit in Virginia. There was no tangible evidence.

🥺🥺🥺

Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pressed his lips to Rosie's soft cheek over and over again as he tried not to start crying. He'd become an overly emotional mess since his little girl arrived, and sometimes he wasn't sure he was well equipped to handle all of these feelings.

I LOVE that he is so in his feelings since he is a dad 🥰

Aim for the Sky Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley hadn't really celebrated Mother's Day since Carole passed. It was a strange thing, trying to wrap his head around all of the emotions he felt as he watched you and Rose together. He wanted these feelings to last forever.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

You thought your first week back at work went pretty well. You only cried five times. Bradley only threatened to retire early seven times. You only called your parents in a panic twice. And you only fell asleep in your office once.

"That could have been a lot worse," you said on Friday night while you sat on the couch and ate pizza while Bradley walked Rose around, trying to get her to fall asleep.

"You're right," he whispered, kissing her hair. "I only cried twice." You laughed as Rose's eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way. She already looked so much bigger to you than she did a few weeks ago, even though she still looked tiny compared to your husband's biceps in his undershirt.

"You're killing this dad thing, Roo," you told him as he slowly headed for the hallway to put her in her crib with Tramp at his heels. There was still some room temperature pizza left for Bradley to enjoy with you before it was time to head to bed yourselves, but when he strolled back into the living room, you could tell exactly what he wanted.

When you offered him the pizza box with an innocent smile, he shook his head. "I already had four slices," he whispered. "I'm not trying to get a dad bod already."

You pressed your lips together and said, "I have a mom bod."

"You're perfect."

He spoke with conviction and finality, and you weren't going to argue with him about it. "Are you ready for bed?" When he shook his head again, you asked, "What do you want to do then?"

"Are you going to make me ask for it?"

You watched his gaze dip down to your chest and stay there for a beat. It was unbelievable how much he could turn you on when he wasn't even touching you. Every fiber of your being was telling you to take your shirt off and give him what he wanted, but the reassurance he readily gave you was too hot to pass by.

"Yes. I want you to ask for it."

Bradley took a step closer to you as he grunted, his hand flexing at his side before inching toward the fly of his jeans. "Okay," he rasped before licking his lips. "I want to undress you." He swallowed hard, pupils blown wide. "And I want you to warm my cock with your perfect pussy while I suck on your tits."

"Oh my god," you gasped, already squirming with need as his words washed over you. "That was a lot more descriptive than I thought it would be."

His cheeks grew pink as he took another step in your direction. "You wanted me to say it."

"I did," you said as you wrenched your shirt over your head. Then you reached for his zipper, and as soon as you had his cock free, you took him between your lips.

Deep, guttural grunts filled your ears as you licked and sucked, enjoying the feel of his big hand at the back of your head while he said, "Now you're just giving me a bonus, Baby Girl."

You pulled him free, saliva strands landing on your chest. "I can stop if you're not into it."

His eyes went wide before narrowing. "Get that smart mouth back on my cock."

You did as you were told, overwhelmingly turned on by him, but he didn't let you give him head for too much longer. He knew what he wanted. It was what he always wanted now. He wanted your breasts.

"Let's go, Sweetheart," he coaxed, pulling you to your feet and stepping out of his jeans. His undershirt was the next thing to go as his cock bobbed, glistening with your saliva. "Let me have it."

He sat down on the couch, staring at you as you took your time removing your shorts and underwear. You watched him rub his thigh as he panted your name, voice laced with desperation as he reached for you. Then you let him have what he wanted. His cock was thick in your hand as you guided him through your wetness until you were sinking down around him.

"Oh fuuuuuck," he breathed as you came to rest on his lap with him fully seated, and then his mouth found the bead of milk leaking from your nipple, and you let yourself enjoy every sensation. Soft lips, eager tongue and harsh mustache. "You're so warm," he muttered, burying his face between your breasts before sucking on the other nipple. "So fucking warm."

You raked your fingers through his hair as your pussy pulsed around him. The delicious feeling of being so full was punctuated by his tongue licking sloppy stripes along your chest like he couldn't get enough. When he wrapped his hands around your waist and held you tight so he could push himself even deeper, your head dipping back in pleasure as you whined.

"I'll make you come," he promised, circling your nipple with his tongue. His thumb found your clit and started stroking you as he sucked you dry. You were exhausted now, but you were so close, and you couldn't help yourself from bouncing in his lap. "Fuck," he growled, and you knew he was done. He came inside you, still rubbing your clit, and soon you bounced along through your own orgasm with your husband's face buried between your breasts.

"Jesus," he groaned, finally pulling his body a few inches away from yours. You wobbled a bit when he helped you stand, and you could feel his cum dribbling down between your thighs. "That looks so pretty. I can't believe you wanted us to use condoms."

"It was just a suggestion!" you laughed. "I don't mind taking the pill."

He shook his head and muttered, "The creampies are just too nice." Then he opened the pizza box, stacked up the last two slices and devoured them as he followed you to bed.

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

"I can't thank you enough for this," Cat said as she handed Jeremiah to Bradley. The two and a half year old was still waking up from his nap. Bradley was so used to holding Rose, it was shocking how much heavier and bigger Jeremiah was than his own child.

"Don't mention it, Lieutenant Commander," he replied with a wink as Jake set down an overstuffed diaper bag and some toys. While Cat was wearing her dress whites, Jake opted for a tuxedo, and frankly it was startling to see him dressed that way.

"Where's Angel?" Jake asked, bypassing Bradley altogether. "And where's my goddaughter?" 

"She's feeding Rose," Bradley replied with a grunt.

"I'm coming!" you called from the nursery, and everyone perked up, including Jeremiah, because Tramp ran out of the room behind you.

"Dog!" Jeremiah said, pointing down at the floor.

"Hey, little dude! Good job!" Bradley told him, kneeling so he could pet Tramp. "Since when did he start talking?"

"Not very long ago," Cat said with a smile. "Just a few weeks. His first word was 'Mum'."

"His second word was 'Dad'," Jake added, giving his girlfriend some side-eye.

"It was," Cat said quietly as Jake took Rose from your arms.

Bradley knew the other pilot wanted to be Jeremiah's dad in the worst way. He talked about the little boy all the time, spent as much time with him as he could, and bought him more stuff than he could ever use. Maybe once Cat and Jeremiah moved in with him, she would start to budge on the rest of it.

"Careful," you told Jake as he started to bounce Rose. "She didn't burp yet."

Bradley smirked, because burping the baby was his job, and he loved when you saved that task for him to do. But Rose had a bit of a reputation now. "She'll spit up," Bradley warned, eyeing Jake's pristine tuxedo.

"She would never spit up on her godfather," he drawled, tickling her belly until she made a cute gurgling sound. Bradley silently goaded his daughter to do just that, but to no avail.

"We need to leave," Cat informed Jake. "The ceremony starts in an hour, but I need to be there before that. And you need to find a place to sit with Uncle Bernie." 

She kissed Jeremiah in Bradley's arms, and then she headed for the front door as Jake sarcastically muttered, "Fantastic. Uncle Hondo still hates me on principle." Then he handed Rose to Bradley as well so he was left juggling both kids. "Thanks for watching him, Bradshaw."

Then he was gone, and Rose promptly spit up on Bradley's shirt. "Are you joking right now?" he asked his daughter as he knelt again to set Jeremiah down. "Nugget. We've had these discussions. I'm your dad. You're supposed to like me more than you like your godfather."

But you were all worked up now as Jeremiah said dog repeatedly and chased after Tramp. "Did you hear that, Roo? Jer calls Jake his Dad!"

"Yeah, I heard," Bradley replied, mopping up Rose's mess at the same time he tried to burp her so she didn't do it again. "I'm just in the middle of a huge betrayal at the moment."

"You're so dramatic," you told him, tossing him the burp cloth you left on the island earlier. Then you took Rose and said, "Go get changed, and I'll read everyone a story."

Bradley had to chase Jeremiah around for almost an hour before he started to show signs of fatigue. He knew quite a few words now, and when Bradley tried to teach him how to say Rooster, it came out as Woo. He was currently reaching for Bradley and saying, "Woo, up," which was actually the cutest thing.

"Does this mean we're finally ready for story time?" he asked, picking up one of Rose's storybooks that ended up on the coffee table. "Book?"

"Book," Jeremiah confirmed, and Bradley settled on the couch with both kids. 

Listening to you read about a spy princess with magical powers was something new for him, but Bradley loved your voice so much. As soon as you finished he whispered, "Will you read it again?"

You looked up to see both children sound asleep on him and smiled. "You really want me to? Because neither of them are listening."

"I want you to."

So you humored him by reading it out loud a second time and doing all the voices. Bradley yawned as you finished.

"It looks like all three of you need to go to bed," you mused, standing and stretching.

"Babysitting is a breeze," he murmured, patting Jeremiah's head gently. "It's like I know what to do now. Oh, and Rose is going to need to eat soon."

Like clockwork, she started squirming a bit, and you plucked her out of his grasp before she could really start fussing. Then you whisked her away to the nursery while Bradley watched an episode of Real Housewives with Jeremiah snoozing and thought about how nice it was to have two kids around. Eventually he stood up to get your Mother's Day gift ready to go.

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

When you woke up on Sunday, your breasts hurt so much, you could hardly stand it. You reached for Bradley, but he wasn't in bed. Squinting, you were able to see the alarm clock, and you sat up in bed so quickly, you were dizzy.

"Ten o'clock!" you gasped, shoving your glasses on your face. You jumped out of bed, holding your chest as you ran into Rose's nursery to find that room completely empty. "What is going on?" you called out as you made your way to the kitchen.

"Hey, Sweetheart," Bradley said calmly with a smile. He was wearing Rose in the carrier on his chest, and there was some delicious looking food on the counter. The room even smelled nice. "Happy Mother's Day."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked, rushing to check on Rose, but she looked completely content. "Isn't she hungry?"

"I fed her a bottle of your breast milk from the fridge," he said, leaning down to kiss you. "Ready for breakfast?"

You stood there, taking deep breaths as your heartbeat started to slow back down to normal. "Yeah," you whispered. "I need to nurse her soon, because my nipples feel like they're on fire, but I'm starving." You realized, not for the first time, that your husband had absolutely everything under control. "Did you make those?"

There was a plate of slightly misshapen muffins, and another with avocado toast. There was fresh coffee and a yogurt parfait and a vase of yellow roses.

"Yes," he replied, clearly proud of himself. "Your mom sent me a foolproof recipe for blueberry muffins, and I think I fucking nailed it, Sweetheart."

"Don't swear in front of the baby," you murmured, kissing him a little awkwardly with Rose strapped to the front of him. "Thank you. This is really sweet."

"I just want you to have a perfect first Mother's Day. I've been thinking about it all week. The roses are from Rose, obviously," he said, gesturing to the vase.

"Homemade breakfast and flowers. Sounds pretty perfect to me, Roo."

"Well, I have something else for you, too." When you looked up at him with a muffin in your hand, his cheeks were tinged a little pink. "Eat first. It's nothing that exciting."

But you knew it would be. Everything he did was exciting. Or at the very least, abundantly sweet. Even the avocado toast had a little ramekin of hot sauce next to it, because he knew you liked to drizzle it on top. And you realized the muffins were arranged in a heart.

After you took a few bites of food, you asked, "What's my other gift? I can't wait. I really want it."

You watched him run his fingers through his hair a little nervously before he turned toward the refrigerator which was still covered in ultrasound photos. "It's not fancy or anything like that. I didn't even know you could make them fancy when I started it the other day. Which is just silly, because there's a whole aisle dedicated to it at the craft store, but I didn't realize that until I got there, and then it seemed too complicated."

Something was hidden on top of the refrigerator, and he reached for it as you asked, "What is it, Bradley?"

"Uh," he whispered, handing you a yellow binder, "it's a scrapbook." The cover said Happy Mother's Day in silver letters with your name at the bottom, and when you opened it, the first page was covered in photos of you holding Rose. Tears welled up in your eyes as Bradley said, "Like I said, it's not the best, but I tried. I think I should have found a prettier binder-"

"Stop it," you gasped, setting it on the counter so you could kiss him again. "It's the most wonderful thing."

Your fingers were in his hair, lips working against his, and Bradley's big hand trailed down along your back. "You like it?" he managed between kisses. "Seems like you like it."

"I love it," you promised him, "and I only saw one page."

You gave him one more deep kiss before Rose started to squirm and fuss. "I think she's hungry again," Bradley murmured, starting to unfasten the carrier. "I'll change her diaper and get her ready for you while you look through the rest of the scrapbook."

Then they were gone, and you were left with hot sauce and muffins and page after page of photos and little notes. It felt like your daughter had been here for so much longer than seven weeks. Bradley had made copies of all of the ultrasound pictures and put them in order. "She really did look like a cute chicken nugget," you mused before turning the page to find Rose's handprints and footprints.

You ran your fingers along them as Bradley flew Rose back into the kitchen like a fighter jet, and you had tears in your eyes that you didn't even try to hide. "When did you do the handprints and everything?" you asked him. "And what are all of these little notes from?"

"I had to get sneaky last week with the ink pad," he said with a shrug. "And I always wrote little things for and about you in the Nugget Notebook. I just copied some of them."

They were the sweetest musings. 

I hope my daughter is as smart and pretty as my wife.

I can't believe how lucky I am.

My wife makes me want to be an amazing dad.

You looked at him with the baby cradled against his chest and said, "There's nobody else in the entire world who would treat Rose and I as well as you do." His cheeks immediately turned an adorable shade of pink.

"I just love you," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and then your forehead as the baby started crying. "She wants her mommy."

Bradley sat on the couch with you and fed you bites of breakfast while you nursed Rose, and then when she eventually took a nap, he sent you back to bed for a nap as well. When you got up, the entire house was clean, and Bradley was playing on the living room floor with Tramp while Real Housewives was on in the background.

"She's still sleeping?" you asked, and he turned to look at you as he nodded. "Perfect. How about you give me the last thing I want for Mother's Day?"

Bradley's brow creased as he got to his feet. "You wanted something else today? Why didn't you tell me? I'd give you anything you asked for."

"I know you will," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and taking him back to the bedroom with you. Then you undressed and got on your hands and knees on the bed, and he was right there with you.

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

Bradley was halfway through the Mother's Day FaceTime call with your mom when he realized his undershirt was on backwards. All he could do now was try to act natural, like he hadn't just fucked his wife until she was screaming into his pillow. He bounced Rose on his knee and smiled, thanking your mom again for helping him with the recipe for breakfast.

"Today was perfect," you said for the third time while you lounged on the couch after the call ended. Rosie was cooing and giggling as you tickled her, and Bradley had never seen anything he loved watching more than the two of you together.

He took a few candid pictures on his phone before saying, "Smile." You looked at the camera the same time Rose giggled again, and it was perhaps the cutest photo ever taken. "We can keep adding pages to the scrapbook."

"Take a selfie of the three of us," you told him, scooting closer. "And then tell me what you want for Father's Day."

Your words hit Bradley in the chest as he took the photo. He had never celebrated a single Father's Day in his life. Well, none that he could remember. Certainly Carole had made a huge fuss over her husband with Bradley when he was tiny, but he had no memory of any such things. As far as he could recall, there was nothing related to the holiday in any of the boxes you and he sorted through in his storage unit in Virginia. There was no tangible evidence.

Then when he met you, suddenly your parents were part of his life. Sure, he wished your dad a happy Father's Day every year, but it wasn't the same thing as having his own dad around. But now he would get to celebrate for real. For the first time. And he'd be able to remember it. 

Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pressed his lips to Rosie's soft cheek over and over again as he tried not to start crying. He'd become an overly emotional mess since his little girl arrived, and sometimes he wasn't sure he was well equipped to handle all of these feelings.

But it never seemed to bother you. All you did was make it easier for him when you didn't rush him to try to process everything that he was feeling for the very first time. As he inhaled Rose's sweet scent and kissed her one last time, he whispered, "I just want a day with my girls."

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

I might just go right to Father's Day in the next chapter, and then his birthday after that. And then their mini vacation when her parents come out again. He deserves all of the sweetness! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

If you're reading this, thank you! I posted part one of Is It Working For You? almost two years ago! I've enjoyed writing this pairing so much, they just own my heart.

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