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marragurl · 1 day

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Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most confront in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #hsr sunday #galladay #idk what I’m doing anymore #they’ve kinda taken over my mind #shoutout to that one ao3 fic where both of them go “’this wasn’t supposed to happen’ as they’re making out #that’s the exact vibes I’m feeling when I think about these two pre-relationship #of course we don’t run away from angst in this ship #everything follows exactly up until the 2.1 end credits scene #let’s see what happens in 2.2 #I NEED ANSWERS #ALSO MISHA #I WANNA THROW GALLAGHER AND MISHA’S KINDA WHOLESOME RELATIONSHIP IN HERE TWO #idk wtf is going on there #but until 2.2 explains #Gallagher is misha’s weird drunk uncle/dad figure #it adds more comedy to Galladay whether Sunday knows of/can see Misha or not either way #oof new writing idea #next time #I need to work on tagging #this is just another post all on its own

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cambion-companion · 7 months

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(I'm sorry for bothering, I read you were open to prompts... and I'm dying, since I found out about this, for Raph finding out a very, very stupid Tav who screwed up against Harleep. Like. A Tav who is so random she-or he- found her way into the HoH completely randomly, or thought it would be a good idea to surprise him there. Really anything, as you wish, if you can, if it inspire you, if it amusé you ^^ have a great day !)

Not a bother at all, my dear! I am indeed open for Raphael prompts, always ;)

Hickory dickory dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory dickory dock.

"Oh shit. Oh shit." A chill ran up Tav's spine as they sensed a sharp atmospheric shift inside the House of Hope. The air thickened and grew laden with the scent of sulfur and musk. Raphael stepped through a whirling portal of flame, his human face set grimly in an expression of anger.

"I am disappointed to see you here, pet."

"Raphael, it's not-"

"An errant mouse wreaking inane havoc in my house."

"Raphael I promise I didn't-"

"Silence." His voice was a dangerous purr, holding the promise of tortures unimagined. "You're being here is in direct defiance of clause three section b of our contract."

Tav had never felt his presence carry such fury before. They stammered for a moment, desperate to avoid conflict with the cambion. "Raphael..." Tav tried once more, tongue heavy around their words. "It was an accident! The diabolist in Baldur's Gate sent me here."

Raphael, still frowning sharply, allowed Tav to speak. Incendiary sparks of ash still floated around his form, but he seemed to calm somewhat as they tried explaining their mistake.

"The diabolist and I got into an altercation. She serves Mammon...pretty sure I remember that right." Tav continued. "I didn't know she was going to banish me here."

Raphael tilted his head, listening to the desperate squeaks of his favorite mortal. When Tav began rambling about the state they had found his house in when they'd arrived, he held up a quelling hand. "Enough. I believe your being here was not by your own volition however..." His voice lowered again. "...you brought with you the wretched chaos of your own world into my home."

Tav hesitated, tucking hair behind their ear nervously. "Not to be...blunt, Raph. But your house was kind of, um, disorderly when I got here." They pointed down the hallway in the direction of the dining room. "Your dinner table? An utter mess."

Raphael made a long low noise in the back of his throat, Tav ceased speaking at once under his piercing gaze. After a long moment he spoke again.

"You have not done lasting damage, nor pilfered any of my treasures. I know everything that happens in my house, little mouse. Every movement, every whisper does not go unmarked." His cunning eyes now swept the foyer carefully, lingering on each soul column. "After all, when the cat is away the mice will play." In one stride he took Tav's chin between his finger and thumb and tilted their head side to side. "Someone gifted you quite the disguise, sweetling." He pulled, causing Tav to stumble a couple small steps toward him till their chests brushed. "Did it give you a morsel of hope perhaps?"

Tav winced guiltily, gasping slightly as Raphael's fingers tightened in response, his aura darkening again.

"I have been so generous with you, Tav. Over and again forgiving your wayward insolence." Raphael's nose almost brushed against Tav's as he lent down. "Am I to believe you agreed to help my little Hope escape her shackles?"

Tav bent away slightly, the color draining from their face. "Only so I could obtain the disguise, Raphael. I never intended to help her."

"You lied?" Raphael sounded almost amused now. "And Hope believed you? What a desperate little Nightingale. Her cage is well-appointed. You were wise not to meddle." Raphael almost sighed as he released Tav with a slight push. "I do love the delicious sound of a soul being stripped bare and broken. However, such will not yet be your fate if you agree to assist me."

"In more than retrieving the Crown for you?" Tav asked, a knot forming in their stomach.

"Oh yes." Raphael placed a careful hand on his hip as he gesticulated with the other. "Restoring precious order. First accompany me to the soul cages, to converse with our Hope. Second, I will escort you to your Material Plane and you will deal with the diabolist of Mammon so that none will trespass in such a way again."

Tav frowned slightly, but nodded, they had little choice. "Thought you'd be more happy to see me." They frowned slightly.

"Don't pout, pet, it's unbecoming." Raphael seemed much more his charming self now, amused at Tav's muttered reproach. "After your journey is complete and the Crown is mine, you will be welcome in my house at any time." His smile twisted and his eyebrows arched. "You have my word."

#mixed signals Raphael #Raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x reader #raphael drabble #bg3 drabble #house of hope #no tav didn't have time to encounter haarlep in this #next time #also rip diabolist #and hope

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