#And I'm not convinced Light was any worse to her than he was to everyone else

[princessuncertain]

I feel like we don't talk enough about the abject horror of Takada's death. She was alone in a church, just stripped naked at gunpoint, probably believing Mello was going to rape her (it's not like he made it clear he wouldn't). Then she had to cut her arm open repeatedly to scrawl names in her own blood to appease her boyfriend, only to be forced to set herself aflame, leaving no traces of her corpse. Like I know she was a dictator's-left-hand serial killer but geez.

[rubberduckyrye]

All right let's talk about what it means to Trick Someone because I'm full of Salt.

Here is the definition of "trick":

trick /trĭk/

noun

An act or procedure intended to achieve an end by deceptive or fraudulent means. synonym: wile. Similar: wile

A mischievous action; a prank. "likes to play tricks on the other students in the dorm."

A stupid, disgraceful, or childish act. "Don't let the kids pull any tricks while we're gone."

A peculiar trait or characteristic; a mannerism.

A peculiar event with unexpected, often deceptive results.

A deceptive or illusive appearance; an illusion. "This painting plays tricks on the eyes."

And for good measure, let's see what "fraudulent" means since I'm going to assume everyone here knows what "deception" means:

fraudulent /frô′jə-lənt/

adjective

Engaging in fraud; deceitful.

Characterized by, constituting, or gained by fraud. "fraudulent business practices."

Using fraud; tricky; deceitful; dishonest. Similar: tricky deceitful dishonest

So when people insist that Gonta was "tricked", they are trying to say he was fooled or deceived into Killing Miu. This, in turn, means that Gonta Must Not have Known what he was Doing, as being "tricked" into doing something means to be deceived. AKA, if he knew that Killing Miu was going to kill her, then he was not deceived, and thusly, not tricked.

Oh, but wait--

Alter Ego Gonta doesn't exclaim that he didn't know Miu had died, or that he didn't realize his actions would lead to Miu's death--He knew that his actions would kill her. He was surprised that his real self knew that he had murdered, and that surprised him, because Kokichi was supposed to take the fall for Gonta. They weren't SUPPOSED to know that Gonta killed Miu. That's why he's devastated/disappointed that they (He and Kokichi) failed.

To continue:

Gonta literally admits to killing Miu because he knew no one else wanted to. He knew that no one else would want to kill to Mass Mercy Kill the rest of the class, so he took that burden upon himself as a sort of twisted self-sacrifice.

I love how Kokichi spells it out that he told Gonta they should mercy kill everyone and yet this detail gets swept under the damn rug all the damn time--

But that is not the point so I am moving on

HUZZAH. The man himself, everyone.

Hmmmmmmm! Sure sounds like a motive rather than a deception if you ask me--

Gee this is sure awkward dialogue for a deception. Because it sounds like Gonta had the motive to kill everyone. Because he thought Hell was all around them, and living in hell sounded like a fate worse than death.

Interesting development here though:

"When I saw the flashback light my first thought was 'It would be easier to die'." That is what Gonta said before--and then he suggests that he had all of those other thoughts after that first thought--like that it's hell inside, it's hell outside, it would just be easier for them all to die, and this was BEFORE Kokichi even said a word to convince Gonta.

Gonta was already on the same damn page before Kokichi even spoke.

And when everyone was demanding Gonta to tell them the truth?

He did that all on his own. No influence from Kokichi. He said that he couldn't tell anyone the truth, because if he did, they they would all feel the horrible despair he was feeling.

Like if you hate Kokichi? Fine. If you can't stand him? Whatever.

But. Stop. Saying. He. Tricked. Gonta.

You are being ableist as FUCK and removing one of Gonta's best character development moments--of his kindness twisting and warping into a motive for murder.

Gonta is not a damn child. He knows what killing means. He knows that him killing Miu means she would fucking die. That was his aim! That was his GOAL! He wanted to kill Miu to mass mercy kill the class! He wanted to kill them all before they felt the same despair he and Kokichi felt!

Even if you don't believe me on Kokichi's motivation lining up with Gonta can you at LEAST acknowledge that Gonta is very blatantly talking about his own motivations and was convinced of this himself? That this was his motive to kill? That he is a tragic character who was so twisted by grief and despair that he thought death was the only salvation?

Can you like.

Consider this for one second? Please???

[bartyssimp-riley-16]

Punches and donuts - Jason Todd x Wilson!reader

Bruce had hosted this year's holiday party at Wayne Manor and invited his entire extended found family, plus several members of the Justice League and their extended families in turn. Jason had been invited too. He hadn't really wanted to go, but his brothers had convinced him.

Well, it hadn't been. People had spent the night whispering about his presence. His brothers had all shot him apologetic looks. The air had grown tense. Jason had stood up mid-meal and left without a word. He'd probably made things awkward at the party, he didn't care.

"Stupid dinner. Shouldn't have gone." He wasn't surprised that the streets were nearly empty. The snow was coming down heavily now, and a fierce wind had picked up, blowing a flurry of white into his eyes. He blinked the snowflakes away and pulled his jacket tighter wrapped around him.

"F*ck me," he cursed, furious. The night kept getting worse. He didn't have a ride. Everyone was at that stupid party. He'd have to walk back.

A soft rustling behind him was the only warning he got. Jason spun around and his instincts kicked in, the adrenaline from his earlier anger propelling his fist forward. His knuckles collided with the persons face, sending his attacker staggering backward.

Wait. That wasn't an attacker. "Oh, sh*t. Uh." God, tell him he didn't just break someone's nose. "F*ck. I'm sorry."

i hiss holding my nose, "fuck, Todd!"

"Oh, sh*t. You're bleeding."

Jason's annoyance with the fact that he'd just assaulted a bystander vanished in an instant, replaced by guilt and panic. He stepped forward to get a better look at the person in the dim streetlights. His brain had registered that it was a woman. Her hood was pulled up, making it difficult to see her face.

He gently took her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face. "Lemme see."

"Jason", i hiss softly, "careful"

It took a few seconds to register that he knew that voice, but when it clicked, Jason's eyes widened in horror.

"YN? F*ck."

He'd punched her. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It could have been worse, but it didn't change the fact that he'd hurt one of the very few friends he had.

Jason held her chin in his hands, tilting her head up to inspect the damage. "I didn't see you," he started, trying to rationalize, his eyes filled with remorse.

"yeah, figured", i chuckle

Jason let out a heavy exhale, relieved that she seemed calm and not, say, homicidal. She was making light of the situation, which probably meant she was okay, but he still felt awful all the same. "I didn't mean to, I thought you were—well, you know what I thought."

There was no point in trying to explain himself. He'd f*cked up. He just hoped he hadn't done any lasting damage and winced when he saw the blood dripping from her nose.

i smile, "its fine Todd"

"It's not fine."

If anything, her being so casual about it made him feel worse. She was being so nice, and he'd hit her. Punched her in the face. If she was anyone else, they'd probably be furious right now.

"I hurt you, Yn. I should've—I should've been more aware."

He released her chin and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Here." He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

"thanks" i place the handkerchief against my nose," yah alright?" i huff softly.

He nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I'm fine. I'm worried about you more than me right now."

He watched as she pressed the handkerchief to her nose, feeling the guilt gnaw at him. He'd always had a short temper, but this incident was downright unacceptable.

"Is your nose broken?" he asked in a low voice, still watching her with a worried frown.

"nah, itll be fine, aint my first rodeo"

There was something about the casual, lighthearted way she talked about getting punched in the face that concerned him more than anything else.

"Yn," he said, his voice taking on a tone that was half-exasperated, half-serious. "This ain't funny, y'know. You just walked into a right hook. A heavy one, at that. It's probably not good that you're laughing right now."

i try holding back a smile, "aww are u concerned about me Todd?"

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks feeling a little warmer. "Don't make me regret worrying about you, Wilson," he shot back in a gruff voice, but there was no real annoyance behind the words.

"I punched you. This isn't fun and games. You—"

He stopped himself just in time before the word "deserve" spilled from his lips. He was grateful she was being so casual, but the fact remained that he'd hurt her.

""you" what?"

He froze for a moment, mentally kicking himself for letting the word almost slip out. He clenched his jaw, trying to find the right words.

"You...deserve better than this," he said finally, his voice low and quiet. "You deserve better than someone who can't tell the difference between you and a..."

An attacker. He swallowed the word down, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. He didn't want to explain why he'd been on edge, not that it would justify punching her in the face.

"can u stop? u sound like some sappy teenager, im fine, really - i am, okay?"

His shoulders slumped a bit, the tension leaving him as he realized that she wasn't going to let him beat himself up over this. He sighed, a hint of irritation in the sound. "Fine," he begrudgingly agreed. "I'll stop, but can you please stop acting like getting punched in the face is just another Tuesday?"

"-but it is, being a vigilante isnt easy, u should know"

He gave her a deadpan look. "I know that, Yn" he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not some newbie vigilante who hasn't taken a punch or two."

His expression softened a bit. "But just because we're used to getting hurt, that doesn't mean it's okay to brush it off when we do get hurt."

i smile," im okay, but are u? u left the dinner very...abruptly"

He averted his gaze, trying to act casual. "What's there to be okay about?" he quipped, shrugging. "Dinner was dull, the people were dull, and I had a damn headache. Had to get out of there."

"cmon, lets go be gloomy on a rooftop", i say in a mock deep voice

He couldn't help but snort at her silly imitation of his usual demeanor. "You're so damn annoying, you know that?" he said, but there was no genuine annoyance in his words.

"Alright, let's go be all brooding and edgy on a rooftop," he agreed with a light chuckle. i watch him amused.

He noticed her amused expression and shot her a reproachful look. "Stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. "like what?" i poke his arm

He sighed at her playful poke, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. "Like you're enjoying this, like you find it amusing that I'm bothered,” he said. “I accidentally punch you, and you just laugh it off. Anyone else would be angry. But not you. You just find it funny."

"it is funny". His expression darkened at her nonchalant response. "Funny? It's funny that I hurt you? What's so funny about that, Yn?" he demanded, his voice rising with frustration and disbelief.

"u were so caught off guard" i chuckle softly, i nudge him playfully, "im okay"

He grumbled, letting out a long sigh. "Yeah, I was caught off guard, but that doesn't make it amusing." He looked at her, his expression still showing traces of irritation.

"I just...I don't like the fact that you're so casual about it. You didn't even get mad at me. Any other person would've been furious."

"want me to yell?" i ask jokingly

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her offer. "No, don't be ridiculous," he retorted. "I just...I don't get why you're not angrier about this. You're just so...calm."

"if u wanna make it up to me, u can buy me donuts"

He raised an eyebrow at her request, surprise mixing with irritation. "Donuts? You want me to make it up to you by buying you donuts?" He shook his head incredulously. "Seriously, Wilson? Donuts? That's all it takes to make you not mad at me?"

"jelly filled, raspberry" He rolled his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips. "Jelly filled, raspberry, fine. Any other requests? Want me to tie a bow on the box too, while I'm at it?"

"sure", i muse

He could have strangled her with how blasé she was being, and now she had the audacity to demand a bow too. "You're insufferable, you know that?" he growled, a hint of a smirk on his face. i smile, "of course"

He shook his head, fighting back a sigh. "You're lucky you're cute," he muttered under his breath, realizing he was begrudgingly enjoying their banter. I grin at him, "think im cute?"

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but a hint of a flush crept across his cheeks. "Don't fish for compliments, Wilson," he grumbled, looking away from her gaze. "You know damn well you're cute."

i smile "damn right"

He rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the hint of a smirk that tugged at his lips. "Arrogant, aren't you?" he retorted, but there was no genuine annoyance behind it.

"arrogant? me? yes" i joke.

"...can u buy me my donuts...tomorrow morning?"

[yandere-romanticaa]

I don't think some people understand just how absolutely terrifying Mori is and I want to talk about it.

When you meet him it will most likely be in a casual place such as the street or the mall with Elise by his side, naturally. The little girl takes a swift liking to you and basically demands Mori to convince you to play with her and he obeys. It is honestly a little humiliating seeing a grown man beg for something like that but it is endearing in its own little way. Feeling bad for them both you agree and promptly make your way towards the playground where the three of you spend the day together, responsibilities be damned.

Before you know it, the physician and his daughter become something of a semi often occurence in your life.

Mori himself is silly - tripping all over his words, especially if Elise says something to him. There are times when the little girl says some of the most concerning things totally out of the blue but Mori always manages to shut her up, which feels out of character for him.

It feels like some sort of secret that you really should not hear but you decide not to pay any attention to it. Everyone has secrets to keep, a skeleton or two deeply hidden in their closets, you don't judge Mori for this.

He is greatly pleased with your easygoing attitude.

Mori often sits in his pitch black office, the scent of fine chocolates and cigarette smoke lingering in the air as his subordinates give him their reports but his mind is elsewhere.

He's half paying attention to the executive's words as he grabs a tiny heart shaped chocolate from the pristine red box, its surface shining brightly against the light that is lit close to him. He pops is in his mouth and savors the milky flavour, the sweet strawberry centre giving it that extra delightful kick which he oh so craves.

Mori indulges in the sweets and thinks of you as he does so. Yes, this is something you would love.

The gifts start pouring and pouring, each one more extravagant than the last. They range from fine sweets, good wine, beautiful clothing and letters which detail the senders feelings towards you. The sender never bothered to sign the letters but always made sure to add something like I'm always watching or Sleep well.

It was creepy.

You tell Mori about some of the gifts that are left on your doorstep but never go into full detail as you're too nervous of scaring him off. The older man always somehow manages to laugh the entire sitation away and tells you to not so worry so much. Don't you know that some people would kill to have someone so helplessly in love with them? He sits on your couch, legs crossed and with a cup of tea in his hands, which you served him of course. You talk and talk and his words give shallow comfort especially as time goes by.

Was he being too forward? Did the gifts not suit your preferences? With a sigh he just waves off his men, all while thinking to himself "Ridiculous, of course they love it!"

Mori thinks you're just shy. You just are not used to someone paying so much attention to you, especially to the extent that Mori is. He has eyes and ears everywhere, your apartment is under constant surveillance and not to mention that the apartment itself is bugged, allowing Mori to hear you speak and do your other daily activities.

He knows you better then you know yourself.

It does not take Mori insert himself in your life in more personal ways. No matter who, Mori always somehow manages to make the people around him look worse than he is and in a flash he orchestrates the downfall of your whole entire life. You lose your job, your home, your friends and family no longer speak to you.

Some, if not all are dead but you don't need to know that.

That is when he comes to you, when you are at your weakest, your most vulnerable. He drops the silly act like a mask and his true colours are exposed.

Mori Ougai is a monster.

But, would you rather sell your soul to a monster or be left in the streets alone, unloved and penniless? Truly, your life would be so much easier if you just submit to him and look, you don't even need to do that much! Eat the food he feeds and wear the nice clothes he gets you and you will be golden!! Just, be still and pretty, alright?

It's honetly so jarring to see Mori's personality shift - one minute he is the silly doctor you met and grew to like, the man who says dumb things in order to make you laugh, the man who was willing to beg on his knees for you to just please, wear this cute outfit, it is going to look so good on you he promises!!

And yet, the next moment he is cold, cruel and calculating, the head of the Port Mafia. He is a man of his word and his subordinates greatly admire and fear him, yes, fear. Do not forget that Kyouka literally started shaking when she saw him after she left the Port Mafia, almost everyone who is in close contact with the man is never the same person they were once before. He will make himself out to be the best possible option and you know that he is the reason why your life is in shambles but that's not even the worst bit.

It is the fact that you have two options. Do you go to the streets and die in the darkness, be it from starvation, dehydration or murder? Or, do you stay with Mori who all but guarantees your safety and comfort, under the condition that you can never leave?

He knows you hate him and he is perfectly content with that. You will choose him in the end, you always will.

That is what keeps you both up at night, one with glee while the other with terror.

🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @rosemary108233, @itssara-chan, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ PINKY PROMISE ୧

Summary: Y/n finally confronts her abusive dad, leading to a massive argument, where she leaves the house.

Warnings: Angst, daddy issues, violence, cussing.

Notes: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry about any mistake!

୨୧

Im on the living room couch since my dad left the house. My eyes blink slowly, struggling to stay open. I see on my phone, 2AM. The big yellow light only makes me drowsier at each second that goes by. As soon as my eyes close, I hear the door opening, automatically getting my attention.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I watch the old man walking through the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. The familiar smell of alcohol fills the room. He looks in my direction, his eyes narrowing as they land on me. “What the hell are you doing still up?" He asks with a tone of accusation.

I hesitate before answering, finding the right words. “I.. I was just waiting for you, dad.” I reply. The tension in the room is big.

"Waiting for me? More like waiting to nag me, you little brat." He scoffs as he walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting another alcoholic drink.

I feel the rage burning inside me, but I push it down, knowing it will only make things worse. “I was worried about you” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You were gone for hours, and..”

But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a bit of a laugh. “You are just like your mother, always putting your nose where you are not called” He takes another swig from the bottle. I put my phone in my pocket. I start getting up, maybe going to bed was actually the best idea, but it looks like he still has things to say. “You're the last person who should be worried about me, little bitch.”

All his words just remind me of how much I hate him. Since my mom died, nothing has been the same. He started getting into alcohol, drinking every day. I have bruises from all the times he had ever hit me. I hate when he mentions my mom, like he didn’t even loved her. I turn myself to him. “It’s not my fault you go out to drink like a fucking addicted, just because you can’t stand the idea of mom not being here anymore!” I say. “And I shouldn’t be worried?!”

“You are just like her” He looks at me with disgusted eyes. “Always running your mouth, just like your goddamn mother.” He gets closer, his breath hitting my face. “If she was here, she would be embarrassed of having you as a daughter, just like I am.” He pauses. “You are just a mistake. I wish I had used a condom that night. No one can fucking stand you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” I try to convince myself. Some tears running down my face, I just can’t avoid them. I feel more and more angry.

He simply keeps talking. “And let me tell you,“ He points an accusing finger at me. “That shitty boyfriend of yours? He’s just with you out of pity.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. You don’t know him, dad.” My breath gets heavier.

“He’s just using you, like everyone around you, piece of shit. You will see, as soon as he finds someone bett-“

Suddenly, before he could finish talking, I push him away from me, making him lose balance, almost getting him on the floor. “Stop! Just shut the fuck up already! Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream, tears blur my vision.

But my father’s rage only seems to intensify. He doesn’t give up. He comes back, his hand connects with my cheek, slapping me across the face, leaving a red mark. For some moments, I froze. “I hate you!” I yell "I hate being here! I hate every moment spent under this roof with you!"

“Ungrateful brat! That’s all you are!” He affirms, louder than me.

“I hate the way you treat me, the way you talk to me, the way you make me feel like I'm worthless! I’m out of here!” I use the same tone as him, but this time sobbing. And with that, I start walking towards the front door, I open it.

“Sure! get the fuck out of my house! And I don’t wanna see your ass back here when you realize the shit you’ve made!” He tells me. I take one last look at him before shutting the door.

I start crying uncontrollably as I walk through the dark streets. I don’t even have where to go, I just wanna get out of this place. The only thing I can think of is Chris. I need him. He’s the only one who will understand me.

The panic just builds up as I walk the fastest I can to his house. Each step that I take doesn’t feel real. How the fuck is this actually happening. After an eternity, I finally reach his house. I ring on the doorbell, nothing. It just makes me cry more and more. I ring again, still nothing. Until I finally see the door opening. His eyes half closed, shirtless only with his pajama pants on. He blinks in confusion.

“Y/n? What’s.. What’s wrong? What are you doing here?” He asks with his husky voice.

“Chris.. Im sorry.. I..” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat, I’m only able to cry. He pulls me into a hug, my head buries on the crook of his neck as I keep breaking down. He holds me tightly, as I cling to him, my tears soaking his bare skin.

He kisses the top of my head a few times “Shh it’s okay..” He whispers. “You don’t gotta say anything right now, I just need you to breathe, love. I’ve got you..” We stay like this for some moments, until I calm down a bit.

He pulls me back from the hug, making me look at him. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk better, huh?” He questions me calmly. Chris leads me to his room, always holding my hand. As we get there, he closes the door behind us.

“Let me get you something more comfortable to wear” He looks on his wardrobe. As soon as he finds it, he hands me an oversized hoodie and some fluffy pajama pants. Once I'm settled into the cozy clothes, my boyfriend guides me to his bed. We lay down, my head on his chest as a pillow. He strokes my hair gently. “I hate seeing you like this.. Do you talk about what happened?”

I sniff. “It’s just.. Everything with my dad..” My voice shakes as I talk. I start tearing up once again. ”We argued again, but this time.. I said I wasn’t coming back there, but I don’t even have anywhere to go..” I go back to crying.

“Listen to me, you do. You have me, you are staying here for how long you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t got you out of that house earlier.” He rubs my back.

I sigh. I look up at him with my watery eyes. “Can I make you a question?” I whisper.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you ever.. Do you ever regret being with me? Do you ever wish you were with someone else?”

Chris's brows furrow with concern as he looks into my tear-filled eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.. Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know.. My dad is always telling me how you are going to leave me and.. I.. I don’t know..” I say insecure.

Chris cups my face with his hands. “Y/n listen to me, those are just lies. Im not going to leave you and I don’t regret being with you, I love you.”

“Do you promise me?” He wipes away my tears with his thumb.

He extends his pinky finger towards me. “Wanna make a pinky promise?” His sentence makes me chuckle a bit, like a little kid. Slowly, I reach out and intertwine my pinky finger with his. “I promise that I will always be here for you, Y/n.” He smiles. “Now can you promise me that you will never doubt about it?”

“I promise Chris.” He gives me a soft peck on my lips.

୨୧

omg this end was so shitty

taglist: @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @orangelala @annamcdonalds67 @lilo7sworld @soso-scarlettolivia @junnniiieee07

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

First of all, very in love with the digital reader fic you put out <3

But since reader expressed not knowing why they were in hell I just couldn't help myself from thinking about this-

Reader: I don't even know why I'm here, the hell did I ever do?

Lucifer: Didn't you crash over half of all the systems on earth when you were alive?

Reader: That was an accident! I was only trying to crash like...ten!

Just a goofy thought that popped into my head- destructive characters that are chaotic on accident my beloved lmao-

Kisses darling <3

-📽

Sweet silly little Lucifer with his ducks. I feel like everyone thinks he's completely aware of everything happening in Hell at all times. Meanwhile, he's just making ducks and missing his daughter and can't remember the last time he ate.

Digital Pet [Vox x Reader, but this is a Lucifer interaction]

What Do You Mean You Don't Know

You'd been surfing through the digital plane like any other day. Vox had his schedule completely full, so you were on your own the pass the time. You hopped between windows that led into various devices all around Hell.

It was hard to tell where you were most of the time, but a part of you was convinced that you could slip into the devices of demons outside the Pride Ring. You'd once seen hellhounds and succubi at a party when you'd peeked into a large screen behind a DJ on stage. The large venue was covered in honeycombs and you saw some sort of lava lamp-looking furry doing shots in the middle of the energized crowd. While the aesthetic was similar enough to what you'd seen in the sinner's little slice of Hell, it felt... different.

It was precious information you decided to hold close to your chest. Maybe you'd tell Vox one day but from everything you'd seen about his power-hungry reputation, you decided it may be best not to play your card too soon. For all you know, it was just an exclusive club with different vibes. It wasn't unheard of for demons from the other rings to come to the clubs in Pride.

You were floating through an endless hall of screens and lights, looking between the different windows into the world you couldn't hope to touch when you saw a face that made you double-take.

"Is that..." You float back and gasp as you get a closer look that confirms your suspicions. "Oh, you motherfucker!"

Lucifer let out a startled yelp, dropping the duck he'd been painting as he fell out of his chair. He'd just been minding his own business, listening to some light jazz while he made duckie replicas of his daughter and all her little friends at the hotel when a loud voice suddenly blasted over the music on his laptop.

He frowned as he looked down and saw his white pants splatted with the fresh red paint of Alastor's duck. He was on his ninth attempt at replicating the cocky jerk and had finally been on the verge of getting his stupid grin right when you startled him.

"Oh great," Lucifer grumbled as he pulled himself off of the ground. "It's already bad enough I have a growing pile of ducks dedicated to this prick, now he's ruining my clothes too."

Lucifer leaned over his desk, trying to see what sort of pop-up advertisement or virus had gotten on his system when he suddenly saw you watching him with crossed arms. Your small form glared at him from where you sat atop of his video player.

"A sinner...?" Lucifer blinked slowly before looking at you in awe. He could see your soul and recognized you as a person immediately. "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

"You tell me!" you point at him angrily. "You're the guy in charge of this shit, aren't you? What did I ever do to you?! I didn't do anything to deserve a worse Hell than everyone else."

"How should I know?" Lucifer squawked as he threw up his arms in defense... "I haven't gone outside in... wait, what day is it?"

"How do you not know?" You ask, the two of you amping each other up in your confusion. "You're Lucifer! This is literally your entire thing!"

"Uh, excuse you," Lucifer tsked as he placed a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know I am a man of ducks and dadness. Not keeping track of every soul that drops into Hell. Do you have any idea just how many of you die a day? A lot. Too many. Just. Please get better at staying alive, I beg you."

You deadpan at him before shaking your head with a sigh. "Well, do you at least know how to get me out of the digital plane? I'd like to actually eat food or let my feet touch the ground o-or sleep in a bed!"

"Uhh," Lucifer laughed nervously. "Yeaaaah, no. Nope. Sorry uh, no. Technology isn't something I really know anything about. I'd love to help but uh, yeah... no."

You groan, obviously disappointed in his answer as you flop over to the side and let your frustration win in the moment. You run a hand down your face and look up at the great devil of Hell with a sigh.

"Do you at least have any idea why I'm in Hell and not Heaven?"

Lucifer hummed, squinting at you as he ran a history check on your soul. It took a lot longer to find a reason than he expected, but then he finally landed on it.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered. "Looks like you ate the last slice of birthday cake in the fridge back in your college days."

Your jaw drops, for a couple of reasons. The top reason should have been that such a little thing damned your soul for eternity. However, your priorities were a bit skewed. Which became transparently obvious as you exclaimed, "Excuse me?! It was MY birthday cake!"

"Yeah, but they called dibs," Lucifer shook his head with a sigh. "Heaven takes dibs very seriously. And as you should know by now, I don't make the rules."

The powerful demon grumbled like a child as you recovered from the absolute bullshit that was your afterlife. It wasn't until you'd sat back up that you looked past Lucifer and finally noticed his room.

"Why the fuck are there so many ducks?"

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

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Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

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[the-little-ewok]

Enraptured (Poe POV)

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2600 (ish)

Warnings : PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, sprinkles of feral!Poe, reader wears a dress, lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming, fluff, brief mentions of F/oral receiving, a tad of possessiveness in a soft way

Summary: Poe litterally can't keep his hands off you during a party (This is Clandestine... but from Poe's POV ;) )

A/N : It's not necessary to have read Clandestine to enjoy this. It's simply the same story from another (slightly more feral) point of view.

He can't stop his foot from bouncing impatiently under the table, trying anything to distract himself from the way you look, bathed in flickering multicolour lights, your dress accentuating every part of you that he loves.

He has so many regrets about agreeing to come tonight. He hates these types of parties as it is, full of stuck-up politicians, only out for their own gain. But this one, this is so much worse because of you. He can't concentrate on anything, and now to top it off he can't even leave the table because, well, in short, everyone would see exactly what you do to him.

He wants to look elsewhere, he wants to distract himself, but he can't. All he can do is stare at you, imagining the way you would look bent over the table, your dress hiked up high, the plush of your ass against his hips as he presses himself deep inside you, making you scream his name.

Damn Jess for helping you pick that dress. He really must remember to thank her the next time he sees her.

"Stop that," you scold him, for probably the thousandth time tonight.

"Stop what?" He grins at you, licking his lips as his eyes flicker up and down your body for absolutely the thousandth time. He really can't help himself anymore.

"Looking at me," you hiss in response, adjusting your dress.

He wishes you didn't fidget the way you do, like his gaze makes you uncomfortable. You don't see how truly beautiful you are — more than anyone, anything, he's ever seen. Your smile, your laugh, your kindness, your good heart, the way you never take any of his bullshit, the way you make his heart beat just as wildly as flying does. Poe knows he's in too deep with you. He's fallen harder than he ever has. He can't stop looking at you because you're all he can see, all he can ever see these days.

But you, beautiful, sexy, sweet, funny, you can't always accept that. And so the fidget only cements that he wants to show you just how much he wants you, right now.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, refusing to move his gaze, determined to make you see what he sees.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, refusing to look at him.

Poe almost scoffs to himself. Admire something else? Not fucking likely with his cock impatiently throbbing with need.

"I can't," he leans in close to you, his voice a low hiss. He's genuinely surprised you haven't realised why yet, that it hasn't even been a thought to cross your mind. "You have no idea how much I can't."

He has a fleeting thought about grabbing your hand and showing you exactly what you do to him, but honestly, if you touched him now, he'd probably cum in his pants and ruin all the fun he plans to have with you later.

"Poe."

It's only half a warning. He can see it in your eyes — the flicker of desire. He's an expert at reading you, or at least he likes to think he is, and so far he hasn't been wrong. Maybe he can convince you to leave early. One of you could fake an illness, make your excuses, and stumble back to your room. He reckons he could probably make it as far as the lift before he has you pinned against the wall, your leg held up over his hip, fingers gripping your thigh as you tremble for him.

Kriff, he needed to slow down before he blows his load without so much as a brush of your flesh against his.

Taking a breath to steady himself, his eyes flicker over you once more, reading every micro expression. Yeah, you are starting to want this just as much as he needs it. Bedroom, lift, hell even getting to the door out of here is going to be too much trouble. He isn't making it that far.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, slipping his hand into yours. Your fingers grip his, warm and soft, suspicion in your eyes. But when he tugs, you follow, allowing him to guide you down onto his lap.

Such a good girl for me.

Your gasp as you sit makes his cock twitch, just the soft friction of your movement enough to start shredding whatever little patience he has left.

"I need you," he whispers against your ear. "I need you, now." He brushes his nose up the column of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you, wishing he had time, and enough restraint, to climb under the table and taste you before he cums, but he doesn't.

"Poe, we are in public!"

Maybe you are right. Maybe it's time to stop before he gets too far but fuck, he's too far gone. The delicious little wriggle you do on his lap does absolutely nothing to help.

"I can't wait," he groans, his hips rutting against you of their own accord, desperate for any sort of friction. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you."

He's begging now and he doesn't care. All he can think about is how desperately he needs to feel you soaking his cock, how desperately he wants to show you the effect you have on him, how desperately he wants you to believe you're worthy of it.

Even in the dim lighting, he catches the little smirk at the corner of your mouth. Perhaps you're just a little proud that you can reduce him to this. You have no true idea what you could reduce him to if you wanted to. If you asked he'd get down on his knees and beg you for just a glance in his direction. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for you.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, catching the hem of your dress and dragging it up, splaying his hands against your soft thighs, inching them up higher. "You know how good I can be to you."

You shiver at the touch of his hands and he wonders if your mind fills with memories like his does — back to all the nights you've spent together, your head tipped back on sweat soaked sheets as he worships at the altar of your body.

"If anyone sees…" your voice trails off with a sigh as he presses his lips against your neck, fighting to keep his hands still while he gives you time to consider your position.

"They won't." He's confident in that. If there's one thing he is, it's observant. He knows everyone is too caught up in their own night to worry about the two of you tucked away in a dark corner. The table just about covers your lap, where your dress is hiked up, his hands drifting closer to your hot core. The music is loud enough that nobody will hear you.

They won't see, but honestly, Poe couldn't give a damn if they do. Let them look, let them watch, let them see you are his.

He moves his mouth down your neck, slowly, invitingly, pausing to suck against your pulse point, marking you as his own, his hands pushing your thighs apart. Your pliancy to his actions only fuels his desire for you. He's proud that you allow this, that you trust him to do this. He's absolutely going to make it worth your while. Well, he's at least going to try and last long enough to make it worth your while.

His fingers finally slip between your thighs and it's like his lungs have suddenly collapsed, all the air rushing out suddenly.

You aren't wearing panties. His fingers brush against bare wet, no not just wet, soaked, flesh.

His plan was to gently tease you, make you admit how much you're enjoying this, how much you want this, but somehow his entire vocabulary is erased by the shock.

"Fuck," is all he manages to punch out as he drags his fingers up over your clit, relishing the way your hips jerk in response. He lets out a low whine against your neck as he ruts into your ass, desperate for release.

He swears he almost cums at the gasp you let out when he slips a finger into you. You're so hot. He has to pause for a moment, calming himself as you take a breath of your own, before he finally draws his finger up and over your clit, and then back down, sinking two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles as you squirm, each jolt of your hips only drawing his attention to his painfully hard cock.

Why did he decide to listen to you about coming to this party? Why did he decide he could wait? Of all the questionable decisions Poe has made in his life, he's putting the one of agreeing to leave the room before burying himself inside you, at least twice, right at the top. Well, at least for now.

He curls his fingers slowly against your walls, his thumb barely stroking your clit with feather light touches, keeping you just tiptoeing the edge. After all you've put him through tonight, you deserve a little payback.

When your wriggling increases and your chest starts to heave with the effort of biting down your moans of pleasure, he licks a hot stripe up your neck, enjoying the way your breath catches and your body jerks.

"Can I fuck you now?"

He waits with bated breath to see how far you'll let him take this.

He'd never push you further than you wanted, never make you do something you're uncomfortable with. If you say no now then he'll wait, as much as it might drive him to the point of absolute madness. At this point, he might just cum in his pants from looking at you anyway.

"Yes," you breathe out, and then you roll your hips back against him. Poe curses loudly, unceremoniously removing his fingers from you and scrambling to undo his pants, every last bit of patience blasted to pieces. Later he'll apologise about the rush, be embarrassed about it, but right now, he has to have you.

His hands grip your hips, probably a little harder than necessary if he was honest, as you take a breath and sink down onto his cock. Poe's eyes roll back and he has to bite down on your shoulder to muffle the moan of pleasure as your walls flutter hot and tight around him.

He realises too late that`s a mistake, and right as his teeth sink into your flesh, your pussy clenches around him. His hips jolt upwards of their own accord, pressing him deeper into you and listening to your choked moan as he fights not to cum then and there.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

Of course, you do it again. Of course, he should have expected it. But he didn't, and it takes every last bit of self restraint he has not to pin you down over the table and fuck you so hard you'll still feel it tomorrow.

"Stop," he warns, gritting his teeth, trying to think of anything but the searing heat engulfing his dick. "Don't wanna rush this."

You clench again and he growls a frustrated warning. He wants you to just sit still for a damn minute while he catches his breath before this ends too quickly for both of you. But you seem to have no intentions of letting him do that.

Well if it was going to be that way, two could play that game. He was going to drag this out now. Fuck you slowly, deeply, like he has all the time in the world. Poe's stubbornness was the only thing that could outweigh his desperate desire.

He grinds his hips upwards, pressing deep inside you, pulling you down against him as he does, ensuring you feel all of him. Your whole body reacts, and he can't stop the smirk forming on his lips.

There we go baby, take it all for me.

He adjusts just slightly with each grind of his hips until he finds that one spot that makes you whimper. And then he presses against it, again, and again, and again.

Oh, how he relishes in the shivers of your body, the gasps escaping your lips, the beads of sweat rolling down your neck, the clench of your pussy as he holds you still against his lap, forcing you to accept the pleasure, even though he knows he's holding you on the edge of bliss for longer than you would like.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, his voice low against your ear, trying to stop his own breath from heaving, lest you know you could tip him over the edge with one well placed word. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

The bite of your nails digging into his arms only spurns him on, making his cock throb inside you. He wonders if the marks will still be there tomorrow, something he can admire, something that marks him as yours.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this." He knows he's rambling now, but his mouth, as it so often does, is going before his thoughts are connecting. All he can think about is how good you feel, your body pressed against him, anchored by his arms around your waist, your pussy gripping his aching cock as you take all he's willing to give you.

You're so close, he can feel it. Your body is stiff, your nails digging in painfully now, your head leant back against his shoulder, chest heaving, pussy fluttering, whimpering with each slow torturous grind of his hips.

His own climax creeps up far quicker than he's expecting and suddenly he desperately needs to let go. Scrambling to pull your dress up out of the way he presses his fingers against your clit, drawing quick tight circles as you gasp.

He needs you to fall first. He needs to feel what he does to you.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

Your back arches, your breath catching as you let go of his arms to grip the table, your pussy clenching and fluttering as your climax hits. It's too much and Poe finally lets himself go, burying his moan of satisfaction into your neck, his fingers moving to grip your thighs as you writhe on his lap. He continues to roll his hips slowly, milking every last bit of your climax, savouring each little shiver and whimper until you collapse back against him, boneless.

Even though everything seems hazy around the edges in the post orgasmic bliss, he notices the way your head turns just slightly, checking if anyone has noticed what has transpired.

"Told you nobody would see," he smiles, nuzzling your neck, enjoying the closeness of your body.

"You're lucky," you turn your head to kiss him and his heart jumps. How could there have ever been a time when you thought he wouldn't want you? How could there have been a time you didn't realise he spent every night, cock in hand, thinking about you. How could you not realise he was hopelessly, utterly in love with you?

"I am very lucky," he nods, wishing he could form better words to explain just how lucky he feels. But you're sitting there looking so prettily dishevelled, sweat still drying on your skin, your nail marks in his arms, and he can't think of anything but how much he wants to drag those noises from you again.

"Thanks for helping me take care of that problem." He grins, his hands moving to brush his fingers against the inside of your thighs, slowly inching upwards to where he's still buried deep inside you. "I'll repay the favour later tonight…" he pauses, wondering if you can go again already. "Or now?"

You let out the prettiest noise as his hands creep higher, placing a solitary kiss on your neck. Poe decided that means you need a minute, but he has no intentions of making it an easy minute.

He bites down a groan as his fingers are met with slick wetness, almost halfway down your thighs. Judging by how wet you are, and a small shift of his legs confirms his suspicions as his pants stick to his own skin, there's no way he's moving any time soon anyway.

"I'm sorry baby, but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere."

He's about as un-sorry as he can get, his mind already filled with how many more times he can get you to cum before the party is over. How much can you take before it's too much? How many times can he make you whimper? How many times can he make you soak his lap?

You could be stuck here for hours yet, right where you are. The thought makes his cock twitch.

His arms wrap tight around your waist, ensuring you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. He feels you shiver in anticipation as his lips ghost the shell of your ear, a wicked grin forming on his lips.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

-------------

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please reblog and let me know your thoughts! Remember interactions keep writers writing!

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: After the incident things were looking pretty bleak, but the one thing you thought would make everything worse ended up saving you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of guns and gun violence

Author’s Note: So I wrote a one shot because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a consistent writing schedule. Enjoy!

---

You never expected anyone to feel sorry for you. That had been a pretty consistent theme throughout your life, why would anyone feel sorry for the kid who got everything they asked for? Granted, the only things in your past that might have sparked an ounce of pity were trivial, like a broken ankle or a bad break up, but even after this mess you never expected much. 

It'd been a few months now since it happened, either two or three, you weren't sure exactly- enough time for seemingly everyone you'd ever met to show up and implore you to tell the story over and over again. One or two of them did appear genuinely concerned but you couldn't shake the feeling that most of them just wanted the gossip, desperate for anything to make them the most interesting person in the room at their next garden party or champagne brunch or ambassador's reception. Every single painful, repetitive, disingenuous conversation you had to sit through served as a further reminder of why you’d left this life behind as soon as you had the chance. Now you were stuck back here for god knows how much longer, and everything just felt bleak.

A soft knock rapped against your bedroom door. You didn't bother answering, they'd just let themselves in, they always did. The knob turned and the door creaked open, your father's timid face peering in.

“Are you busy?” It was nice of him to ask, but it was also unnecessary, because you hadn’t left your couch to do anything other than pee in weeks. “Your aunt Carol is here. She brought you some gifts, I thought it might make you feel better.”

Both of you knew very well that it would have the opposite effect, the only thing you'd ever resented your mother for was bringing that vapid bitch into your life. Well, that and accidentally letting slip that the tooth fairy wasn’t real on your third birthday. 

Carol careered round the door and past your father in her typical pantomime dame dress and makeup. You smirked, thinking to yourself that, in dimmer light and with some sinister music, it would've made an excellent scene for a horror film. Ever since your mother passed she’d been sniffing around the house more and more, you were convinced she was trying to seduce your dad to get his money but you couldn't prove it. Thankfully, he had enough sense to stay the hell away from her.  

“Oh, look at you, you poor thing. You look awful.” She clunked the wrapped box and card she was holding down on the table and joined you on the couch, her offensive perfume making your nose begin to itch. “Come on, auntie Carol is here for you now, tell me everything darling.”

You gave your father, who was standing by the door looking very apologetic, a harsh glare. 

“There's not much to tell. Dad was mid-speech when some guy in the audience stood up, next thing I knew he was getting tackled and there was a loud bang. I look down and I'm bleeding.”

“Oh my, who was he?”

“Just some crazy, nationalist, militia guy targeting politicians, apparently. They have no idea if he was alone or with a group so it’s safer for me to stay here for now. My apartment is too much of a risk.”

“Bless you. It's so difficult being in the public eye, but you are so brave.” She pointed down to your stomach, “and don't worry, I've got some magic serum that'll clear up any unsightly scars ready for bikini season. I'll send you my diet plan, too.”

You turned the dial up on the daggers you were shooting your father every time she looked away, and he finally took the hint. 

“Okay, Carol. We should let her rest now.”

“Alright, love you so much baby. Look after yourself, okay? Maybe run a comb through your hair or something. Very frizzy.”

You rolled your eyes at her back as she left and reached over to grab the card. There was a sad puppy on the front, sitting beneath the words sorry you’re having a hard time. You figured that Hallmark probably didn't stock a sorry you got shot by a psychopath card.

Your father was lingering. He never lingered. 

“Everything okay, dad?”

“Yes. Although, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I've hired someone.”

“Right.”

“For you,” he noted your confusion, “to protect you.”

“A bodyguard?”

“No, he's not a bodyguard.” You raised an eyebrow. “He's not just a bodyguard.”

“The hell does that mean?”

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he strode over and took a seat beside you, preparing himself with a deep breath. This was serious. 

“The last time you saw Dr Burke she recommended that we… don't leave you on your own too much. So, he's going to be looking out for your welfare, going to be spending time with you.”

“Ah, I see. Suicide watch. Great.”

“I’m worried about you. You barely eat, you don't move from that spot, you haven’t showered for weeks. I know you miss being in your own place but,” he put his hand on top of yours, “I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t lose you too.”

Well, that hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Okay, dad. If you think it’ll help.”

“I do.” He stood up, giving you a light kiss on the top of your head before turning to leave. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

---

You were woken from a light sleep by another knock on the door. The only thing you hadn’t been struggling with recently was sleep, it was the only way you could make your days pass quicker.

Again, the door creaked open before you answered. Your dad stepped in followed by a man you assumed to be your new long-term babysitter. You’d expected someone more stern looking, someone dressed like an extra from Men in Black, but he just looked like a normal guy. He had a strong face, broad shoulders and deep brown hair. If you’d been in a different state of mind you might even have considered him attractive, but you were far too tired for anything like that.

“Sweetheart, this is-” Your father looked blankly over to his companion, obviously already having forgotten his name.

“James. Nice to meet you.”

You mustered a faint smile. There was a brief, awkward silence as your father’s eyes flicked from you back to the composed looking guest, whose huge arms were folded over his chest. 

“Well, uh- I have a call in a few minutes. I suppose I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he clapped a hand on James’ back, “just let me know if you need anything.”

Then, just like that, you were alone with a complete stranger. Your eyes stayed firmly fixed to the movie you’d slept through half of but were suddenly incredibly interested in. You heard James shuffle forwards, his broad frame eventually scooching into the edge of your vision.

“Look, I get it. You’re a grown-ass adult, I wouldn’t like having some stranger keeping an eye on me all the time either. If you want, I can just stick to the corner, stay out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.”

That actually sounded like a pretty sweet deal, but you’d feel incredibly guilty having him perched on the other side of the room like a piece of furniture. The least you could do was be a little friendly.

“That’s alright, you can have the comfy seat,” you faintly motioned your head towards the nearby armchair, “but I’ll be shitty company.”

He happily settled himself in. “Makes no odds to me, I’m getting paid to be here.”

A short breathy chuckle escaped your lips, taking you by surprise. It’d been a long while since someone had made you laugh, all the conversations you’d had in the past few weeks had been unbelievably morbid and condescending, most of them with people you had no interest in talking to in the first place.

A couple of silent hours passed. You‘d gotten so used to being alone that you kept forgetting he was there, the odd cough or movement making you jump out of your skin. Eventually, Elaine pounded on the door and announced that she’d brought dinner up for both of you, so James jumped up and helped her with the cart.

Elaine was your father’s housekeeper and the only thing that had prevented him dying of starvation or exposure since your mom died. She was kind and patient, you liked her alot. Her food was always incredible, you felt awful for barely eating it over the last few weeks but the pain from your stomach wound combined with zero expenditure of energy had just killed your appetite.

James looked from his plate over to yours, his knife and fork poised. “You not eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Someone had been talking to dad. 

You shrugged. “This morning, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Your eyes snapped in his direction. “You know you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat, right? You’ll just have to put up with me bugging you for even longer.”

“Thought you were gonna stay out my way?”

“Mostly.” His mouth curled into a faint smile. “How about this, you eat a couple bites, I’ll eat the rest and we’ll tell your dad you ate the whole thing.”

You considered for a second. Not a bad offer, getting your dad off your back for a while would be pretty great. You knew what game he was playing but you were more than willing to play too just as long as the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.

“Deal.”

You expended a tremendous amount of effort leaning yourself forward and grabbing the plate, feeling James’ gaze tunnelling into the side of your face as the two of you began to eat. You had to admit, you enjoyed the food much more than you’d expected, half the plate had gone before you felt full. James looked pretty smug while finishing off the rest of it.

The sky outside slowly turned dark and you could feel yourself getting sleepy, so you settled deeper into the couch for your third sleep of the day.

“Hey,” James leant forward in his seat, “you need help getting to your bed or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m good. I usually just sleep here.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “There? Is that comfortable? Can’t be good for your back.”

“Probably isn’t, but I don’t have the energy to move.”

“You don’t need the energy,” he sprung up from his seat, “you’ve got me.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, James had an arm anchored around your upper back and was inching you upwards, away from the safety of your sad-zone and onto your feet. A few mild pangs of pain shot through your stomach but it wasn’t enough to make you fight back, so you just gave in, relaxed into his grip and let him walk you across the room.

Your mattress was unbelievably comfortable and you felt knot after knot untying in your back as you stretched out flat, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Who was this magical asshole, anyway, showing up and suddenly knowing what would help you better than you did?

“I’m just gonna crash on that armchair, if that’s all good with you.”

“There?” You carefully rolled onto your side so you were facing away from him. “Can’t be good for your back.”

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Smartass. Shout me if you need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

You just grunted, already half asleep. It was only another minute or so before you drifted off peacefully and got the best night of rest you’d had in weeks.

Maybe this babysitting thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

You woke to the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the room. Light was bleeding in around the curtains and you could hear footsteps in the corridor, probably your father heading downstairs for his coffee and newspaper. Coming to your senses, you rolled over and suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over to see James’ limp hand hanging over the edge of the armchair. 

You didn’t need him, you could do this. 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hoisting yourself up was easier than expected but that, unfortunately, made you a little overconfident for the rest of the journey. After a couple of steps the pain started. You felt pathetic but that amount of effort had actually winded you, all you could do was lower yourself to the ground to catch your breath. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t even realise he’d woken up, you were too busy wheezing. 

“Gotta pee.” You managed to push your words out between gulped in breaths.

“What did I say last night, huh? You should’a yelled.” He lowered himself beside you, placing one arm around your back and one under your knees. “Alright, brace yourself.”

“Wait, what are you-”

You choked on your words when he lifted you clean off the floor, a feat that not many had accomplished in the past. He offered to take you as far as the toilet itself but you adamantly refused, determined to cling onto your last shred of dignity while just about managing to shuffle over there, supporting yourself on the sink. 

You washed your hands and intentionally avoided looking in the mirror, moving straight over to the door and finding your minder stood directly outside.

He folded his arms. “While you’re here, why not take a quick shower?”

“I’m not supposed to get my dressings wet.”

“Again, nice try, but you really gotta do better than that to bullshit me.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Can’t you just let me rot away in peace?”

“I mean, I could, but I’m pretty sure your dad would refuse to pay me.”

“I’ll pay you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t afford me, honey.” He smirked and slipped past you. “I’ll get the water going.”

James turned the shower on and put some folded towels by the sink before heading back into your room and gathering some clean pyjamas. You just stayed where you were, leaning against the counter, as he buzzed around like an overexcited child.

“You’re all set. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Thank you, supernanny.”

He flipped you the bird. You laughed and locked the door.

Slowly, carefully, you got undressed, removed your bandages and placed them in the bin. You then had to perch yourself down on the closed toilet seat for a brief break before climbing into the shower. Standing under the water, you looked down at your wound for the first time in weeks, finding yourself amazed at how quickly it had healed. You ran your fingers over it. Never in a million years did you think you’d have a healed gunshot wound anywhere on your body. You thought back to what your aunt said, maybe it was unsightly, it certainly looked weird from this ang-

“You alright?”

James’ overbearing voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Yes.”

You turned off the shower and stepped out, lifting a towel to your face and savouring the feeling of finally being clean again. You couldn’t imagine how bad you must’ve smelled before. You pulled on the fresh pyjamas before taking a deep breath and wiping down the mirror, getting a nasty shock when you saw yourself. It looked like all the life had been drained out of you. Your face looked pallid, red eyes sitting above deep, dark bags while skin flaked from your chapped lips. Your hair was still dripping wet but you could tell that weeks of neglect had taken a toll on it.

It seemed like James might’ve come along just in time, any longer sitting in that misery pit and these changes might’ve become irreversible.

“Still all good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, just trying to remember the most efficient way to cut wrists. Is it horizontal or vertical?”

Throwing your towel in the laundry basket, you opened the door to see a very unamused looking man. 

“Real funny.”

He didn’t get a chance to properly scold you before Elaine knocked on the door with breakfast, a smug grin settling on your face as it dawned on him that he probably shouldn’t cuss you out in front of your father’s closest confidante. 

The two of you settled into your designated spots. James immediately started digging into the plate that had been piled high for him but you held off, it had been a while since you stood up for that long and you needed to recover. Sharp pangs of stomach pain weren’t exactly the perfect accompaniment to a hearty appetite.

James placed his fork down on the table and leaned back in his chair, mouth full of food. “We gotta do this again, buttercup?”

“I just need a minute.”

“I thought we had a deal.”

“We did,” a bolt of inspiration struck as you realised it was your turn to get a little something interesting out of this relationship, “but I want to change it up a bit.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I’ll eat if you tell me the most insane thing that’s happened to you while bodyguarding.”

“I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Shame,” you dramatically pushed your plate away with a flourish, “I was actually feeling pretty hungry.”

He considered, glaring at you from beneath an arched eyebrow and rhythmically tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Fine, but you gotta finish the whole plate.”

“The whole plate.”

“Alright.” 

He leant forward again and carried on eating so you followed suit, forcing down one small bite at a time and just hoping that his story would be worth the pain.

“So, one time some rich dude hired me ‘cause his daughter was worried she had a stalker. Apparently she kept seeing someone in a black hoodie following her around, she even saw ‘em standing on their lawn a few times. Thing is, no-one else had ever seen it. I think half the reason I was hired was to figure out if she was just going crazy.”

“Was she?”

“Be patient, pumpkin. You’ll find out.” Your cheeks flushed a little when he called you that. “A couple weeks passed and I hadn’t seen anything. Then, middle of the night, everyone else was asleep and I was doing my rounds. I looked out the window to the yard and there was someone standing underneath her window in a black hoodie.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit. So, obviously, I sprinted down there, but they spotted me and started running. They vaulted the fence and I would’a lost ‘em in the trees but they got snagged on the other side. I grabbed ‘em, pulled down the hood and-” He eyed the huge fork-full of food you were hovering by your mouth, “you wanna eat that?”

You rolled your eyes, shoved it all in your face and let out a muffled plea. “And?”

“It was her, the daughter.”

“Fuck off.”

“Dead serious. Turns out one of her friends had a stalker and was getting a load of sympathy and attention because of it, so she got jealous and made up one of her own. She figured if I saw it just once everyone would believe her.”

“That’s so fucked. Is that even legal?”

“No idea, not my job. I got my paycheck and left the next morning.”

“Nice to know you really care about your clients.”

He laughed. “Most of my clients are spoiled assholes who never even bother to learn my name.”

“Really? Can’t be hard to learn a name as simple as Justin.” You received your second unamused scowl of the day. “Anyway, we spoiled brats have enough on our plate without having to learn the name of the person willing to take a bullet for us.”

“Nah, you’re not spoiled.”

“You think?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen spoiled. You’re not spoiled. I think you’re the only client I’ve actually enjoyed talking to.”

Interesting. Probably shouldn’t delve into that statement too deeply.

“I’d take that as a compliment but it sounds like there isn’t much competition.”

He smirked, staying silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “My friends call me Bucky, by the way. I prefer it to James. And I really prefer it to Justin.”

“If you insist,” you shrugged, “but I still think you’d make a good Timberlake.”

---

You managed to stomach a good amount of food that day and you even had a good stab at breakfast when the next day rolled around, so you hoped that Bucky might leave you to your own devices for a while now he’d got his own way.

He did not.

As soon as you’d swallowed the last mouthful of toast he announced that he was going to take you on a walk around the garden.

You looked from him to your stomach, then back at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“Can’t we just open a window?”

“Nope.” He slapped his hands down on the arms of the chair and jumped to his feet. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you agree.”

“Is threatening me allowed in your contract?”

“It’s not a threat. It’s persuasion with consequences.”

You eventually relented. He was super keen to get going but it soon became clear that he’d overestimated how far along the healing process you were, it took the two of you almost an hour just to get out of your bedroom and down the stairs with all the constant stopping for breath. Bucky went ahead and pulled open the sliding glass door, your mood instantly lifting when the first breeze of fresh air washed over you. You were starting to hate how often he was right. 

He offered you his arm and set a bench on the other side of the lawn as your goal. The neatly mowed grass felt soft between your toes, the faint sounds of birds and planes overhead helping you relax a great deal more than the constant background noise from the TV you’d kept switched on for weeks now. When you reached your goal, Bucky helped you lower yourself onto the seat and carefully squeezed himself beside you once you were settled. Sitting this close to him felt strange, you were used to him being confined to his armchair, and the bench was a pretty small one. His thigh was pressed up against yours. You tried not to think about it.

Deeply inhaling the smell of grass and flowers into your lungs made you feel like a new person but it was also making you a little drowsy, the journey down had zapped all your energy and the warmth from the morning sun was cosy and soothing. 

The next thing you remembered was your head being gently nudged, prompting your eyes to flicker open. 

“Sorry, princess. I’d let you sleep for hours but I really need to pee.”

You came to your senses and felt the crook of Bucky’s neck against the top of your head. His arm was around you, hand gently resting on your shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry.” In your embarrassment you sat up a little too quickly, wincing at the pain that shot through your stomach. 

“You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just, y’know, the ol’ bullet would.” You laughed off his concern and waved him away. “Go pee.”

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute, don’t move.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

He was already sprinting across the lawn when he shouted back. “That’s the spirit, sunshine.”

You shot a giddy grin at the back of his head. It still felt like morning but you had no idea how long you’d been knocked out for, you just knew you could very easily spend every night resting in Bucky’s neck like that.

---

Your shadow had been with you for about a week now and, contrary to all initial expectations, you’d actually been enjoying his company. He could be annoying as hell with his constant demands pushing you further and further when all you wanted to do was melt into the couch, but you could see that he was good for you. You supposed that being forced to spend every second of every day with someone gave you no choice but to recognize their good qualities. Thankfully, he seemed to have a lot of those. 

Elaine had just collected the dishes from lunch and Bucky had somehow stolen the remote from you. He flicked on some appallingly trashy reality show, your concentration faded in and out but every time you forced yourself to pay attention someone was either screaming or necking. 

You’d barely even registered the knock at your bedroom door when he jumped up and launched himself towards it like the diligent little soldier he was. You listened intently, your stomach turning when you heard Carol’s voice interspersed with his. Hopefully he’d assess her as a security threat and slam the door in her stupid face.

To your great disappointment, he did not. 

“Oh my,” she looked a little more like a painted old hag than a pantomime dame today, “who is that and where can I get one?”

“That’s James, dad hired him to keep an eye on me.”

“Do you know which agency he’s with?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t uncle Frank leave you the house and the security guard in his will?”

“Ugh, yes but he could’ve been a bit more thoughtful. I’d rather not have to look at that beer belly every time I drive through the front gate.”

“I see.”

You tried to plead for help from Bucky with your eyes but he was too busy giving a confused look to the back of her embroidered jacket, the one that you were convinced had been made from old curtains and lampshade tassels. She placed herself down in his seat, leaving him bewildered, turning on the spot like a glitched out video game NPC. He eventually just sat beside you. 

“So,” she crossed her veiny old legs, “did you like the present I brought you before?”

You did not like the present she brought you before. It was a self help book whose blurb encouraged you to 'break free from your own mental cage' and 'start being the best version of you'. That mindset is incredibly toxic, Carol. Therapists and antidepressants exist for a reason, Carol. Not everyone can make themselves feel better by getting sloppy wine drunk on their dead husband's money every evening, Carol.

“Yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

“I knew you'd love it, so I brought you something else.” She scurried around in her comically oversized purse for a while before pulling out a small white tub. “It's that miracle balm I told you about, for the scar.” 

She noiselessly mouthed the word scar and covered the side of her mouth so Bucky couldn't see, like it was a dirty word, like she couldn't bear to think of the handsome man in the room knowing about such an ugly thing. 

“Oh right, thanks but I'm not really supposed to put anything on it while it's still healing. Could get infected.” 

“No honey, if you let that thing heal on its own you'll regret it, trust me.”

“Well, the doctor said-”

“Baby, look at me.” The legs became uncrossed as she leaned in. “I'm going to be honest now because I love you. Your body is a five out of ten, maybe a six if you did a cleanse.” 

“Right…”

“Now, with this hideous thing sitting on your stomach, you're down to a three. I don't want that for you, do you?”

You were speechless for a second. The words fuck off were just beginning to form in your mouth when she cut you off, turning her attention to the equally pissed looking Bucky.

“How about a man's perspective, hmm? You wouldn't want a partner with something so ghastly on them, would you?”

The calmness with which he answered her was pretty impressive.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn't give a fuck, cause I tend to rate personality higher. Like you, for example, are two out of ten but with a few lessons in grace and courtesy, I could see you moving up to a solid five.”

Your mouth fell open. The breath hitched in your lungs as your eyes flicked between the two of them, one looking outraged, the other looking very fucking pleased with himself. The silence was tense. 

After a few seconds she leapt up and stormed out of the room, her heels rapidly clicking against the floor while she screeched your father's name. 

Bucky just shrugged at you. “Guess her own medicine didn’t taste too sweet.”

“That was amazing.”

“I'm used to dealing with assholes like that,” he followed her lead, standing up and heading for the door, “but, unlucky for her, I'm in charge of who gets access to this room.”

“You can ban her?”

“If I think she's causing you harm I can do whatever I want.”

“You’re my new favourite person.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

He’d been gone for a while when some muffled shouting started downstairs. Too invested in the situation not to investigate, you decided to slide yourself off the couch and press your ear to the floor in an effort to make out the words. It didn’t work, obviously, and you soon realised there was no way in hell you’d be able to hoist yourself back up again. You just had to wait on the ground while your dignity slowly drained away piece by piece.

Bucky eventually returned, predictably freaking out when he spotted you.

“Shit, what happened? Did you fall?”

“No I kinda… slid.” He gave you a puzzled look while lifting you back onto the couch. “Sorry, I was trying to hear the argument. What happened?”

“She won't be bothering you again.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Can I keep you forever?” You rested your head against the couch cushions. “I’ll let you watch as much trash TV as you want.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time.”

---

A week passed and then another, and with each day you were achieving more and more. Bucky had you showering every day, eating three square meals and taking increasingly lengthy walks around the garden- when your painkillers were doing their job. He’d even spoken to your father about making sure everyone in the house waited for a response after knocking on your door. It sounded like an insignificant thing but you really valued every ounce of privacy you could get your hands on, and it did wonders for improving your mood. 

Another thing that was helping in that regard was spending most of your downtime just talking with him. On more than a few occasions you’d actually forgotten he was being paid to stick around, it felt more like you were hanging out with an old friend. 

Sometimes it felt like you were hanging out with more than a friend but, every time those feelings started to surface, you quickly pushed them back down into the dark depths in your mind. Acknowledging them would just set you up for inevitable disappointment. 

Today, you’d agreed to leave your father’s property for the first time since the incident. Bucky had offered to take you out for a coffee as a soft reintroduction back into the normal world. He drove you out in his ridiculously oversized SUV, passing plenty of perfectly good coffee shops so he could show you his favourite one. It didn’t look like anything special but you trusted him. 

He helped you to one of the outside tables, took your order and shuffled inside, giving you a wink over the top of his sunglasses. You rested your hands on the table and glanced around. The street was busy with people and cars and most of the other tables were full, it was midday so you figured most of them were working people taking their lunch breaks.

Then, just for a second, out of the corner of your eye you saw someone in the street stop. Looking over, you made brief eye contact with them before they checked their watch and continued walking. Why were they looking at you? Your eyes darted around the other faces passing by, your panic starting to rise when another of them looked your way. 

You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your palms prickling with sweat. The quickening pace of your heart made it harder and harder to pull breath into your lungs, all the muscles in your legs started to tense and your vision blurred at the edges. 

“You okay?”

Two takeout cups were hastily abandoned on the table in front of you and a soothing hand landed on your back, Bucky’s face trying to make its way into your line of sight.

“Mhmm.”

“I told you not to bullshit me. What happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just-” You pulled in a stuttering breath. “Need to adjust.”

“Pretty hard to do that when you’re mid panic attack, no? C’mere.”

He turned you round to face him and took you through some breathing exercises, helping you get back in control. The worst of the storm eventually passed but you were pretty shaken up, and he could tell.

“Maybe this was too soon.”

“No, this is good. It probably would’ve happened even if we'd waited longer. Better to get it out of the way.”

“And what if the coffee had taken another ten minutes? You would’a just passed out while I was waiting for fucking milk to foam.”

He seemed angry, but not at you. 

“It’s okay, Buck. Really. I could’ve been hit by a truck on the walk over from the car but wasn’t, so why worry about it.”

“Still, we should get you somewhere less crowded,” he took you by the hand, which was unusual, cause he usually just guided you with a flat palm on the back, “probably should’ve started with that.”

You headed back to the car, Bucky somehow juggling you along with two hot drinks, and drove a few miles out of the city. He said he knew of a short, flat hiking trail out in the woods that was only ever busy on weekends. It wasn’t exactly the reintroduction into society that the two of you had planned but, at the very least, it was a step above walks around the yard. 

He calmed down once you began walking, the jolly, laid back, Bucky that you were used to quickly resurfacing. It was a huge relief, him being on edge made you on edge and that wasn’t exactly the optimum mood for avoiding another panic attack. 

He kept a firm arm around you most of the way, anchoring you to him and protecting you against potential falls. You were pretty sure they were the only reasons.

“I must look fucking dreadful,” you chuckled, “if we bump into anyone they’ll probably think you just found me in the woods.”

“Shut up, you look great.”

“For a three-week-old corpse.”

“A corpse wouldn’t argue back so much.”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes.”

“Damn right you are.”

You smiled to yourself, hearing the warmth in his voice, and decided now was a good time to finally ask him a question you’d been thinking about for a while.

“So, you’ve really never had another client you’ve enjoyed talking to? Not even one?”

“Not that I can remember.” He shrugged slightly. “Why are you so surprised, anyway? We both know how many assholes there are out there.”

“True. I just think you’re easy to talk to, I guess. I’m surprised no-one else made the effort.”

“That’s sweet of you doll, but you should know that just letting me sit by you was completely new for me. I usually don’t even get a chair, never mind a conversation.”

“Brutal. I’m glad the shelter rehomed you with us.”

“Me too.” 

You laughed for a second before realising that all this talking had used up your pitiful lung capacity. You came to a stop, Bucky quickly moving to stand in front of you. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, I could just use a break.”

“Take as long as you need,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, “we can sit for a while if you want.”

“I’m good.”

Without thinking, you placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself, immediately realising that it was kind of a weird thing to do. Your eyes shot up to his but he was just smiling softly, seemingly unbothered. 

The two of you held that position for what felt like an age. 

Then, slowly, cautiously, his hands moved down to rest on your lower back, just above your hips. He stepped in closer and your hands tensed, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. He lowered his head, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. You eagerly reciprocated, curling a hand around the back of his neck in a feeble attempt to keep him there as long as you could. It fell, however, when he abruptly pulled away, your arms going limp at your sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, I-”

“It’s not. Jesus, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” He rubbed his eyes. “We should get back.”

“Can you just wait for a second? I’m not-”

“No.” He was stern, he’d never talked to you like that before. “We’re going back to the car, now.”

You were too shocked to argue. The walk back was tense and the drive home was the same, you looked over at him a few times but his stony expression encouraged you to keep quiet. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had he in your eyes, but you really had to keep reminding yourself of that. It felt like you’d committed a crime. 

Once home, you headed up to your room but he didn’t follow, which was unusual. When your father knocked on your door later and told you that Bucky had removed himself from duty, you weren’t surprised. He claimed that a big job had come up out of nowhere. 

He never even said goodbye.

---

You hadn’t so much as heard from Bucky since he left over a month ago. You’d maintained all his rituals and kept your healing process on track, adapting your daily walks so you could do them alone, sticking nearby walls and railings. It was a real struggle, emotionally and physically, but you were determined not to let him abandoning you knock you off course. You didn’t even let yourself cry when he left. You were just angry. 

So, naturally, when a chance for you to prove to yourself how far you’d progressed without him came around, you jumped at it. A friend of your father’s was throwing a birthday party for his daughter, you’d never been able to stand her but you hadn’t had a proper drink since the incident- and the booze there would be insanely expensive stuff. Plus, you’d been pining for any excuse to wear something other than pyjamas.

You strolled into the party, arm in arm with your father, and you felt good. You felt ready to be there. That was, until you saw who was working security detail. You barely recognised him in the full black bodyguard suit, you were so used to a t-shirt and jeans, but it was definitely him. Your evening was instantly ruined as you started mentally plotting the best way to avoid him.

You decided a good first step was to head straight to the bathroom to compose yourself, giving yourself the same pep talk in the mirror that you’d given the day after he left. You’d come too far to let him fuck up your first big outing. You dabbed the nervous sweat from your upper lip, adjusted your outfit and gave yourself a nod. You could do this. You just needed to stay away.

Wandering back into the party, you looked around for your father, the only person in the room you had any interest in talking to. You heard your name being called over the music and turned towards it. There he was, standing beside Bucky, beckoning you over. 

So your plan was fucked, then. 

Your stomach tightened. You grabbed a drink from a nearby table and moved over reluctantly.

“There you are. Listen, James was just telling me about the big job he was called to, it sounds incredibly interesting.”

“Oh, really?” 

You took a big gulp of champagne, wondering if Bucky’s fictitious story was as good as the real one he’d told you over breakfast that time. Or maybe that one was all made up, too. You glanced over and accidentally caught his eye for a second, but he quickly broke away and looked back at your father. 

“I probably shouldn’t go into any more detail.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't want you getting in trouble.” You involuntarily scoffed at your father’s words but managed to play it off as a cough. “It’s such a shame, though. You two seemed to really be getting on well together.” 

Your father looked back and forth between the two of you like he was watching a tennis match, unaware of how painfully awkward the lingering silence was. You finished off your champagne and grabbed a fresh glass from a passing waiter, looking around the room for any excuse to leave this conversation. Unfortunately, your father found one first. 

“Ah, there’s the birthday girl, I’d better go pass on some well wishes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

You cringed as he walked away. Quickly deciding that it was better to not even attempt conversation, you just silently nodded at Bucky and turned to leave. You didn’t get far, however, as he grabbed hold of your arm and stepped towards you. 

“Can we talk?”

You were incredibly shocked but tried to play it off. “I guess."

“In private?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you glared down at his hand, “but I would like it if you let go of my arm.”

“Sorry.” 

He released his grip and you took a small step away, putting a safe distance between your faces. You were still pissed off at him, that much was for sure, but you weren’t ready to trust yourself being in such close proximity to him again. Anything could happen. 

“I get why you’re pissed at me, I would be too. I just need to explain.”

“I know why you did what you did, Buck. You don’t need-”

“Please. Someone’s taking over my shift in ten minutes, will you meet me upstairs?”

“Upstairs? Like, past the rope with the big no guests allowed sign?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sneak past,” he smirked slightly, “I heard the security here sucks.”

He was right, too. You got up there with absolutely no trouble whatsoever. 

All of the doors off the hallway were closed apart from one, at the very end. You took a gamble and slowly approached, peeking your head round to see Bucky perched on the edge of a huge bed. He shot up when he spotted you in the doorway.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird, it's the only room that wasn’t locked or, y’know… occupied.”

“Lovely.”

He nodded and gave you a smile. “You look great. Amazing, actually. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” his smile melted you a little, “mostly thanks to you.” 

“Ah, you would’a been fine, I just annoyed you into being fine a bit sooner.”

You nervously rubbed the back of your head, in disbelief at how quickly he’d broken through your thick wall of resentment. You scrambled around trying to gather up some of the bricks and rebuild but being in the presence of that slick motherfucker was making it really difficult. 

You gathered your thoughts, took a breath and spoke. 

“Buck, like I said downstairs, you don’t need to explain. Obviously making out with your clients is a fireable offence, I get that, so you had to leave. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“You think I left ‘cause of that? You think some shitty job is more important to me than you?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“Jesus, I really am an asshole.” You gave him a confused frown as he reached out and took both of your hands in his. “Look, I couldn’t give a shit about this job, there’s bodyguarding positions everywhere and most of them don’t involve babysitting rich assholes. I left ‘cause I felt like I’d taken advantage of you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Huh?”

“You were in a bad place. You were vulnerable and I was supposed to be looking after you, not- y’know...”

“Sucking face?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Right, but you do remember that I’m not a child, yeah? Just because I’m feeling shitty doesn’t mean I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“But it does mean your judgement is at least a little impaired.”

“Fine, whatever, but it isn’t anymore.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’m telling you now as a fully sane, rational adult that you didn’t do anything wrong. Alright?”

A relieved smile spread across his face. “Alright.”

“Good, cause I made a decision and I’m sticking to it.

“Might be a bad decision.”

“Sometimes bad decisions are more fun.”

“You can say that again.”

Your second kiss with Bucky was, somehow, even better. He was more sure of himself this time, less cautious, he moved in quicker. You did the same, wrapping both arms around his neck and letting him take some of your weight. You felt him smile against you as a hand dived into the back of your hair.

Now this was a kiss worth being fired for. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “For the record, the first time wasn’t a mistake. It was a… happy accident.”

“Whatever you say,” you chuckled, “I’m just glad we bumped into each other again.”

“Oh, we didn’t. I took this job after checking the guestlist.”

“You sneaky fucker.”

“You know it.”

---

[vikkirosko]

Hiiii! How have you been? What's new in life?^^ 🫶

This time, I request something different....I saw Adventure Time, and I got really excited!! The nostalgia of it!

(Fionna, Marshall Lee, Prince Gumball and Flame Prince) A tall male reader that a gentle soul and a pretty chill one too. Okay, he's a bit older, but it makes him wiser. His power often affects the weather. If he's sad, it's raining. If he's happy, expect a rainbow. If he's chill and calm, it's sunny if he's angry or furious, storm and so on worse. What's would it be like for the characters when they would start dating? Sure, the m/reader would be caring and fun too! He's up for adventure, and there's no hesitation to help out and protect his lover. For example, if they go hurt by an enemy or someone insulted them, m/reader would strike a lighting at the enemy right away.

M/reader is a hard-working person and a mystery one, too. He would sometimes disappear and appear at random times like teleportation(but it's not it). Imagine: The lover is sleeping, and when they wake up, they see gifts from him and a delicious breakfast in bed as well. 😍🤌

-From 🌻Sunflower Anon.

Hi! I'm all good. From the new one... I got an internship for my studies at the editorial office of a local newspaper. And how are you doing? I hope everything is fine

Headcanons Relationships

🐰 Fionna Campbell x male!Reader 🗡

Fionna wasn't very lucky in a romantic relationship. She was unrequitedly in love, and her other relationships ended and it was hard for her after this breakup. That's why when you started dating, she felt a little anxious. She really liked you, but she was afraid of getting burned again. But pretty quickly she realized that you were very different from those she was in love with before

You were a little older than her and initially, when you first met, you seemed quite distant to her, but when she got to know you better, she realized that you were kind, caring and gentle. You were ready to keep her company during the adventure and were ready to protect her if she was in danger. You also took great care of her. In the morning, you often left various gifts in her room or even breakfast practically in bed. Most of the time, at such moments you were no longer in her house, but you always left her nice notes, wishing her a good morning

You had an unusual ability that helped her better understand what emotions you were experiencing. Your emotions influenced the weather at some distance around you. When you were with Fionna, the sun was always shining and there could even be a rainbow in the sky. One day she went to visit you and saw how it was raining. As it turned out, you were upset. The weather seemed to reflect your emotions, and thanks to Fionna, you could see a rainbow in the sky more and more often

Fionna was so happy in a relationship for the first time. You didn't have to come up with any ways to be together or hide your feelings from each other. She was sure that you would be really happy together

🍬 Prince Gumball x male!Reader ⚗️

You and Gumball have known each other for a very long time, even longer than anyone could have imagined. You were a couple and often spent time together. Everyone knew that when there was a clear sky and a rainbow in the sky above Candy Kingdom, it means that today you visited him. Your emotions influenced the weather and you were always happy when you saw him

Sometimes there were quarrels between you because Gumball worked too hard. You were worried about him and often left various small gifts and snacks in his laboratory, hoping that he would get a little distracted. He never heard you come in and you never told him how you came to him so quietly

Several times, when you knew that Gumball had been working non-stop for several days, you tried to convince him to take a break, and because of this you quarreled. At such moments, the weather seemed to go crazy. At first, a strong wind began to blow outside and a thunderstorm began. It meant you were angry. Then you left, realizing that your quarrel would lead to nothing. It usually started to rain heavily at such moments. The only thing that calmed Gumball at least a little was that the rain did not disappear, which means you were somewhere nearby, and soon he was already coming to you to apologize

Gumball was glad that there was a man like you in his life. You could help him when he faced difficult tasks that he could think about for several days, you could protect him in case of danger, you were there when he needed support. He could be calm around you, because he knew that he could always rely on you

🎸 Marshall Lee x male!Reader 🦇

Marshall Lee met you when he was caught in a thunderstorm and hid from it in the woods, where he found you. You were angry and it would seem that the weather didn't bother you at all. When he asked you what you were doing there, he heard something that had been accumulating in you for a long time. The more you talked, the stronger the storm became, until at some point you exhaled, calmed down, and with you the weather calmed down and the sun came out in the sky. That day, you both found a good friend, and later found out that not just a friend, but something more

You were a frequent visitor to his house. Marshall enjoyed spending time with you. You kept him company while he was writing songs, you watched movies together. In the mornings, he often found small gifts in his living room and he found breakfast on the bedside table. Marshall knew that you were the one who left it. You took care of him and he appreciated it

You often accompanied him and were always ready to go on adventures with him. However, if someone insulted him, then your usual calm and relaxation collapsed. You wouldn't let anyone hurt him and you'd get angry if someone insulted him. Marshall easily understood your emotions, because the weather changed from this, but those who did not know you only wondered how sharply a calm, sunny day changed so much

You and Marshall were different. He liked noisy parties and often arranged concerts, while you usually preferred a relaxed atmosphere, but despite this, you felt really happy next to each other. It would seem that everyone knew about this, because it was not so often possible to see a permanent rainbow in the sky before, which now practically screamed about your happiness

🔥 Flame Prince x male!Reader 🎧

Flame Prince has not left the castle for a long time. He grew up locked up and when he finally left the castle he was able to take a deep breath. He wandered around for a long time, trying to cope with his anger, until he came across you. You were surprisingly relaxed and his appearance didn't bother you. Even when he got angry, you weren't scared. On the contrary, you tried to help him calm down. As it turned out later, you perfectly understood what it was like when others could suffer from your emotions, even if you didn't want to

You were able to get along quickly. You taught him to control his emotions and over time he began to notice that when you were around, the weather was just fine. There was not a cloud in the sky and there was a rainbow. When he asked how this was possible, you told him that the reason for this was that your emotions were related to the weather. When you were happy, the sun was shining in the sky and there was a rainbow. You were happy with him. This prompted you to tell him about your feelings. At that moment, he himself seemed ready to start shining

You tried to take care of him. He often found breakfast in his room in the morning, which you left for him, and sometimes you left various gifts. Sometimes it seemed to him that you could teleport, but that wasn't the case. Flame Prince has asked you several times how your other emotions affect the weather. You told him that when you're angry, a storm starts, and when you're upset, it rains, but since the day you met, you've had no reason to be sad. He saw your anger, because you were angry when someone insulted him

You were one of the first people he could trust. You accepted him for who he was, despite the outbursts he had. He was really happy with you. Even if a terrible downpour started outside, he wouldn't be afraid, knowing that you would be there to help him. He was safe with you no matter what

[merrinla]

Lift the Shadow Curse. Cut content. Part II

In continuation to previous post. This part is mostly about the cut lines.

Upon arrival in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Halsin's comments about this place were slightly different from what we hear in the game.

You'd think all the years passed by would dull the pain of seeing this place again. But no.

An endless sea of silence and shadow. Except for one island of hope. [Last Light Inn]

Any words I could muster would underestimate the horror of this place.

This land has been flooded with shadow right from Shar's own domain. It poisons what grows and corrupts those who linger.

The shadow curse grips the land tighter than ever. It must be stopped. It will be stopped.

He also told you the story about Ketheric and the shadow curse.

He was once warden of these lands, a knight sworn to Selune. But he lost his daughter, and his broken heart proved easily tempted.

Shar embraced him, and he turned Moonrise Towers into a citadel in her name.

The druids and harpers formed an alliance a hundred years ago to put an end to his madness. But we only made it worse.

He was our target, the reason we attacked Moonrise, and we vanquished him. His death blow should have been the end of it.

Instead, Shar answered his prayers, and he unleashed her darkness into this world.

I was there when the curse was unleashed. Many of us marched on Moonrise Towers. Few managed to get away, because of Ketheric Thorm.

When he mentioned Thaniel there was some sort of explanation why he couldn't join us in the search. He tried to find the boy's trace through meditation. Better than nothing. Because in the game he stands and literally does nothing.

He is the heart of this land, imprisoned in the depths of the Shadowfell when the curse was unleashed.

While he suffered there, nature could not heal, just as surely as a man cannot heal while there is poison in his heart.

He must be somewhere out there. I need to find some trace of what happened, so I can bring him home and end this.

Now I must meditate. Listen for Thaniel's presence and beg the Oakfather's strength for what lies next. If you find anything, come to me. Please.

By the way it seems Thaniel had a different name in the early version.

His name is Elwood, but he is not a child as you would normally understand.

Just like in early access, you could argue with Halsin, but these lines were cut out. At first he tried to convince you calmly that you have common goals.

Getting what you need at Moonrise and lifting the curse are two sides of the same coin. You'll need to know what you're facing.

But if you were to take action, should the opportunity present itself? Then perhaps we can both get what we desire.

Of course, but your efforts to rid yourself of the parasite will no doubt further my aim as well.

Keep your focus on the parasite if you must, but please, if you learn anything that might help restore Thaniel and lift the curse. Let me know.

But if you kept insisting that the shadow curse wasn't your problem, he started to get annoyed.

This is everyone's problem. The shadows will find you wherever you hide and no matter how fast you run.

The point is that it's taken a century for me to even begin to understand this curse. Dismiss its power at your own risk.

The point is that ridding yourself of the illithid parasite will be all the more difficult thanks to the curse. Heat the warning or suffer the consequences.

Keep telling yourself that, Sharran. Pretend that your eyes deceive you. But the curse will hamper your search for a cure no matter your beliefs. [if the player is Shar worshipper]

And the last thing. I'm not sure if this is related to Halsin's quest, but I'll mention it anyway. According to some flags, Halsin and Jaheira also had disagreements. There should have been a dialogue in the game where they were arguing in the camp when you ended the day, but other details are unknown.

[aylish91]

Hello there! I'm a really big fan of all the stories you write, especially Sea of Hope and the zombie apocalypse one (even though there's literally just one chapter of it LOL) and I know you're working on other stories and other things, and don't really like spoiling stuff, but.... Could we possibly get a few crumbs about more of that story? Please? 🥺🙏 Or maybe a little bit of information about zombie skeleton Y/N? Like since there are zombie do they have a couple bones missing? Like a couple ribs, or like do they have any eyelights or are there sockets completely blank? But if that stuff does count as too much of a spoiler, I understand. Again though love all the stuff you write! ❤️

Hello!!! I am so glad you like them! I absolutely love asks like these!!! Thank you so much!!!

MC in Zombietale is remarkably intact for a zombie, though they do have noticeably large cracks on her left leg. They are also a lot less morbid considering some of the "others", but still gross. Especially in the beginning. Most everything else are masses of flesh and... other, stuff... In the prologue/first chapter, they lose their flesh to become the skelereader we will come to know. However, without being able to bathe or have a good scrub, there is bound to be icky and grime. Bone on bone just doesn't work that great, you know? Eye lights are a red purple. I envision their hands and feet being, almost stained black, from all the gore they have to deal with in territory battles and the like.

~~~

On a side note, I may not have the full chapter, and it hasn't been edited. But~ I will let you read it~

I actually really like this one and need to finish it. At the moment, it is one of four story chapters that are currently being worked on. Sea of hope, (You, Your Children, and a Skeletal Island)?, and Lonesome West being the others.

Hope you enjoy!

~~~

ZombieTale Ch. 1?2 (1/2)

You stirred from your tranced sleep with a hissed sigh. There was a disturbance to the north. A not so foreign horde was currently mixing with some of yours and picking up into a frenzy. It was irritating, but sometimes it happened. What made it particularly annoying was that, because of the size and distance between the lot of you, you couldn’t quite get a good enough hold of their energy to stop and disperse them. You would have to go yourself to see what it was all about.

Another hiss left you through your links.

‘Stupid FROG!’

Your unruly “neighbor” was about to get a beat down if he was still around when you arrived. He might be a mousey cowardly little shit, but his greed sure caused you a lot of problems. At this point, you were starting to contemplate consuming his life energy so you wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. It was amazing none of the others hadn’t already.

The guy was a menace. Not strong enough to hold much territory, but bold enough to raid everyone around him. You wondered how many hordes you alone had commandeered from him during such raids. It was only a matter of time before he overstepped a little too far.

Internally grumbling, you uncurled from your makeshift nest of salvaged blankets and cloth.

It was time for damage control.

…

It was worse than you imagined. It had taken longer than you would have liked to get to the border. Carnage laid in wait. The little slimy bastard had chased an entire group into your territory. Evidence of heavy magic use along with bodies from both hordes scattered the streets and open spaces. He must have pushed hard with the amount of fallen still condensed within the area.

The dirty bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to leave once you arrived, casting his energy out as if it would convince you to leave. It only served to piss you off more, letting you know just how agitated and hungry he had become. You flooded the area with intent in retaliation, stunning the jerk enough to let you finally catch up.

The warehouse you found yourself at was brimming with chaos. The entire front and most of both sides of the building were swarming with broken frenzied bodies. A large garage door lay broken and trampled as bodies clawed their way inside. The idiot must have brought half of his entire arsenal to catch whatever prey he had cornered, dragging several hardy groups from your own border along with him.

Then you saw him. A stout blob of a creature, disfigured hands and feet disproportionately large and strong enough to be able to stick to almost anything. His head and mouth were just as grotesque. With large bulging black eyes and a mouth that went all the way down his neck. Just like his name’s sake, a putrid black mass spilled from it like a whip, waiting to lash out and drag his victim inside.

You had caught him scaling the building to surprise whoever was inside, preferring to trap and ambush victims due to his slower nature. You inwardly scoffed at his audacity.

Letting out a long-drawn-out screech, you pushed your energy wildly throughout any connections you could, confusing the horde still on the outside. Frog’s eyes met your flaring eyelights and for a brief moment, you could feel his fear through the energy. You relished in his desperation to prevent you from taking ahold of his own.

Leaping from the uppermost part of the building, he dashed as fast as his form could manage back to the safety of the border. It would have been an excellent time to hunt him, but panicked shooting and shouting echoing inside the building, pulling at your attention.

There were still survivors.

You let out another screech, using your agility to dash forward and through the stumbling fallen.

[charmixpower]

I've always loved how committed Timmy was to finding Tecna and thinking about it sent me on a long path of thoughts and I landed on this: how do you think the specialists +Nabu would react if they thought their girlfriend was killed?

Not well!!! Thank you for the Ask :D

Sky: idk if Sky or Brandon would be able to sense Bloom and Stella like Timmy was able to do for Tecna so I'm just gonna assume no bc everyone below them can. I feel like he wouldn't believe it???? Bloom was killed? No she wasn't. Shut up. Like it's half denial and half "have you seen the bullshit magic she's capable of??" It would take Bloom's actual corpse to convince him she was actually dead or a REALLY convincing illusion he could touch. Then he's all fucking sad. Sky is a mom friend so he's going in between extreme sadness and trying to end the person who did this

Brandon: Anyone else except me and Jester notice how Brandon was the most calm at Nabu's funeral???? I feel like he'd have the least worse reaction, not in the sense that he's not upset but in the sense that he has the best handle on his emotions. Like he still gets VERY upset and wants revenge but he's not gonna fucking go berserk and cause problems like Helia and Riven would. He IS still going to try and stab whoever did that to Stella though, he's just going to be slightly smarter about it. I feel like he'd also try and get everyone else to be more careful, around the threat, not himself tho. My Brandon has magic but idk if he'd b able to sense Stella bc his Erakylon tutors wouldn't focus on stuff like that

Timmy: I won't type on this one long because well we know he can't be convinced Tecna's dead unless she's actually dead bc magic, but if he actually thought she was killed he wouldn't try to attack the thing that killed her, he'd try to retrieve and protect her body. Timmy is one of the few people who can keep a level head when upset, including Brandon, and is willing to let the magic people do the magic fighting and stay out of their way (Brandon is also smart enough to know he's not much of a help but is confident in his skills enough that he knows he CAN still help tho)

Riven: Timmy knows Tecna is alive bc it's sorta implied that he can kinda sense her magic?? Like he says he can still feel her, and I'm assuming that means her magic. Anyways you know how Riven could still sense Darcy in s2 after they broke up???? Riven couldn't be convinced Musa was dead unless she actually was dead. He can feel very a lot more strongly than Timmy can feel Tecna I imagine bc he could still sense Darcy's presence after they broke up, so it would be stupid hard to convince him she was dead. If you did somehow manage this he'd attempt to get revenge and then immediately collapse with depression since revenge was gotten. He doesn't handle things well in general, and that's like. The light of his life. His person. He'd literally stop functioning if she was dead

Helia: You'd think bc Helia actually has magic his ability to sense Flora would be stronger, but like it's not terrible but it would be as vague as Timmy's is in canon bc he never uses it. In my hcs it would be better bc he goes to CT and actually uses his magic more often, but he'd still be doing worse than like Nabu, who is a lot better at magic. Helia has a tendency to lash out when Flora is in danger so I think if he genuinely thought she was dead for any amount of time he would be going full war path until he realizes she's alive. When he does realize, bc it will take him a second, he immediately calms down and starts putting together a plan to help Flora

Nabu: he would not think Aisha was dead unless she was actually dead, same reasons as everyone else but his magic is stronger so he'd be the hardest to convince. But like, let's pretend he did actually think she was dead, I feel like he would go full Dungeon Meshi lesbians. He will go any length to revive her if she's dead, and bc she's not dead he's using magic to divine her location and go and get her. Nabu is very into writing spells and runes and arcane magic and there is nothing magical he wouldn't try to get Aisha back. Mans was already so dedicated to getting to know her, combine that with him being in love with her and there is nothing he wouldn't do

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hi! 🍓 anon here!

Can I request a Stronger reader x Gojo where the reader is really mean to Gojo but nice to almost everyone else? Maybe enemies to lovers-like, where they had to stay in the same room for a day and when they woke up they would see lying on top of each other? I'm sorry if I couldn't explain well :')

Hi 🍓 anon! Welcome! Sorry that it took me so long to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Worst That Could Happen (Gojo x Stronger Reader)

Word Count: 2.38k

CW: light swearing, slight oppression and angst if you squint, fluff, reader has at least shoulder length hair, crack ending

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All your life you had hated Gojo Satoru. After all, how could you not? He was the reason you were forced to hide your abilities and strength. The reason you couldn’t claim your rightful title as the strongest. All so that a certain spoiled brat could continue to believe that “through heaven and earth, he alone was the honored one.”

What a load of bullshit.

When your cursed technique had manifested, you had been so excited, proudly showing it off to your parents. And at first, they had been just as happy as you were, showering you with praise and affection. 

But as time went on it became more and more evident just how powerful you were. 

By the young age of six, your mere presence was enough to bring special first grade curses to their knees. Cursed energy exuded off of you the instant you stopped suppressing it. You had as much control over your techniques as any special grade sorcerer.

However there was one little problem. Your parents worked for the Gojo family. And if the Gojo’s caught wind of your powers, they were sure to try and kill you now while they still could. Because they couldn’t afford to allow a low-status nobody like you to undermine the power of their Six-Eyes.

In response, your parents protected you in the only way they knew how. They forbade you from using your cursed technique and becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. You knew they meant well, and they were just afraid, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

After all, what’s the point of being this strong, of having these abilities, if you can’t use them to help people?  

So you only pretended to agree with your parents, never giving up on your dream of becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. But the need for secrecy and the resentment from having to hide your strength led to a major development.

By the time you had grown into your full powers and convinced your parents to allow you to pursue your dreams, you had decided something.

You hated Gojo Satoru.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Stepping into Jujutsu Tech, you took a deep breath. While you were thrilled to have gotten this position as a teacher, you were less than thrilled about your coworker.

Gojo Satoru.

While you hadn’t liked him even before you met, he was somehow even worse than you had expected.

Loud, conceited, selfish, stupid, annoying.

All of these words and more came to mind when his name was mentioned in your presence.

Of course, you had felt for him after Suguru left. His turning had been hard on everyone, but you all knew that Gojo had been impacted the worst. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to him. Because if you did, it would mean admitting that you possibly don’t completely hate him.

That’s right. You hate him. He’s the reason why to this day, no one knows your true power. Other than your parents and Shoko that is. And Shoko only knew because the two of you went out drinking and you had gotten so drunk you began ranting about Gojo to your best friend, which eventually led to you telling her your secret.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice that your feet had carried you all the way to your old classroom before you stood in front of the familiar sliding door.

Voices and laughter floated out to you as you steeled yourself, preparing to enter. With one last deep breath and a step forward you opened the door.

The room went quiet, and you found yourself facing your three new students. There was a girl, a boy, and a…panda?

Oh, you realized. It must be the ‘child’ Yaga had mentioned creating.

“Hello.”

You greeted them, introducing yourself.

“I’m your new teacher who is going to be helping out around here. It’s nice to meet you all. Could you introduce yourselves for me?”

“Hi! I’m Panda.”

The giant panda boomed, waving a massive furry paw at you.

“Maki. Just Maki.”

This came from the girl slouched in the back corner. Looking up from inspecting her weapon, she glanced at you coolly from behind her circular glasses.

“Kombu! Inumaki Toge.”

The boy wearing the oversized turtleneck waved at you.

Well, you were certainly going to have your hands full with these three. Standing, you clapped your hands.

“All right you guys! How about we head out to the fields and show me what you got?”

And so began your first day as a teacher at Jujutsu Tech.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When Gojo heard you were going to be his new coworker, he was thrilled. After all, this meant he was going to be reunited with his high school crush!

Oh, how he missed your harsh, prickly personality. 

After all, rudeness and spite were just your way of showing affection to those you cared about!

Skipping down the halls he couldn’t wait to see your cute face again, or to engage in some well-intentioned banter. He slid to a stop in front of the classroom door and threw open the door, his mouth open to cry out your name.

Then he froze. Wait, that wasn’t right. You were sitting amongst the students, smiling and laughing. Smiling and laughing. You don’t do that! You had never even smiled at him!

Looking up at the sound of the door banging open, your eyes narrowed upon landing on him.

“Gojo.”

You said, irritation evident in your voice.

“What are you doing here?”

Ah, there was the icy cold demeanor he so knew and loved.

Sauntering over he grinned and threw his arm around your shoulders. 

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that! This was my classroom first! And I thought I told you to call me Satoru. After all, I call you by your first name.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you.

“And I don’t recall ever giving you permission to do so.”

You scowled and shoved his arm off you.

“Do you two…know each other?”

Panda was the first student to speak, despite the obvious interest present on the faces of the other two first years.

“Yeah we were besties in high school-”

“Unfortunately-”

You spoke at the same time before whirling to face the other.

“Wait, what?!”

Immediately the two of you began arguing. 

Eavesdropping from the hallway Yaga sighed.

It appeared the two of you picked up right where you left off upon parting ways after high school…

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Months went by, but still you and Gojo couldn’t get along. You were constantly quarreling, and everyone was a little over it, especially Gojo.

He had been fine with it when you treated everyone like that, but now that he's seen and knows how gentle and caring you can be towards the first years, he doesn’t understand why you are so harsh and cold towards him.

Yaga had also been fine to let the two of you be at the start, hoping that the two of you would just somehow work it out like the grown ass adults you were, but that didn’t seem very likely now.

“Excuse me?”

Yaga politely stepped in between the two of you.

“Could you guys come with me please.”

“Of course.”

You said brushing your hair over your shoulder.

“I was just about done here anyways.”

Stomping off after Yaga, you left Gojo no choice but to follow after  you. Why did you have to be so stubborn? And where was Yaga even taking the two of you? Were you needed for a mission or something?

Stopping before an empty storage room, Yaga gestured for you to enter. Suspicious, but reluctant to argue with your boss, you complied, walking in with Gojo trailing after you.

Bam.

The door slammed shut, trapping you in total darkness for a few seconds before the light flickered on.

“Hey! Yaga! What’s the big idea?”

You yell, kicking the door in frustration.

“Sorry about this.”

Yaga’s deep voice rumbled from the other side of the door.

“But the two of you really need to work out your problems and learn to get along. So I’m not letting you out until tomorrow morning. If you can’t get along by then, or either of you has broken down the door, you’re both fired. Good luck, and for god’s sake please don’t kill each other.”

His footsteps slowly faded away as he left you and Gojo alone. There was no one to help you now.

Goddammit.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Hours passed, and still, neither of you had spoken. 

You were seated against the door, your head tilted back and leaning against the solid wood. Meanwhile Gojo was sprawled on his back on the other side of the room staring up at the ceiling.

Finally he broke the silence.

“So, wanna talk about why you hate me so much?”

“Not really.”

You mumbled, burying your face in your knees.

“So you acknowledge that you do hate me though.”

“Not entirely…”

“You know, we’re going to have to talk at some point, right?”

You sighed, wishing you were literally anywhere but in this stuffy storage room.

“I know.”

You said simply, avoiding his gaze as he sat up and turned to face you.

“I just, I don’t know, I guess I just don’t know how to explain it to you.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you hate me for no reason…”

You groan, finally looking up.

“No…I have a reason. I guess I’ve been thinking for the last couple hours though, and I’m not entirely sure that I do hate you, or that it’s fair of me to hate you.”

Scooting closer, Gojo mimicked your pose, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

“So why don’t you talk to me? I can help you try to figure it out. Plus, I already know how I feel about you, and it’s definitely not hate.”

Ignoring his little comment you considered what he just said. Should you come clean, or was it too risky?

You know what, to hell with it. You were tired of living your life in fear because you were too strong. But where to start? Taking a deep breath, you began.

“It all started when my cursed technique developed…”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Finishing your story, you waited for his response.

There was none.

“Gojo…?”

You ask hesitantly, unsure of what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry.”

He said quietly. 

“What?”

You asked, unsure if you heard him right. Did the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the Gojo Satoru, just apologize to you? You must be going crazy.

“I’m sorry.”

He repeated himself, this time with more conviction.

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t reveal your true power because of me. Believe me, I’m aware that my abilities bring trouble to others. And for that, I’m sorry.”

You were at a loss for words. All that time, all that time you spent hating him, for nothing? Because you couldn’t hate him now. Honestly, you had known all along that it wasn’t his fault, that you were being unfair. But hearing him apologize just made you feel guilty. But wait…

“You believe me?”

You ask incredulously.

“I was sure that you were going to ask for proof or something, or not believe me…”

“Why would I?”

He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“You forget about my Six Eyes. I’ve known that you’re stronger than me for years now.”

“I’m sorry.”

You said, hanging your head in shame.

“I’ve spent so much time hating you for no reason, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine. You know what they say. About the similarities between love and hate…”

He shot you a sly smile.

“Oh shut up!”

You cry indignantly.

“Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mean that I don’t find you absolutely insufferable!”

“Sure, sure.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

A couple minutes later, Gojo snuck a peek at you, curious as to why you suddenly got so quiet.

Ah, you had fallen asleep. He frowned, noticing the way you shivered slightly and realized that the room was rather chilly. Looking around, he noticed a cabinet in the back of the room. 

Quietly he looked through its contents and was pleased to find a single fuzzy blanket that looked quite warm. Walking back over to you he carefully draped it over you. After ensuring that you were properly tucked in, he headed back over to his spot.

Damn, when did it get so chilly?

He eyed the extra bit of blanket that wasn’t wrapped around your body. Surely you wouldn’t mind. Ever so slowly, he crept towards you inch by inch. Gently lifting the edge of the blanket he eased himself under it until his back was pressed against the wall and you were tucked snugly into his side. 

Readjusting the blanket so it was evenly distributed over the two of you he sighed in relief. That was so much better. While he had only planned to share the blanket for a little bit, just long enough to warm up he found himself becoming drowsy. You wouldn’t mind that if he shared the blanket with you, right? He was the one that found it after all.

And besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Waking up, you snuggled into the firm chest of the person you were laying on. They were so warm, and they smelled nice…

Wait what?

Fully awake, you sat up and stared down in abject horror.

The wonderfully comfortable chest that you had been happily sleeping on belonged to none other than your insufferable coworker.

How did this even happen?

You were positive that he was on the other side of the room when you fell asleep, so that could only mean-

“GOJO SATORU!”

You screech, viciously whacking him with the flat of your palm.

“WAKE UP YOU PERVERT!”

And so began your real friendship with the second strongest sorcerer in the world: Gojo Satoru.

[scarletsaphire]

i’m gonna come in asking for platonic ships because i’m cooler than everyone else jazz and cujo :)

Jazz held on tighter to the leash, half jogging, half walking down the road. "I always knew that I'd be the one taking care of it, " she grumbled under her breath. "Only responsible one in the house. Can't even keep the food in the fridge from coming to life, but sure, let's adopt a dog! That's a brilliant idea!"

Cujo, who had been sniffing one of the neighbor's flower bushes, turned around to look at her. He was a smart dog, even when he'd been alive, and Jazz was pretty convinced that death had only made the little guy smarter. It sure felt like he knew she was talking about him, with the puppy dog eyes he was giving her. Jazz walked the rest of the way and bent down to scratch at his head, right behind his ear. It was his favorite spot.

"I'm not mad at you," she said softly. "I just don't think its fair that I'm the one up at two in the morning taking you for walkies when I'm not the one who brought you into this family." Her complaining was just complaining; Danny was out cold after a night of patrolling, and neither of them trusted their parents with Cujo alone quite yet. They'd both been ecstatic about adopting Cujo, after they'd gotten past their initial "That's a ghost which means it is evil and must be destroyed" reaction, but they're excitement had been a bit too close to scientific discovery than a cute new pet. None of that meant that Jazz couldn't complain.

Cujo rolled over onto his back, letting Jazz pet his belly. She knelt the rest of the way onto the ground, blowing a raspberry into Cujo's icy cold fur. "You're lucky you're so cute," she said into his belly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be so willing to do this." Cujo yipped and squirmed underneath her, and she straightened, letting Cujo roll back onto his legs. "You don't even have to pee or anything, you're just impatient."

The neighbor's front porch light turned on, and the owner of the house, a crotchety old man by the name of Mr. Galvon stepped out. Jazz froze in her stooped position.

"I heard ya out there!" Mr. Galvon slurred. Jazz could just barely see his eyes narrowing in her direction. "Damn hooligans, show yourself before I make ya!"

When Jazz was younger and the Fenton's had just moved to Amity, she had been scared of Mr. Galvon. Despite that being years ago, he'd still fit the bill of "old" and "crotchety" just as well. He'd spend hours on his porch, glaring at anyone who dared try and walk the streets, and she'd quickly learned to play hopscotch on the other side of Fentonworks, where his gaze didn't reach. He always smelled strongly like prunes and baby powder, a scent that seemed to waft to him and smother anyone within a thirty foot radius.

Jazz wasn't scared of him anymore; even if it hadn't been for the ghosts, she'd grown up around sentient hot dogs and war hardened Thanksgiving turkeys. It was hard for any regular human to scare her anymore. That didn't mean she wanted to get yelled at by him, or worse, have the cops called on her. Even if she wasn't doing anything wrong, Mr. Galvon would do it, and knowing how little action the Amity Park Police got nowadays, they might put her in cuffs just cause. Jazz decided the best course of action would be to stay crouched and stay still; his eyesight had been fading over the years, so as long as she didn't draw any more attention to herself, she'd be fine.

Cujo did not agree. One moment he was his normal adorable little self, and the next he was towering over her, snarling at the front door. Jazz heard Mr. Galvon curse, quickly followed by the door slamming shut. The porch light shut off, and Jazz was plunged back into near darkness, with only Cujo's green glow to light her way.

Cujo quickly turned back to his puppy self, and looked at her again with his big puppy eyes. She stifled a laugh and scooped him up in her arms, scratching behind his ear again. "Good dog."

[nyxofdemons]

in fact now that i've had a chance to rewatch and think about the episode more i'm actually losing my mind. we have never, in the entire show, seen blitz actually go OUT OF HIS WAY for ANY relationship. sure, we saw him open up a bit to moxxie in 'truth seekers,' but that was only a bit and only after a severe truth-gas induced hallucination; he has feelings for stolas but even when he does invite him out it's under completely false pretenses - the only relationship we see him put any real effort into is with Loona, and even then, it's not really him going out of his way since Loona is his adopted daughter and is almost always around, and his attempts at fostering a relationship with her are almost exclusively him showering her with affection, rather than any actual attempts at emotional intimacy (not a criticism, just an observation).

but blitz is not only going out of his way to find barbie, he is desperate to make her life better. at the end of 'unhappy campers,' he is insisting that he wants to help her; practically begging her to let him help her. he is breaking into medical centers (apparently, regularly enough that he has a hostile relationship with one specific nurse who recognizes him and already knows what he's there for and what he's trying to do), making calls and threatening people and doing WHATEVER he has to to find her - to not only offer to help her, but just to see her. to have dinner and catch up.

and that is FASCINATING to me, it is making me fucking insane. i've talked about this before but what stands out to me most from the 'truth seekers' hallucination is that blitz thinks he actively makes people worse by being with them. it's heavily implied in the way that verosika is covered in grime and muck that doesn't come off the way it did striker and fizz (i'd argue it's because they both seem to not be dragged down by him, though verosika makes it clear in 'ozzie's' that she was deeply hurt by blitz and still resents him for breaking her heart), and it's also implied within his idolization of stolas - on his beautiful gold and ivory throne, where his presence is enough to turn all of blitz's mud and filth into sparkling light

but barbie doesn't appear in the hallucination. fizz does, and he was from the circus days. striker does, and he and blitz barely have a relationship outside of meta character themes and foils. verosika does, and even though their relationship is implied to have been mutually toxic, she is still very overtly somebody that blitz hurt. he ruined things between them and hurt her.

the only real thread between them is that everyone in that vision, to some extent, is somebody that blitz harbors resentment for. he resents fizz and striker for being everything he isn't or couldn't be - either as a performer or as an assassin - he resents verosika for their relationship, he even to some extent harbors bitterness towards stolas for being so out of touch (and for the fact that blitz has feelings for him at all).

but he doesn't hate barbie. he doesn't even seem to be mad at her at all; the only thing he's upset about is that she didn't try to reach out to him. blitz, who is convinced with his whole chest that he only knows how to hurt people and drag them down, who has burned every bridge to his past for better or worse, spends a whole week going on a one-man rampage to find his twin sister and then asks her to let him help her. i'm going to be fucking sick