#change will come (I will never believe in anything again)

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous?

This is Heartslabyul and the Misc Characters section- Links are all here: Savanaclaw/Octovinelle, Scarabia/Pomfiore/Ignihyde, and Diasomnia. All characters are meant to be interpreted as romantic. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants.

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - Y (For pre-overblot section only) 

Pre-overblot, Riddle manages to fit a lot of jealousy inside his tiny body. 

Talking with someone he doesn’t like? He’s declaring that it’s off with their head because they broke a rule. Someone else is flirting with you? Oh no, the hedgehogs aren’t in order, he needs you to come help him fix them. Is someone doing anything in your presence that he dislikes? THE RULES STATE THAT ONE MUST NEVER TAKE THE KING AWAY FROM THE QUEEN! 

He’s willing to make up new rules just to keep you there with him. He’s lost so many friends because of his mother, but this is a feeling just for him. You understand, don’t you? You know what he feels and you’re willing to stand by his side? Forever? You’re the only one who can. You need to promise you’ll be his king, you’ll never leave him. 

Post-overblot and he’s much more calm. At least, he’s calm by his standards. He’s still… A bit over the top at times. He wants to make sure that you actually love him, that you’re not going to leave. 

But more than that, he’s worried that he’s too clingy. Are you tired of him focusing on you? Are you thinking secretly that he needs to grow up? Do you think he’s sidetracked, as his mother does? Do you think that he needs to change again? Is he too lax this time, is he boring? Is it a chore to entertain him? Are you planning on leaving? 

Just reassure your poor redhead. He wants to be the best he can be, and he wants to be that with you. He just needs to be told that you really do love him and want to be around him. Maybe give him some kind of signal so he can tell you how he feels without needing to outright say it and listen to his concerns whenever he comes to you. 

Trey Clover - 

Trey wouldn’t get jealous under normal circumstances. He trusts you, assuming he’d like to or is dating you, and that’s that. He’d only get jealous if someone was genuinely hitting on you, and you just… Didn’t notice or care. 

While he prides himself on his ability to keep a cool and level head, the moment he sees you with someone else, watching them touch you on your arm and compliment you the same way he does. No, he compliments you even better! 

“You’re so pretty…” He can call you beautiful, jaw-dropping, stunning, or awe-inspiring! “My dear,” You’re his sweetheart, his life, his heart and head, his darling cookie! “I think we should go somewhere more private…” Okay, maybe he’s too much of a gentleman to tell you that- he believes you should take the relationship st your own time and he’s never said that to you around others where you could be pressured- but he could at least say it with more class! 

Trey’s annoying, maybe even seething. But still, tell the person you’re uninterested and take a step back. Even punch him in the face, if you’re that pissed! Trey would do it if he weren’t vice-housewarden! Just don’t tell Riddle and it’s all good! 

If that doesn’t work, or if you don’t do anything, he’ll easily swoop in to ‘save you’. He’ll hand the guy a treat, wrap his arms around you, and pull you off to the kitchen with him to “help with some baking.” He will even use his unique magic on the guy if he doesn’t get the hint- Well, on the treat he gave them. No one likes gross-tasting foods, especially ones catered to the thing you hate the taste of the most. 

Cater Diamond - 

Outwardly, he’ll come up to you and chat. Who’re you with? Hey, Cay-cay’s got a quick Magicam post to take, could ya come over here real quick? Just take the photo, you don’t have to be in it or anything! Unless you wanted to! 

He’s calm and collected and barely bothered. Why would he be? He’s got nothing to worry about and he knows you like him and that you’d never do anything to cheat or be with anyone else! At all! 

Internally he’s curled into a ball and crying. Is he not good enough? He can be. He promises! He’ll be whatever you need, whatever you have to get! Please, just stay with him! Don’t leave! 

He needs some reassurance. Don’t let him sweep it under the rug, no matter how hard he tries. Please, just tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Thank him for being there with you. Please. 

Cater’s terrified you’ll leave him. Is it slightly unhealthy? Yes. Maybe. Totally. He’s been begging for crumbs of your attention every chance he gets, in his own way. But if you find it in yourself to be charitable… Please, just put up with him? 

Ace Trapolla - 

If nothing else, Ace is a brat, in every sense of the word. He’s a bit rude, obnoxious, and naive to certain social cues. He doesn’t follow rules and he’s not interested in learning them. He’s selfish, too. But especially selfish with your time. 

Ace will try to call you away at any time if you’re with someone else. What do you mean, Jamil needs some help preparing dinner? You’re going to need some help getting out if things go like they did last time! So, you better invite him along, too. He’ll be a great help! Besides, Jamil’s in the basket with him, they’re wonderful friends! There’s no way that you two will get kicked out with Ace here, considering how you’re a major klutz with anything sharp and would get totally sent away without him. 

He’ll come up behind you if you’re talking to someone. Snaking an arm around your midsection, dipping his hands to clutch your hips, and watching the person who was once talking to you. He might be laughing, but he’s also squeezing you and subtly insulting them. Or, he thinks his being subtle, but if you weren’t being held by him, the other guy would have punched him by now. 

His fingers dig into the skin around your hips as he pulls you away from them, the smirk on his face slightly darker than the lighthearted boy you normally know. Once you’re all alone, he stuffs his face into your neck, taking a deep breath. No matter what you tell him, he only savors you for a second, before giving you a little push and telling you to thank him for saving you from such a jerk. 

But if you were to pull him back in and thank him… Maybe he’ll tell you what’s bothering him- If you’re lucky. Maybe. Or you’ll just get an extra long and tight hug. 

Deuce Spade - Y 

Duece is a sweetheart who tries his best not to get jealous. Really, he tries! He’s on track to be an honor student, and honor students can calmly talk about their feelings with the person they like. So, that is what he will do… After he roughs up the perpetrator a bit. 

Just a little! Or a lot… Or just until you stop him, or Riddle’s nearby… Don’t worry, he wouldn’t hit someone just for flirting! They were trying to touch you… They had a hand on your waist, and were pulling you closer… It looked like they were even trying to kiss you! What was Duece supposed to do? Let them? He couldn’t bear it if anyone did anything to you! 

Deuce is protective. You can handle yourself, he knows that! But he used to fight a lot, so he could do it better. Besides, you’re new to this world! You might not even be able to tell when someone’s flirting with you until it’s too late! He has to be there to protect you, or else what could happen? Could you be hurt? Emotionally or physically harmed? He can’t bear to think about it! 

He’ll pull you away, much like Ace, if he can’t control himself most of the time. But the moment you’re touched? He’ll fight whoever does it. Tell him not to and he’ll tone it down, yes, but the glare from a former delinquent is still enough to send most people back with their tails between their legs. Of course, when you’re looking, he’s all smiles and rainbows. He’s your guard dog, don’t worry about it! He’s just making sure no trash gets close to you! 

Besides, you have him, and all of your friends! Like Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and maybe even Riddle! You two share a friend group, isn’t that great? If anyone ever bothers you, he’ll always be there to stop them! No one will take advantage of you while he’s here! 

RSA+NBC: 

Neige Leblanche - 

It all starts when Neige sees you at a shared event. He’s been so excited to see you, but before he gets there, he finds Vil’s there with you. He bites his ruby lips and his hands are shaking as he watches the other man wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close enough to whisper something in your ear. Normally, when you laugh he’s so happy, but now it feels like there’s something yucky about it. 

It takes a while before Neige even knows what he’s feeling. It’s like something is slithering around his insides, pitting at the bottom of his stomach and sometimes threatening to come out his throat. Even when he goes up to talk to you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

It isn’t until you pull away from Vil to hug you himself that he realizes it’s jealousy. Only once it’s away does he know that your affections were its only cure, and its cause was always when what he so desperately wanted was flung off to be given to someone else. 

He stays very close to you for the rest of the night. He tries to make sure those feelings that he knows but doesn’t yet understand how to tame don’t come back. He gets your number and whatever social media you’re willing to give over, and he’s overjoyed from it. It’s his own little prize, his own little gift from the world now sitting in his pocket. 

He doesn’t get jealous often after that- After all, he knows that you’ll take care of him if he needs it. He can trust you, after all, you’re his one true love. The royal he was always looking for, the person to rescue him like a knight in shining armor, riding in on a snow-white horse. He can trust you, right? 

Rollo Flamme - Y

Rollo gets jealous very, very easily. He’s seething, filled with rage and misplaced care, attempting to tie you down or up or any other way. Trying to tie you to him, no matter how much you kick and scream. 

You know that he needs you, don’t you? Well, he does. Honest to the god he worships, he does. He’d swear on his name faster than yours, if only because his honor means nothing while yours is a pure as mountain snow. He’d write you name into his skin if only you let him, he’d steal every inch of you away and keep it all pure, forever and ever. 

So when he sees you with a mage, he can’t help but get jealous. How could he not? You’re wondrous. Illuminatingly stunning, bursting his heart as fireworks do in the sky, filled with beautiful, burning passion. And he is merely a magic user. He is no more worthy of you than they are, but for them to think otherwise… He will not turn a blind eye to those who desire to do something horrid to his darling.

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.3 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 pt.2 wordcount: 2495

You had convinced yourself nothing had happened. You would never have to tell Flo anything. And for a few days, it was easy to believe that. There were no events, no fittings, no reasons to see him. Just a silly mistake you had already forgotten. It should’ve never even happened in the first place. You weren’t the kind of person who mixed work with… whatever that had been. You were a professional and your LV job meant way too much to you to risk anything.

So when you arrived at the next fitting, relieved you weren’t assigned to Lando. It was for a campaign shoot, a setting that felt much more comfortable to you than the chaos of a live event. Here, things were controlled. Professional.

You were helping another driver with their fitting when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Manager: Hey, slight change—Norris requested you.

You barely had time to process before the door opened and Lando strolled in, hands in his pockets, looking completely at ease.

Lando stretched lazily, like he had no idea why you’d be annoyed. 

“Hey, stylist.”

You kept your voice even. “Didn’t realize I was assigned to you.”

His grin widened. “Well, you weren’t.”

You exhaled sharply. “Then why am I here?”

Lando shrugged. "Yeah, well. Wouldn’t trust anyone else with my zippers during a wardrobe malfunction. Only the best, hey?"

You didn’t answer, just tossed the first outfit at him. “Try it on.”

Lando took the suit, standing up. “You’re all business today.”

“I’m always all business,” you muttered.

He didn’t push further, just disappeared behind the curtain to change. You took a steadying breath, shaking off the tension creeping into your shoulders. This was fine. You were in control.

A few moments later, he emerged, adjusting the sleeves of the suit jacket.

“How do I look?”

You turned, ready to make some small remark—but your words caught in your throat.

The suit fit him too well. Sharp lines, tailored perfectly to his frame. The deep navy color made his eyes stand out, the crisp white shirt underneath just barely undone at the collar.

Damn it.

Lando caught your hesitation, grinning. “That good, huh?”

You exhaled. “Put the next outfit on.”

He chuckled but did as he was told.

By the end of it, Lando looked as effortlessly put together as ever, and you had successfully done your job, and kept your professionalism intact. You were glad the fitting was done and you didn’t have to stay for the whole shoot, so you quickly left.

-

After the Australian Grand Prix and the first few races, there were no high profile LV events. You had been doing preparatory work at the London office. Until Monaco. Of course for Monaco, Louis Vuitton would play a big part at the events again. You flew there a few days before the events and race. Quadrant was also in Monaco for the race and they were all going out tonight, Max and Keegan had both texted you to come with like old times in London. 

When you arrive, the party is in full swing, the rooftop of the Monaco venue buzzing with drivers, influencers, and the elite of both motorsport and fashion. Maybe it’s the relief of not being on duty, of not having to hover over drivers making sure they don’t wrinkle their suits before the cameras get to them. 

You spot Max and Keegan near the bar, laughing at something stupid, and make your way towards them immediately.

“Finally,” you sigh, sliding between them. “People I actually like.”

Keegan grins, handing you a drink. “We’re honored.”

“Don’t be,” you tease, taking a sip. “I just don’t like anyone here”

Max laughs. “That’s the alcohol talking.”

You let yourself have fun. It’s been a while since you weren’t just the put-together stylist, since you weren’t navigating an event with work on your mind. The music is good and the drinks are flowing.

Of course they had invited Lando, he was their actual best friend. But you had thought he might not be there with the race weekend coming up. 

You’re all dancing, when you see him approach, greeting Max and Keegan enthusiastically. When you see Lando laughing with Max, joking around effortlessly like they always had, there was something oddly familiar about it. For a brief moment, he wasn’t the global superstar you had to dress. He was just Flo’s annoying brother, the same kid who used to crash your sleepovers and steal your snacks.

Then he sees you. 

“Hey stylist” he says as he steps closer.

You tilt your head. “I’m not working tonight”

Lando hums, eyes flicking over you. “I can tell.”

There’s something about the way he says it. 

You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lando leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach twist. “Just… didn’t see this side of you.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, his hand grazes your waist as he reaches past you for something on the bar.

The touch is fleeting. Almost nothing.

But it lingers.

Your breath catches.

His smirk deepens, like he knows.

So you turn back to Keegan, laughing at something he says, ignoring Lando for the rest of the night.

-

Your head was pounding.

The second you cracked your eyes open, you regretted it. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn just enough to let in the Monaco morning light. Everything smelled like expensive cologne, a mix of fresh linen and something unmistakably male.

This was not your hotel room.

You groan, shifting slightly—only to feel someone beside you.

Your eyes fly open, heart hammering.

You turn your head.

Keegan.

Your entire body sags in relief. Keegan is still dead asleep, sprawled on his stomach, snoring into the pillow.

You push yourself up, glancing around. The sheets are too nice. The floor-to-ceiling windows too clean, too expensive-looking. You carefully slid out of bed. You needed to leave before anyone saw you.

That’s when you hear voices from the other room.

“…absolutely gone.” Max’s voice, amused.

“Yeah, she’s never drinking that much again.”

Lando.

The possibility of sneaking out without anyone noticing vanished instantly.

You sighed, making your way into the living room, where Lando and Max are sitting casually drinking coffee, looking way too well-rested.

Lando smirks over his cup. “Look who’s alive.”

You fold your arms. “What the hell am I?”

Max grins. “Lando’s place.”

Your stomach drops. You stare at Lando.

His smirk widens. “Don’t look so horrified. It was just the safest option.”

“You and Keegan got absolutely wrecked. Figured we’d let you crash here instead of sending you back to your hotel in that state.” Max adds.

Lando just shrugs. “Safe house.”

You narrow your eyes. “And we just… crashed?”

“You both crashed onto my bed directly,” Lando says. 

Keegan stumbles into the room, groaning. “I am never drinking that much again.”

You laugh when you see him, nudging him. “This is all your fault, those damn tequila shots”

Lando watches the exchange, something unreadable in his expression.

You heard your phone buzz.

Manager: Hey, last-minute change for the fitting today—it’ll be at Lando’s place instead of the hotel. Be there in 20.

You blinked. Then read it again.

No. No, no, no.

"Something wrong?" Lando asked, too entertained by your reaction.

You slowly looked up at him, horrified. "You arranged the fitting here?" you asked, voice hoarse.

Lando stretched, entirely unbothered. "Oh yeah. Seemed convenient. Thought you’d appreciate not having to travel. Figured it’d be easier than going to the hotel. Hope you don’t mind."

You wanted to murder him. Instead, you exhaled sharply, turned on your heel, and headed straight for the bathroom to make yourself look less like you had spent the night drinking tequila with his best friends.

You really needed to not look like a complete disaster before the fitting.

Which left you with only one option.

Lando’s wardrobe.

You rummaged through his neatly arranged collection until you found what you needed—a white button-up shirt and a pair of jeans. The jeans were  too big, but with a little trick—you were a stylist afterall—it worked. They sat low on your hips, hanging just right. His button-up was oversized, falling effortlessly over your frame, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

By the time you emerged from the bathroom, freshened up and dressed, you actually looked good. Casual. Effortless. Like you hadn’t just woken up hungover in a Formula 1 driver’s apartment.

Lando raised his eyebrows when you walked in, smirking. “Didn’t know we were styling my clothes on you today.”

You rolled your eyes. “Didn’t know I’d be styling someone in their own damn apartment.”

“Worked out, though.”

You heard Max and Keegan arguing in a different room, it sounded like they were playing videogames. 

You were glad the doorbell rang, it was your colleague with the clothes. It was very normal for celebrities to request their fittings at their homes, so she didn’t question it. 

The fitting itself was smooth—thankfully, he didn’t push too much. When you stepped back to check the final look, he tilted his head.

“You’re quiet today.”

You met his eyes, unamused. “I have a headache.”

“From drinking?”

“No. From you.”

Lando laughed. “Fair.”

You finished up quickly, more than ready to get out of there.

“Alright,” you said, taking a step back. “You’re done. I’ll see you at the event.” You still had to go the LV office before, and were going to the event from there.

Lando just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

You popped your head into the gaming room to say goodbye to Keegan and Max, too focused on their video game and stream, mumbling something like ‘’See you soon’’. They wouldn’t be going to tonight’s event, but they would be at enough other things in Monaco this week and weekend. You were glad they were around again, missing the friendships during your work at Quadrant.

-

The venue was extravagant—glistening chandeliers, perfectly curated floral arrangements, and guests dressed in luxury from head to toe. Louis was always extravagant, but this was Louis at Monaco, you hadn’t seen something like this before.

Lando was already there, talking to a group of people, glass of champagne in hand, his fitted suit a sharp contrast to the playful persona he usually carried. He had a way of looking effortlessly put together.

And yet, there was something about how easily he slipped into the role of charming, high-profile athlete that irritated you. He looked good—you knew he would. You had styled him. But it still annoyed you to see him flashing those perfect smiles for the cameras, working the crowd like it was effortless. It didn’t help you were still feeling hungover.

So, you did what you never did at events. You drank.

Not recklessly, just enough to take the edge off. 

"I liked my clothes better on you" Lando said, his gaze dragging over you in a way that felt deliberate. You had obviously changed into something else back at the LV office.

"Guess you can dress yourself again then" you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

He laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "Nah, I like all the attention your outfits get me"

You rolled your eyes.

The night went on, and you did your best to avoid him—not in an obvious way, but enough to keep some distance. It was necessary. 

But, of course, it was impossible to ignore him completely.

And then, the final blow—

You reached for your bag, instinctively searching for your keycard, only to realize—

Shit.

Your stomach dropped. You had left it at his apartment.

And, as if the universe was just as cruel as Lando, he already knew.

"Problem?" Lando’s voice came from just behind you, close enough that you felt his breath against your ear.

You should have been startled, but instead, your pulse just kicked up. You turned slightly, exhaling sharply. "I left my keycard at your place."

Lando smirked. "Looks like you’ll have to come home with me, then."

You shot him a look. "I could just ask the front desk for a new one."

"You could." He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. "But then you wouldn’t have an excuse to come over again."

Your stomach twisted. You hated the way he said it—like he knew what he was doing to you.

You huffed, tilting your chin up. "I don’t need an excuse."

His smirk widened. "Then let’s go."

-

Lando unlocked the door to his apartment, stepping inside and tossing his keys onto the counter. "Make yourself at home," he said, amusement laced in his voice.

You shot him a glare, slipping off your heels. "Not funny."

"Little bit funny."

You ignored him, going straight for the living room where you had probably left your keycard earlier. But before you could grab it, Lando was suddenly there, leaning against the couch, watching you with an expression you really didn’t trust.

"You know," he started, and you could already tell he was going to say something stupid. "At this rate, you should just move in."

You glared at him. "Shut up."

He laughed, but then his eyes flickered down—just briefly, just enough to make your breath hitch.

He smirked, his hands slipping into his pockets like he wasn’t affected. Like he wasn’t standing close enough that you could smell the mix of his cologne and whatever alcohol still lingered on him.

"Okay, got it. Leaving now."

Lando leaned against the doorframe, blocking the way.

"Are you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Yes?"

He tilted his head, grinning. "You sure? You do basically live here now."

Lando was suddenly close. Closer than he had been all night. Hands grazing your waist, fingers trailing up your spine.

“Lando,” you warned, voice quieter than you intended.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You could feel his breath against your skin.

“I—”

And then, suddenly, his hands were on your zipper.

"Think I can handle this one," he murmured against your lips.

A breathless laugh escaped you, but it was lost in the way he kissed you—deeper, needier.

Lando’s hands found your waist, pulling you against him, his grip firmer this time, like he wasn’t afraid you’d pull away. 

And this time, you didn’t stop it, you weren’t sure if it was the lack of energy or the drinks you had.

It was messy and rushed again, seemingly unplanned, and before it could go any further, you heard stumbling and a door opening. You quickly stepped away.

‘’Lando, that you?’’ Max emerged from the bedroom, still half asleep.

-

WN: guysss sorry it took so long!! long chapter to make up for it. I actually have many chapters and ideas for this story but I just want able to finalize to post because I was busy. Hope you enjoy it!! xx

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07

[randomly--accessed--memories]

RAM Plot Summary

So, now that we're coming up on the one-year anniversary of the start of RAM, I finally decided to write up a relatively short summary of the main plot of this AU. Vox whump, Vee angst, one-sided Radiostatic await below.

RAM (Randomly Accessed Memories) is a collaborative Hazbin Hotel AU based on the theory that Niffty is a former overlord that Alastor drove insane, and asks the question: What if he did the same to Vox?

Animation commissioned from @/__shmoki__ over on Twitter

Seven years ago, Alastor and Vox had their final battle. After fifty years of rivalry, Vox finally gained the upper hand; in a moment of desperation, he used his hypnosis against Alastor… and it worked. Briefly. Terrified of what Vox might do if he managed to gain power over him, Alastor lashed out and knocked Vox unconscious. He knew he had to neutralize Vox somehow, but he found himself hesitant to finally kill his old friend. Instead, he chose a different tactic.

Alastor took Vox to the basement of V Tower and began a broadcast, torturing him live on the air for all the city to hear. Valentino and Velvette, believing that the two were most likely at Alastor’s radio tower, rushed off to rescue Vox, unknowingly leaving him to his fate. After hours of torture, once Vox’s physical and mental defenses were lowered, Alastor was finally ready to enact his true goal: using his powers to reach into Vox’s mind and remold him into something more palatable.

Once the broadcast was finished, Alastor dumped Vox’s dismembered body in the lobby of V Tower and then vanished for the next seven years. Valentino and Velvette were initially relieved when they discovered Vox was still alive, albeit comatose, but once his body was repaired and they finally turned Vox back on, they immediately knew something was wrong. Vox had no recollection of the past fifty years; his memories of his life after his falling out with Alastor were simply gone. Worse than that, he appeared to be trapped in a perpetual state of channel surfing, unable to stay focused on anything for more than a minute and forgetting new information soon after learning it. On top of it all, Alastor was now the center of his world; Vox asked for him constantly, wouldn’t hear a word against him, and his only goal seemed to be to reunite with him.

Valentino and Velvette, unwilling to kill Vox but knowing that if anyone discovered his condition, it would put a massive target on all three of their backs, confined Vox to a private suite in the tower and told the public that he had died. Vox spent seven agonizing years locked away in the tower with only Vark for company. Valentino and Velvette visited frequently, trying to coax non-existent memories out of him or at least trying to build a new relationship with him, but Vox’s memory always reset after every interaction with them. Valentino fell into a self-destructive spiral upon losing his lover, taking out his grief and frustration on everyone in the vicinity. Velvette had no choice but to take on Vox’s role as CEO of VoxTek (renamed VTek) and spent the next seven years trying to project invulnerability to the public, even as she was overwhelmed with her new responsibilities, trying to ensure Vox was safe and taken care of, and dealing with Valentino’s destructive outbursts.

After seven long, miserable years, Alastor finally returned. Eager to see if his plan worked, he slipped into V Tower and, at long last, reunited with Vox. Vox was ecstatic to see Alastor again and begged him to rescue him from his “prison,” andAlastor happily obliged. Alastor was thrilled with his handiwork; Vox was once again the man he had known all those years ago. He finally had his friend back… right?

Alastor brought Vox along with him to the hotel, ready to begin a new era of their afterlives— one where Vox would never change and always do as he was told. Charlie and Vaggie didn’t recognize Vox, so saw no issue with accepting him into the hotel. Angel Dust and Husk, on the other hand, were fully aware of who Vox used to be and what Alastor had done to him but were forced to keep quiet by their respective contracts. Alastor assigned Vox the role of hotel handyman, and he and the other staff members settled into their new lives at the hotel.

Valentino and Velvette were horrified when they discovered that Vox had gone missing; they were livid when they learned that it was Alastor who took him and brought him to the princess’ new hotel. However, fearing that if they made a move to attack Alastor/the hotel he would simply take Vox and vanish into the ether again, they were forced to bide their time, waiting for an opportunity to rescue their friend.

Vox spent the next six months at the hotel, participating in the canonical plot of the show. His frantic, high-energy behavior, volatile memory, and habit of frying the electronics he was meant to be fixing often made things difficult, but hesoon found his place among the Hazbins. He became very close with Niffty due to their shared decade of death and the fact that they were the only people who understood how the other’s mind worked. Vox also ended up forming a friendship with Sir Pentious, who had been sent by the Vees to keep an eye on Vox and spy on the hotel. However, as time went on, things between Vox and Alastor became more strained. Alastor gradually came to realize that his plan hadn’t worked quite as well as he’d hoped. Vox was stuck in the past and saw him as his closest friend, but he wasn’t the person Alastor had once known. Vox’s erratic behavior began to grate on him, and Alastor eventually realized that he had liked the way Vox used to challenge him— now, he was little more than a sycophant or a needy pet. However, Alastor could not admit he had made a mistake; he was in too deep now, and there was no undoing what had been done.

This AU has multiple endings, but the one I consider “canon” consists of Vox participating in the hotel’s battle with Heaven and getting noticed by some reporters once the dust has settled. All of Hell now knows that Vox, the former Television Overlord, is alive and at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie, horrified to learn what Alastor did to Vox and Niffty, kicks him out of the hotel. She contacts the Vees and starts trying to negotiate with them for Vox’s return on the condition that Valentino break his contract with Angel Dust. The details about what happens next are a bit murky, but in the end, Alastor disappears once again, and Charlie’s deal with the Vees goes through. Vox is returned to V Tower, although with far more freedom than he had before— all of Hell knows he’s alive, so why bother keeping him locked up? The mental block Vox has regarding retaining information about Val and Velvette lifts in Alastor’s absence, and the Vees are finally able to start rebuilding their relationship. It's different from how it was before– always will be– but that doesn't make it any less valuable. Change is inevitable, after all.

[often-daydreaming]

Second Chances

"Danny!?"

"Danny!"

"Hey, hey, hey."

"Keep your eyes open for me."

"Come on Danny."

"Just focus on me."

"..."

"I promise everything will be alright."

The last thing Danny ever sees before everything goes black is the tears in his herald's ey...

-_- -_- -_-

"No!"

"Not again!"

-_- -_- -_-

"I can't... I can't lose him."

"Not like this."

"..."

"..."

"Say something! Anything!"

"Tell me how to fix this!"

"..."

-_- -_- -_-

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

-_- -_- -_-

"There's nothing you can do."

"You can let me do this! Let me take your place!"

"If you die here hundreds of thousands of lives will be changed forever. You'll never time travel. You'll never meet your friends."

"I don't c-" "You'll never meet me."

"I can make it work. I've time traveled before, rewritten fixed points."

"Not those times. Not one line."

"But..." Bart looks so lost as he desperately tries to figure out a plan but they were running out of time.

The handful of remaining heroes were scattered. They'd ignored all of the warnings, believed the worst kind of people and the League wasn't prepared for Pariah's reawakening to empower the moonlit world. No one was prepared for it, not when the monsters were already deep within the League pulling the strings from within and... This was… Without any warning Bart collapses, the nth metal bracelet he's always kept wrapped around his wrist sending a cold chill through his body as the familiar touch of Danny's magic engulfed the area.

"It's okay." Danny catches him before he can hit the floor, pulling him into one last bone crushing hug to hide his own tears. "It's not over for you. Clockwork... Clockwork promised everything would work out if I did this... He guaranteed it and he rarely gives me a straight answer so... So we'll... I guess we'll see each other again. You've got a whole new life ahead of you. The Justice League. The team. You and me."

"Even if I'm not the same person a part of me will always be there to watch you run." The bracelet glows softly with his promises, the runes that had protected him for years binding them together with his words and then Danny was shoving him back leaving Bart less than a fraction of a second to try and reach out for him before his entire world is swallowed by shadows and he's falling.

Bart Allen would live.

He'd have as many second chances as Danny could spare since Earth 63 was lost.

The moonlit world had decimated it, turning friends and family against each other but even now the Infinity Realms rumbled a challenging call. Their herald was gone for now but the king would fight, and continue fighting to the bitter end while Bart... Bart would... He'd...

"Time out."

Staring down at the young herald Clockwork smiled a little half smile as the ripple effects of their actions were already taking effect.

It might be a little different then he'd intended and he'd certainly bent a few rules in order to ensure his preferred outcome but the Ancient of Time was confident things would work out for the better.

"Now let's see if we can get it right this time."

It's nothing much but a part of an idea I had for Bart and Danny trying to survive/fix the DC vs. Vampire universe.

Danny's trying.

Bart keeps trying to reset everything but it isn't working. He changes a few things but nowhere near enough to stop what's going to happen until Clockwork finally steps in with a playbook that might work.

I don't know what it is with me always imagining the two of them traveling around apocalyptic worlds but Danny is Danny so he can't be turned into a vampire while Bart is his herald, he's essentially Danny's Fright Knight with an anti magic nth metal bracelet and a whole lot of blessings so he doesn't end up like the rest of his family.

[gatorbites-imagines]

scott summers x male reader where Scott gets hit with someones love mutation ( basically like a love potion type of situation ) and Scott " falls in love" with male reader, but scoot acts the same as he always does, because he is already in love with male reader.

Scott Summers x mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers mildly based on Atom Smasher, at least power-wise. Still tired from working all week, but it is what it is. I eat up Scott being awkward, I hc him as autistic if anyone cares. Cuz I love Scott, and Scott is me.

You were on X-men, with a mutation that let you change your size. Like ant-man, but cooler, if anyone asked you. You didn’t need a suit to change your size, so in your mind you were the original.

How long you had been an x-men doesn’t matter much, just enough time for Scott to fall in love with you, but not long enough that you could read between all his actions.

Which isn’t very obvious to anyone but the teams telepaths, who can hear his thoughts because of different mind bonds they share. Or the ones who have been on the team long enough to notice he’s giving you favorable treatment.

To you it isn’t obvious, as Scott doesn’t let it show too much. favorable treatment from Scott is things like him pulling you into the danger room to spar more, or him secretly stocking up on your favorite snacks.

Scott would stick closer to you than most, but again, to you it just comes across as the leader sticking closer to the new guy. At least, in the beginning when you are the new guy. After that, you two have kind of a strategy when it comes to fighting from all the training, which makes you believe its that.

Scott was always a bit tense or flighty, in your opinion. But everything moved so slow or fast when you changed size, so maybe it was just that. being the leader of the x-men also meant he had to have a lot of weight on his shoulders, right?

It definitely wasn’t because your suit would rip and tear a lot back when you first joined the team, before Hank and you found the right formula for a suit that would shrink and grow with you.

At least you never flashed anybody, as much as Scott would silently in his mind wish you did. Which just ended up with him getting a lot of ribbing from Jean and whoever else could hear his thoughts.

When Scott was hit with the enemy mutants’ powers, no one really realized for a while.

You had been as big as a skyscraper at that point, fighting against a sentinel of all things. Why mutants would side with them, you never understood. But that’s life. This also just meant you didn’t see Scott get hit.

It was only after you guys got back to the mansion, or krakoa, depending on where and when this takes place, and other members of the team were getting treated. Hank was mostly shocked you hadn’t gotten hit, since you were so damn big and easy to hit.

The only difference in Scott was that he was hovering more than usual, hell, he even let his fingers brush against the back of your hand for like a split second but that was it.

Other than that, he’s the exact same, giving out orders and helping where he’s needed. Though, he does keep an eye on you more than usual, which isn’t that obvious with his visor and everything anyways.

Maybe Jean is out of commission for a while, so it’s Charles that realizes Scott was hit, so it takes a while.

And its only realized when Scotts thoughts spiral more than usual when it comes to you, sounding borderline obsessed and possessive. It’s when flickers of thoughts about using his optic blast on Remy when he’s doing his usual flirting that it starts setting off alarm bells.

Scott would deny anything being wrong with him, since he doesn’t feel different. Which, in the end, just outs him and his feelings to you which leaves you stunned for a while.

You end up having to sit with him and hold his hand to make him stop resisting treatment, since he’s way too focused and flustered about holding your hand.

Maybe your powers act up a bit from having these feelings put on display, because yeah, your team leader is such a damn smokeshow and he’s charming in his own way. But you never thought hed actually like you of all people.

It’s pretty awkward in the medical wing for a couple of moments, with Scott wanting to jump into the ocean at how embarrassed he feels. It doesn’t help when you grow a couple of sizes when you realize all the times you two have been grinding on each other during spars, and the table breaks right under you.

Being thrown to the floor at least makes Scott laugh. Enough for him to roll over and pull your mask off, because it’s not fair only you get to see how flustered he is, right? (it’s also because he wants to see if you are disgusted by him, but sssshhh, don’t tell anybody)

When he sees how flustered you are about it, how you keep worrying your lip and looking away it makes his heart flutter.

Scott has always been good at reading people, it comes with the job. But realizing other people like him has never been his strong suit, so he’s never really thought about it.

In the end you two kiss, even if it’s pretty clumsy and a bit weird with you being at least 8 feet tall, but you make it work. Good thing Scott doesn’t mind the size difference.

It takes a moment for you to shrink back to normal size, and you two just spend some time sitting on the floor feeling flustered and talking about it. Scott likes order in his things, so of course hed want to get this right too.

You two are not surviving leaving the medical wing for long though, especially when the rest of the team sees the smashed table. Everyone knows the real reason, but there’s so much teasing about “what were yall doing in there, huh?”

But you guys survive, even if Scott does get huffy and blushy about it. you get back at the teasing by putting the items of the teammates in places they cant reach.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY EIGHTH; side a — the man who can’t be moved - the script | ex!s. harrington x r

w; does not follow the show ‘stranger things’, angsty at the beginning, but at the end it’s fluff an; this song is sooooo ex-boyfriend!stevie! prove me wrong.

mixtape here!

“Steve, you can’t just keep coming back here.” 

That was the last, actual, verbal conversation he had with Eddie. Or really anyone for that matter. 

Not that he cared. 

Stubbornly, he had kept coming back to this café that was your favorite and somewhere he had first met you. He had been in line when he looked towards the door when the bell rang. You’d stepped inside the new café Hawkins had added, a light in your eyes and suddenly he was smitten. 

He never believed in the ‘whole first love at sight’ thing that people spewed in fairytales. 

You’d changed his perspective completely. 

Then he had to ruin it when things were going good for him. 

There were a couple of days he had grown angry at you for an unknown and unnecessary reason. That anger had quickly turned and he grew angry at himself for even being angry at you. 

He’d started coming to the café a month ago, sitting there for hours, waiting to see if you’d walk through the door. 

He’s hoping you know he’s waiting for you — even if you had every reason not to take him back. 

Today, he stayed even longer than he usually does. There’s some flowers on the table by his arm and his eyes remain looking out the window. It’s dark out now all besides the street lights that had seemed to dim over time. 

“Sir,” A woman’s voice catches his attention. Her eyes drop towards the flowers before looking at him. “We’re closing.” 

Steve lets out a small sigh, nodding slightly as he stands from the booth. He grabs the flowers and stares at them for a moment before handing them over towards her. 

She hesitates, but grabs them from his grip. “Thanks for…putting up with me,” Her eyes lift from the flowers and glances up at him. “Happy Valentine’s day.” He gives a small, tight smile and a quick nod. Before she could say anything else, he quickly exits, a bit of frustration bubbling in his chest, the familiar feel of oncoming tears makes his teeth grit together. 

“Steve.” 

He stops and blinks quickly, his vision a bit blurry as he looks around before finally turning. 

His breath is momentarily stolen when his eyes land on you and he wants to sob — he holds it together. “Uh…Hi.” 

You begin to slowly walk over, stopping in front of him. “You’re very stubborn, you know that?” 

His brows pinch together, confusion contouring his face. “What?” 

Smiling a bit, you look down at the ground. “You’ve managed to come here for a month straight and wait without leaving.” 

He’s even more confused. “How do you…?” 

“Eddie called me,” You nod. “Told me that you were at the café waiting for me. The first day I came to talk to you, I stopped myself before I could even walk inside and talk to you again,”

“I didn’t know if that was just…show. So, I waited. And you waited too.” 

Steve is momentarily speechless before he shakes his head. “You mean to tell me you had come to see if I would keep coming back and wait for you?” 

“You deserve it,” You say simply. “You said something that…truly hurt me, Steve. I wasn’t going to just throw myself into your arms,” You shake your head. 

“I wanted you to prove that you actually did love me, whether you knew you were proving it or not.” 

He purses his lips a bit and nods. “I deserve that.” 

“You do,” You nod. “But…I’ve missed you too much to just keep watching you from a distance,” His eyes are slightly wide, soft and warm. 

“I want to start over.” 

“Start over?” You hum your confirmation. His lips pull into a smile, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Alright…” He clears his throat. 

He turns his body away from you, causing your head to tilt slightly. He finally looks at you once again, his face morphing into the same look he’d had when he first laid eyes on you. 

His hand sticks out as he turns back towards you. “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington.” 

Your eyes drop towards his hand, a small smile pulling at your lips. Your hand meets his, shaking slightly as you tell him your name. Neither one makes a move to pull your hands away. You squeeze his hand three times. 

I love you. 

A smile pulls at his lips. “It’s nice to meet you.” He squeezes back four times. 

I love you always.

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @dearestjune — @sstar-ggirl — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[arxiwon]

Falling Apart | yjw

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jungwon × Girlfriend!Reader

Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance Warnings: Heavy heartbreak, emotional distress, themes of loneliness and grief, implied depression, unresolved feelings.

Synopsis: Love was supposed to be enough. Jungwon had believed that with everything in him. But when you walked away under the pouring rain, leaving behind nothing but an apology and silence, he was forced to confront the cruelest truth—some things are meant to fall apart, no matter how much you wish they wouldn’t. Now, drowning in memories and the echo of your absence, he wonders if he'll ever feel whole again. 💔

Jungwon’s hands trembled as he stood in the rain, his breath coming out in uneven gasps. The cold seeped through his clothes, but he barely felt it—not when the pain in his chest was so much worse.

“You’re lying,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “Say you’re lying.”

You swallowed hard, eyes darting away. “Jungwon, I—”

“Say it,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Tell me you don’t mean it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and that was when he knew. This wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some cruel joke. You were leaving.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Jungwon let out a breath, his entire body shaking from something far deeper than just the cold. “Why?”

You bit your lip, hesitating. “I just… I can’t do this anymore. Us.”

“Don’t,” he choked out, stepping forward, his hands desperate to reach for you, to hold you, to keep you from slipping away. “Don’t say it like that, like everything we had meant nothing.”

Your shoulders trembled, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s not that. You know it’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice rose, frustration, heartbreak, and desperation mixing together. “I love you! I’ve loved you every single day, every single second, and you—” He sucked in a sharp breath, his chest tightening as if it was caving in. “You’re just walking away?”

Your silence was the final blow.

Jungwon let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “So that’s it, then.”

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, blinking up at the sky as if it could stop the tears from falling. “Don’t be.” His voice was hollow now, empty in a way it had never been before. “Just go.”

The rain poured harder as you turned away, and Jungwon stood there, rooted in place, watching the love of his life walk away from him for the last time.

And that was when he realized—love wasn’t always enough.

He didn’t move for a long time. The rain soaked through his clothes, his shoes, his skin, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

He should have run after you. He should have held you tighter, begged you to stay. But he knew it wouldn’t have changed anything.

Hours passed before he finally forced his legs to move, dragging himself back to his dorm like a ghost of the person he once was. The memories clawed at him with every step. The way you used to hold his hand, the way you laughed when he told you stupid jokes, the way you whispered his name like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

And now, you were gone.

Jungwon collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. His phone buzzed beside him, a message from a friend asking if he was okay.

No, he wasn’t.

He typed out a response, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it. What was the point? Words couldn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest.

Nights turned into days, and days blurred into weeks. He went to class, answered when people spoke to him, smiled when necessary. But it was all a performance. Inside, he was breaking, slowly unraveling piece by piece.

Your absence was everywhere. The empty seat next to him in the library, the untouched coffee cup in his dorm, the playlist you made together that he couldn’t bring himself to delete.

One night, he finally let himself break. He sat on the floor of his room, knees pulled to his chest, and let the sobs wrack through his body. He cried for the love he lost, for the memories that haunted him, for the way he would never hear you say his name the same way again.

Jungwon had always thought love was supposed to be enough. But now, as he sat alone in the dark, he realized some things were meant to fall apart, no matter how much you wished they wouldn’t.

[corvidaerook]

I'm thinking about Rook De Riva and Viago again and just rambling about my thoughts, which might change when it's not 3am:

For my Rook, I think the reason he never met Lucanis, Illario, or Caterina before Veilguard, or even apparently saw them from a distance considering he didn't recognize them at all, was partly because of Viago and Viago's past with the King.

Basically, Viago got forced to choose between being a Crow or being exiled because of his position as a bastard child. He didn't have a choice in it, which in my opinion leads to him having issues with the whole idea of power and who holds it and all that ("The Crows rule Antiva" do you mean the Crows, or do you mean you, Viago?) And that makes me think of two things.

1) Viago hating the idea of the higher-up Talons having too much control over him or pulling rank. What's one way to give them less of an opportunity to let them do that? Keep them from ever really seeing his best Crows. And personally, I think it's implied that Rook is one of his best. The way he talks in the Blighted Treviso scene, where he goes "you always think of something!" and acts like Rook literally just being there could've changed anything alone makes me think he relies on Rook a decent amount. Plus him trusting Jacobus to Rook, "you're a damn fine Crow," etc. So I can totally see him tucking Rook away from the higher-ranked Crows as an "out of sight, out of mind" tactic to keep them from using Rook in any way. (I know Teia and Viago don't pull rank with each other, but I can't remember if they said that was all the Talons or just themselves, and I don't believe that none of them do)

And

2) Viago seems to actually care about Rook. Teia says it, Viago seems to imply it, etc. and in my headcanon, it's definitely true. So, similarly to the first point, I think Viago would be hesitant to let anyone he cares about be in a place where they could be subject to a display of power from someone higher up in the Crows. He had to deal with being banished or given to the Crows by his father, and I just don't think he'd tolerate the idea of a similar treatment towards people he cares about. Teia is relatively safe because she's incredibly capable herself and has Caterina's support, but Rook when they were just starting out? Viago couldn't have been sure that they would win over anyone important enough to give them that sort of immunity. So to me, it feels like the easier method would be to just keep Rook out of the way. If Rook is never really noticed by the higher crows, they could never be deliberately singled out. Not only would that protect Rook, but I think it would also satisfy the paranoid, overly cautious part of Viago that's constantly waiting for another adder in the wardrobe situation.

(also, 3, Imo Viago would love to have a secret ace in the hole trick up his sleeve in the form of a personally trained, very skilled assassin who none of the other big-name Crows have necessarily noticed. Especially if Teia helped train them too, on top of Viago and an Heir. Two, if not three, incredibly talented teachers making a top tier assassin? It'd be his dream come true if they'd just start listening to his fucking orders.)

So, with those two (3ish) reasons, I think Viago purposefully keeping Rook away from the Dellamortes makes a lot of sense. I can absolutely see it where Viago just sent Rook away whenever there was some important meeting or he knew Illario would be around the Diamond or that Lucanis would be at the cafe. He might've even warned Rook that he wanted them to stay away from the Dellamortes because he didn't trust them not to fuck up in front of them, meanwhile he was really calculating about how best to keep Rook from being noticed until they were at a point where he would feel like they were ready.

And then Rook went and pissed off everyone with the Antaam stunt, all at once, and Viago had to send Rook away, making him use his power to make choices for Rook in the exact way that he'd been plotting so carefully to avoid anybody else doing to them.

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (ii) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky's birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa....

word count: 7k

warnings: fluff, kisses and lots of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. this is the second part, there’s one more coming up next weekend!

masterlist | part 1 • part 3

previously— Winnie's gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know all of this? You've never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James." You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

But then you straightened, your gaze meeting Winnie’s with quiet determination. “I care because he deserves to have someone care. And I know because… I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him. I’ve seen how much he loves his life now, how hard he’s fought to be free of what they did to him.”

Winnie studied you closely, searching for any hint of deception. But there was none. Whoever you were, whatever strange circumstances had brought you here, you believed every word you said. And somehow, impossibly, so did Winnie.

“Why didn’t he come himself?” Winnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “If he’s alive, if he’s free… why hasn’t he come home to me? You came from the future, why couldn’t he?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. “I think… I think part of him doesn’t know how. After everything he’s been through, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves that kind of peace. And part of him is afraid—afraid of how much he’s changed, of what you might think of him now.”

“Think of him?” Winnie’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. “He’s my boy. My James. There’s nothing he could do, nothing he could have gone through, that would make me love him any less.”

You smiled faintly, a hint of relief softening your features. “I know that. And deep down, I think he does too. But it’s hard for him to see it sometimes.”

Winnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “He was always stubborn,” she murmured, her voice tinged with affection. “Even as a boy, once he got an idea in his head, you couldn’t talk him out of it.”

You chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Yeah,” you said, your tone fond. “He’s still like that.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Then Winnie straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as another thought struck her. “You said Steven is alive too.”

You nodded. “He is. He and James are living together now, in Brooklyn.”

“In Brooklyn?” Winnie echoed, her brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me those two fools survived everything they went through and still ended up back here?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I guess they couldn’t resist coming home.”

Winnie shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Of course they did. Those two were always thick as thieves. If there was trouble to be found, they’d find it together.”

“They still do,” you said, your smile widening. “But they’re good now. They’ve made a life for themselves—a real life. They’re happy.”

Winnie’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. It was too much to process, too much to believe, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Her boys. Alive. Together. Safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

You reached across the table, your hand warm and steady as it covered Winnie’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Winnie’s fingers tightened around yours, gratitude and hope flooding her chest in equal measure. But before she could speak again, your expression shifted, a hint of nervous energy creeping into your gaze.

“There’s… something else,” you said slowly, as though choosing your words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about James. About what he’s been through, and what he’s lost. And I was wondering…” You hesitated, your eyes searching Winnie’s face. “Would you want to see him?”

Winnie froze, her breath catching in her throat. “See him?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “You can do that?”

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. “There’s a way. It’s… time travelling just like I did, and it might sound crazy, but I can bring him back here. Just for a week. For his birthday.”

Winnie stared at you, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. “You mean… you could bring him here? From the future?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “It wouldn’t change anything in the timeline—he wouldn’t be able to stay permanently—but it would give him a chance to see you. To have that time with you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of the offer pressing down on Winnie like a physical force. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning wildly as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what you were suggesting. To see her boy again. To hold him, to tell him everything she’d held in her heart for so long.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “But only if you want it. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Winnie shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as a trembling smile broke across her face. “Too much? No. It’s everything. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

You smiled, relief and warmth radiating from you like a beacon. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

Winnie let out a shaky laugh, her hands clutching yours as though you might vanish if she let go. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

For the first time in several months, hope blossomed in Winnie’s chest, a fragile but undeniable light cutting through the darkness. Her James was coming home. Even if only for a week, it would be enough. It would be everything.

As Winnie sat back in her chair, clutching her teacup as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Across from her, you watched her with patient, steady eyes, your hands folded neatly on the table. For all the warmth and kindness in your expression, there was a subtle alertness about you, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

“So,” Winnie began softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, “when are you bringing him here?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing together before you answered. “It won’t be immediate,” you said gently. “I still have to take care of a few things back home. Time travelling needs to be done very carefully.”

Winnie nodded slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I see,” she murmured, though the concept was as baffling as everything else you had told her that day. “And it’ll be both of them? James and Steven?”

You tilted your head slightly, your brows knitting in mild confusion. “You want to see Steve, too?”

“Of course I do,” Winnie said, her voice firm now. “That boy… he was as much my son as James was. They were inseparable. Always running off together, getting into trouble. Steven was smaller, quieter, but oh, the mischief they caused.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh, her eyes shining with memory. “When James wasn’t pulling some prank, it was Steven. And when they weren’t eating me out of house and home, they were convincing Rebecca to smuggle cookies from the pantry. Those boys were mine, y/n. Both of them.”

Your face softened, your gaze warm with understanding. “I’ll bring Steve,” you promised. “He’d want to see you, too.”

Winnie leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. “You tell him he’d better show his face. I may be older now, but I can still box his ears if he’s too stubborn.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt less like avoidance and more like a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared. Winnie sipped her tea, her mind racing with thoughts of James and Steven, of how different they must be now, and yet still the same in ways that mattered. She wanted to ask more—so much more—but she didn’t know how much more she could take before he brain began hurting.

You cleared your throat softly, breaking the quiet. “I’ll leave you something to help,” you said, pulling a small, unfamiliar device from your pocket. It was sleek, metallic, and fit neatly into the palm of your hand. You placed it on the table between you, your expression thoughtful. “This will let you know when we’re coming. It’ll turn green when we’re on our way.”

Winnie stared at the strange object, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch it. “And I’ll know it’s them?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “When it lights up, you’ll know we’re coming in less than 2mins. But until then, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Not even Rebecca.”

Winnie nodded, though the request gave her pause. “Why not?”

“It could change things,” you said carefully, your tone deliberate. “The timeline is… fragile. Even the smallest change could ripple out and affect the future in ways we can’t predict.”

Winnie frowned but didn’t press further. She trusted you, even if your explanations left her head spinning. “I’ll wait,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to bring them, I’ll be here.”

You smiled, relief flashing briefly across your face. “Thank you.” You rose from your chair, smoothing your hands over your strange, unfamiliar clothing. “I should go,” you said softly. “But I’ll be back soon. But please… don’t tell anyone else about this. Not until it’s time.”

Winnie nodded, though her mind lingered on the odd tension in your words. “I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you… for everything.”

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Barnes,” you said quietly before slipping out the door.

Winnie watched you go, the strange little device still sitting on the table, its metallic surface catching the light. She didn’t understand everything—perhaps she never would—but one thing was clear. You cared deeply for her son, in ways that went beyond mere kindness or duty. And while Winnie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on.

With a quiet sigh, she picked up the device, turning it over in her hands as a small smile tugged at her lips. Her boys were coming home. And no matter what secrets you might be hiding, Winnie would be ready.

The first thing Bucky became aware of was warmth—a soft, familiar weight pressed against his waist, accompanied by a flurry of something tickling his skin. His brows furrowed as his body stirred, torn from the haze of sleep by what felt suspiciously like lips pressing against his face. Again and again. Across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and down along his jawline.

“Doll,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’re you—?”

Before he could finish, another kiss landed on his chin, followed by a soft giggle that melted whatever protest he’d been trying to muster. He cracked one eye open, his gaze greeted by you perched on his waist, your legs folded neatly on either side of him, and face lit up like you’d just won the lottery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you chirped, leaning down to plant another kiss on his forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“It’s never too early to kiss your grumpy face,” you retorted, your voice dripping with mischief as your trailed kisses down the side of his neck. “Plus, I made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” he repeated, cracking his other eye open now. His arms moved instinctively to settle on your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Only the best for my birthday boy,” you said grinning. “Chocolate chip and caramel pancakes, strawberries, and an Americano. Your favorite.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his mind catching up to her words. “Birthday boy?” he echoed, groaning again as the realization hit him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Close enough,” your voice sing-song as you leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s your birthday week, Buck. So, get used to it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Insanely in love with you,” you quipped, tilting your head to press a longer, slower kiss to his lips.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, his initial sleepiness melting away as he pulled you closer. One of his hands moved up your back, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of you against him. When you both finally broke apart, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Morning kisses are dangerous,” you teased, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before sitting back on his lap.

“You started it,” he countered, smirking. “Don’t blame me for finishing it.”

Your laugh was soft and musical as you traced fingers lightly over his chest. “Come on, lazybones.”

Bucky groaned in protest but sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he adjusted you so you stayed steady on his lap. He glanced around for his T-shirt, his brow furrowing when he didn’t see it where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, leaning over slightly to check the floor beside the bed.

When he looked back up, he froze mid-sentence, his lips parting as he took you in fully. You were sitting there, looking as sheepish as you were smug, wearing his shirt. The fabric hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your bare thighs. It was unmistakably his, and you looked too damn cute for your own good.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did you steal my shirt?”

You gave him an innocent smile, tugging lightly at the hem as though to draw attention to your handiwork. “Maybe.”

“You little thief,” he teased, narrowing his eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

“You left it lying around,” you shot back, tone matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s comfy. Smells like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to tug gently on the sleeve. “You’re lucky you look so damn cute in it.”

“I know,” you said, grinning triumphantly.

He leaned forward suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, as he flipped you both over onto the mattress. Your squealed in surprise, your laughter spilling out in a way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you.

“Admit it,” he said, pinning your wrists lightly above your head as he hovered. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You grinned up at him, utterly unrepentant. “Guilty as charged.”

Letting out a soft laugh, Bucky released your wrists so he could cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Because I’m pretty damn obsessed with you too.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you reached up to pull him down for another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, a quiet promise exchanged. When you both finally pulled apart, you gave him a playful shove.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you said, sitting up and smoothing your hands over his shirt. “Let me get your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As you moved to get up, he caught your wrist, tugging you back toward him. “Wait,” he said, nodding toward the wardrobe. “If you’re going out there, grab me another shirt.”

Your brows raised, a mischievous glint sparking, “Why?”

“Because I’m not walking around half-naked,” he said, his tone dry.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him an appraising look. “Why not? You’ve got a drool-worthy body, Buck. Let me enjoy the view for a little longer.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face as he tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead before darting out of the room.

When you returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray of food, the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air. Bucky’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and you grinned, setting the tray on the bed between you both.

“Breakfast in bed,” you announced, settling cross-legged beside him. “Made with love.”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, his heart swelling at the way your eyes lit up. “Thank you, doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you teased, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of pancake before holding it out to him. “Try it first.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit his tongue. “Okay, that’s good,” he admitted, his tone slightly muffled.

“Told you,” you said smugly, popping a piece of pancake into your own mouth.

You ate together like that, trading bites and teasing each other in between sips of coffee. At one point, Bucky fed you a strawberry, laughing softly at the way you wrinkled your nose when the juice dripped onto your chin. You were radiant, completely in your element, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much he loved you.

“So,” he said finally, setting his fork down as he leaned back against the headboard. “What’s the plan for today?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I feel like I should be nervous?”

“Because you should be,” you teased, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can get started.”

He rolled his eyes but did as you asked, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Whatever you had planned, he knew it was going to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his day—and his life—with you by his side.

A hour later Bucky was leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on the last of his coffee, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from the shower. He was still trying to piece together why you had been so hyperactive all morning. Sure, it was his birthday week, but you were practically vibrating with energy, flitting from one room to the next like a woman on a mission. He’d never seen you this focused—and that was saying something.

“Bucky!” you voice called from the bedroom.

He pushed off the counter with a soft chuckle, setting his mug in the sink before making his way to you. “Yeah, doll?”

As soon as he stepped inside, you turned to him with those big, sparkling eyes that always managed to undo him. You were standing on you tippy toes, pointing toward the upper cupboard above the closet. “Can you get the suitcases down for me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Suitcases? Why do you need those?”

You shot him a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re going on a trip! For your birthday.”

That made him pause. “A trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped toward the cupboard. “What trip?”

“You’ll see,” you said, clearly enjoying his confusion. “But Steve’s coming too.”

Bucky froze, halfway through reaching for the suitcases. He turned back to look at you, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “Steve’s coming? Why is Steve coming on my birthday trip?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” you said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’ll be fun.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’re planning a trip for my birthday… and you invited Stevie?”

“Yes, Do you have a problem with that?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcases and setting them down on the bed. “But it’s a little weird, doll. Most people don’t bring a third-wheel on a romantic getaway.”

You rolled your eyes, already unzipping one of the suitcases. “Who said it’s a romantic getaway? Maybe it’s a fun getaway.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” you said coyly, grabbing a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser and dropping them into the suitcase. “Now stop asking questions and help me pack.”

Bucky sighed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped closer, pulling open the drawer with his T-shirts and folding a few into the second suitcase. As he worked, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the little hums you let out as you double-checked your packing list.

“What’s with all the jewelry boxes?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the growing pile of items you was slipping into a side pocket.

“Accessories,”

“And the electronics?”

“Essentials.”

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. You was obviously on a mission, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.

By the time you added a small bag of expensive makeup to the pile, he couldn’t help himself. “Doll, are we going to a luxury fashion show or something? Because this is starting to look like a lot.”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not a lot. It’s exactly what we need. Now hush and fold your socks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his drawer. “Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later, Steve wandered into the room, followed by Sam, who was munching on an apple and looking entirely too amused by the situation.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the suitcases.

“Packing,” you said brightly, tossing another pair of jeans into one of the bags. “We leave tomorrow.”

Sam’s brows lifted, and he exchanged a glance with Steve, who grinned knowingly. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Steve asked, his tone almost gleeful.

“Of course not It’s a surprise.” you said.

Bucky crossed his arms, leveling everyone all with a suspicious look. “You three are up to something. I can feel it.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle over him. The easy banter, the laughter, the way you kept sneaking glances at him as though you couldn’t help yourself—it all felt so… normal. And for someone who’d spent decades trapped in chaos and darkness, normal was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“Alright,” you said finally, zipping up the last suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “I think we’re good to go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You didn’t pack the kitchen sink yet.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer to poke him in the chest. “You’re lucky I love you, Barnes.”

He grinned, catching your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice softening. “And I love you too.”

Your smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. It didn’t matter where he was going, all that mattered was you—the way you looked at him, the way you loved him, the way you made him feel like he was finally, truly home.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam called, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Save the mushy stuff for the trip.”

Bucky shot him a mock glare, but his hold on you didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the suitcases. Whatever you had planned, he knew one thing for sure: with you by his side, it was going to be perfect.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he was even less of a fan of being blindfolded, especially when it involved Steve holding his hand like they were reenacting some 1940s screwball comedy.

“Stevie,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the blindfold. “If I trip and fall on my face, you’re paying for my dental work.”

Steve snorted, his grip firm as he guided Bucky down what felt like an endless corridor. “Relax, Buck. I’ve got you. You’ve been blindfolded for what? Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long,” Bucky shot back, his tone dry. “I’m a trained assassin! I could probably tell you how many steps we’ve taken, what direction we’re headed, and what Sam’s chewing on back there.”

From behind, Sam made an exaggerated crunching sound. “It’s gum, genius. Cherry-flavored. Want some?”

“No,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his balance as Steve tugged him forward again. “What I want is to know what the hell is going on.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” your cheerful voice piped up from somewhere ahead. “Stop being so grumpy. It’s your birthday trip!”

“Grumpy is my default setting,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with a small smile. It wasn’t like he could stay mad—not when your voice carried that spark of excitement, like you couldn’t wait to share whatever scheme you’d cooked up.

“Just keep walking, Barnes,” Steve said, a smirk evident in his tone. “You’ll thank us later.”

Bucky let out a long-suffering sigh but kept moving, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The sound grew louder as they walked, and he could feel the air shift slightly, the faintest vibration underfoot giving away their location.

“We’re headed toward the back of the compound,” he muttered.

“Man, can’t get anything past you, huh?” earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Nope,” Bucky deadpanned, though his focus sharpened as they came to a stop. He could hear Tony’s voice now, low and clipped, exchanging words with you. Something about suits?

“Here you go,” Tony said, his voice dripping with his usual snark. “Try not to break my suit, lovebirds.”

“Suit?” Bucky repeated, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “What suit?”

“Hold still, Buck,” you said sweetly, and before he could respond, he felt something cool and metallic snap onto his wrist.

“What the—?” He flinched as the sensation spread, a sleek, nanotech suit wrapping around his body in an instant. It clung to him like a second skin, and he had to fight the instinct to rip it off. “Why the hell do I need a suit?” he questioned.

“Because you’re going to need it,” you said cryptically.

“Need it for what—”

“Goodbye, Nat!” you called, cutting him off as you waved toward the direction of Natasha’s voice.

“See you back in a jiffy,” Natasha replied, her tone amused.

Bucky froze. Jiffy? His enhanced brain worked through the context in seconds, piecing together the sounds, the cryptic comments, and the tech now covering his body. His heart stuttered.

“Doll,” he said slowly, his voice low and worried. “Are we—”

Before he could finish, the ground shifted beneath him, and his words were swallowed by the rush of noise and light.

The Quantum Realm.

The pull of it was disorienting, like being dragged through a vortex, the world around him blurring into streaks of color and sound. He instinctively tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, though he silently cursed the situation. Why did Steve get to hold his hand? He wanted it to be you.

Seconds—or maybe mini seconds—later, the chaos abruptly stopped, and Bucky felt himself thrown forward. He landed with a thud, groaning as the impact knocked the breath out of him.

“Get off of me, Buck,” Steve grumbled from beneath him.

“Not my fault you’re always in the way,” Bucky muttered, rolling off of Steve just as you collapsed onto both of them in a fit of laughter.

“This is the best thing ever,” you declared, clearly unbothered by the pile-up. “We did it!”

“Yeah, great,” Bucky said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Where the hell are we?”

You scrambled to your feet, practically bouncing as you grabbed his hands and tugged him up. “You’ll see. Ready?”

He raised an eyebrow, his suspicions deepening. “Not until you tell me—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, reaching up to untie his blindfold. “No spoilers. Just… trust me, okay?”

Bucky sighed, his irritation melting under your excited voice. “Fine.”

As the blindfold fell away, the world came into focus, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. His surroundings were achingly familiar—the cobblestone street, the faint smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down, the little white house with blue shutters and a squeaky front gate.

It was home. His home. The one from the 1940s, where his ma had lived with his sister.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Every detail was perfect, from the worn brick chimney to the hydrangeas blooming by the front porch. It was as though he’d stepped back in time, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is this…?”

“Happy birthday, Bucky,” you said softly, your eyes shining with love. “Welcome home.”

His knees nearly gave out, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. He turned to you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. But there were none. What could he possibly say to this? To you?

Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as his chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, your head resting against his shoulder, holding him just as firmly.

“Thank you,” he choked out after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your smile was soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you pulled back to look at him. “You deserve this, Buck. All of it.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that. And as he turned back toward the house, his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

The tiny gadget sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, its metallic surface catching the morning light streaming through the window. Winnie Barnes had made a habit of glancing at it every time she passed by, though she’d tried not to obsess over it. It had been a month since the young woman, with a quick smile and a strange, unworldly confidence—had appeared in her life, promising something that felt too impossible to believe.

But today, when Winnie glanced at the device, she froze. The tiny light on its surface was glowing green.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she set down the towel she’d been folding. Her fingers hovered above the gadget, trembling slightly, before she pressed it, feeling the faint warmth of the metal beneath her touch. It had turned green, just like you had said it would.

Her boys!

Winnie’s chest tightened, her heart racing as she stared at the device. You had promised—you’d promised to bring Steve & Bucky home, even if only for a little while. And now, after weeks of waiting and wondering if she’d been foolish to believe, it was happening.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful, and Winnie’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs frozen beneath her as her mind raced. Then, as if on instinct, she grabbed her apron and wiped her hands, hurrying toward the door. Her heart pounded with every step, anticipation and disbelief swirling together in a dizzying mix.

When she opened the door, her breath left her in a rush.

There he was. Her James.

He stood on the stoop, taller than she remembered, broader too, with his hair cut shorter than the boyish waves she’d last seen. He looked like a man now, with a shadow of a beard and eyes that carried a weight she couldn’t begin to imagine. But those were his eyes, her boy’s eyes, and they softened the moment they met hers.

“Ma?” Bucky said, his voice low and tentative, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had brought him here.

Winnie’s hand flew to her mouth, tears already blurring her vision. “James,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Before he could say another word, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. He stiffened for a moment, as though startled by the embrace, but then he melted into her, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. She felt his chest heave, the soft hitch of his breath against her shoulder, and she held him even tighter, as if letting go might make him disappear.

“You’re real,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Ma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here.”

It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone. Just behind him, standing a step lower on the stoop, was another familiar face—Steven Rogers. He looked much the same as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed broader, his stance steadier, and there was a kindness in his gaze that she remembered and it made her heart ache.

“Steven,” she said, her voice breaking as she reached for him.

Steve smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug that was just as firm, just as full of love. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Stevie,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her hands cupping his face. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

Her gaze flicked back to James, and she shook her head, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

James reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real, Ma. We’re here.”

Her gaze darted past them, searching for the one person who had made this miracle possible. “Where’s y/n?”

“Right here, Mrs. Barnes,” you called, stepping out from behind the boys with a wide grin. You were carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder, your eyes sparkling with the same enthusiasm Winnie had seen the day she first met you.

Winnie let out a soft laugh, her hand pressing to her chest. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “You brought them home.”

“I told you I would,” you said, grin widening. “Happy early birthday to Jamie.”

James turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “You… you planned this on your own?”

You shrugged, your smile turning a bit sheepish. “Well, Steve and Sammy helped, but yeah. I thought you might like to see your mom again.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, your head resting against his chest as you smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Winnie watched the exchange, her heart swelling as she took in the sight of her son standing there, alive and whole, surrounded by people who clearly loved him. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she dared to dream.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Come in, all of you. I’ll make tea.”

James smiled, his arm still draped around your shoulders as he turned to follow her inside. “Tea sounds great, Ma.”

Winnie watched the three of them file into her modest kitchen, her chest so full it ached. James was here. Her James. He was alive, and standing right there in front of her. She’d spent so many months mourning the boy she thought she’d lost to the war, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the man he’d become. He moved like someone who carried too much weight on his shoulders, but there was something else in his posture, too—something lighter, steadier. A calmness she didn’t quite recognize but found herself grateful for.

“Ma, you don’t have to do all this,” James said, his voice soft as he reached for the teapot she was preparing. “We can handle it.”

“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me, James Barnes,” she shot back, swatting his hand away. “You just sit down and let me take care of my boys.”

Bucky blinked at her, clearly startled, before a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Winnie continued, turning her attention to Steven Rogers, who was already leaning against the counter. “I’m not above putting you to work, Steven. You’ve got all that super-soldier strength—bring the bags in before your friend over there starts yelling.”

She nodded toward you, currently perched on the armrest of the couch, rummaging through a stack of photo albums you’d pulled from the shelf.

“I already yelled,” you said cheerfully, waving a hand toward the door. “You all just didn’t hear me. Stevie, come on, move those muscles. Make yourself useful.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pushed off the counter with a resigned sigh. “I liked you better when you were quieter,” he muttered, as he headed toward the door.

“You’ve never known me to be quiet, Rogers,” you called after him, your grin widening.

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the teapot. “She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” James said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. His gaze followed you as you hopped up from the couch and began poking through a drawer, muttering to yourself about “how vintage everything is.”

“She’s… something else,” Winnie murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

James smiled at that, his expression softening. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Ma.”

The words hit Winnie like a wave, her hands stilling as she poured the tea. She looked up at her son, her heart swelling at the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It wasn’t just affection she saw there—it was something deeper, something that made her throat tighten with emotion.

“She loves you,” Winnie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I can see it.”

James nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. She does.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something heavy that Winnie didn’t miss. She set the teapot down, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “And you love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but James nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I ever thought I could,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes everything feel worth it, Ma.”

Winnie squeezed his arm, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. She’d seen it in your eyes the day the you had come to her door, explaining everything James had been through—the torture, the brainwashing, the years stolen from him by Hydra. It was a kind of pain no mother could bear to imagine, and yet here he was, standing before her, whole and loved and somehow still her James.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I always have been.”

James looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, Ma.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter from the living room, followed by your unmistakable voice. “This drawer is just socks! Who keeps a whole drawer of socks?”

“They’re not just socks,” Winnie called back, her tone amused. “They’re darning socks!”

“Darning socks?” you repeated, appearing in the doorway with one of the socks in question draped over your hand like a puppet. “What even is that?”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the teapot again. “It’s what we do when socks get holes in them. You’d mend them instead of throwing them out.”

You blinked, clearly baffled. “You can… fix socks?”

“People in this era did,” Winnie said, chuckling at the younger woman’s expression. “Though I doubt you’re one of them.”

“Definitely not,” you said, grinning as you tossed the sock back into the drawer. “But that’s cool. Vintage socks. Got it.”

Steve chose that moment to reappear, a suitcase in each hand and an expression of mild annoyance on his face. “Happy now?” he asked, glaring playfully at you.

“Ecstatic,” you said, beaming at him. “You’re such a gentleman, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, setting the bags down by the door. “Just don’t ask me to do anything else.”

Winnie watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. It was chaos, but it was her chaos, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in what felt like forever, her house was filled with laughter and life and love. And as she looked around at the people who had made it possible, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together as she stepped into the living room. “Who’s ready for tea?”

“Me!” you called, plopping down onto the couch and kicking your feet up. “But only if there’s cookies.”

Winnie smiled, her heart full as she nodded. “There’s always cookies, sweetheart.”

James met her gaze from across the room, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. She nodded back, her silent promise unspoken but understood: they were home, and for as long as she had them, she’d make sure they never felt alone again.

To be continued….

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

previous | story masterlist | next

Lately, Naoya has been following Toji around just about every chance he gets. 

There are multiple reasons for this. One of them, of course, is the fact that he idolizes Toji and recognizes his strength. It’s true that, conventionally speaking, Toji doesn’t fit the mold for what a jujutsu sorcerer is supposed to be like. He doesn’t have even a smidge of cursed energy. On paper, he should be the weakest, and yet, he’s not. The entirety of the Zen’in Clan may refuse to acknowledge just how powerful he is, but Naoya instinctively knows better. There’s no denying the pressure he felt that day, upon his very first meeting with Toji. It’s the kind of pressure that only surrounds those who are truly strong. 

But it’s more than just that. If that was the only reason, he probably wouldn’t be trailing behind Toji like a little duckling, near constantly. He admires Toji, and that will never change, but these days, there's someone else on his mind. 

You.

“Are you leaving to go train [Name]?” 

That’s the question Naoya finds himself asking time and time again. Whenever he spots Toji leaving the clan estate, he runs up to him in a hurry, although he’s not quite sure why. He doesn’t really understand why he cares so much. It’s none of his business, after all. Toji has permission to train you. Even Naobito said he wasn’t going to stand in the way. Yet still, Naoya persists. 

“You always ask me that,” Toji mutters, rolling his eyes. “Go away. Shoo.” 

“Is that a yes or a no?” 

“It’s me telling you to get lost.”

Naoya never really succeeds with any of his approaches, but rather than letting it deter him, he just keeps pressing the issue. 

“How was training today?” 

“Is [Name] getting stronger?” 

“She hasn’t given up or anything, has she?” 

“Isn’t she worried that she might mess up by accident? Then, because of her Binding Vow, that means she’ll—” 

“For fuck’s sake, enough already!” Toji cries out. He grits his teeth and angrily massages his temples, attempting to soothe the permanent migraine he seems to have these days. Spending time with you is one thing, but he has much less patience when it comes to a brat from the Zen’in Clan.

Naoya’s brows droop, and he feels discouraged for a moment, but if he backs down now, he may as well be giving up. He refuses to give up. That’s what losers do, and he’s certainly not a loser. 

“I want to come with you,” Naoya states, crossing his arms defiantly. 

“Where?” 

“To see [Name]. You’re about to leave, aren’t you? I’m coming too.”

“Good one,” Toji snorts, but for some reason, the little brat still refuses to leave. Toji’s brows knit together. “Don’t tell me you’re actually serious?”

Naoya nods, gaze resolute. “Yes. I’ve made up my mind.”

“I doubt anyone will let you do that.” 

“So, I’ll just sneak out. By the time they realize, I’ll already be gone.”

Toji doesn’t particularly care for Naoya, or anyone else in the Zen’in Clan, for that matter. The first person he’s genuinely cared about is you. And he supposes he tolerates Satoru, but that’s about it. As far as he’s concerned, everyone else is irrelevant. 

That being said, if there’s a chance to piss off the Zen’in Clan, he definitely won’t pass it up. 

“Fine,” Toji chuckles. “This should be fun. I’m sure they’ll throw a fit when they can’t find you. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see it happen, though.” 

Naoya’s face lights up. Defying his family has never really crossed his mind. Up until now, he didn’t have much of a reason to. He’s used to being praised, having his ego fueled endlessly. But ever since he met you, he’s starting to tire of it. It’s not really that fun anymore. Rather than being acknowledged by the Zen’in Clan, he wants to be acknowledged by you. 

He’s going to make sure you realize just how strong and cool he is. 

And so, for the first time in his life, Naoya sneaks out of the clan estate. Despite his boastful nature, he’s still just a little kid, and it kind of feels like an adventure, going to visit places he’s never seen before. He also gets to spend time with Toji this way, and even though Toji mostly ignores him, Naoya feels happier than ever. 

“...huh? What’s he doing here?” 

Naoya finally finds himself face to face with you again. Several months have passed since the first time you met. He’s embarrassed to admit that he’s been thinking of you practically every single day. It’s seriously not his fault, though! You’re just so… strange. If you weren’t this strange, he would surely have forgotten about you already. For better or worse, you left a big impression. You’re the reason he’s been thinking about things so differently than before. 

“Um, hi,” Naoya greets. For some reason, he feels rather shy all of a sudden. He even tries to hide behind Toji’s back, but the dark-haired man just scowls before pushing him aside. 

“You’re the kid who insulted [Name],” Satoru remarks coldly. 

“It’s okay,” you dismiss. “I’m used to being insulted. Plus, you insult me all the time, Satoru.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that!”

Gojo Satoru is here again. Naoya is starting to realize that you and Satoru are very close friends. He seems to act awfully defensive whenever you’re involved. Naoya gets the feeling that Satoru already doesn’t like him very much. 

“Ignore him. Hi, Naoya,” you say, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you to join us today. Is it okay for you to be here? Your dad really doesn’t mind?” 

Your smile is reassuring, admittedly. Part of him was worried you’d get mad that he showed up out of nowhere, but clearly, that’s not the case. You don’t really seem like the type to get upset easily, now that he thinks about it. You didn’t even flinch when he insulted you before, and not only that, but you went out of your way to heal him, too.

Jujutsu sorcerers are a lot of things, but based on his experience, they’re usually not this nice. 

He likes it. 

“My dad doesn’t know I’m here,” Naoya says. “I snuck out.” 

“Uh-oh. You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?” 

You stare at him, visibly concerned, and Naoya has to bite down on his lip to hide how happy he is that you’re worried about him. 

“I’ll be okay,” he reassures. “I’m going to be the leader of the clan one day! They’re probably just wondering where I am, but they won’t get upset with me. I’m way too important.”

“Doubt it,” Satoru snorts. 

“I am! Just ask anyone!” 

“I don’t need to ask. It’s obvious just by looking at you.” 

Naoya’s face reddens, and he balls his hands into small, trembling fists. He may be Gojo Satoru, but that doesn’t give him the right to be so mean. He’s clearly arrogant and spoiled. All of the power and prestige has gone straight to his head. 

It’s unbelievably ironic that Zen’in Naoya, of all people, is having these thoughts, but at least he’s starting to recognize right from wrong. Baby steps.

“Satoru, don’t be rude,” you reprimand, and Naoya grins, delighted that you’re taking his side.

“Yeah, don’t be rude,” Naoya eagerly piles on. “You’re hurting my feelings.” 

Satoru narrows his eyes. Much like Naoya, he can also tell that this will be the start of a bitter, long-lived rivalry. Ugh. As if he didn’t already have enough to deal with. Now he has to worry about some annoying little kid (note: only one year younger than him) trying to steal his best friend. You’ll seriously be the death of him at this rate.  

Meanwhile, Toji finds himself wondering when the hell he became everyone’s goddamn babysitter.

“I’ve gotten stronger since you last saw me,” Naoya proudly states. “I’m getting better and better at using my cursed technique. What about you? Have you made progress with your training?” 

“I’m doing my best,” you beam. 

“Um. That doesn’t really answer my question.” 

“She did answer your question,” Toji frowns. “She said she’s doing her best.”

“Yeah, she’s doing her best, dammit,” Satoru glares. “What more do you want from her?” 

Naoya is starting to think that it might have been a mistake to get involved with his particular trio. 

“Since you’re here, it’d be a waste to train,” you say. “We can just hang out instead! I’m not sure when we’ll get to see each other again, after all. What do you like to do for fun, Naoya? Oh! But before that, let’s eat. I packed yummy lunches for everyone.” 

Satoru and Toji immediately scrunch up their noses in visible disgust. Naoya frowns, watching as you unpack the bento boxes you brought along. Even though nobody ever eats your food, you still foolishly hold out hope that one day, they’ll come around to your self-proclaimed culinary genius. 

“Unless you want to cross over to the other side, you’d be better off never eating a single thing she cooks,” Satoru says. 

“Shut up, Satoru! Don’t lie to him!” You angrily slam a bento box down in front of Naoya, then you open it up to reveal what honestly looks like really, really good food. 

“Why?” Naoya frowns. “What’s so bad about it?” 

“Appearances are deceiving. She makes the food look good, but the second you taste it, it’ll feel like your soul is being ripped from your body.” 

Toji nods in agreement. “He’s not exaggerating.”

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” you huff. “I make amazing food. Some people are just afraid to experiment. Some super lame, super boring people. Hint: their names are Satoru and Toji.” 

“Plus everyone else in the world with working taste buds,” Satoru muses. 

“Oh my god, shut up, Satoru!” 

You shoot Satoru another glare before shoving a big helping of the bento box’s contents into your mouth. It definitely doesn’t look like you’re forcing yourself to eat any of it. You happily chow down, and your frustration is quick to dissolve the more food you eat. You seem like you’re actually enjoying yourself. Really, how bad can it be?

“Wow, he’s actually going for it.”

“And we even warned him. What an idiot.” 

Naoya ignores the peanut gallery while he takes a small, tentative first bite. He’s positive they’re exaggerating. Nothing could possibly taste that horrible—

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. 

It’s worse than horrible. It’s downright atrocious. 

The food is so disgusting that he nearly ascends to the skies, but through sheer force of will, he somehow remains tethered to reality. He needs to spit it out. His entire body is practically screaming at him to get rid of the unwelcome intrusion.  

But then he locks eyes with you, as you stare at him, gaze wide, bright, and hopeful.

Defying all odds, Naoya swallows what’s in his mouth, takes a moment to compose himself, then strains a smile.

“I-It’s really not that bad,” he replies weakly. “It’s actually… pretty good.”

“What?!” 

Satoru and Toji are the ones that just cried out. They’re convinced they must have heard wrong, but Naoya doesn’t pay them any mind. He’s much more focused on your expression.

And right now, you look like you’re happy enough to burst into tears.

“Wow, really? Yay! Finally, I’ve found someone who recognizes my talent!” you gush, shaking your fists in a fit of excitement. “I told you guys my cooking was good! You just didn’t know any better. Naoya is smarter than both of you, clearly.” 

You grin ear-to-ear, and without warning, you pull him into your arms and give him a big hug. Naoya immediately freezes, turning red from head to toe. His heart is beating so fast that he can hear it echoing in his eardrums, and even though Satoru cries out in protest, Naoya is too stunned to react. 

If he eats more of your food, does that mean you’ll keep hugging him like this? Because if that’s the case…

It’s worth it. 

Later that day, Naoya returns to his clan estate, and as much as Satoru would like to claim otherwise, he is important. At least, important enough for people to make a fuss over his disappearance. 

“Where in the world did you go, Naoya? You should know better than to leave without telling anyone.” 

His older brothers are all frowning at him, clearly expressing their disapproval. It’s not so much concern, but more so judgment. After all, despite being many years older than him, he’s the one who’s been chosen as the future clan leader. They must think he’s not taking it seriously, and that he ran off to play hooky or something. 

…which he kind of did, to be fair. 

Naoya considers lying, but he quickly discards the thought. If he gets caught in a lie, people will probably just get even more upset. It’s best to be as transparent as possible. Besides, he doesn’t want this to be the last time. He would like to keep seeing you. He would like that very much. 

“I met up with that girl that visited a while ago, [Name],” Naoya states. 

They all look shocked. He’s not quite sure what they were expecting, but it obviously wasn’t that. You may not be a Gojo by blood, but you’re affiliated with the clan nevertheless. The Zen’in Clan and Gojo Clan are forever at odds with one another. He basically just admitted to fraternizing with the enemy. But it’s not his fault the enemy is so freaking cute. 

“Did you hear that, father?” one of his older brothers frowns, turning towards Naobito, who’s drinking as per usual—from his trademark gourd, this time. 

“Which girl?” Naobito asks with obvious disinterest. 

“The one that you invited before. She showed up along with Gojo Satoru. You know, the same girl that Toji’s been training.” 

“Oh, right.” Naobito takes another swig from his gourd. “I’d completely forgotten about her. She’s the one with the Binding Vow. She had to gamble with her own life, and even then, she’s still a weakling.” 

Naoya’s brow twitches. His father is kind of getting on his nerves right now. Why won’t he admit that you’re actually a lot stronger than you appear at first glance? Hardly anyone knows how to use reverse cursed technique. The same goes for Toji. He’s so strong, and yet, everyone refuses to acknowledge him. It just doesn’t make any sense. 

Maybe the Zen’in Clan is run by a bunch of fools, after all. 

“So? Did you have fun on your little trip?” Naobito asks, visibly amused. He clearly couldn’t care any less about you. He’s not taking you seriously. It’s infuriating. 

“Yes,” Naoya replies, a glare settling upon his features. “She’s nice. I like her. I want to see her all the time from now on.” 

“Haha! How amusing.” 

“I’m not kidding, and I don’t care what you say. Whether you give me permission or not, I’m going to keep visiting her.” 

“Hm. I didn’t think you’d develop a rebellious streak so soon, but whatever,” Naobito merely shrugs. “As long as you don’t slack off on your training, how you choose to spend your time has nothing to do with me. Become strong. Nothing else matters.” 

Naoya nods enthusiastically, and his older brothers silently seethe, appalled that he can get away with virtually anything he wants. Despite being the clan leader, Naobito has always been especially laidback. Plus, he’s convinced that Naoya will lose interest soon enough. He’s only a little kid. Kids have short attention spans, and they always find something new to gush about. It’s really only a matter of time. 

Of course, even though Naobito doesn’t realize it, he’s dead wrong. 

Naoya’s fixation on you doesn’t falter, not even a little bit. He remains diligent with his training, not only so that he can become stronger, but so that he doesn’t lose the right to keep seeing you. He always thought that the greatest joy in his life was being able to demonstrate his strength and brag to everyone else, but lately, he seems to care less and less about what others think of him. He finds himself only caring about the people that matter, like you. 

“[Name], look! Look how fast I am!” 

He activates his cursed technique, and you watch as he seemingly disappears from one spot and reappears in another. It’s not actually that he disappeared. He just moved incredibly fast. It’s a technique he inherited from his father, and even though he’s only seven years old, he’s already highly proficient with it. 

“Wow,” you beam, making sure to clap your hands. “That was so cool! You’re super-duper fast, Naoya. My eyes could barely keep up with you.” 

He proudly puffs out his chest, readily basking in your praise. There’s just something about hearing the words come from your mouth that make them sound all the more meaningful. He’ll never get tired of it. It’s his favorite thing in the whole world. 

“Aren’t you curious how my cursed technique works?” Naoya asks with a smug smile. “It’s pretty complicated, but I’ll let you guess.” 

“Hm, I’m not sure. Is it something to do with frames? Within a one-second interval? Like, it lets you move really fast during that time. Maybe, like… twenty-four frames? Or something close to that.” 

Noaya’s jaw drops open, and you have to bite back the urge to giggle right in his face. It’s fun to tease him. Obviously, you already know what his cursed technique is. When it comes to this world, you know more than anyone could ever imagine.

“Th-That’s right,” Naoya blinks, absolutely dumbfounded. “How did you know? It’s the same technique my dad has, but… I definitely never told you that.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess it just seemed obvious.” 

“Whoa. You really are smart! You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met!” 

Naoya marvels at your sheer awesomeness (you really can’t blame him), and meanwhile, Satoru furrows his brows at the sight, becoming progressively more annoyed. 

“Hey, [Name],” he suddenly says. “Watch this.” 

You turn your head, and before you can even say anything, Satoru disappears from your line of sight. Again, he didn’t actually disappear, but he’s moving so fast that it makes it look that way. Unlike Naoya, however, he proceeds to zip around to even further distances, and repeatedly, without so much as breaking a sweat. 

By the time he’s done, Naoya is green with envy, and there are even small tears in his eyes. 

“There,” Satoru chuckles, sticking his nose up towards the sky, gleefully arrogant. “I’m definitely way faster than you, Naoya. It’s not even a contest. I bet it sucks to lose. It sucks, right? Tell me all about how sucky it is.” 

Naoya deflates, suddenly awash with shame. It’s not fair. He’s Gojo Satoru. Blessed from the moment of birth. Known by jujutsu sorcerers far and wide. How is he supposed to compete with that? Even though he’s strong—he really, really is—Satoru constantly makes him feel small and insignificant. Like an ant. 

Naoya sniffles, doing his very best to keep from crying, but before the tears can fall, you cup his cheek with your hand and smile. 

“Don’t be sad,” you mumble gently. “You did really well. I was super impressed. Satoru likes to brag, but just ignore him. I can tell you’re getting stronger each day. You’ll be an amazing jujutsu sorcerer. It’s obvious.” 

And there it is. With just a few, simple words of encouragement from you, all of a sudden, he’s happy as can be. It’s not just that you can heal injuries. Day after day, you’re healing his heart, too. 

Naoya doesn’t waste a second before hugging you back. He squeezes you tight, happily nestling his head in the crook of your shoulder, and he makes sure to turn towards Satoru as he does, grinning cheekily—because he just knows it drives Satoru absolutely insane. 

“I love you, [Name],” Naoya confesses, face flushed and heart pounding. “I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you. When we grow up… let’s get married. Alright?”

You blink, very much caught off guard. It’s true that thanks to your influence, Naoya has been changing for the better, but it’s still a little hard to believe. To think that a formerly misogynistic bastard could actually be this cute. You’re really out here making miracles happen. 

Well, not in Satoru’s eyes, though. To him, this is the very opposite of a miracle. In fact, it’s practically a nightmare.

“What the hell did you just say?!” 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💫 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[sprites4ever]

Didn't you just admit that you're a Nazi? You're even racist like one, judging someone by their ethnicity!

Anyway, I don't support Donald Trump. You do. I hate him and everything he stands for. That makes you a Nazi by definition. And it makes me an antifascist by definition.

Also, regarding that first meme, because that's the only actual point you make: Just because Trump is strongarming his way through government and decreeing whatever he wants via executive order (like the Nazi dictator he is), doesn't mean that anything he does is 'working'. 'Working' means that it has a positive effect, in this context. Trump's policies are having effects, but exclusively negative ones.

Oh, and regarding the second meme, it's unbelievably disgusting how you, a descendant of European colonists who killed Native Americans with guns (a technology the natives did not have), are using the genocide of them for your own argumentation. Best part is that the only guns Native Americans ever got in the 1700s and 1800s were guns they acquired from colonists, seeing as they, as stated above, did not have this technology. They had never seen firearms before the Europeans brought them with themselves.

Btw, is it actually true that you can legally own a fucking tank, but not a machine gun in the US? Y'all's priorities are fucked.

Anyway, not sure why you Nazi are calling me a Nazi over gun control again, given the fact that I opened this post with me saying that I've changed my mind on the subject because sane Americans absolutely need to arm themselves, in order to defend themselves against your new Nazi government. But I guess you're not capable of anything but hostility and demonizing everyone who isn't like you. Y'know, like a Nazi.

P.S.: Also not sure how opposing Nazis makes me an autocrat, but hey, you probably believe that you're championing freedom and democracy.

If fascism comes, it will not be identified with any 'shirt' movement, nor with an 'insignia,' but it will probably be 'wrapped up in the American flag and heralded as a plea for liberty and preservation of the constitution. - James Waterman Wise Junior, 5th of February 1936

Oh and if you wanna know, my great-grandfather was a communist, not a Nazi. Then again, you single-celled organisms think that that's the same. Not sure how that's possible when the party my great-grandfather was in, the German Communist Party, was banned by the Nazis, but whatever. Not like you actually have any knowledge of history.

To you, Nazi = Foreign (aka Evil) Autocrats that are nothing like yourself, you could never share any of their views and methodsSHUTUPLIBTARDSHUTUPYOURENOTANAZISHUTUPSHUTUP

...

You celebrate being objectively evil. You make me sick.

Given the events of recent days, as of me writing this on the 5th of February 2025, I've changed my opinion on gun control.

AK-47 FOR EVERYONE!!!

[danwhobrowses]

My dear Callowmoores, I need to talk to you about the finale again

So spoilers below the cut

I understand that we're reacting freshly to the finale in a more sad light, but I also think we shouldn't fall into despair.

Yes, it does suck that every other ship - including Dariax and Deni$e - got some degree of realisation in this episode while ours got a vague one, we have lived in vague for so long and given it's the finale it did feel that we of all the ships - not involving a Champion of Ravens and a Voice of the Tempest - were due something solid. And believe me, as much as I loved that Ashton cared so much for Fearne that they wanted her to make sure that travelling with them was what she wanted a big part of me also just wished they just said yes, or it was at least confirmed that she joined them as a couple in their epilogue talks.

I won't begrudge those reactions because I feel it too, but I also think we can't let it overshadow the stuff we did get, because we're letting the unknown take precedent over the known. Ashton told Fearne how much they loved her, and we can't understate just how important it was for Fearne to be the one to initiate the question rather than being offered, it shows that those feelings are still clearly in there and want to be realised.

Much of the despairing also seems focused on Ashton's epilogue, particularly that one day they 'never come back', but the context and details of that are also vague. For all we know that means they did find a place, or went somewhere beyond this plane, or simply went off the radar - something Nana Mori was suggested to be able to do for Braius regarding Asmodeus, and since Fearne is learning her Nana's craft she too would be capable of it in time. It's also not to say that Ashton went alone, Tal did say that they often would bring the Hells along, it's also not clear where this was in time - how long does a titan vessel live for? I was always under the headcanon that they were timeless, like elves in LOTR, so it could be centuries down the line for all we know. Finally we also have to point out that epilogues can change, remember when Caleb and Essek would divorce due to the aging thing? That got retconned.

It's just, it saddens me that we're upset, it saddens me that even with about 9 hours of content we didn't get something conclusive, and it saddens me that we will have to wait until March for answers we hope are positive in the wrap-up party and not more patented vagueness like we've gotten from prior 4SDs. But I don't want to despair; this isn't a nail in a coffin, this isn't a stake to the heart, or an iceberg at sea, this episode didn't say or do anything negatively about the ship: the unknown is unclear for sure but we know these two love each other

And there's still the hope and belief that Tal and Ashley will vindicate it.

[binomech]

related to this latest episode of severance (S2E04 for readers in the future) and irving b.'s effective sabotage of helena eagan's infiltration into MDR and the continued struggle for liberation ending in a literal public execution:

i was talking to hexmage about blessed is the flame last saturday, which i had just finished my second read of.

it's a text about concentration camp resistance during the holocaust. from a nihilist perspective (with a lot of focus on the jouissance and the positive consequences of that sacrificial sabotage, the grimness and horror come from the actual existence of the camps rather than the punishment that came for the resisting inmates.) it's a devastating, powerful account of the price resistance paid within the nazi camp complexes and the german war machine during the early 40s.

i've been thinking a lot about the very real, very sickening risk of carrying out successful sabotage. one that means something. to mess with production and distribution of weapons. to teach things that might make people aware and willing to join this sabotage. to blow yourself up if you take a few key oppressors in the process.

in the climate of suffocating capitalist realism that we live in, liberalism will never be an effective political tactic. the interests of capital will continue to permeate every action and stop it at just the right spot before it meaningfully changes anything. i'm guilty of believing some of my actions are more structurally meaningful than they actually are, and it hits me sometimes how this praise of violence, this acceptance of death as a price worth paying, is so discouraged even by most self-described leftists.

and i understand, i get that the cognitive dissonance of saying that death and/or permanent injury and/or disabling trauma (physical or mental) is a necessary for it to not happen again. i think to myself, i can do more things if i'm alive, the dead can't really do much for the living. and then i think about the fact that there's no way to effectively resist the capitalist boot at your neck that isn't life-risking.

you will lose your job. they will break your union's resistance box and you will go hungry. they will cut you off from all your friends. they will try to make you regret your actions and your thoughts. they will try to make an example out of you. if you can't be subsumed into a capitalist agenda, you need to be snuffed out.

so, you know, blessed is the flame because it keeps on burning, even if it has to destroy the match to keep going. blessed is the flame that takes oxygen and gives light.

[andoutofharm]

i will never believe in anything again oh change will come oh change will come i will never believe in anything again oh change will come oh change will come i will never believe in anything again i will never believe in anything again oh change will come oh change wi

[midnigtartist]

III. Future

[blueenthusiastfury]

III. Future…(Read More)