#I think there are ones with enough power to leave you save and shut down the pc properly before the battery runs out

[lynaferns]

It's windy outside and every time I hear a loud wind I quickly save the progress on my work

The other night it was very windy and the light went out for a second at least 3 times that night so now I'm paranoid that it's gonna go out again and I'll lose my work

[helaintoloki]

Hey I want to request something since I saw your request was open. So can you do a fic where five and y/n ( they are already married) end up in the deli with the other fives.

Basically there are only few fives that have a y/n but she's died in their timeline. So basically it's just the other fives wanting to know more about her abd the fives telling their stories of their y/n

Y/n absolutely loves the attention she almost sequeled when she saw the other fives lol.

a/n: so this actually ended up turning into a more depressing piece than i planned LOL but the original intention is there

warnings: language, angst, mentions of death, light amount of fluff

summary: your search for answers leads you to a deli with multiple versions of your husband inside

As the danger of the impending apocalypse finally begins to sink in for Five, he realizes he needs to get you somewhere safe until he figures out a way to stop the world from ending. Thus, while his siblings continued to fight off the monstrous cleanse that was Ben and Jennifer, Five quickly grabbed hold of you and jumped you both to the only place he could think of.

You stumble over your own feet as your body adjusts to being dropped into a new setting, your hand quickly raising to shield your eyes from the bright neons that hang above you as you take in your surroundings. A subway car comes to a screeching halt in front you, and before you can protest Five is quickly ushering you inside.

“Five, where are we?” You demand, completely disoriented from having been transported away from the fight without warning and preoccupied with worry at the thought of your family fighting against the Cleanse without you both present. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you somewhere safe where you can stay until I figure out how to undo this mess,” he instructs you hastily, his lips pulling back into an exasperated frown at your resistance to enter the subway car. He doesn’t have time for you to fight him on this, his siblings need him, and he needs you away from the fight. Though you’re skilled at combat and wickedly smart, you don’t have powers, and Five can’t risk something happening to you while he’s preoccupied with saving the world.

“You’re leaving me?!” You exclaim in distress as panic immediately begins to take over your rational mind. You push against him harder to move away from the train, but despite all your efforts the boy doesn’t budge.

“It’s only temporary, I promise you,” he assures you, and when you shove him hard in the chest once more he tightly takes hold of your hands and brings them to his lips to comfort you. “I’ll take you somewhere nice, somewhere with a beautiful house and a garden full of strawberry bushes. I found it while exploring other timelines in search of clues on how to prevent the apocalypse, I know it’s safe because I went there alone. You can stay in the house until this is all over and I’ll come back for you.”

“Five, what if…” you swallow harshly as tears begin to well in your eyes, your emotions overtaking you at the thought of this being goodbye, “…what if you don’t come back?”

Five refuses to meet your gaze when the question leaves your lips. He’d never lie to you, and he knows he can’t guarantee he’ll live long enough to join you in the peaceful timeline he’d found, but he doesn’t have the heart to voice this to you. How can he look you in your tear filled eyes and tell you that this might be the last time you’ll be together as husband and wife?

Sighing, he releases your hands in exchange for cupping your face so that he may brush away the tears that slide down your warm cheeks. He hopes that one day you’ll be able to understand that every moment leading up to this has been for you, and he would happily die a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

You open your mouth to argue only to snap it shut when your gaze falls over his shoulder and lands on another figure in the subway. You blink away your tears to get a better view and are left speechless when you realize you’re staring back at the face of your husband.

But how can that be when he’s standing right in front of you?

Noticing your change in demeanor, Five follows your gaze and spots the lookalike that stands across the way from you both. His features contort into confusion as you both watch the second Five offer you a wave in greeting before disappearing down the stairs. Exchanging looks of uncertainty, Five and yourself immediately rush after the doppelgänger to figure out just what exactly is going on.

Your quick chase leads you both to the front doors of a deli, the dazzling sign above welcoming you warmly as you cautiously open the doors and set foot into Max’s despite Five’s protests to wait. If this other Five has the answers you need to return home safely together, then you’ll stop at nothing to get them.

Your originally confident demeanor quickly dwindles when the restaurant becomes deathly silent upon your entry. While you only expected to see one Five, you now find about twenty of them staring intently at you as you slowly walk towards the lookalike from the subway that waves you over to his table. Five is quick to rush after you and place a protective arm around your waist; you’re not the only one unsettled by their stares, and he feels uncharacteristically territorial in the presence of himself.

“Have a seat,” the subway lookalike offers with a gesture towards the empty space across from him, and you’re both quick to slide into the cushions at his command. “I’m glad you found me.”

“What is this place?” Your husband demands impatiently as another Five dressed in a waiter’s uniform approaches your table with three cups of coffee in hand.

“This is where all the Fives come after they decide to give up on figuring out a way to stop the apocalypse.”

As he speaks, a plate of pie is suddenly placed in front of you, and before you can even open your mouth to question it, the waiter offers you wink and assures you, “It’s on the house.”

Picking up the fork, your eyes widen in surprise as you realize what specific dessert has been given to you. Looking up at the Five across from you, you ask, “How did he know that-“

“Pumpkin pie is your favorite?” The lookalike finishes for you with an amused smile before leaning back to take a drink of his coffee. “We all know that, because we all know you.”

“Me?” You repeat quietly, brows drawn together in confusion as you look to your husband who seems rather displeased with all of the attention you’re getting. He never once thought to think of himself as potential competition over you, but it figures. Who better than himself to sweep you off your feet?

“Mind telling me why you all seem to have such a great interest in my wife?” Five demands with a wry smile, eyes blazing with annoyance and a subtle hint of jealousy.

“‘Your’ wife?” The Five behind the deli counter scoffs in amusement. “Take a number, pal.”

“What deli Five means to say is that each and every one of us has our own y/n in our own perspective timelines,” the boy across from you clarifies before gesturing to the the back of the shop. Your eyes widen in shock as you take in all the various pictures of yourself that line the wall from top to bottom, and it takes you a moment to process the fact that various versions of you have existed throughout time unbeknownst to you.

“My y/n was a trained assassin,” the Five at the table next to you describes with a dreamy smile before biting into his sandwich.

“Mine was sent alongside Hazel and Cha Cha to kill me,” another voices while pulling down the collar of his shirt to showcase the ghastly scar on his chest. “She gave me this along with three beautiful kids before I screwed it all up with this end of the world bullshit.”

“If you all care so much about her then why did you give up trying to save the world?” Your husband protests in agitation. Your search for answers is going absolutely nowhere, and you’re both left with more questions than solutions. If these doppelgängers were really meant to be him from different timelines, then why did they quit so easily? His sole purpose, his entire being, was doing everything in his power to ensure the safety of his family. Come hell or high water, Five would always be willing to get his hands dirty if it meant you and his siblings lived to see another day. So why weren’t they doing the same? “Why come here instead of preventing the apocalypse so she has the chance to live a safe and happy life even if it means you can’t be in it?”

A forlorn silence fills the deli at his question, and now none of the Fives can find it in themselves to look at you. Their features are almost shameful, their eyes full of guilt and their shoulders full of tension as no one dares to answer.

“When us Fives find a way to save the world, y/n is the one that pays the price,” the boy across from you discloses somberly before tilting his head to meet your gaze. Looking at you is like looking at a ghost, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you as if you are his own. “The Handler killed my y/n after discovering my betrayal of the Commission.”

Another Five raises a woeful hand before announcing, “Viktor killed my y/n on accident with his bow after he discovered his powers.”

“My wife took a bullet for me because she thought my life was worth more than her own.”

“Dad had y/n disposed of in my timeline because he saw her as a distraction to me and my siblings.”

“Cha Cha tracked us down, found our home, and burned it to the ground with y/n still in it while I was away trying to save the world.”

You swallow harshly and ignore the knots in your stomach at hearing all the violent ways in which other versions of you had met their end. Your heart aches at learning what these men have been through and how much they’ve lost, but it also makes you begin to wonder if your fate will be worse than any story they can come up with. Sensing your discomfort, Five wraps a comforting arm around your figure and pulls you closer into his side.

“No matter how many times I traveled back to make it right, the result was the same,” the boy across from you relents in a desolate tone. “If I couldn’t even keep the most important woman in my life safe then how could I expect myself to save the world?”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur softly, taking it upon yourself to reach across for his hand and offer your comfort. “I’m sorry for all of your losses. But as a y/n myself, I don’t think she would have wanted you to give up. She would have wanted you to keep going in spite of her death because that’s what she loved about you- your strength and your resilience when it comes to saving the people you care about.”

“God, you sound just like her,” he comments with a doleful laugh before shaking his head and pulling his hand away. “Believe me, I did everything I could. But no matter what we do, there’s no escaping the apocalypse.”

“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do?” Five retorts in disbelief. This was all a complete waste of his time. He’s nowhere near close to preventing the Cleanse, and you’re still not somewhere safe away from the impending apocalypse.

“You can enjoy the time you have left with your y/n,” the lookalike instructs firmly, the other Fives in the deli nodding along. “You got lucky, you still have your wife, so why don’t you do us all a favor and take her somewhere nice?”

“I’m not giving up on this,” your husband argues before hastily rising from his seat in the booth. “There has to be a way to save the world, and I won’t stop until I figure it out myself.”

You watch him stalk out of the deli with purpose as he slams the door open and begins to formulate his next move. The room is silent other than the bell that jingles above the door, and you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably go after him,” you admit with a meek smile before scooting your way out of the booth. The Five from the subway rises to meet you, and he can’t help but to carefully cup your face in his hands and admire your features for just a moment. This might be the last time he’ll ever get to see you in person, and he’d like to commit every detail of you to memory from the reflection of the light in your eye to the smell of your perfume.

“If he ever gives you any trouble, you know where to find us,” he instructs you firmly before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and releasing you from his hold. Smiling faintly, you return the gesture by chastely pressing your lips to his cheek before rushing off after your husband.

Who would have guessed that in every timeline, in every possible version of himself to exist, Five’s love for you knows no bounds.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Lashing Out And Regretting It

Requested: heyya! love how you write the boys characters you got them so well just like how they are on the show. if its okay and if its a good idea, may i request an imagine with the boys and homelander and their reaction after they and reader got into an argument, getting to the point where they told reader some hurtful things and told reader to leave because they dont need reader or reader is nothing to them/is useless. they just say this because they’re angry but reader takes their word to heart and did just as they said. now they cant find reader or finding it hard to locate reader. could be platonic or familial. thank you! - anon

A/N: Screaming I love this!!! I live for the angst!!! I'm so sorry I've been so slow with requests my loves! I hope you can understand! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Butcher embarrassed you in front of everyone. Yelling and screaming, calling you useless, all because Samer got away. You were a little too occupied with Kimiko and Frenchie to realize, opting to save your friend than chase after him. Both Kimiko and Frenchie were eager to come to your aid, but he shut them down. He got in your face and he humiliated you, said the team was better off without you. You left without a word, ignoring your friends who begged you to stay. You left your phone behind, knowing they'd call and text, apologizing for him. You were good at your job, the best even. You and Butcher have worked together a long time. This was your first mistake in a long time and he couldn't let it go. You were done. You packed a bag and disappeared. When they realized they couldn't reach you, they split up, looking at your apartment and usual hang outs. No one had seen you. Suddenly Butcher can feel his heart in his stomach. Regret spread through his chest. Everyone was pissed at him, but no one was angrier at him. He never should have done what he did. Now you were gone. Who knows when you'd show up again?

Hughie regrets it immediately. He said what he said because he was angry, and stupid, and awful. You left the night of the Tek Knight party. You were a Supe, a powerful one, but for whatever reasons, your abilities weren't what they used to be. You argued with him, saying he shouldn't go in alone. It came out before he realized, before he could take it back. Right now, he was more powerful than you were. What right did you have telling him what to do when you couldn't do your single job? The look on your face, the horror and hurt, it made him sick to his stomach. He tried to apologize, to explain, but you were done. You threw your hands up, wishing Hughie and the rest a safe mission, but you were done. M.M. assured him it was better to go through with it than run after you, so he did, but the whole time he's thinking about you. He doesn't find you at the office or apartment. You disappeared. They tried to track you, find you, but they hit wall after wall. You'd show up again, they all told him, you just needed time. He'd never felt so guilty in his life.

Annie didn't think you were trying hard enough. It didn't seem like you cared anymore. Not about the team, or taking down Homelander. You seemed like you were just going through the motions. She meant to just talk with you, but things escalated pretty quickly. As soon as she said the words, she knew she was in the wrong. You were becoming a liability to everyone involved. If you were done, burned out, then just say that. Leave. But if you wanted to be a part of this team, if you really cared, you'd stop being so useless. Truth was, you were tired. You were tired of everything. There was no name calling or fighting back. You didn't have it in you. You got up and you walked out, pushing past Butcher and the rest who were just walking in. Annie goes to follow you, but you just pick up your pace. She calls and texts, but you never answer. Everyone says to give you your space, but she can't let it go. She shows up at your place which is completely empty. It fills her with so much shame. She apologizes profusely, asking you to come back, but she never gets a response.

M.M. is reactive and angry and he knows what he's done is wrong immediately after. He's been in charge of this team and so far all you've been is negative. You've lost your faith in the team. He understands, he gets it, but for the sake of everyone involved, he needs you to look on the bright side. If there isn't one, he needs you to make one. He ends up blowing up at you while you're waiting for Hughie as Webweaver. You tell him, Annie, and Kimiko that you have a bad feeling about this, a terrible feeling, but it was too late to do anything. Hughie was already inside. He knows now is not the time nor place, but he loses it. If you can't have faith in the mission, in your teammates, then you shouldn't be here at all. Your attitude problems only hurt morality and it was worse than useless, it was dangerous. Annie and Kimiko try to de-escalate the situation, but you've made up your mind: you're done. You leave without a second thought, wishing them a safe mission. Because they're all occupied, no one can really do anything about it. After his panic attack, Marvin sees just how right you were, but when he calls it goes right to voicemail. When it seems like you disappeared, he does everything he can to track you down. You don't want to be found, though.

Frenchie fights with you after Samer gets away. It was the three of you that were in charge of him and you let him get away. You didn't have any fight left in you. It was your fault. He must've been working on the cuffs for weeks. You trusted him and you let Kimiko get hurt. You know that's the reason he's so upset: because he had to cut off her leg to save her. She could have died. You know what she means to him. And yet, he goes a little overboard. Everyone thinks so, yelling at him to stop when he's gone too far. You were useless. You let Samer get away, you let Kimiko get hurt, you failed at every single job you were given. He can see the look of hurt on your face and finally stops, the room left in a heavy silence. You grab your coat and you leave. There was no use in fighting with him, he was right. Annie and Hughie called after you, pleading with you to stay, but you waved them off, storming out. When they don't hear from you, they all start to worry. You sent a single text to Frenchie before turning off your phone. Tell Kimiko I'm sorry. Feeling guilty, he goes to your place. You're not there though, and neither are your immediate belongings: wallet, keys, phone, some clothes. He has to do something to fix this, to make things okay.

Kimiko is really hurt you turned yourself in alongside Frenchie. The guilt was eating you alive, all the things you've ever done. It was horrible. It was unforgivable. When you come back alongside Butcher, who insists you and Frenchie can replicate the virus, you can't stand to look at her. She wants to talk with you, to ask you why, and eventually, when you get a little alone time, she does. Of course she would understand, your upbringings were cruel, brutal, and it lead you down this road, but you couldn't move on. You couldn't forgive yourself. Kimiko was pissed. Did you really think it was that easy? Did you really think you were the only one eaten alive by guilt and shame and self-hatred? She was signing at you furiously, as close to yelling as she could get. You were so smart, so intelligent, and yet you were wasting your talents wanting to rot away in prison! If you were going to throw your talents away and hurt the team and hurt her and become a useless nobody, then what was stopping you? Certainly not her, not any of your friends. You don't have it in you to fight back. You don't have anything left in you, not anymore. She tries to get your attention when you leave, but you don't look back. When none of them hear from you, Kimiko begs The Boys to do everything they can to find you. Please, she has to make things right.

Bonus! Homelander cuts people out of life left and right. Still, you never thought he would turn on you. And yet, when you don't know who the snitch is, when you're not closer to pinpointing the culprit, he loses it. His eyes even heat up, though he catches himself, calming himself down. Firecracker interrupts his yelling, foolishly, but in the end it saves you from hearing anymore about how pathetic, useless, stupid you are. That you don't deserve to be a part of The Seven, you don't deserve to be a Supe at all. He goes off with her, believing it was Webweaver all along. You don't know how much time you have, but you know, in order to avoid his wrath, you have to leave right away. Get some space between you so that he can cool off, if he ever does. You took it as a pretty clear way of saying that you were out, you lost his trust. You weren't a friend anymore, you weren't anything anymore. Firecracker had saved the day. Again. When he comes back, covered in blood and no closer to finding the narc than he was before, he goes looking for you. He searches the entire city, but you've disappeared completely. Vanished.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet.  Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs.  He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell.  Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property.  You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it.  You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you.  The man that came today, to trade with Paul.  He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat.  But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.  

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly.  “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that.  Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off.  You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power.  The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul.  “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away.  “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies.  Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade.  “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him.  “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together.  “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred.  “Sorry, pal— not for sale.  But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head.  “Her.  I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that.  “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance.  “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos.  He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others.  You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can.  We need to run.”

We.  He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you.  And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head.  “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.  

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering.  “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

~

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you.  Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.  

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind.  It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you.  It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building.  Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door.  You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that.  Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick.  It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you?  You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel.  But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that.  “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly.  “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright?  I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest.  Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it.  In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave.  And he still did.  Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard.  “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response.  You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.  

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of. 

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said.  “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright?  I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here.  You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own.  No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that.  You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers.  That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most.  Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else.  Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously.  “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.  

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me?  I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men.  Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little.  “Of course.  Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well. 

“You seem tired,” he noticed.  “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed.  “You hungry?  We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously.  You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return.  It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said.  “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise.  You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe.  That sounded nice.  Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

~

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it.  He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice.  You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you.  Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t.  Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!  

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again.  “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head.  “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued.  Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet.  He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then.  You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either.  You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it.  This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said.  “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him.  “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted.  “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him.  On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it.  But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide.  Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating.  And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either.  We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable.  “My sons,” he said quietly.  “Those are my sons.  Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically.  “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged.  “Everyone lost someone.  Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together.  “Yeah,” you agreed.  “They kinda look like you, in the pictures.  You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle.  It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that.  “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed.  Not too long ago.  Well… I guess a few months is a while ago.  But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there.  Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him.  “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing.  “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds.  Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented.  “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth.  He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed.  “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing.  “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no.  I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange.  Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad.  He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned.  It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that.  Of owning somebody.  And, um… that only happened twice.  Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly.  “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again.  I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you.  “No, it’s fine.  I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else.  Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe.  You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again.  When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

~

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection.  “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head.  He sighed.  “Alright, well, you should learn.  Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied.  “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that.  “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them.  And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you.  You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out.  Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded.  Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling.  You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you.  But up there?  You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone.  You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance.  Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine.  “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.  

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned.  “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.  

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked.  “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back.  “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively.  “The rifle— you can’t shoot that.  That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it.  And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

~

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes.  But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was.  Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often.  And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold.  You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement.  That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away.  Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.  

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.  

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed.  “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes.  Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.  

It had been a long time since someone held you like this.  You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you.  But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection.  You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot.  “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted.  “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped.  "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.  

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you.  There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off.  Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much.  But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.  

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.  

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came.  And if he did, what had he been thinking of?  He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you.  If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you.  Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing.  You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him.  Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it.  Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate.  He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted.  Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.  

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down.  Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind.  But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

~

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too.  He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway.  It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him.  And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization.  There’s nothing wrong with it, right?  Just being here, helping how you can?  But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative.  It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all.  He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him.  You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond.  It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall.  It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual.  Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it.  You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually.  Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could.  You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.  

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been.  But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took.  You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals, 

Not everything was perfect then.  Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with.  Someone to trust.  You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right?  Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes.  Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain.  He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you.  It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it.  Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself.  And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk.  You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods.  You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.  

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes.  Align the sights.  Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.  

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar.  When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck!  Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm.  “Oh my god!  I’m so sorry— oh my god!  Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there.  Why didn’t you tell me it was you?  Why didn’t you say something?  But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already.  “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice.  “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods.  Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

~

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting.  But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this.  “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.  

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life.  “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped.  “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll.  “Of course,” you breathed.  “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again.  “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him.  You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it.  You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky.  “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little.  “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough.  Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back.  “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said.  “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage.  You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet.  “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged.  “It was— sometimes.  It was quiet, I’ll tell you that.  All I wanted was to escape, back then.  Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little.  “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that.  I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement.  “Yeah, I get that.  But then how’d you end up in the suburbs?  Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened.  I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed.  “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left.  As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself.  Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words.  “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody.  I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking.  Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly.  You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head. 

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways.  “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank.  “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid.  I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case?  A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head.  “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property.  That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch.  You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else.  “You treat me like a child!  Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me!  I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you?  Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too.  “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed.  “How long were you there before I heard you?  Come on, Emmett— look at me.  Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him.  “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.  

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed.  “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots.  He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly.  “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd.  “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone.  I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile.  “I guess I still need someone.  I need you.  And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again.  You shivered, just like you thought you would.  “Say it again,” he requested flatly.  It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face.  “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled.  “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest.  Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to.  Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier.  Hungrier.  Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt.  He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud.  “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that.  “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you.  Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him.  Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin.  How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that?  “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.  

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up.  He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you.  “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt.  He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you.  Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once.  It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment.  “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that.  It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight.  “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all.  Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room.  “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep.  It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more.  Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits.  You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple.  “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted.  “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop.  He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was.  “Emmett!” you nearly screamed.  “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual.  “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this.  “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said.  Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it.  Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something.  You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.  

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it.  It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it.  He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you.  “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close.  "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name.  "Emmett, I love you.  I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.  

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly.  "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it.  You could feel it just in the way he held you. 

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you.  Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in.  You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.  

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound.  “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly.  “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way.  All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier.  You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out.  “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan.  “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl?  Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving.  But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper.  "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again.  You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you.  You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done.  “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted.  “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley.  You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss.  “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes.  “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be.  ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly.  “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage.  “And we have some time to make up for.  God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in.  “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

[asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3]

I was a fool. An absolute bafoon. Deadpool and Wolverine 2: the musical starts with a montage of their daily life to the soundtrack of Accidentally in Love (from shrek) to WADE falling in love with Logan, not the other way around, because honestly who better than Deadpool? He can girlishly kick his feet and smile sweetly to the camera and (badly) play it off when Logan is actually looking at him. And it’s just them being domestic. Logan cooking, Wade sneaking glances throughout the day, can even have them fighting something together. And of course it ends with them platonically sharing a bed and you can see Wade wanting to reach out to Logan but he doesn’t, just goes to sleep instead.

And one way or another they’re fighting some big bad magical being, and honestly Marvel it doesn’t really matter who you pick. All they need is to be able to use magic and get pissed that 1-Wade can’t die and 2- he never shuts the HELL up. And bam, instant curse. The entire world is a musical and Deadpool has to suffer the consequences (being annoyed by the constant noise of everyone singing)

Except he LOVES it. He walks down the street and hears someone singing about cheating on their spouse, someone singing about how they miss their dog at home, and someone getting increasingly angry about traffic through the open window of their car. And the icing on the cake is that his roommate, THE Hugh Jackman is cursed too. Since y’all wanna make him be the Wolverine until he’s 90 you can at least throw him a bone and let him sing again, it’s what he was made to do. And since Ryan can’t/wont/doesn’t like to sing it gives him the opportunity not to, plus it has comedic effect if he’s bland and boring, making comments through everyone’s songs. Social commentary on people’s rhymes/pitch/beats. The potential is limitless. They should also have multiple people who are just genuinely bad singers, because that’s just how the real world works.

And by the third act Wade has had enough of the singing. “Can everyone shut the fuck up for five minutes PLEASE. Not you, Logan, you have the voice of an angel, please keep going.”

And since Disney owns them now they can have a scene of Logan singing ‘i won’t say I’m in Love’ from Hercules with Ellie, Yukio, and Blind Al as the muses because surprise surprise the main story is Wade trying to undo this Musical curse but the subplot is Wade and Logan both being in love with each other but both being too emotionally constipated and unaware to make a move on each other. And you know what, if the power of hand holding and gay love could save the day last time, maybe it can do it again this time. I’m thinking something cheesy like an off key duet between Wade and Logan that ends in a kiss, but I’ve never been great at endings so I’ll leave it up to Ryan.

And bam @vancityreynolds I’ve got the outline of your new movie right here. I’ll accept payment in the form of one meet and greet with you and Hugh where I can take a picture of you guys holding my Toddler so I can frame it, hang it on the wall, and ask her for the rest of her life how she could possibly not remember something that happened when she was under 2 years old.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Can you write one where the reader is supposed to executed after Shibuya cause she’s in a relationship with Gojo. I kinda want it to be angsty, but you do what you want with this!

I know you said angsty, but all I can hear is bad bitch (the elders are REALLY angsty though lol)

Gojo's wife supposedly getting executed but kicking ass instead

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: When Sibuya is finally over, you find yourself facing none other than the elders who want to execute you. Little do they know you are no one to be messed with, that even without your husband by your side, you are a true threat if you want to...

Warnings: lots of violence, (y/n) takes no shit in this one, language, not proofread yet

This is kinda like a continuation of this fic here

The sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor are the only thing that hangs in the air along with that deadly silence – literally.

You aren’t dumb. Of course you know why you’re here. Satoru is sealed, the only jujutsu sorcerer they were always afraid of. And since your husband is gone and nobody knows when or if he’ll return, these old farts seize their opportunity to finally get rid of you, to get rid of Yuji, to get rid of Yaga.

Well, maybe you weren’t exactly kind to them these last years. Yes, you were a pain in the ass yourself, threatening to kill every single one of them more than once. And with your husband, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of this time, chuckling in the background, they simply had no choice but to hear you out.

Not anymore, though. Not when your husband is sealed in a tiny box with no way out.

You play with a strand of your hair while making your way to the huge door that separates you from them, containing your temper and breathing. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about the fact that they want to execute you. But Yaga, Yuji…There’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen, no way you’ll let them kill you this easily.

“You have some fucking nerve, calling me here after our last meeting. Didn’t I told you urgent enough what happens when you threaten my students?”

Confidently, you position yourself in the middle of the circled room, glaring right through their dark figures with your death stare.

“As if it’s not enough that I lost my husband in Shibuya while, if you even care about that minor detail, we all tried to save everyone in Japan from certain death. You know what would have happened if we didn’t fight until the very end, right? You know that we did all of this for the innocent people out there, right?”

Tame down your beating heart, your rushing blood. If you get angry, you might lose it all. And while Satoru supports you no matter what you do, you don’t want Yuji to look at you with those innocent disappointed eyes. No, you aren’t here to kill every single one of them.

But if one wrong word leaves their mouths, one word of disrespect against your beloved husband…

“You will be executed, (y/n) Gojo.”

You can’t contain a disrespectful huff. You, executed by those old farts? That you don’t laugh, that you don’t slaughter all of them on the spot.

“While you sat here on your old asses, my husband, I and countless others were out there fighting bravely for stranger’s life’s. Who are you to judge over mine? Who do you think you are to even consider you’d be able to take my life from me?”

Your threatful eyes seem to glow in the dark, hands clenched into fists so tightly that your own blood spills onto the marble ground.

“But all you care about is supremacy, isn’t it? Masamichi’s formula for creating independent cursed corpses, my infinite powers…You give zero fucks about the jujutsu sorcerers out there. All you care about is your puny selves”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Shut your mouth. You are no threat to us.”

Did you hear that correctly? That man sitting to your right didn’t just raise his voice at you, didn’t just say that you can’t hold a candle against them. Them, a room full of old farts. Them, who are too afraid to even fight. Them, who hide in this stinky room in order to protect themselves.

“Am I not?”, you mutter.

Within the blink of an eye, you throw one of your poisoned needles towards him, hitting his shoulder just how you wanted. Immediately the tension in the room is thick enough to get sliced, all elders springing up immediately.

“Come on, attack me, kill me if you dare. I couldn’t care less. Never forget that you are talking to me, (y/n) Gojo. There is a reason why Satoru married me and it certainly wasn’t to protect me.”

Oh, how much you miss him. What you would do to have Satoru back on your side.

“You are nothing without Satoru Gojo!”

“Look who’s there, the woman who just threatened the higher ups of Jujutsu High all on her own. Did you really choke that man?”

Your husband grinned at you widely, his blindfold already taken off. You simply shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him.

“Apparently I was able to convince them somehow. Come on, we should get going. I hope all of them are alright…”

God, how much you long for his tender touch, how much you’d do for him standing right by your side right now. Not to handle the situation for you, but to know you’re not alone.

Are you alone, though? Your husband might be sealed, but he isn’t dead, let alone gone. He’s still somewhere out there and thinks about you, still supports you from where ever he is. No, with Satoru as your beloved husband, you’ll never truly be alone.

“I am enough to make sure none of you will ever see the daylight again if you insist on this path. If you hurt Yuji Itadori-“

You aren’t able to finish your sentence. All of the sudden chains fly your way, trap you right in the middle of the room in the matter of seconds. For a brief moment your senses fail you, darkness summons you like a veil. Is this your end? Are they really able to bring you down this easily? You simply can’t die like that, not through their dirty hands, not when you weren’t able to say goodbye to your husband.

Your trembling breath hangs in the air, cursed metal digs into your tender flesh. Satoru…His face appears before your inner eye.

“Hey, you aren’t giving up now, aren’t ya? You’re just getting started, babe!”

You are better than them, stronger than them, braver than them. You huff to yourself, thick fear and power starts pumping through your veins. Fall seven times, stand up eight.

“Let’s get the party started.”

Their puny chains tear like threat under the sheer force of your bare arms, setting you free like a bird.

“See this as your final warning.”

Your fists discolour the room in deadly crimson, lighten up their scared faces.

“If you ever touch me or my students again.”

Fire runs through the room like a storm, lights them up, lets their flesh melt away like butter.

“I will kill every single one of you without blinking. Every. Single. One.”

Their desperate screams fill you with satisfaction while you keep going, shooting your poisoned needles their way, letting each one of them collapse underneath the weight of their sins.

“I kindly advise you to never mess with any member of the Gojo clan. Even though I’m not my husband, I’m definitely strong enough to end every life in this room if you keep threatening my students, friends and myself. If you ever dare to call me again…”

You snap, sending another wave of cursed fire their way.

“Well, maybe not do that. Now excuse me, I have to look after my students and figure out how to free my husband. See you never again.”

With one last satisfied grin, you turn on your heels and walk out, closing the door behind you for what you hope forever.

Was this the right thing to do? Did you cross a line you shouldn’t have crossed? Maybe you put Yuji in even more danger, maybe Masamichi still gets executed.

No.

Stop your train of thoughts.

This is not the right time to doubt yourself. They want to execute you, want to wipe you from this earth without a trace?

“That I don’t laugh…”, you mutter to yourself.

“There you are, Gojo-sensei! I was looking for you!”

A gentle smile creeps up your face and makes you forget about what just happened immediately.

“Hey, how are you feeling today, Yuji? Did Shoko treat your wounds?”, you question, gently wrapping your arm around the pink-haired boy who went to hell and back.

“I was thinking about a way to free Gojo-sensei and I’d love to try it with you! Oh, your uniform is a little burned. Are you alright?”

His eyes dart all over your body worried while you can’t fight a wide grin any longer.

“That? Oh, nothing for you to worry about. Come on, show me what you’ve find out.”

Bonus:

“Can you imagine? They called me to literally execute me. Wanna know what I did?”

“You bet I do…”, Satoru mumbles to himself on top of a pile of bones.

“I kinda burned them to the ground. But don’t worry, I am almost certain they survived. Hopefully they’ll leave Yuji, Masamichi an me alone now. But I think that could have consequences, so maybe move your ass out of that cube a little faster”, you bubble.

Satoru lets out a heartfelt laugh. So you really threatened the elders again? No wonder he married you, that force of a woman.

“I’ll come back to you babe. And then we’ll  both kick their asses together.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82

[kitagenre]

achilles' heel | hoshina x f!reader

synopsis: the vice-captain has always been invisible, the perfect adjective for someone who is in a job where people come and go.

warning: language! (aside from that there's none... i think)

a/n: just very self-indulgent ! i hope my hoshina gurlies will love this 🤞🏼🥰🤍

"What's the situation in Tachikawa?"

"Not good. The amount of Yojus is continuously increasing," Konomi reported, "Shinomiya is helping a ton right now. But, this will be really, really bad if you don't go here immediately, Vice-Captain,"

Out of all the days, he had to go to the headquarters today for the monthly briefing with the general. Out of all the days, he thought in disbelief. He should've taken that unsettling feeling of seeing the squad, and you, smiling at each other this morning before he and Mina went.

"How many more minutes?" Mina asked the officer who was preparing for the special transportation that they would use to go back to Tachikawa base.

"30 minutes, Captain—"

"Make it ten," Sochiro says with finality.

"Vice-Captain Hoshina, that will be impossible to do—" Maybe it's a combination of fear, anxiety, and desperation, but in the blink of an eye, Sochiro grabs the collar of the officer in front of him, "Make it ten."

"Hoshina." Mina calls his name, making him stop. Holding onto Sochiro's shoulder, Mina prompted him to step back from the officer, "Please make it as fast as you can. We cannot waste more time."

"R-Roger!"

"Calm down, Vice-Captain," Mina spoke again, "They will be fine. Our officers are strong."

He knows that. He knows that more than anyone. He trained those officers with his own hands and pushed them every day to their limits. He's the one who guided them from the very beginning. But there's this... fear... that he cannot explain. And he hates himself for that.

Soshiro knows better than anyone that attachments should not be fostered in this line of work. They have a job with no certainty of tomorrow. People come and go all the time. As someone who has been here for the past years, gained and lost comrades in every mission, Soshiro thinks that he'll be smart enough to not fall in love with anyone. But that day... was just different.

When you walked into the exam room and he first saw you on the screen from the operations room, your hair was a little messy but in a pretty way, you were smiling at everyone, and you were so happy to get that 7% combat power for the first time. You were the most gentle in that batch, aside from being the most beautiful, and something about you messed with his brain.

It's like you wore your empathy like a weapon.

The first time he interacted with you alone was after your first mission. Soshiro got injured after saving an officer. He doesn't usually get injured with small-fry Kaijus, besides, he's one of the strongest in the Defense Force, but the timing was off and the only thing he wants is to save that officer. You did the first aid for his bleeding arm and continuously checked on him after that.

Soshiro couldn't explain it. He just woke up one day without the walls he hardly built up and found himself scared of losing you. He found himself secretly pursuing you inside the base. Giving you small gifts like it's a mission. Leaving just because flowers, mostly peonies, whenever he can drop by that flower shop near the Hoshina mansion. Leaving you notes with a smile on his face because the whole dorm is wiretapped. Requesting day-offs that coincide with yours. Soshiro was confused, but he was happy.

He shuts his eyes. How fucking selfish of him to only think of you right now, right?

"Let's go, Hoshina. They are ready."

Reports are continuously done through their earpieces. He can only listen. As long as he can still hear your name in action. Please, you have to hold on. Just until they are back to the base.

"Fortitude 9! A daikaiju just appeared! Shinomiya and ___ are facing it right now!"

Shivers went down his spine, and a wave of anger laced his voice as he shouted, "Tell them to back off! Are they fucking crazy?!"

You are not dumb. You are one of the most improved officers. But Fortitude 9 is just too much for your current stats. Hell, it's even too much for Kikoru right now who is much more advanced than you when it comes to skills.

"Hoshina." Mina calls him again, "Trust our officers."

"But—"

"They are not weaklings," Mina says.

You surely aren't. But he is, he admits in his mind. When it comes to you, he is.

The ride to Tachikawa base is agonizing.

When they reached the base, the fire caused by the raid was already gobbling up the buildings. Immediately, Sochiro went straight to the location of the Daikaiju and found you and Kikoru in an awful situation. You're down and unconscious after colliding with a wall.

Kikoru is still okay, but both of you need to go now.

"Vice-Captain!"

"Get out of here, Shinomiya." He commanded.

Kikoru stood up, wanting to get you out of the situation too, but Soshiro noticed her foot injury, "Get out! Now!"

"Vice-Captain, __ is still—"

"Worry about yourself." He says. It's an order. Kikoru knows.

He is a hypocrite. Because the first thing he did was to get the Kaiju away from where you're lying down as much as possible, "I am definitely going to kill you, disgusting piece of shit."

All his life, Soshiro was undermined. He's not good enough. He's not strong enough. His katana will never make a difference. He won't be able to save other people with it. But he did. He became Vice-Captain. Ashiro trusted him. His officers believe in him. But if he won't be able to save you today, then maybe they are right.

"Do you know who that girl is, you ugly fucker?" Sochiro asked the monster in front of him, "Someone you shouldn't touch because I'll definitely tear you to pieces if you do. Go to fucking hell now."

Kaijus has always angered Sochiro. But, the level of rage he has right now is just different and even Mina was shocked. They gave them no time to attack using big weapons as Sochiro went for the core of the Daikaju on his own.

They seized the Kaiju's body in possession for further studies and potential help that it could give the Defense Force. With blood on his forehead, Sochiro sprinted towards you after the kaiju was down. Pulling you close to his arms. You have a heartbeat, but very very injured. He still sighs in relief. As long as there's a heartbeat, "__," he calls for you faintly.

Broken ribs. A head concussion. Damaged weapons and suit maxed out. You really did your best out there. But you're still not a hero. You will never be. You just did your best because you know that he will come. There's no way he won't.

Thanks to the advanced technology of the Defense Force, your recovery was much faster. The Tachikawa base is under renovation after the huge damage and you were transferred to the care of Division 1 in the meantime, along with Kikoru and the hottest name in the force right now, Kafka Hibino.

Kikoru told you everything that happened. It turned out that Kafka is Kaiju No. 8 and he revealed himself to the force to protect everyone in Tachikawa. Captain Ashiro and Vice-Captain Hoshina thought that the Kaiju was officially down after Hoshina went to you, turns out that the raid is planned out more than the Defense Force expected. You weren't surprised though. You trust your comrades that much.

"Think you can start training tomorrow again?" Captain Narumi asks you.

"Yes, Captain." You feel fine and normal.

"Good," Gen smirked, "I don't give special treatments. Start showing me what you actually got. I am very, very curious."

"Captain," you gathered every courage left to address him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for asking you but I don't know anyone else here to ask, but is Vice-Captain Hoshina okay?"

Gen's face was painted with astonishment upon hearing your question. You are just wondering... it's not like he needs to answer it. You wrote him a text the moment you got your phone but he never responded. It's also not like he needs to reply, he probably has a lot of things to do after all that damage. But, you're just so worried.

"Do you think I give a fuck about that bowl-cut dude?" Narumi chuckles. Wow, he's really immature, you thought, "If you're asking if he's still alive, unfortunately, yes."

You concluded that you wouldn't get a decent answer from Narumi so you just saluted and went out of his office. When morning came, you were finally out again in the field. But since you're still adjusting, you stick with an exercise routine that you usually do before combat training. And honestly, even if you want to spar with Narumi, you feel like you'll just mess it up.

You can't stop thinking about Sochiro.

But weeks passed after your recovery and you're still waiting to hear from him that you're now pissed. You do not have an excuse anymore and Gen is already forcing you to spar with him. So, you did.

"That's all you got?" Narumi chuckles, pinning you on the ground, "You're overrated."

"What?" Your eyebrows furrowed at him as you kicked his stomach to get out of his grip. But Narumi is strong, there's a reason he's the Captain of Division 1.

"Your Vice-Captain praised you so much," he chuckled.

"Your fault, you believed him." You smirked. Just hearing the word Vice-Captain pissed you off, "Let go of me now."

"Don't wanna," Narumi smirks again.

"What? I'm gonna—"

"Captain Narumi," you were cut off by a voice you longed to hear for weeks. Gen's smile went wider at the sight of Sochiro. This son of a bitch. He knows Sochiro is coming and he's doing this to piss him off. You finally kicked him out of you.

"Well, well, how are you, Hoshina?" Narumi's mocking him.

"Good," he answered, "The meeting will start in minutes, Captain Narumi."

"Too bad I'm busy sparring with my officer,"

"I'm sure Officer __ can wait for you." Your eyes darted to Sochiro. His coldness sent shivers down your spine. The frustration and confusion crawled in your system once again. You haven't seen each other for weeks and this is how he treats you? Like who the fuck cares if Narumi's here? Does he want to be a professional gentleman now?

Or... maybe he's just done with you. Maybe the rumors are right. The Vice-Captain is never serious when it comes to his relationships. Now that you're not under his wing, he's already done. Maybe that's it, then?

Narumi doesn't really have a choice so he stood up and went with Sochiro to go to the meeting, leaving you alone in the training room. Just in time for dinner, you went with Kikoru and Kafka.

"Vice-Captain is here, have you seen him?" Kikoru asked. You nodded quietly.

After dinner, you changed to a pair of sleepwear. Don't get it wrong, you love Division 1. But you just really want to go back to Tachikawa.

Unable to sleep, you stayed looking at the window from your room. You're in the same position when the raid happened. You remembered thinking about what's really between you and Sochiro. Maybe you got the answer you want now.

"How are you?" You almost jumped out of shock as you hear his voice. Sochiro stands beside the door, "The door is unlocked. I'm sorry."

You looked away from him— tearing up. Wow, he's here, but does that make up for the days he ghosted you? This asshole. Maybe Narumi should really punch him in the gut.

"If Narumi is forcing you to train, tell me—"

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry, baby,"

Oh, how you hate this man. He knows exactly what to do. He knows exactly how to get you over and over again.

"I hate you so much," you looked at him.

To you, Sochiro is like the stars. Before entering the Defense Force, everyone admired Mina Ashiro. But you were different. You admired the Vice-Captain who is mostly not seen. He saved you once when you were a civilian. He saved you over and over again when you were a cadet, and he still continued to save you when you became an officer.

"Not a single response to my messages? Not a single letter? Do you know how worried I am? Do you know how much I thought that you're blaming yourself for what happened when that's not—" In the blink of an eye, Sochiro envelopes your small figure to his arms.

"I'm sorry,"

"If you're done with me, you can just tell me." You removed yourself from his embrace.

"Done with you?"

"Isn't that the reason why, Vice-Captain Hoshina?" You asked him, "You're probably—"

"You scared the fuck out of me that I got scared even more because I never felt that way before. I was terrified, that I have to take a step back," He spoke, "Tell me why would you face a Daikaiju like that? You have nothing to lose? You're not scared?"

"I am an officer of the Defense Force, Vice-Captain. That is my duty—"

"Fuck that." He hissed, "What about me?"

"What about you?" You asked in confusion. Sochiro is never the type to curse his duty. He loves his job. He fought for this job.

"I can't lose you."

"Sochiro..."

"For years, I fought for the Defense Force thinking I have nothing to lose. Death never scared me. But when I saw you lying down, unconscious, I feel like being punched in the gut a million times, __." Seeing him lose his composure is new to you, "This is so wrong because I have a duty to fulfill and so are you and it's unfair for the Defense Force that we took an oath for, but I just can't... lose you..."

"Sochiro..." you held his face, "You won't lose me just because of that. I am not weak."

"I know." He gave you a weak smile, "But I am... when it comes to you. You're my Achilles' heel."

The great Vice-Captain Sochiro Hoshina is confessing that you make his knees tremble in fear, something not even the biggest Kaiju can do. He envelopes you in his warmth and places a soft kiss on your forehead, "I love you too damn much."

[theanimeoftheblackbunnymask]

Yandere Fyodor and Dazai Compare and Contrast (How They'd Treat Their Darling)

Links: {Masterlist} {Yandere Fyodor Alphabet}{Yandere Dazai Alphabet} {Yandere PM!Dazai Alphabet}

Fyodor as a yandere is such an interesting concept.

Fyodor is a complex character who I believe is very hard to write and pull off.

He's deceiving in everyway of the sort, and I can see his darling having a hard time trying to figure him out. One day he can calm and quiet, and the next day he's sadistic and a bit more temperamental than yesterday.

I can see him acting like this as a way to keep you on edge. He isn't bipolar by any means, but he enjoys seeing the uncertainty on your face, the constant worry that a single slip up can through him into a frenzy, or he'll not even react and just let you deal with it on your own.

This is kinda where I compare him to Dazai. Dazai is very switchy in the same way, but he's a lot more consistent. Dazai rarely changes his behavior, but he actively changes his reactions, his actions often contradicting his personality. This is where being Dazai's darling become stressful because you'll think you know how he'll act, but in reality he'll react in a way that's completely out of character.

Fyodor and Dazai are full of mind games. Fyodor would rarely hits his darling. He finds it much more satisfying to see you stress your own self out, terrified of what he'll say or do to you, watching as you break down and pathetically try to hide yourself from his presence.

Dazai is sadistic, but not as much as he was when he was in the Port Mafia. He hates the idea of physically hurting his darling, and when he does he sinks into regret.

Now, where would they keep you?

I can actually see Fyodor bringing you along in his endeavors, and maybe even get you involved as a spy if you're powerful enough. I don't see Fyodor keeping you a secret from the ADA, and often uses you as a way to mock them, saying how they can't even save you. You're often viewing all his plans, and if a mission is a little too dangerous for his liking, he'll hide you in a place that you can't escape from.

Now, Dazai is more of an abusive boyfriend type yandere. He let's you like your normal life, go to work, hang out with friends, go to the mall, normal civilian stuff, but, he's watching you the entire time. You slip up once, and you'll deal with it at home. Dazai doesn't want to keep you in doors 24/7, but he also doesn't want you to leave him. You tell anyone about the horrors of your relationship, and you're left crying on the floor of the bathroom, the door locked as Dazai threatens you from the end. I also want to note, Dazai rarely if ever yells at you. The low and coldness in his voice is enough to throw you into tears.

So, who would be the worse to deal with full time?

Fyodor, here's why.

Dazai gives you a lot of freedom, much more than the average yandere, so you can live a mostly normal life. With Fyodor, you're stuck with him 24/7. He won't let you go anywhere by yourself, and has killed a few of your friends and family. So, if you did escape, you wouldn't last very long, and you wouldn't have anyone to support you.

The one good thing about Fyodor is that he's a pretty good balance of giving you false hope, and shutting your dreams down completely.

I do have one idea though. What would happen if you were acting as a spy for Fyodor, not for the ADA, but maybe for a powerful figure Fyodor wants something from, and you end up running into Dazai. It's one of the rare times you're alone, so I wonder how things would go.

[heartfullofleeches]

[tw: threats]

Midnight Caller Darling... - A reader fully aware and terrified of their stalkers. The yearning, unwanted presents and advances- the stares. They hate the stares most of all. Lingering glances burned into their skin, following them home and clinging to them no matter how hard they scrubbed and scratched them away. In their shower, their bedroom. Nowhere was safe from watching eyes. They were an infestation, a plague. Darling just wants them all to go away, but nobody will help them. Their calls had been ignored by police, ongoing cases thrown out and burned by detectives who swore their safety - all parties involved paid off with the deeper betrayal of passing their information off to the highest bidder.

They couldn't leave. This was their home, the town that raised them. Though its people had turned their backs on them they couldn't uproot their entire life so suddenly and who's to say their stalkers wouldn't chase after them once they fled - the very police who turned a blind eye writing their escape and subsequential disappearance as just another missing persons case.

They had enough. They were tired of being afraid in their own home. Tired of being afraid of going outside. They searched for something - anything to help them come to find everything they needed was written straight from the hands of their admirers and slipped under their front door.

Phone numbers. Once it was clear nobody would save them, their stalkers shed almost every inch of anonymity and became bolder in their demands and approach. They left numbers, places to meet. Pretty much everything except their real names.. Cowards. One night Reader realized they could have the same wall of mystery as their watchers and ventured out to the payphone down the street. It was dangerous to go out so late, but there were just so much racing through their head they had to do something to gain a moment's rest.

They dialed the first number, granted seconds to put everything in their brain to words as the phone rang. They begs so many nights to be free, it was time for a different approach. If they showed fear or even an ounce of weakness it'd mark them permanently as an easy target. They had to be the one that was feared, a force to be reckoned with. They need to be worse than their stalkers. Threaten them and make them fear every waking moment alive - just like them.

"I..... I have a knife... I have a knife and... I'll stab it through your fucking eye if I ever see you again."

Did they really just say that? The words flowed so naturally from their lips it felt as if they'd rehearsed them their whole life. It felt good. Freeing. Their body hadn't felt so light in ages. They felt in control. Powerful.

"I'll gouge them both out... then you'll never be able to stare at anyone else again. I'll be the last person ever see.. You'd like that - wouldn't you?... stupid bitch."

Its the most fun they've had in years - even before all this began. They never wanted to come down from this high. They were free. Finally free.

"Slut... Think showing a bit of skin will make everyone love you? You're worthless. Nothing more than a cheap fuck. If you ever talk to another person like you do now I'll cut out that pretty tongue and rearrange your guts in ways you aren't used to. We'll see who think you're oh so cute and innocent when I put your head in a trash bag."

"There've been so many times where I could kill you. So many times I could just wrapped my hands around your throat and just - squeezed til you finally shut your mouth for good. One of these days... one of these fucking days..."

"Hahaha, I'll kill you. You hear me, bitch?! I'll slit your fucking throat and fuck you til the warmth leaves your body. It's all you're good for anyway. You stupid whore. Disgusting pig. hahaha - HAHAHA."

In a way their calls work. There aren't as many eyes on them anymore - bashful and reserved by the depravity their darling has whispered to them in the dead of night. It's almost romantic most think. Being the outlet for every twisted thought and frustion their love has had to endure. Figures who once waited outside their door wait patiently each night for their midnight call unable to fall asleep without the verbal assaults and threats of the one they hold dearest to heart.

[pianokantzart]

Seeing @keakruiser making AUs in a bullet point storytelling format inspired me to take a crack at my own AU that I've been thinking about for a bit. What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him? Essentially The Super Mario Bros Movie, but with the brothers' roles reversed. So, without further ado...

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 ________

The beginning is much the same as it was in the original Super Mario Bros. Movie until they are separated in the warp pipe, with two exceptions: 1. When their van breaks down, Luigi's first instinct is to take the tool kit and try to fix the motor (mechanic Luigi, my beloved). But before he can get a good look, Mario insists that there's not enough time, and heads to the job on foot. Luigi closes the hood of the van and follows him. 2. After Mario leaves the dinner table, the focus goes to Luigi's conversation with his dad rather than Mario holed up in his room.

"What did I say?" "''You're bringing your brother down with you'?" Luigi asks, finally able to get a word in now that his uncles have shut up. "Why would you say that?" "Luigi, be honest. How much did that commercial cost? How many new clients has it gotten you? Huh?" "It's only been a day! And Mario'll figure something out. He always does." Luigi insists, taking his brother's plate of pasta and picking it free of mushrooms. "I just want to help him out along the way."

Pio sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't hide in your brother's shadow your entire life, Luigi. One of these days you're gonna have to man up and start making your own decisions." Luigi doesn't answer, he simply finishes removing the mushrooms from Mario's plate, and gets up from the table to deliver the food to his despondent brother.

After Mario and Luigi attempt to save Brooklyn, after they end up in the warp zone, and after they are ripped from each-other's grasp, Mario is dragged into an unsettling looking pipe surrounded by purple smoke and overgrown with gnarled branches.

Luigi flies onward, emerging from a pipe inside what looks to be another sewer, not too different from the one back in New York. No sooner does he regain his senses does he find himself dragged away by a powerful blast of suction. Flying backwards through the air, he stops suddenly as his back clogs the nozzle of a strange vacuum-like contraption being carried by a little old man.

"Oops! Sorry, Sonny! I thought for certain you were gonna be a ghost!" the old man apologizes, releasing Luigi from the vacuum's suction with a flip of a switch. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small device that loosely resembles a hand-held vidoegame console, reexamining the numbers flashing on the screen. "When my readings showed that pipe 983 had suddenly reactivated, I thought for sure King Boo was trying to use it to send his band of ghosts to Sarasaland!"

Before Luigi could ask one of the thousands of questions on his mind, the old man introduces himself: Professor Elvin Gadd (E. Gadd for short.)

Luigi introduces himself in return, then asks about his brother. He tells the professor about their situation in detail, describing the warp pipe that Mario had disappeared into.

E. Gadd tsks sadly and shakes his head. He explains that particular pipe leads to "Evershade Valley," and though the valley used to be perfectly habitable, ever since King Boo shattered The Dark Moon nobody who has set foot in that land has ever returned.

"Wait, what do you mean? Who's King Boo?" Luigi asks "Well! You truly are out of the loop!" E-Gadd chuckles, "Then again... I remember how little I knew when I first arrived in this world." He continues to talk while leading Luigi through the underground, casually clearing a path for them with the powerful blowing and sucking functions of the vacuum. "King Boo is nothing less than the lord of ghosts! He is the master of illusions, the reigning tyrant of the undead, the loather of all living flesh, and– at the moment– the sole ruler of Evershade Valley."

This description unsettles Luigi. He retorts that if that's the case, he has to get to Evershade Valley as soon as possible. As frightened as he is, he's never been so frightened that he couldn't help his brother out of a tough spot, and he knows Mario would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

"Well! In that case I suggest you stick with me for a bit. And keep those tools with you." The old scientist gestures toward the tool bag Luigi had dropped on the ground in the mayhem, "I may have a few uses for them."

Just as Luigi comes to the question of where they are currently, Professor E. Gadd opens a sewer cover and leads him out into the middle of a big bustling coastal city in Sarasaland. Think the Daisy Circuit from Mario Kart, but way larger and more crowded (and missing the romantic statue of course.)

Luigi struggles to keep up with the elderly scientist, who weaves his way effortlessly through throngs of turtle men, snake monsters, insect soldiers, giant sentient heads made out of stone, and a vast array of other strange and fascinating pedestrians.

"Stop your dilly-dallying, youngster!" E. Gadd eventually calls, getting fed up with Luigi's slow, bewildered pace, "I've got a meeting in The Birabuto Kingdom, and my train– our train– leaves in fifteen minutes!" "Birabuto Kingdom?" Luigi asks, allowing himself to be shoved along, "What's that? What about Evershade Valley?" "So impatient! Do you think I'd send you into such a place unprepared??? No no, first I'm going to perfect my equipment, then I'll help you find your brother."

E. Gadd purchases their tickets and they board the crowded 64 Express. Once seated, Luigi's eyes are immediately drawn toward the window. He stares out, deep in anxious thought as the train chugs along, traveling from the coastal city into a desert landscape.

Then, we switch over to Mario. Standing up and dusting himself off, he looks around to find himself in the gloomiest place he'd ever seen... for the little he is able to see. There is a thick purple mist hanging in the air, and the path before him is shrouded in the branches of a forest long dead.

Loudly calling out his brother's name on the off-chance he was somewhere nearby, Mario follows a light in the distance until he stumbles across a lone boo. More confused than frightened, and feeling a little sorry for the white specter shyly covering its face, Mario bends down for a moment to examine it, assuring "hey, don't worry! I won't hurt you, I'm just a little lost is all."

Suddenly, he is ambushed by a colorful trio of ghosts: a greenie, a slammer, and a hider. He tries to fight back, but every time he attempts to shove them off or swing his fists he phases right through them.

His attackers knock him around a bit until Mario succeeds in slipping away. Now in a panic, he continues rushing toward the distant light, far faster and more recklessly than before.

Eventually, he gets close enough to discover the glow was coming from the lit windows of an old mansion. He enters and – for the little good it will do – shuts the door behind him.

He wanders the halls for a long time, roaming from room to empty room, all the while haunted by the shadow of something following him. Something big.

At last, he reaches a towering portrait room. Unlike the rest of the mansion it is teeming with life, full of frightened faces pressed against picture frames, begging for help.

Mario is frozen in a moment of fear and confusion, but quickly snaps out of it. He rushes to the nearest portrait– an image of a strange little mushroom man– to ask what is wrong and what he can do.

Before the toad can give a coherent answer, the eerie presence that Mario had felt when he first entered the mansion casts a looming shadow over him.

He turns around and raises his fists in helpless hopes of defending himself. The candles of the surrounding sconces go out all at once, and in the pitch black darkness a cacophony of cackles fills the air....

[frenchie-simone]

Awoken

almost pg

tags: confession, x-men 1 Logan, kinda angsty but not really, mutant & immortal reader

a/n: first time writing fanfiction on tumblr!! i didn’t do smut for this one because it would’ve been to long but just say the words and i’m on it

You wouldn't have confessed to Logan if he hadn't been on the verge of death. You would've stayed silent your whole immortal life and eventually forgot about him. That's what you told yourself: it will pass. Somewhere in you, you knew, these feelings would always linger.

Now, there he was, laying on Jean’s table in medical, nearly all life sucked out of him by Rogue. You wanted to blame her, blame him, but you couldn't. Not when you knew it was what needed to be done.

Everyone had already gone to bed hours ago. You’d been sitting next to his limp body for hours on end, squeezing his hand so hard you were breaking his bones. Seeing him like this made you scared that his healing powers weren't enough, that they couldn't save him. You were seriously afraid that he might die that day. Assuming he was unconscious, you began speaking: “Logan… fuck, I can't- even when you can't hear me, it’s so difficult telling you. I know you care about me, and I care about you, but for your part, I think it’s just friendly. We’re friends, yeah? You've saved me so many times, nearly as many times as I've saved you”, you chuckled, “and God, it kills me that I can't help you now.”

Logan’s finger twitched in your hand, but you thought nothing of it. You knew that people twitch in their sleep. You continued: “We got a good thing going on, you know. People tell me that they've never seen you care for someone as much as you care for me. That warms my heart so much, and you have no idea how hard it is to keep my face neutral. I think that in a way, Logan, we’re so similar. We both endured horrible things, and in an attempt to keep us shielded, we've shut off everyone who’s tried to care. And I tried shutting you off, and I know you tried to shut me off as well, and fuck, I did my best. But I can't anymore, because every single interaction we've had just stays in my mind and only leaves until I've seen you again. I wish it was just attraction, a little crush, but I crave to be near you, Logan. Every single sign of affection you show me leaves me wanting more. I can't look at you, let alone be within five feet of you and function normally. You are a distraction, the worst kind. But I need you there, everywhere, to distract me. Logan, I need you. I want you. I… I love you, you fucking idiot.”

With those words off your chest, even if he didn't hear you, you just began weeping and buried your face in him. Your tears were soaking his arm hair and running down his skin. For just a minute, you stayed like that.

All of a sudden, you felt a hand on the top of your head. You jumped at the touch, but then understood. He's awake. Logan is awake. Alive. Healed. His large hand stroked your hair until going down to cup your cheek. You finally gathered yourself from the disbelief and raised your eyes to meet his. He was smiling gently, a warmth in his hazel eyes you'd never seen before. He wiped away a tear that had fallen down to your lips. His touch against your mouth warmed your whole body. Just a second ago, you didn't even know if you were going to see his eyes open again. “Logan,” you managed to whisper shakily. His lips had formed a grin that told you he heard you. He knew how you felt. In embarrassment, you tried turning your face away from him, but his strong hand held your face in place, forcing you to look at him.

“Darling, you should’ve told me sooner. Now we've just wasted time,” he said, lowering his hand and pulling off every cable attached to his bare chest. He noticed the slight confusion on your face and laughed. Before you could even react, he stood up from the table leaving you sitting at the edge. He came to stand before you, opened your legs and pulled you closer to him by your waist. You were pushed against his hard chest, your hands being confused about where to land. “How haven't you realized? You drive me insane, woman,” he said in a low voice, almost growling, before connecting his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle way. Your body felt like it could combust in sparks just by his lips being on yours. You were caught off guard at first, but then you eagerly kissed him back and grabbed his face in your hands. His grip around your waist tightened when you subconsciously slipped your tongue into his mouth. You moaned against his mouth as his tongue fought back, almost hitting the back of your throat. You grabbed onto his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright. He groaned, and the sound of it just made you even crazier. You tried squeezing him closer, tugging at his body everywhere you could and practically ate his mouth for dinner. He answered your body’s request with almost double the intensity, lifting you further up the table and then crawling on top of you, positioning his knee right between your legs. You tried to muffle a pathetic whimper, but failed. He chuckled against your mouth and lifted himself just enough for you to look him in the eyes. The yearning look on your face was just enough to push him over the edge.

“My room, now,” he purred.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Again, a scene from Adam got redeemed.

Yay Sera is a bitch again.. She’s here to make sure the winners are doing great. (lie)

Sera: Morningstar, can we talk?

Lucifer, sighing: What is it Sera?

Sera: In private I meant. Do you-

Lucifer: Follow me.

Sera: But-

Lucifer: This is my place Sera. I get to decide.

Sera: Okay.

They go to an empty bedroom, the tension is high.

Lucifer: So?

Sera: I must mention that I am impressed by Mrs. Morningstar’s work. How much souls she saved is-

Lucifer: Get to the point. Why are you taking my time?

Sera, annoyed, dropping the formal kindness: Fine. I am here because I have heard that you were keeping a soul here where he should be a winner by now.

Dread fills Lucifer.

Sera wouldn’t bother for Husk. It could only mean one thing.

No.

Clinging to a last piece of hope, Lucifer asks: Well who is it and who-

Sera: Don’t act like you don’t know. I’m here for Adam. Speaking of here, why IS he here anyway? Shouldn’t he be with us, don’t you think?

Lucifer (He’d put that bitch in her place if he had the chance but this was a serious matter): I-

Sera: Oh sorry, I forgot how you tricked him into selling his soul to you.

Lucifer: I didn’t trick him! I offered him my protection when you guys didn’t care enough to do it yourselves!

Sera: And why was that? Right, you wanted to break his heart and punish him yourself instead.

Lucifer: HOW DARE YOU!

A silence fills the room for a really small while.

Sera: Anyway. I’m here to request his soul back.

Lucifer: What makes you think you can?

Sera: I have my reason. *Summons a shiny paper, Lucifer’s eyes widen.* Hazbin Hotel and Heaven Council Official Contract Article 13: Hazbin Hotel Redemption and Rehabilitation Center, promises to do anything in it’s power to make sure all the souls they redeem and rehabilitate safely ascends to Heaven. If they are not currently capable of doing so, they will not be blamed. However, if they are purposedly holding a soul in Hell, and if it’s proven true by objective Heaven authorities, the Heaven Council will give them a limited one week period time to release the soul. If they insist on keeping the soul in Hell, Heaven Council has every right to shut Hazbin Hotel down.

Sera *smiles*: Your daughter had to be more careful about what she was signing.

Lucifer: You wouldn’t dare.

Sera: I would. And for a fact, I know you wouldn’t dare taking this to the court and let Adam know you kept him here like an obsessive maniac.

Sera comes closer to the frozen demon, angrily whispering: We showed you enough patience, Lucifer. It’s been almost a month since Emily told you about this. So, *opens the door* if I don’t see him infront of those gates in three days, your daughter can say goodbye to this place, her dream and her people.

Then she leaves.

Dw it has a good ending.

Lucifer better bitch slap her LOL OR I'LL DO IT MYSELF.

What if Adam doesn't want to go back to heaven anymore? What if he views Lucifer taking him to the gates as him abandoning him again 😭

GIRL THERE BETTER BE A HAPPY ENDING THIS HURT MY FEELINGS.

[2cmtall]

Diluc: A Helping Hand

Context: you recently arrived in Mondstadt, around the same time that Dvalin was attacking the city. You had no choice but to enter the city and try to find shelter. You were almost swept away by the wind when a certain dark figure saves you.

A/n: yay! I wrote another story!

=================================

You really could not have come to Mondstadt at a worse time. Dvalin was still raging in the nation of wind and freedom—and you happened to get swept into the mess.

The only thing you had on you were the PJs you wore to bed, since it was at night when the gods decided to trap you in the world of Teyvat. You woke up on one of the jagged hills overlooking the city—its windmills and barbatos statue in the distance.

You had nowhere else to go, even though you could see the dark clouds looming over the city—trees rustling violently as leaves were strewn in the air.

As you approached the main gate, the clouds began to douse you in heavy rain. The unrelenting pellets quickly soaked you, the cold seeping into your bones.

Nobody was present in the streets—god knows that would be crazy—but nobody seemed willing to open their doors for you either.

The effort to stumble door to door, fighting off the relentless cold, to no success seemed useless. You were quickly losing heart with each unreceieved knock on the doors.

‘I only just got here and I’m already gonna die.’

Your heart was pounding harder as more debris were swept up in the wind.

‘Somebody please just open their door!’

You made a mad dash to yet another house, but you only got so far as the middle of the streets before an extra powerful gust of wind pushed through the streets. The wind was so powerful that you struggled to stand in one place, your hands flaying for purchase on the ground, your nails trying to dig into the cracks of the streets as your body was pushed farther and farther back.

Your mind was racing as you could feel your body getting lifted from the ground. You screamed as hard you could, your life flashing before your eyes. ‘I’m actually going to die!’

You thought for sure this is how you meet your demise, the unlucky fool who had to knowingly put themself in this situation. Of course nobody is going to be here to help you. Nobody is crazy enough to be out here!

But before you were swept away, your body fully lifting for just a second, a dark figure rushed towards you. The force of the figure was able to push you towards the other end of the street near Angels share.

“Quickly! Get inside!” The dark figure shouted over the violent noise of rain and the howls of wind. The figure opened the door to the tavern and pushed you inside, coming in right behind you. You both struggled to shut the door against the outside forces, but eventually you heard the click and you fell to the floor. You were exhausted.

You curled up on the wooden floor. Water dripped from your hair and clothes as it created a puddle underneath you.

Your teeth were chattering so bad, you could barely get the words out. “I feel sorry for the owner of this tavern.”

The figure in all black, who you now guess is a man, regards you in silence before walking behind the bar counter, retrieving a small towel for you. “I don’t think the owner would mind. Besides, you should focus more on not freezing to death.”

You thank the man and began drying your face and your arms. Your hair and clothes on the other hand. . .

“What were you thinking going outside in this weather?” He turned to start a fireplace in the corner of the tavern. You followed along, leaving a trail of small puddles across the tavern floor.

“I wouldn’t choose to go outside if I already had a place to stay. I came into this city to look for exactly that.” You sat near the fireplace, greedily soaking up as much of the warmth as you could. Your poor fingers were numb.

“You’re a traveller?” The man sat down on one of the seats, seemingly getting dryer by the minute. It’s then that you see the glowing vision tucked behind the black cloak. ‘How unfair.’

“Something like that.”

“On second thought, maybe not. You have nothing on you but the pajamas you’re wearing.”

“My stuff got swept away in the wind.”

He mulled over your words, clearing not buying it. Your eyes squint in anticipation for him to pry more, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he comes and sits down next to you.

“You don’t need to be alarmed, I simply want to help dry you quicker. I have a vision that might help, you see.” He pulls out the pyro vision, its colour the same vibrancy as the locks peaking out from his hood.

“I noticed earlier.”

“I see. May I?”

You looked at him. To the fireplace. To your still sopping wet self, and back to his already dry self. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.” You turned your back to him so that he could run his fingers through your hair, gentle yet firm heat emanating from his hands.

He worked in silence, and to keep yourself distracted you opted to keep using the small damp towel to dry any skin that you see. It didn’t help much with the clothes. You could still hear the raging whirlwind that was going on outside the tavern, and you looked towards the window to see branches and even roof tiles being swept up. You sighed. ‘What a-‘

“A hopeless situation, don’t you agree?”

You looked behind you at the man who spoke, a mask covering his face. His identity.

“It is, which makes me wonder why you were out there as well. Are you some kind of hero?”

His eyes, which were also a crimson hue, looked at you for a second before he scoffed. “A hero? What a ridiculous notion.”

“So a vigilante then?”

“. . . More along those lines, I suppose.”

“But why risk yourself out there? Did you really think there’d be anybody out there for you to save?”

“There was you, wasn’t there?”

“One person.”

“One person that could’ve lost their life but fortunately did not. It wasn’t like the Knights of Favonious was going to come out in this weather.” He said that last bit with distaste.

“So you’re basically calling yourself crazy?”

“I could say the same for you.”

You mulled those words over in your head. You suppose he’s right, though you don’t want to say that to his face. Useless, considering your expression alone said it all for you.

A few more minutes pass by and not only is your hair dry, but your pajamas are relatively the same as well. Your teeth no longer chatter, and your extremities aren’t numb either. All is somewhat good. But you are both still stuck and it’s been hours since the last time you’ve eaten anything. The man seemed to notice since he got up once again to behind the counter, taking out shakers and stirrers and various bottles. “Care for a drink?”

“Should you really be using up the tavern owner’s products?” You walked tentatively over, sitting yourself down on one of the tall stools.

“He won’t mind.” He pulls out yet another drink.

“You seem so certain, yet you can’t possibly know that for sure.” You’re curious for his response but he instead asks a question. “What’s your drink of choice?”

‘It’s not food, but I supposed I’ll indulge.’

“Preferably something non-alcoholic. . . Though, I’m not sure if this tavern would have anything like that.”

“They do, actually.” He puts some bottles away and instead grabs a few different ones from the shelf. It’s so seamless, it’s like he knows these bottles’ locations by heart.

“Do you come here often? You’re so sure of everything that comes with this tavern.”

His hands stalled, only for a smidge. Barely noticeable had you not been captivated by his assured movements. “You could say that. Minty or fruity?”

“Fruity.”

“Then might I suggest Angels Share’s grape juice. You’re sure to love its exceptional quality.” He showed you the bottle, an image of two angels sharing a drink on the cover. You hesitated. ‘I really don’t like grape juice though. . . But maybe this time it’ll be different?’ You’re too hungry to ask for a different option and his gaze makes you wonder if he’s waiting on you to say yes?

“. . . I suppose I will try.”

He hummed once and dipped the bottle into the expectant cup, gracefully filling it with the dark magenta liquid. He pushed it towards you. He also filled another cup with the same liquid, wasting no time to bring it to his lips to taste. You had no choice but to hold your own cup and bring it closer, inspecting it. You expect the worst. You take the tiniest sip and. . .

You’re pleasantly surprised. “Hey this actually tastes good! It tastes nothing like medicine!” You down the whole cup, relishing in the drink. You might actually like grape juice now!

You hear a surprised huff coming from the man. But he doesn’t sound disgusted. “Medicine? No wonder you seemed so hesitant to try it.” He took another sip from his still full cup. “I’m glad you liked it so much.”

You looked back at your empty cup and couldn’t help but feel sheepish. ‘He’s definitely teasing me about that.’ Thankfully he changed the subject before you could drown in your own embarrassment. Lest he have to fish you out and dry you off again.

“What’s your name?”

“Sorry? Oh, it’s y/n.”

“That name doesn’t sound like it’s from here. Where are you from exactly?”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, his perceptive eyes staring at your hesitant conscience. “You’re right. I come from a land far away, in a place much too obscure for the average person to know.”

“That’s interesting. I remember you saying you were a traveller trying to find a place to stay? Archons knows this is the wrong place and time to look for one.” Now you really can’t look him in the eyes.

“Haha, right. . . About that. . .”

A pause. You could almost feel his eyebrow going up in expectancy. “I’m listening. . . ?”

You sighed before giving him the run down. “Yeah, I probably won’t be able to find one here. I don’t have any mora and nobody has been willing to open their doors for me. Granted, it was probably due to the raging storm outside, but I get the feeling I won’t have better luck even after the storm settles.” Which it has been, as you can hear and see outside the window. The dragon seemed to be relenting a little now.

The man in front of you regarded you in silence, sometimes looking elsewhere for a while. Ultimately he says this: “you could stay at the Dawn Winery.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “The Dawn Winery? How do you know the owner wouldn’t mind me staying there?”

“I have somewhat of a connection with the owner. He won’t mind.”

“Oddly confident of you, Mr—”

‘Oh, I never asked for his name.’

“It’s probably for the best that I don’t disclose my identity to you.”

“Right, because you’re a vigilante.”

“I— yes, precisely that.”

“So after this storm settles, I should just go over there and ask the owner if I could stay over at their place?” You were skeptical. But the man doesn’t seem phased in the slightest.

“In essence, yes. I could take you there. I assure you, if you were to mention to whoever answers the door that I recommended the place, they will let you in.”

“Your confidence knows no bounds.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {11}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando just can't help himself, he's drawn to you even when he's supposed to leave you alone like the bachelorette party and before the wedding. Warnings: 18+ only, sexual themes, alcohol WC: 2.3k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

The day could not have been more perfect for sailing along the Côte d’Azur as a warm breeze tousled your hair and the bottomless mimosas kept coming. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend summer break, and it was only going to get better.

You were surrounded by friends, both old and new. You had been afraid of reconnecting with the people you had ignored in your grief but the fear of rejection had been created in your mind and they had welcomed you back, grateful to have your friendship once again. As were you.

“Thank you for organising this,” you said to Maria as she refilled your glass and her own.

“You’re welcome, chérie.”

The captain had anchored the boat in a quaint inlet so some of the girls could swim but you had opted to catch the sun on the deck with Pietra. You had grown quite close to Max’s girlfriend when she came to the races with him and it was nice to have another female in the garage with you. As good as Max’s company was, it wasn’t the same as a female companion.

“It’s not too late to hire a male stripper,” Pietra suggested as she toyed with the rainbow umbrella spinning around her glass.

“No offence, but have you seen my soon-to-be husband?” you laughed with a shake of your head. “No man can compete with him.”

“It’s a bachelorette party, it’s tradition.”

You rolled onto your stomach and sighed as the sun warmed your back. “Nothing about our relationship has been traditional, why start now.”

Your eyes drifted shut as you listened to your friends laughing and splashing, music playing from the speakers and the smile on your face never faded until the sound of an engine grew louder.

“Sorry, boys, this bay is taken, find your own,” Maria called out and you peeked up to see a speedboat pull up, Lando’s smile growing when he spotted you.

“Oops, power failure,” he replied as the engine shut off and Carlos tossed an anchor into the water so they didn’t drift away. “Law of the sea, you have to save us!”

Lando’s best man was the first to dive overboard and make his way to the boat while Pietra went to meet him.

“He just can’t help himself,” Maria chuckled as she settled into Pietra’s empty sun-lounger and took your glass. “Go on, he’s not here to see any of us.”

You dove into the tepid waters as Lando bombed off the front of the sleek speedboat before resurfacing closer and shaking his hair out, sprinkling you with water drops as he swam closer. 

“Do you come here often?” he flirted as he pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

You shrugged coyly. “Just with my boyfriend.”

“Ugh,” he complained, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “A gorgeous babe like you, of course you are taken. Is it serious?”

“Only enough to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You giggled as he nipped at your neck and pulled back with a smile. “Well, that’s a relief. I was totally prepared to dunk you if you said no.”

“Do you really want to start your honeymoon sleeping on the couch?”

His lips kissed down the line of your jaw before tracing his way back to your ear and admitting, “I don’t plan to be doing any sleeping, love.”

Your legs tightened around his waist in response and he chuckled knowingly as you asked, “Think anyone will notice if we disappear?”

“Yes. Do I care? No.” He was already paddling deeper into the water where the speedboat was anchored but a sharp whistle had you looking back to the yacht. 

“Don’t even think about it, mate!” Max shouted with a finger pointed your way.

Carlos joined him at the edge of the yacht and reached into the pocket of his swim trunks with a laugh. “I got the keys, cabron!”

“Bastards,” Lando muttered under his breath. “I can’t get out of the water now.”

“It’s a shame the water isn’t a little colder.” You kissed him softly before pushing away with a smile you couldn’t suppress. “I’ll see you on deck when you…calm down.”

“You could help me,” he countered as he started swimming to catch up.

“The water is crystal clear, you perv,” you said as you looked back with a laugh. “I’m not getting arrested today because you got horny.”

“It’s your fault,” he pointed out, grabbing you to stop your retreat to the yacht and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I take one look at you and lose my mind.”

“You don’t make it any easier by doing this.” You wriggled in his arms to prove your point as he groaned as it rubbed your ass over the prominent bulge in his swim trunks. “In fact, you make it hard.”

“Good thing I have a human shield,” he chuckled as he continued to the yacht with you held firmly in front of him. “I can still sunbathe with you on top of me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the big white wedding?” You had asked Lando plenty of times but it was the last opportunity for him to change his mind. 

“I would’ve been happy to go to the courthouse last year, love,” he said with a laugh. “Plus, I’ve already stood with you in a church for all that before. I mean René was standing between us but…same diff.”

“Good,” you sighed in relief, “because it’s a little bit late.” 

“Can you open the door now?” 

You put your foot in front of it as the handle turned and you pressed your back to the cold wood so your hands were free to text Max to collect the wayward groom. “No, it’s bad luck!”

“Come on, mate, stop slipping your damn leash,” Max’s voice trickled through. “Leave the girl to get ready.”

“I just want to talk to my bride real quick. Would’ve seen more of her last night if it wasn’t for you.”

“Be lucky you got to gate crash the bachelorette party.” 

“I would have got lucky, if it wasn’t for you.”

You tipped your ear to the crack of the door as you heard Lando complain about tripping over Max in the hallway and they both heard your laugh. 

“Did you really sleep outside the bedroom door?” you asked.

“I take tradition seriously, thank you very much,” Max stated proudly. “And I knew this muppet wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his way to your bed.”

“I don’t sleep well without Y/N,” Lando murmured and he nearly fell into you as you suddenly opened the door.

Max threw his hands up with an exasperated groan as he saw you wrapping your arms around Lando but when you heard the longing in his voice you hadn’t been able to fight the urge to keep the door closed. He needed your comforting touch and you needed him.

“I got a crick in my neck for nothing now. I hope you’re happy.” Max took one look at Lando and he couldn’t help smiling at how awestruck his best friend was as he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time. With a clap on Lando’s back and a kiss to your cheek he retreated down the hall and gave you a moment alone with your husband-to-be.

“You look…whew,” Lando exhaled loudly. “Wow, I…”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you praised as you ran your fingers over the lapel of his suit and admired how perfect the tailoring was on him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he begged as he caught your hands slipping down his chest. “If I’m going to have you now, it’s going to be as your husband.”

You gently pushed back before you were too tempted to close the door and make the guests in the backyard wait. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

When Lando said Daniel could be the celebrant you had thought he was joking. You couldn’t imagine the goofball, who never took anything seriously, being the one to lead you through your vows but he had taken the role seriously. 

“How did you get your celebrants licence?” you had asked him when you found him the next day. “Why?”

He had grinned and sat back in the chair as he stared at the clouds overhead. “I love love. It’s beautiful to see and be a part of, so I thought why not. I can be more than just the class clown.”

You nodded at his sincere answer and leaned in. “Okay, good, ‘cause I could do with some help with my vows.”

The guests were spread across the back lawn admiring the petals and tea light candles that floated in the pool. Their light would only grow as the sunset later and the fairy lights would come on soon after when the party really began, but first you needed to gather the guests.

“Danny,” Lando called out the kitchen window and waved him inside, catching the attention of some of the curious guests. “A change of plans.”

“Okaaaay..?” he asked dubiously before you stepped into the kitchen too and he smiled brightly. “You look beautiful!”

“What about me?” Lando propped a hand on his hip and tossed his hair back. “I look good too.”

“Very dashing,” Danny laughed. “So what’s changed?”

“We want to start now. Everyone’s already here so just round ‘em up and skip to the good part.”

“The good part?”

“I do, she does too, you know, the good part.” Lando was growing more animated by the second, the excitement filling him from head to toe to the point he couldn’t keep from bouncing on them. “Can we?”

“It’s your wedding, bro,” Danny laughed, clapping him on the back. “You can do it however you want, or more accurately, as much as your girl lets you get away with.”

“I’m happy with whatever Lan wants,” you confirmed as the same excited energy began to flow into you and you knew it was time. “The sooner the better.”

“Alrighty then, follow me.” Daniel stepped out onto the back patio and stuck his fingers into his mouth to let out a piercing whistle that had everyone turning his way. “Ladies and gentlemen, come on, come on, gather round. I could do with a sheepdog to get the stragglers at the back.”

There was no separation between the groom’s guests or the bride’s, you considered them all family and it was only the closest people to you and Lando that had been invited to the intimate ceremony. The other F1 drivers and crew, the Quadrant members, Lando’s family and Maria, they all gathered closely at the bottom of the stairs waiting to hear what Danny had called them together for. The ceremony wasn’t meant to start for another half an hour.

“Since everyone’s here on time, which is a miracle in itself, these two want to crack on and sign their lives away,” Danny said, earning a round of laughs. 

“Ready, love?” Lando asked as he slipped his hand into yours and lifted it to his lips.

With your free hand you reached for the necklace you had clasped around your neck that morning and ran your fingers over the metal band that hung upon it. Your finger felt naked without the wedding ring but when you woke up there had been a sense of clarity wash over you and you had slipped it off for the first time since it went on.

Removing the ring didn’t change your past and it didn’t erase the memories. Those would always be yours to keep no matter what the future held. But today was about making new memories and that would start with a blank space for the ring Lando was itching to slip on. 

You let the necklace go and felt the ring settle over your racing heart. “I’m ready, are you?”

His smile grew but he didn’t answer with words as he stepped out onto the sundrenched patio and turned to watch you follow. You could see the future in his shimmering blue eyes, the promise of a life full of love and happiness. You could see it all as he waited for you to take the final step towards him. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes darting down to see your shoe peek out from the floor length dress as you took a step forward.

“I love you too.”

The air stilled as if the world took a breath and only you and Lando existed in the moment. It hung suspended like the fairy lights around the yard and you could have stared into his eyes for eternity but eternity would have to wait just a few more minutes. 

Lando could sense the need and urgency to make your vows, to make him your and you his, as he pointed to Max. “Rings, rings, tell me you’ve got them.”

“Of course I’ve got them. What kind of best man do you think I am?” he said as he pulled the matching set from his breast pocket and placed them in your palms.

“The best,” Lando grinned before nodding to Danny. “The good part, yeah?”

“Someone’s a little eager,” Danny teased as he flipped through his folder to the last page.

“More than a little. I have been waiting for this moment all my life.” Lando turned to face you and shook his head like he still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. “Now would you please hurry up so I can call this angel my wife?”

Click here for chapter twelve.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

[shygirl4991]

FIRST PRIZE WINNER

Your not the bad guy

First prize reward for @retardedpsyche Art done by @b-r-i-n-g-x the other places prizes

Tags: Angst, Comfort, fluff, nightmares

It was late into the night, the crew were all in their beds resting and having sweet dreams. Everyone except one meme guardian, SMG4 tosses and turns as the voice of Mr. Puzzle echoes through his head “And SMG4! Who knew you could play an antagonist so well, high marks from me!” He turns away from the voice to see the castle again, seeing the eldritch horrors cover the place he once knew as home made him feel sick.  He walks through the halls to hear those voices again “You will never be good enough,” he covers his ears as he keeps walking the hall.

“Nobody likes your videos!” “You are a failure!” “YOU'RE NOT ENOUGH!” SMG4 could hear each voice slip through the cracks as he ran faster through the castle; he needed the voices to stop to leave him alone. He charges into a room and slams the door shut, it was quiet, he was able to think again. That's when he heard frantic typing, a chill went down his spine as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. There he saw himself, the strange pink stains all over him, the light gone from his eyes. Nothing but a machine, working nonstop to be perfect.  He heard screams making him turn, his eyes going wide seeing a pool of black liquid start taking his friends. 

He runs to them attempting to pull them out, one by one his friends vanish into the strange pool “No…NO I CAN SAVE YOU GUYS!”  he grabs Three and pulls. SMG3 lets out a dark chuckle “So this is it huh…i really thought we were friends now,” Four’s eyes water as he keeps pulling only to see his partner sink into the pool. “Please…no..” he falls to the floor as SMG3 vanishes, he looks at his hand shaking, his thoughts running a mile per minute. He then hears clapping, breathing heavily, he looks up to see Mr. Puzzles.  “My my SMG4, no matter what you do you still are the villain. Do you really think your friends trust you after this, you and I should really get into television together!” SMG4 felt his anxiety slowly being replaced with anger, clenching his fist he gets up ready to fight the television. Only to pause seeing the man holding SMG3, the screen shows a smug expression “Give it up Four, look back at your show and it's clear as day you're the bad guy!” he then tosses three on the floor “And SMG3 was your victim for years.” Four shakes his head taking a step back, he couldn't be the villain.  The room goes dark, only the light of the TV shining through as it shows moments of SMG4 acting cold and uncaring towards his friends. Four closes his eyes “STOP!” he jumps out of bed stretching out to air, he shakes looking around his familiar room. 

He wipes the sweat from his forehead, takes a deep breath before he starts to walk. The nightmare brought back all the guilt he had shoved away, he hated how he hurt his friends. He couldn't look at himself for weeks after the whole thing, everyone but one person gave him space after the events. Sure, Mario did his best to keep the guardians spirit up with memes and silly adventures. But no one understood him better than his other half, his old rival of many years. SMG4 slowly walked to the front of the castle, with a deep breath he stepped outside. After fighting Mr Puzzle the two agree they needed ways to reach each other in case of emergencies, together with SMG1 and two created meme doors. The doors were hidden in different locations and could only be activated with meme energy, Four never thought he would be so thankful to have those doors. Since he didn't have a spare key to Three’s cafe he went to the back of the building to connect with the secret door.

With shaky hands he uses his meme powers to unlock a hidden door, he looks around as he walks in to make sure no one else tries to sneak in.  Making sure everything was sealed he walked around the cafe, his dark thoughts were starting to slip in. What if the man didn't want to help him? He looks back at the hidden door contemplating if he should leave, only to pause mid step hearing the sounds of an elevator. He turns and there with messy hair and in pajamas was the man he was looking for, Four gave a shy wave as he fixed up his own pajamas. Normally the man would give an annoyed look and start insulting him , much to Four's surprise the other guardian expressions soften. He walks over to the coffee machine “You look like shit,”  Four rolls his eyes walking closer to his partner “Gee thanks, make mine strong if you could.” 

Three lets out a hum as he lets the machine do its magic, they stand there listening to the hum of the machine as it pours out their drinks. Once done Three adds the final touches before handing Four his cup, with a small nod they both walk over to one of the tables. Four looks down at his cup slowly tracing the rim of it before picking it up, Three frowns as he watches Four drink his coffee “Not like you to come over at three am.” Four sips his drink hoping the warm drink would help, holding the cup he looks at Three “Ah well never hurts to get some late night coffee!” Three gave him an unamused look as he pushed his cup aside “You didn't come here cause you thought i would fall for a stupid line like that did you?” Four sighs again as he stares at his drink “Three…do you think i'm evil?” Three’s blinks surprised at the question “No, you're a pain in my ass for many reasons but you're not evil.” Three frowns and gently reaches out to the man “What brought this up?” Four bits on his lip remembering his dream,  he is selfish and tends to go overboard with his content. He looks at the hand reaching out to him, a flash of his dream hits him. How the man in front of him was swallowed up by the black pool, how he couldn't pull him back to safety. Anxiety hit him as he pulled his arms away from three, he then crossed his arms looking out the window.  “Our battle with Mr. Puzzle just brought some memories back is all,” he sighs getting up ready to leave. 

Seeing Four ready to leave, SMG3 gets up and grabs his arm “Four, what happened at peach's castle isn't your fault,” Four pulls his arm to free himself. Three watches concern as the man in front of him shakes “Not my fault? I wanted to make the perfect video. I clicked his ad for the keyboard. I ALMOST KILLED YOU ALL!” Four felt himself shake more as he hugs himself, holding back his tears he whispers “I’m…a villain just like he said.” 

Without saying anything Three gently touches Four, the comforting touch was enough for the meme guardian to collapse into Three’s arms crying “I’M A VILLAIN!” Three holds Four close, letting the man finish before speaking. He pets Four’s head “Four i have known you for years, trust me when i say your not a villain. We all have our moments of weakness and that's okay, but hear me when I say you're the kindest man I know.”  Four cries hard into Three’s shoulder, they stay in this position for a while. Three wasn't sure how much time passed since the man broke down crying, all he did know was at this moment Four needed all the comfort possible. “Hey four, want to stay overnight?” 

Four sniffs pulling away looking at Three’s face surprised “I…really?” Three nods giving the man a soft smile as he wipes his tears away. Four hugs Three letting out a breathy laugh, with a small pat of the back the pair get up and head down the elevator. Once in Three’s room the pair walk towards the bed, Four lets out another giggle “To think in the past just sharing body heat was the end of the world for you, are you gay for me or something three?” SMG3 rolled his eyes and gently smacked his ex rival “Haha I see you want to go back to your castle.” SMG4 pouts at the comment as he watches Three get in the bed, with a pat Four climbs next the man. It was strange being such good friends with someone that attempted to kill you in the past, even stranger when you cuddled up to him for comfort. Three hums to help Four relax, as he starts to drift to sleep he makes sure to whisper “Thank you for saving me Three.” 

[whumpsday]

Ancient Evils

Whump Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: g/t whump, giant whumpee, demon whumpee, magical whump, isolation, claustrophobia, burns, forced to obey, rescue, hurt/comfort, caretaking

Whumpmas in July Day 21: Abandoned GT July Day 21: Coveted Hug a Giant Day

dammit i did that thing again where i write a oneshot and it turns into the setup for a miniseries. will write a followup to this eventually lol but it also works as a standalone <3 (edit: might just leave this as a standalone, who knows)

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The tomb was covered in glowing runes Berian knew from his studies, but had never encountered in use until today. Symbols carved painstakingly into stone by ancients, covering every inch of the thirteen-foot stone box, all screaming a single purpose: keep whatever lies inside sealed within.

The magic used to activate them was powerful, powerful enough to seal the tomb for two thousand years, powerful enough that the caster had surely died, given what they had to work with back then. It was likely all they could think to do in their desperation, back then. Berian uttered a quick prayer for the caster who came before him, who had sacrificed themself to save countless: long-dead, but not forgotten.

At least he wouldn’t have to follow in their footsteps. Two thousand years was, thankfully, enough time to develop a better solution. A way of utilizing the demon’s own magic against itself.

Though it was always in the back of his mind as a backup, in case something went wrong. Hopefully, the knot of anxiety in his stomach would dissipate after it was done.

Berian looked to his watches, lined up one after the other on his wrist, all still in sync, and waited.

As soon as it hit twenty seconds until release, he began chanting as practiced, his staff pointed directly at the tomb. He had to time it just right, or his colleagues out at the entrance probably wouldn’t even be able to come retrieve his corpse.

“Finis.”

Precisely at the same moment Berian bound the spell, the runes ceased to glow, a forceful BANG sounding from within the tomb.

He exhaled slow. The lid stayed shut. After only a few seconds, the runes resumed glowing once more. He’d done it.

The entity inside screamed.

Berian jumped back. The screaming did not stop, a wail of agony and despair. Barely audible under it all, his phone beeped, the least of his worries.

“Hello?” he called out, hesitant.

A voice roared from inside. “LET ME OUT.”

In all his wildest imaginings, Berian had never imagined the demon would speak to him.

He could, he realized. The spell had bound the demon to his will: it would have to obey him even outside the tomb.

And it was the only chance he would ever get. And they had backup plan after backup plan in place in case things went horribly wrong.

“...Okay. Don’t move.”  This would at least be a good test of whether the spell would hold, he told himself. It was safer this way, really.

Berian tried to lift the lid, but it was simply too heavy, a gigantic slab of solid stone. He pointed his staff to it, muttering just the right words to let it slide off to the side.

The demon looked like a man. He hadn’t expected that. He was as tall as the tomb was long, easily more than twice Berian’s height, with large, curled horns protruding from his head, but other than that, he looked human.

True to Berian’s order, he did not move a single muscle. His body lay stock-still within, his arms raised and palms up–he’d been attempting to push the lid off himself. Overlapping scars streaked down his skin wherever it touched the stone in the pattern of the runes, burned in as though with a branding iron. Massive shackles cinched tight around his wrists, ankles, and neck, chains binding him to the inside of the tomb.

The demon did not speak again, his eyes wide with overwhelming alarm.

It was only after a moment of taking him all in with awe that Berian realized it was him preventing the demon from doing so.

“You can move,” he amended. In addition to forcing the demon to use his own magic to re-activate the runes, the initial spell had contained a command preventing him from leaving the tomb. This would just be going overkill.

The demon gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “OUT. OUT. YOU WILL RELEASE ME.”

Berian winced. “I can’t do that. You’ll hurt people, like last time, right?”

To Berian’s continued amazement, the demon began to cry.

“ONLY YOUR ENEMIES. OR NO ONE AT ALL. WHATEVER ARE THE TERMS. WHAT MUST I DO TO BE RELEASED?”

Berian could have sworn he heard that powerful voice break, just a little.

“NAME YOUR TERMS,” the demon insisted. Berian was sure now, the desperation palpable.

The demon shifted slightly, and everywhere the stone touched new skin, it burned.

“You–you will harm no one,” Berian started, before he’d even thought how this was going to work. “You will stay in this section of the cave. You will not touch my staff or any other conduit of magic. You may exit the tomb.”

Berian had never seen something so huge move so quick. The demon burst from the stone box like a firework, chains snapping like rubber bands under his freed might, the ends hanging limply from his shackles. The cave ceiling was not tall enough for him to stand and he did not try, scrambling as far away as he could get and huddling against the wall there.

His phone beeped again.

The demon glared at him, his chin tucked into the metal wrapped around his neck, breathing heavily.

This wasn’t right. This was a demon that had wrought terror across lands, responsible for thousands of deaths, a giant among men. He wasn’t supposed to be… pitiful.

“Hey–”

“I WILL NOT GO BACK IN.” Now that he was out of the tomb, Berian could see the true extent of the damage, the burns even more intense on skin that had been pressed against the bottom. As huge as the box was, it had been built scarcely larger than the man before him, big enough to fit him and no more. Skin that had been pressed against the bottom was particularly scarred, so much so that it was essentially a giant burn, the symbols impossible to make out.

“I’m not going to make you go back in there,” Berian promised. Maybe a stupid promise. What the fuck was he going to do? “So just… it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. The demon’s glare gave way to surprise. “GOOD.”

Berian took an experimental step forward, like he was coaxing out a feral cat. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Berian. I’m–” Don’t say caster. “...A researcher.” It wasn’t a lie, after all.

The demon picked his head up. “THEY CALLED ME ALARIC. ALL-POWERFUL.” The words rang bitter.

“Were you… awake in there, all this time?” Berian asked, dreading the answer.

The glare returned. “I DO NOT SLEEP.”

“We didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be awake.” Berian took a couple more steps forward.

Alaric put his hand up, huge, sharp claws protruding from every finger. Berian flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a small yelp, but there was no attack: his commands prevented it. When he opened his eyes, he found Alaric merely motioning for him to stop.

“DO NOT BRING THAT NEAR ME.” He pointed to Berian’s staff.

“Okay! Okay.” He set the staff down on the ground, bringing his hands up in a placating motion. “See? You follow my commands, I follow yours, it goes both ways. I don’t have it.”

Alaric lowered his hand. “YOU MAY PROCEED, MAGE.”

Heart fluttering and permission granted, Berian did. He walked right up to him: even huddled on the floor, Alaric was taller than Berian was standing.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE HERE.”

“Right! I, ah, I was sent to… re-seal you. But I won’t!” Berian clarified hurriedly. “Really, I was just sent to make sure nobody gets hurt. Like–like the last time you were out. That’s fine, right?”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “IT IS DONE.”

“Good! Good.” Berian hovered a hand inches from his skin. “You’re hurt.”

“YES. THAT.” Alaric nodded toward the tomb and shuddered.

In order to create something that could contain a demon, they’d had to make something so totally opposed that it had harmed him. Berian didn’t blame the ancients: they had to stop the massacres one way or another, and they worked with what they had. They were desperate.

But there was no massacre now.

Without his staff, the kinds of spells he could perform were limited, but not nothing. While he couldn’t cast outright healing spells–would they even work on a demon?--he could at least cast something soothing. “I could… help. If you want.”

Alaric eyed him silently for a few moments before responding. “DO AS YOU WISH.”

“I can touch you?” Berian asked.

The demon nodded. Berian laid his hand lightly against Alaric’s back, red with harsh welts. He could feel Alaric’s muscle underneath, tensed, twitching slightly at his touch.

His whispered incantation didn’t do much. It was the magical equivalent of putting aloe on third-degree burns. But it was something, and Berian felt Alaric relax just slightly under his hand.

Berian performed the spell again and again, touching wherever it looked the worst. Between this and the earlier binding, he quickly exhausted himself, but that was fine.

“Better?” he asked.

“...YES.” Alaric looked down at him with a little less apprehension now. “YOU WILL BE SPARED, MAGE.”

“Haha, great!” Berian squeaked. “Just–just like everyone, right?”

“THOSE WERE THE TERMS,” Alaric agreed.

Berian wanted to get those shackles off. He wanted to take Alaric out of here, bring him to the lab. No, the lab wouldn’t be big enough to house him comfortably. Nowhere would. They’d have to build a custom facility, and there was no way he’d get permission for that, much less the funding. He couldn’t so much as let anyone know the state in which he’d left Alaric, or they’d find another caster and find a way to finish the job.

His phone beeped twice.

“I have to go, okay? You just… stay down here for now. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I’ll bring you things.”

“BRING ME A SHEEP,” Alaric demanded.

“I’ll bring you a sheep! Sure! And–I’m sorry about this, but if someone finds you, it’s going to be really bad, especially for you. So… be quiet,” Berian ordered.

Alaric did not respond. He couldn’t. His features set back into a glare, but he nodded: he was the one who stood to lose, after all. At least he understood.

Before Berian could think better of it, he leaned in and wrapped his arms around the demon as much as he could manage to. Alaric did not push him away, even though he could have. If anything. Alaric leaned into it slightly.

He stayed like that for a good minute before stepping away. “I’ll protect you. That’s my job.”

Berian raced out toward the entrance, already planning his next visit.

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