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golden-cherry · 6 months

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deal - cl16 (19/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit

Word Count: 3.4k

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A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.

Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants.

After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you.

He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you.

Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?

Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you.

"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.

The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.

No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth.

He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately.

He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop.

In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it.

It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore.

Although that's not entirely true either.

He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret.

The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.

Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget.

Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle.

At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.

Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible.

Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch.

Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.

But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.

Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.

He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.

He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.

The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass.

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came.

He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance.

The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right.

And then Lando's message came.

The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone.

Lando: You need to come home now.

He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you?

Charles: I'm in Maranello.

If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?

Lando's answer comes immediately.

Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here.

The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again.

Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling.

"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.

"Hi, Lando."

"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."

Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."

"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."

The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"

The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"

Charles would like to know the answer too.

"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."

"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold.

"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."

"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."

He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line.

"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."

Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?

"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."

Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."

"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."

"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."

"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."

How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job.

"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"

"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."

"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone.

"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right."

Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.

He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.

"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."

Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.

What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family.

That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.

"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."

"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."

Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."

"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.

When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."

His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."

"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."

He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.

The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?

I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -

I behaved like crap, but it was only because -

I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have -

Wow. It actually all sounds like shit.

Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.

I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-

His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house.

Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake.

And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether.

Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost.

But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil.

It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

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Across Every Universe - Part 2

Well, I didn't expect this work to get this long. It was only supposed to be short but then I worked on it all day and for multiple hours on end?? I guess I just enjoy this concept so much! These are basically the stories I wanted to put in last time, but they needed their own chapter to truly shine.

I know people asked for Arthur and reader romance, but To Do Is To Dare has always been a racing fic first and romance second. I tried to add in all the people I could without going crazy with the plot line or it would have gotten out of hand (or more than it already is). There is a lot of Max and Charles (my two favorite boys on the grid).

If anyone has anything against Lestappen - there's the door :)

Please enjoy :)

Earth 33891

“Please stand for his Majesty King Max Emilian Verstappen, King of the Netherlands and Prince of Orange.”

Max always hated these announcements. Like, why did they have to always say his middle name and all the titles that came with it? He put on a gentle smile and waved to the crowds around him. Thankfully, his dressers had decided to forgo the kingly robes and opted for a nice suit with his pins. Definitely fitting for the Dutch Grand Prix.

This would be his ninth to attend since taking the throne at 18-years-old after his father passed away. The kind always enjoyed seeing the Orange Army at the home race.

After greeting everyone, he was led to the special box. Apparently, more than one royal had decided to attend as well. Max’s shoulders loosened when his eyes landed on a familiar figure.

“Charles!”

Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, The Sovereign Prince of the Principality of Monaco. Max was always glad that his mother only chose one middle name for him instead of three.

The prince’s green eyes widened at the sight of the Dutchman. He waved off whoever he was speaking to and all but glided across the room. The two forwent the formalities and brought each other into a hug.

Max leaned back a bit to look the Monegasque in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Monaco not enough for you?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes as Charles rolled his. The brunet gestured to a plush couch in the corner, one that Max was excited to sit in.

Charles began to speak, a small smile on his face, “Well as you know, my brother is currently dating one of the drivers on the grid. And it is her home race so Arthur wanted to come watch.”

Max nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew exactly who Charles was talking about.

Y/n L/n, the only female driver, who currently was working on her fourth World Champion.

“And where is your brother now?”

“He’s in the garage,” Charles rolled his eyes. He had wanted to go, but an ambassador had insisted that he needed to talk to the prince.

“Why don’t we head there. I always want to say hello to my race winner.”

Now, Max and Y/n had a very loving sibling relationship. The king had watched her grow up karting and made sure to sponsor her and support her through her career. Without his support, the girl would not have been able to continue. Yet, when you put the royal Dutch crest on your Formula 3 car, someone has to know that it means something.

This would be her 4th season in Red Bull, having been 19 when she joined in 2019. She was only 20 when she won her first World Championship, breaking the record for the youngest ever to dominate the sport.

Now she was 24 and is on a path to win her fourth in only five races if she keeps up the winning streak. Max was only older by 3 years, yet he watched over her like a very protective older brother.

He and Charles had made their way down to the pitlane, much to their advisors’ chagrin. They passed by the Mercedes garage to say hello to King Lewis Hamilton III and then George Russell, Duke of Sussex. The two Brits had been friends or well, colleagues, with the other two reigning monarchs for quite some time. They were currently backing Kimi Antonelli and Mick Schumacher, the current driver line up for Mercedes.

Right next to the silver garage stood a very orange and bright one. Max was excited to see Lando Norris, Duke of York also in attendance. He was very close with the two Aussie drivers, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo.

Down the line was Williams, who was attending to a very eager Logan Sargeant, the President of the United States’ kid. Max was fond of the blond and often said hello to him whenever he got the chance in diplomatic settings.

But finally, they were able to reach the big navy garage. Max could definitely pick up Arthur’s almost French accent everywhere. But, his ears were tuned to the sound of your Dutch accent that was similar to his.

“Geitje!” he called out, finding your blond hair against the navy racing suit.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing the conversation with your boyfriend. You rolled your eyes when you saw Max in his kingly splendor. You took a few steps toward the fellow Dutch and gave him a hug.

“I told you to quit calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore, or was never a goat for that matter.”

Charles took this moment to catch up with his brother.

Max looked down at you fondly. “You’ll always be that small kid whose suit was two sizes too big on her.”

You honestly wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in. There was a race that you needed to win.

“Are you going to give me my trophy this year?”

“Don’t I every year?”

You looked up in mock thought. “Well, there was that one year that you had appendicitis and your mom gave me my trophy.”

Max lightly nudged you. “That was one year, let it go.”

You grumbled. “Well I hope that someone won’t break my trophy this year.”

Your teammate, Ollie Bearman, popped his head up from where he was looking at his tyres.

“It was one year Y/n! One year!”

You giggled at the disgruntled yells from the British Driver. Ollie had been one of your favorite teammates.

Your first year, you were paired with the golden boy himself, Sebastian Vettel, before he retired with one last championship. And then your first year as world champion, you were paired with Oscar Piastri before he left for McLaren. Ollie had been your teammate for the past two years, but you had a feeling that he’d stick around for more than a year.

You got the heads up that the race would be starting soon. You turned back to Max.

“Are you staying here or do you have to go?”

Max had a mischievous glint in his eyes and was about to reply before being interrupted.

“Actually, their royal highnesses need to return to the royal box.”

Max fought the urge to roll his eyes. You only laughed and pushed him in the direction of the exit.

“Go, I’ll see you at the top.”

“Blijf veilig, alsjeblieft,” Max softly pleaded.

He really hated that you put your life on the line every weekend for the job that you loved. He remembers the first time you had a terrifying crash when you were unconscious until they got you to the hospital. He was told that you probably wouldn’t wake up. However, you defied the odds and were back in the seat for the next race.

You responded, just as gentle, “Voor jou, mijn koning, altijd.”

When Max left, he turned around one last time and witnessed you giving Arthur a quick kiss before he put your helmet on. It was something that the two of you had been doing since you started dating almost two years ago.

The Dutch king was back to walking with Charles to the box.

“So, when is he proposing.”

He hadn’t expected an answer, but was surprised when he got one.

Charles gave Max a look. “They’re actually going to a restaurant, and he plans to propose tonight.”

Max’s eyes widened at the confession. But, he got over it quickly before gently smiling. You deserved happiness, and you found that in his closest friend’s brother.

“So will she have to stop racing for royal duties?” the blond questioned.

Charles shook his head. “Non. Arthur will step down.”

Max clapped him on the back. “Guess you and Alexandra need to start with some heirs huh?”

Charles squinted up at him. “Says the man who currently needs to propose as well.”

The prince got the last laugh as he left Max stuttering for a comeback.

You won the race like Max knew you would. The king watched as you held your head up high as the Dutch National Anthem played loudly through the crowds. He saw the crowds of orange, the only ones rivaling the red Tifosi at Monza.

The crowds were shouting, “De Langverwachte! Onze kleine leeuw!”

The Long Awaited.

Their Little Lion.

Max had always wished for a champion from his home country. Something to ode back to the sport he loved as a kid. His wish came true in the form of you. People talked as the king publicly backed the only female driver on the grid. But he knew that you were something special. He was there as you took the championship from Vettel in the last lap of the 2020 season fair and square. Obviously he was thankful that there was no safety car to ruin your race of any kind. You had coped brilliantly against your older teammate and your talent truly showed.

Max was given the signal to head out with the hand painted trophy. He was honestly kind of scared to drop it. But he made it across the stage and handed it out to you.

You proudly took the trophy from Max after you bowed in respect. He may have been your friend, but he was your king first.

The ceramic trophy was held high once it was safely in your hands. Jokingly you hugged it tight as you gently stepped down off the podium. Ollie gawked at your childishness before spraying you with the champagne.

With trophy set down a nice ways away, you took your own bottle. Except, instead of spraying Ollie, you pointed it at Max, whose jaw was on the floor as you came after him with the liquid.

If you were having fun now, you wouldn’t expect what was coming later that night.

And you said yes.

Earth 12399

“Zusje!”

Your eyes widened at the familiar squeaky and young voice. You turned your whole body away from your race engineer to only be taken down in the knees. Once you were on the floor, you laps was immediately filled with a small body that had bleach blond hair and bright blue eyes.

“Maxy, Ik heb je gemist Kleintje!”

“Uh Y/n, is everything good?” Charles’s voice sounded from above. You stared back at your teammate in the red overalls. You grabbed under the child’s arms and hoisted him up along with yourself.

“Yep! Charles meet Max. Max meet Charlie.”

Max’s small eyes widened before he tucked himself in your neck. Your hand came up and rubbed his back as you cooed. You turned back to Charles.

“He’s a bit shy in front of his favorite driver.”

You poked Max’s side and his giggles filled the room. The small one turned his head and peered at the Monegasque whose eyes were wide, looking at the child in his teammate’s arms.

“Didn’t know you had a kid.”

Your jaw dropped at his statement.

“He’s not my kid, idiot. He’s my brother,” you hissed, lightly bouncing Max up and down as you swayed side to side.

“Oooohhhh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah oh. I’m younger than you.”

“One night stand?”

“Charles!”

The brunet laughed loudly, making Max giggle a bit with him. You looked down into his blue eyes.

“Oh so you think that’s funny hm? I’m getting bullied.”

Max only giggled more before pointing at Charles.

“Rari?”

You lovingly stared at him in your arms. “Yep, Rari.” You saw how Charles was staring at Max. “You want to hold him?”

Charles dropped everything (only his water bottle) and reached out to take Max. Once he was in Charles’s arms, Max immediately rested his head on his shoulder and gripped the red suit. You smiled fondly at the two.

“He’s so small,” Charles whispered after seeing the kid’s eyes close in slumber.

You ruffled the spiky blond hair. “Yeah, he’s only 3 though. Full of wonder.”

“Y/n!”

Ah, there was your mother. You looked over and saw Sophie walking with your other sister Victoria. Thankfully, your dad was nowhere to be found. After you found out what he had done to Max, you put in a restraining order against him immediately.

It was a hard discussion with your mom when you told her that she needed to divorce him. Tears were shed and hearts were broken. But, you never wanted to see another bruise on your younger brother again.

It was fine if he did that to you. But to Max?

Jos wouldn’t stand a chance against your anger. He had shaped you to be like him.

A racer. A winner. The best.

But being the best wasn’t supposed to be the most important anymore. And if he wanted you to be like him, then he’ll get his own anger thrown back into his face. You remembered how your fist met his eye after you found Max alone with him one night. An ugly purple thing covered Max’s tiny wrist and there was a scratch on his face.

You had just returned home from a triple header and wanted to surprise your family. Only, you came home to Max’s screams of terror and Jos Verstappen yelling. You didn’t think, you just did. Sophie and Victoria returned home to multiple police cars and an ambulance in front of the house. When they finally were told what happened, they found you covering Max’s body with your arms as you spoke to one of the paramedics. A blanket was draped around your shoulders and a bruise was forming on your face as well.

After that, you moved your entire family to Monaco with you. Your house was plenty bit and you only shared it with Charles whenever he came over to play FIFA. But now, whenever he wanted to play, you insisted on going to his house.

It might have been to protect your family. Or it might have had to do with a certain handsome brother that Charles had.

Definitely the first one.

Hence why Charles had never met Max beforehand. But that also didn’t stop the little gremlin from choosing Charles as his favorite driver and not his sister.

It’s not like you were bitter or anything.

You walked toward your family and gave the two women a hug.

“I’m glad that you could come today!” you told them, truly happy at their arrival. It wasn’t like it was a big race. You had already won the championship last week, which sadly they weren’t able to make it. But Max was still up past his bedtime when you got home after. The kid sleepily muttered that he was glad you won, even though you had beaten Charles. Yet, you reminded him that Charles had won the year before and it was sissy’s turn.

Sophie looked at Max in Charles’s arms. “He’s so comfortable. I honestly thought he’d be scared of men after what happened.”

Victoria nodded in agreement.

You crossed your arms. “I think that Max knows that dad wasn’t a good man. And well, he still loves Lando though.”

“Is that Max?”

Speaking of.

Max’s head jerked up from Charles’s shoulder at the familiar voice. His little head swerved in the direction of the papaya clad driver.

“Lanno!”

Max started to squirm in the captive arms. Charles quickly set him down, not wanting him to fall. Max immediately ran to the Briton, who picked him up with ease. At the sight of the two, Charles pouted.

You knocked him with your shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, you’re still his favorite. He bought Max a toy McLaren for his birthday and Max demanded that I paint it red and add a 16 on the side.”

Charles seemed to gleam with pride at the confession.

“Don’t tell Lando though. He’d be devastated.”

What Lando didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hey little man. You ready to watch the race?”

Max’s head bobbed quickly.

“Are you going to watch Lanno win?”

At that, Max shook his head making Lando’s eyes widened.

“Little Verstappen I am hurt.” Lando clutched his hand to his heart in mock hurt. Max only stared at him while the McLaren driver put on a bit of a show.

Charles piped up from beside you. “Max, is Charlie going to win?”

Max, once again, shook his head. Now that made you confused, because Max always cheered for Charles. You cocked your head as you looked at your brother.

“Then who Maxy?”

The boy shyly pointed at you before muttering, “Zusje gaat jullie allemaal verslaan.”

Not that made you laugh out loud, causing even more confusion to the two male drivers. You covered your mouth as you continued to laugh. Sophie and Victoria laughing as well.

You smirked at your rival and teammate.

“He said I’m going to kick your asses.”

Max gasped as he heard your words.

“Bad words!”

Max pouted as he was put down by Lando. His little legs ran to you and his arms stretched out wanting you to pick him up. You squatted and scooped him up. Your arms tightened around him as he tried his best to hug you.

“Sorry for the bad words kid.”

“’S ok,” he slurred, getting even more tired. It was definitely his nap time. And it was time to get in your car. You handed him back to Sophie, who gave you a kiss on your head as you stooped. You gave a quick hug to Victoria before going back to kiss Max’s head.

“I’ll win for you ok?”

Obviously, he couldn’t hear you, but you would say it anyway. You turned away from your family to get ready.

“Going soft on me L/n?” Lando quipped, making his way out of your garage.

You discreetly flipped him off, to which he laughed at as he left. It took about 30 minutes to get in the car and get everything ready. You swerved your head, making sure the helmet was tight. Your eyes flitted about the garage and caught sight of your family again. Max was now wide awake and waving at you.

Your gloved hand reached out and displayed your fingers wide. The little boy reached over in his mom’s arms and clapped your hand with his small one. You were given the signal that it was time and drove off once Sophie was out of the way.

Her and Max watched as you rounded the corner in your red Ferrari, out of sight.

Sophie leaned down and kissed her youngest’s head.

“Mijn baby, zal zus winnen?”

Max’s small voice was just loud enough for her to hear.

“Ja mama, sij is kampioen.”

Earth 9596

(btw - I made the max pic because no one has good edits of him in a ferrari suit)

“Scuderia Ferrari Signs Y/n L/n for the 2024 Season”

“Ferrari Mistake? The Formula 1 Team Signs the Youngest Driver to Date”

“Ferrari Becomes the First Formula 1 Team to Sign Female Driver”

“Former F1 Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Backs Goddaughter as Her Race Engineer”

“How Will Verstappen React to His Younger Teammate on the Track?”

You hadn’t known what to expect when you arrived at the paddock first thing on Saturday morning. You had convinced Lorenzo to bring you early so you could at least avoid some of the crowds, if not all. However, it seemed like everyone else liked that plan as well, and the paddock was full.

You hung back near Enzo as the two of you walked side by side. Your hands gripped your backpack straps hard, turning your knuckles almost stark white. Thankfully, your sunglasses kept your wide and scared eyes from the public. It wasn’t that you were scared of people. It’s what you thought that they thought about you that made you nervous.

Just 17 and baby faced.

Something that wasn’t heard of in 2024. Yet, with older drivers retiring back and forth, the FIA had to make new changes to deal with the need of rookie drivers. Hence why Lorenzo pushed to have Ferrari sign you as early as possible. You basically went from karting, to Formula 2 and didn’t even start your second season.

It came as a shock when Lewis Hamilton finally retired after only one year at Ferrari. You had thought that he’d want to get one more championship to make it to 9. But, life throws curveballs and it was headed straight to you.

Now you had to face your new teammate, a champion himself, Max Verstappen. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that he was talking to Charles Leclerc and Fernando Alonso. The two black Mercedes polos stood out in contrast to Max’s red one. You took a quick glance at the two drivers and realized that they were already watching you.

Your cheeks heated up as you quickened your steps to get to the garage faster. Once you were in the safety of the garage, you let out a deep sigh.

Lorenzo looked at you with a sad smile. He knew you were going to be overwhelmed for the entire day. He took his backpack off and reached down in, fingers feeling for your headphones. He took them out and handed them to you.

You immediately put them on, connected them to your phone, turned on the music, and got to work on your racing journal. You wanted to go over your notes before the race. While you were distracted, Enzo took a little walk, trying to find some coffee.

He ended up walking past the group of three drivers and smiled at Charles. The Italian knew of him growing up and was excited to see him in a team that gave him a good championship winning car.

He nodded his head toward your new teammate. “Max.”

Max’s eyes lightened at the familiar face. “Enzo!”

The two bro-hugged before parting, letting Enzo greet the two Merc drivers. When he was done, Max had a teasing attitude.

“Can’t convince you to stay as my engineer? Don’t get me wrong, I love GP, but you knew me better.”

Enzo smiled and shook his head. “No can do. Gotta take care of my kid.”

Fernando entered the conversation. “Where is she? We saw her walking but then she disappeared.”

The older man scratched his head. “Yeah, she tends to do that. She’s a bit nervous.”

Charles scoffed. “I’ll say. They shouldn’t have said anything until Wednesday. Sky Sports announced it way too early.”

The Monegasque had something similar happen to him when he first joined Mercedes. It had all been planned that he would take Valtteri Bottas’s seat mid-season. Yet, Sky Sports announced it before Mercedes had a chance to even say that Bottas had wanted to retire early due to an illness. The media had made Charles into a seat-stealing villain his first season.

The engineer nodded sadly. “I think she’s also nervous about the team.”

Max looked at him with a shocked expression. “The team?”

Enzo waved his hands. “She has full confidence. Y/n’s a bit nervous about trying to be on your level Max.”

Well, that didn’t settle well with the Dutchman. Great, he was excited to have such a young teammate: someone who he could get along with and help them grow in the sport. But now, you were afraid of him?

“She’s not scared of you Max, just nervous.”

Oh. He said that out loud.

Max glanced back at the garage. “Can I go talk to her.”

Enzo nodded before handing him a pen. “I forgot to give this to her, she’ll be looking for it. You don’t mind giving it to her right?”

“Not at all,” he responded, thankful for something that could break the ice between the two of you.

Max grasped the pen and made his way to the overly bright red garage. He really wished Ferrari would take a page out of Mercedes’s book and make everything black. But no, they had to show off the corsa rosso red.

You were too busy writing some notes down, with the wrong pen, to notice Max’s shoes now in your line of sight. The Dutchman lightly nudged your own shoe, which had your head jerking up to look at him.

Your eyes widened and your hands reached to pull your headphones off.

Max only smiled down at you. He thought that you looked like a scared mouse. He wondered if you were quiet like one as well.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

You could only shake your head no and scoot over as Max sat down on the concrete near you. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to scribble. Max suddenly remembered the pen in his hand.

“Here. Enzo wanted me to give this to you.”

Your fingers lightly touched his as you grabbed it from him.

To Max, you also reminded him of his sister at this age. Shy, meek, quiet. But he had seen your videos and your impressiveness on the track. Your overtakes were nothing to be overlooked. He heard you sigh as the pen now nicely glided over the pages.

The Dutchman let his eyes wander over the pages. He noticed that you were even taking notes on him as well.

You didn’t look at him, but you spoke, “If you break a bit later on turn 4, you can cut off another tenth.”

Your voice gave Max whiplash as he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him without being prompted. His mind ran as he tried to remember turn 4. When he did the calculations he was surprised to find that you were correct.

“How did you..”

“I watched your onboards from last season. You’re very, what’s the word,” you gave him a smirk, “predictable.”

Max’s jaw dropped, which caused you to laugh a bit. Max, although shocked, was glad that you were coming out of your shell a bit.

He leaned over to whisper, “Are you overwhelmed with the red as much as I am.”

You smiled as you whispered back, “It is positively draining. Why can’t they do black like Mercedes?”

Max threw his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You pretended to think. “What if we gang up on them. They can’t resist both drivers.”

Max put on a weird accent, making his voice higher. “It’s either change the garage and everything to black or we walk.”

That made you snort which caused Max to wheeze.

Enzo was just on his way back with two coffees (both for him) when he heard the sound of you laughs mixed with Max’s. He smiled fondly at the two drivers. He took a sip before putting on his bright red headphones that he needed for qualifying. He coughed a bit, but it was soon over. Nothing like the sickness that he barely beat back in 2019. He was thankful that he got to continue to watch you grow.

Max asked, “How far do you think you’ll get in qualifying?”

You thought for a moment. “Uh, I hope to make it to Q2 if possible.”

The Dutchman lifted his hand to ruffle your hair. Your hands swatted at him as you pouted.

“I think you can get farther.”

You only shrugged. “We’ll see.”

The car was definitely your safe space. You felt as though you could finally breathe easier.

“Radio check please.”

“Loud and clear Enzo.”

“Ok, let’s get this bread.”

You shook your head as you sat in the car. “Please never say that again.”

Much to your and the team’s delight, you made it past Q1 and Q2. And you ended Q3 in the second row in P3. Max had just missed pole by mere hundredths. Charles Leclerc always had scarily good one lappers in the third session.

Max gave you a giant hug at the end of the session, very glad at your positioning.

As he had his arms around you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah. You were going to be great.”

Earth 331649

The big letters stood out to Max as his eyes began to water.

“Not Applicable for Adoption at this Time” was all the top said. He hadn’t bothered to read the rest. He knew what it was going to say. It’s what every letter said for the past few months.

They weren’t approved.

They traveled too much.

There weren’t any in their preferred age group that were adoptable right now.

They wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby.

They were…Max didn’t even want to mention the word.

He glanced at the gold band that adorned his ring finger on his left hand. The sight made his eyes water more. The paper was quickly crumpled and thrown to the side. The Dutchman leaned forward and put his hands over his face and just sobbed.

They had been trying for so long. The conversation had started two years ago as they lied in bed one night. They were nearing the ends of their careers, but they hadn’t wanted to wait until they were retired. They were sure in their marriage enough to where they both could handle a baby in their lives.

A mini them running around, playing with Jimmy and Sassy. The thought was too much to bear right now though.

The door clicked but Max hadn’t heard, he just continued to sob.

“Amore, I’m back from the shop. They had the pastries that you really liked. Amore?”

Max started sobbing harder. Before he heard knew it, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He heard a big sigh as a head rested against his back.

“Another one?”

Max didn’t even reply, but his sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles. Charles glanced over at the crumpled paper that had been tossed to the side. He’s told Max time and time again to wait until he gets home to read them, but the older was always a bit too excited or anxious to wait. He bit his tough, not wanting to say anything that could upset the Dutchman even more.

“It will be all right.”

“Will it?” Max bit back, full of sadness and anger. But, it wasn’t anger at Charles. He was angry at the world.

“It will,” Charles hummed. However, the Monegasque was also getting run down by all the rejection letters. He didn’t know how much more he could take. But, he wanted to be strong for Max. For himself. For their hopeful future child.

“Every time Charlie. Every time, it’s always a different excuse.”

“Our time will come.”

“But what if it doesn’t? We aren’t getting any younger Charles.”

The Monegasque harshly inhaled. He stopped rubbing Max’s back. Although, he really didn’t know when he started.

He went to say something, yet his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Charles muttered something about wanting to hang up, but his breath hitched at the sight of the name at the top of his phone. His thumb had never pressed the answer button.

He quickly put the call on speaker.

“Bonjour?”

“Ah, Mr. Verstappen?”

“This is he.”

“Is your husband here with you?”

Max perked up at the question. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was now paying attention. He scooted even closer to Charles, face almost in the phone.

Charles chuckled at Max’s closeness.

“Oui, he is here.”

“Ok, so we just got a call from the Princess Grace Hospital. We think you want to come here for this.”

Max gulped before whispering. “It is what we think it is?”

Charles held his breath as he and Max waited for the answer.

“Why don’t you come find out.”

The two of them could hear the playfulness as the their adoption agent hung up the phone. They looked into each other’s eyes before they dashed around, getting their shoes on. Max almost tripped as he hopped on one foot, his shoe getting caught on his finger. Charles chuckled as he bent to tie his own shoe.

Max was halfway out the door, still waiting.

“Come on Charlie.”

“Mon amore, are you forgetting something?”

Max patted his pockets and realized he forgot the key that were now dangling on Charles’s finger.

“Oh.”

Charles rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door, grabbing Max’s waste as he walked. The Dutchman quickly followed him to the Monegasque’s Ferrari Purosangue. He bought the SUV when he and Max put in their first adoption profile.

Max huffed as he noticed that Charles was going below the speed limit.

“Baby, can you maybe, hurry up?”

Charles only hummed as a reply. He did step on the gas a bit, but the Monaco speeds were slow as it. It wasn’t their fault that they drove ridiculously fast cars and his husband was currently high strung.

Charles put his hand on Max’s thigh and started to rub small circles, which in the long run did help Max calm down a bit.

The Dutchman had calmed down some by the time they parked in front. Charles started to get out of the car, but Max’s hand grabbed his arm before he got far. Charles recognized the look of fear on his husband’s face. His pointer finger found the golden band on Max’s finger and started to rub it.

“What if- What if- What if it happens again.”

Charles’s eyes drooped a bit at the sadness in Max’s voice.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

A glimmer of hope came back to Max’s eyes as he places a chaste kiss on Charles’s lips.

“Let’s go.”

With an unbuckle of his seatbelt, Max was out the door. Charles had to catch up to Max’s larger steps. His hand soon found Max’s as they walked in. He squeezed three times, and got three in return.

Charles look the lead as they approached the front desk. The lady at the computer had a nice attitude as she gave them a smile when she looked up from her screen.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

“Ah, yes, my husband and I got a call from our adoption agent, Mitch Walker.”

The lady’s eyebrows raised as she started to type on her computer once again. Max bounced in his place, willing the lady to type faster.

“Ah, floor three, room 89.”

“Thank you,” Charles stated, already watching Max walk toward the elevator. He chuckled as he slowly followed, knowing the elevator would arrive when he got there. Inside the contraption, Max read the list of floors.

His finger traced them until he got to the third floor.

“Charlie.”

Charles looked where his finger had landed.

Delivery floor.

Before Charles could react, the elevator doors opened. They both bolted into the hallway.

86.

87.

88.

89.

They both paused in front.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Charles grabbed the nob and slowly twisted. The room was a bit dim and Mitch was standing in the middle of the room. She turned at the sound of the door and a smile made a way on her face.

“Hi guys,” she whispered. She stepped closer and pulled a curtain that cut the room in half.

“Hi,” Charles replied, also whispering.

Mitch put her hands together. “So, we have a little someone who was given up today. If everything goes well, you two might be going home with a baby today.”

Tears welled up in Max’s eyes at her words. He choked down a sob and bit his knuckle.

“I just need you two to wash your hands and then you can meet her.”

Charles whispered, “Her?”

Mitch only nodded.

This time, Charles was the one to let out a small sob. They gingerly walked over to the sink, hands bumping into each other as they rinsed under the water. Once dry, Mitch dragged the curtain back over.

In the middle of the smaller section near a couch, lied a bassinet. With bated breath, Charles and Max peered over. Tears now welling in both their eyes. Max’s finger gently moved towards the baby’s face.

He lightly grazed the soft cheek, causing the baby to squirm. Max had never jerked his hand away from something faster. Charles let out a small and quiet laugh. The baby’s hand was open, inviting Charles to put his finger in the tiny palm.

The baby suddenly curled her fingers around the one finger, eyes suddenly opening. The Dutchman wanted to cry once again. Her green eyes peered up at him. Max’s eyes caught a tuft of hair and he gently pulled back the tiny hat. Blond hair appeared in a small bit. He gently pulled the hat back into place.

His blond hair.

Charles’s green eyes.

Charles turned to Mitch.

“Can I hold her.”

A single nod had Charles scooping the baby in his arms, and he placed her on his chest. His body leaned back just a bit to accommodate her. Max immediately took his phone out and took a picture. He was definitely going to use that as his lock screen picture from now on.

Max watched as Charles sat on the small couch in the corner. Max followed suit and sat next to him.

The baby was looking right at him.

“Hello little one,” he whispered, finding the courage to graze her face once again. A small smile appeared on the girl’s face, but it was short lived. But, Max had seen it and he was happy that it was directed at him.

“-ax, Amore.”

His eyes shot up to Charles’s face.

“Yes?”

The brunet rolled his eyes. “I asked: Do you want to hold her?”

Max could only nod. Charles gently handed her over to his husband and watched as his big hands cradled the baby. One hand was gently placed on her bum and the other on her head. He cooed at the man and baby, seeing tears stream down his face.

Mitch quietly approached the couple. “So, it seems like everything is going well. I can almost read your minds and I got your application approved. It’ll take a while for everything to come in but you are good to take her home.”

Charles stood and gave her a giant hug: big enough for the both of them. She patted Charles’s back before grinning widely again.

“You know, she doesn’t have a name yet.”

Max’s head whipped from the baby to the woman.

“We get to name her?” he questioned, heart filling with so much love. There were so many names that he and Charles had picked out. The first name would be something special, something not used before. The middle names would be in honor of loved ones past and present. And then, the baby would take both last names.

Mitch came over with a certificate and pen in hand.

“Do you two know or do you need a moment?”

Max nodded at Charles and then looked back down at the beautiful green eyes that stared up with him.

Charles did the honors.

“Her name is Y/n Julia Sophie Pascale Antoinette Leclerc-Verstappen.”

Little Y/n. Oh how the world wasn’t ready. But it would welcome her with open arms.

Earth 959589

“Shit!” you yelled, tumbling out of bed. You were late, oh you were so late. Max was going to kill you and you could say goodbye to your seat.

Before the season even started.

You tripped as you pulled on a shoe, face planting back into the bed. Your phone was currently blowing up with notifications as it rested on the side table. You hastily pulled on your Red Bull polo and grabbed your jeans. Your foot got stuck since you put your shoes on first.

Great move Y/n, great move.

You finally got a hand on your phone and answered the call.

“Where are you? Max is close to having an aneurism,” your race engineer hissed through the phone.

“I know Charles, but my alarm never went off!”

Your head was pressing your phone to your shoulder as you talked and walked toward the elevator.

“Just please get here ASAP,” he sighed. You could see the man rubbing his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see him.

“I’m getting in the car now.”

“You better be thankful. I’ll see you here.”

When you arrived to the paddock, you went directly to the interviews, which you were late for as well. You winced as you walked in front of everyone and sat down, face ablaze in red.

Lando poked your side. At least he went with the polo so you two could be matching some. He leaned over when a question was directed to Arthur.

“Max is going to kill you.” He smirked as he leaned away. Your microphone accidentally picked up the smack to his shoulder. Some eyes landed on you as you tried to duck away.

Arthur looked over at you. “Nice of you to join us champ.”

You shrugged. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Sure.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse you?”

Before you could get any farther, a journalist asked a question directed toward you.

“Y/n, if I may, how is this season a bit different than last?”

Your eyes looked up as you thought of a good answer. “Uh, well, there was a lot of change within Red Bull this past winter break. My old teammate went to being my team principal. And then he somehow convinced Charles to join as well and be my race engineer.”

A scoff came from Arthur that cause you to lean to look at him.

“Are you all right Leclerc?”

The Monegasque rolled his eyes.

“I would like to have my brother back please.”

“Well, too bad I got him first. And then back to my question. Lando became my teammate and he’s giving me a run for my money.”

Lando smirked at that statement.

“Ah yes, the cheeky little bugger he is. But, I’m really on track for my second championship. Maybe next year I’ll let Lando get one.”

The journalist thanked you for your good answer.

Fortunately the press conference ended after that. Yet, it was unfortunate for you since you could feel Max’s glare from miles away. You stopped, causing Arthur to bump into your back.

“Any chance I can come hide in your driver’s room?”

Arthur shook his head yes, giving you some hope.

“No.”

You visibly deflated as you watched him walk toward the bright red garage.

A sigh left your lips as you stalked toward the garage. Charles gave you a sympathetic look as you walked past. His hand rubbed your shoulder until he gently pushed you toward Max. You winced under the Dutchman’s glare.

“My office Y/n.”

You could only follow him into the office. You took the first seat you passed in front of the large desk. Max rubbed his eyebrows and sighed. But, you panicked.

“I’m so sorry Max. I swore I turned on my alarms last night, but I was up late going over data again because I can’t let the team down again like last race. I know that I can make up the speed. And then my phone was on silent and then I tripped on my shoe and the car got stuck in traffic. I swear I went straight to the conference. I won’t be late again I promise, just please don’t take away my seat.”

Max watched in horror as you lost your composure right in front of him. This monologue only told him that you were truly scared that he’d kick you off the team because of a little DNF last race. His heart dropped as he saw tears stream down your face as you visibly shook.

He stood up quickly and rounded the desk. His hands dropped on your shoulders.

“Kid, kid. Listen to me. You’re not going to lose your seat. I was just worried when you didn’t show up and when you didn’t answer mine or Charles’s calls.”

“Oh.”

Max wanted to laugh. “Yes, oh. Do you remember all the times I used to show up late? The times that Charles showed up late as well?”

You let out a chuckle as you remembered both Ferrari drivers would show up a bit late. No one ever seemed to mind. You let out a sigh of relief.

Max stood up and walked toward the door. “Now, let’s go out there and what do we do?”

“Kick names and take ass!”

Max rolled his eyes. “Sure kid. Sure.”

Earth 1218 - Present Earth

You gasped as you sat up in your bed.

“Kid?” Max questioned, head popping up from the couch. Vegas had been super early again and you and Max didn’t want to go back to the hotel when you had FP2 soon. So, the two of you just curled up in his driver’s room. His voice was groggy as he had just gotten up from an interrupted nap as well.

You clutched your head and groaned.

“I had such weird dreams.”

“Oh. Tell me?” Max’s head was already back down on his pillow.

“You were a king, and then you were my younger brother?”

Max snorted but let you continue. He knew that you wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway.

“And then you were my teammate at Ferrari and Charles drove for Mercedes, Enzo was there. Oh, and then you and Charles were married.”

“Kid you have been watching too many Lestappen edits on Twitter and TikTok.”

You only grumbled.

“I do not. Finally you were my team principal.”

“Strange. Go back to sleep.”

Max never got an answer back, because you were already zonked. He chucked and turned back over, phone clenched in his hand as he watched the edit of Charles’s 2022 sunset lap into his 2023 pre-storm qualification. However, he didn’t know that his volume was so loud.

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain…And I could see it all in my mind…”

“I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH THEM TOO!”

“GO TO SLEEP!”

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

Text

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

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solecize · 2 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision. despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 9k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. i don't even know what to say. i normally don't talk a lot and i'm mostly very unserious, but this is the last chapter of the farmouse and honestly, i'm super emotional about it. i'm really grateful for those of you who took the time to read and support this fic, every kind word has meant everything to me. i wrote this fic during a tough time when i needed warmth and joy, so i hope that this fic was able to bring even just a little bit of that for you while reading. (the writing of this chapter was quite literally delayed because my three year relationship ended midway through lol) this was also my first piece of writing in years and it's safe to say that i was able to fall in love with writing again because of this fic, so it'll always hold a special place in my heart. thank you times a hundred again <3

part ten: the midsummer festivalㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ previous. epilogue. masterlist

xxiv. the midsummer festival

squeezing through bodies in the stands, it took all of your focus to not drop the popcorn and drinks wedged in your arms. you should have asked someone to come with you, but you were in such a rush, not wanting to miss a thing. finally, you made it to your seat, plopping yourself in between jiwon and yoongi, and your eyes remained fixed on the lawn the entire time.

amber valley had the most beautiful days you’d ever laid eyes on and today was no exception. you weren’t sure if it was because of the natural charm in the sleepy town or a biased sense of nostalgia towards the countryside that you carried. the midsummer festival was held at the peak of the season, where humidity was as thick as honey and not a single cloud escaped being casted away from the cerulean of the sky. you had no choice but to throw on a tank top and shorts because anything else would feel like suffocation.

“i didn’t miss anything, did i?” you didn’t mean to scream, but there was no other way for your voice to beat the crowd amongst yourselves.

jiwon shook her head, her hair splaying from underneath the baseball hat that she so obviously stole from her brother. “no!”

the show-jumping competition was one of the newest additions to the fair and it proved to be one of the most popular. not only did the majority of the town come out to observe, but the fair also drew in an impressive number of visitors from elsewhere - some of which attended the fair specifically to watch the show-jumping.

“LETS GO KOOKIE!” screamed hoseok at the top of his lungs, holding up a customized poster board with a printed picture of jungkook and leo, depicting the words ‘go jungkook!’

yoongi groaned, “can you sit down? they haven’t even finished setting up for the jump-off yet.”

at this point in the competition, it was down to jungkook and another competitor, a man a few years younger named yesung. up until now, they both achieved the same score after the round performance and both cleared nearly perfect showings. the jump-off was a shortened course with tighter turns and higher jumps, intended to break the tie and determine the winner.

the crowd began cheering when jungkook and yesung reappeared, standing and waiting for instructions. you found jungkook adorable in his outfit, a dark green show jacket and breeches that emphasized his leg muscles. you had to catch yourself from staring too hard at his thighs because it seemed like yoongi caught you, waving a hand in front of your face with a snicker. you only glared at him.

it was mayor kim with the microphone, explaining the rules to the crowd. “and, to decide the order for performance, we have conducted a random draw. as a result, we will see. . .choi yesung go first!” he proclaimed, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.

from where you stood, you noticed jungkook naturally relax his shoulders. for that, you also breathed out a sigh of relief. he stepped away to where leo was, making way for yesung to complete his round.

when it was time to begin, everyone rose to their feet. from what you saw and heard of yesung, he was also a well-seasoned equestrian. he wasn’t as decorated as jungkook, but he had the advantage of winning the last show-jumping competition in the spring. you didn’t realize jungkook was out for vengeance, but he was indeed looking to reclaim his name.

every fraction of a second mattered in the jump-off round and so, your eyes were glued. the pressure was on and you watched yesung charge ahead. he decided to take some risky turns, likely to shave off time. the first one was executed perfectly and you nearly jumped at the second, challenging turn. it was not calculated well, as it resulted in a rail down at the penultimate fence.

“oh shit!” one of the boys yelped, watching the unfortunate accident.

yeung finished the course at a respectable, but flawed time. it was shame, since his speed and ability could have easily secured a victory. he knew it, too, judging by the disappointment in his eyes. you almost felt bad for him, if it wasn’t jungkook off to the side and gearing up for his turn.

now, it was jiwon screaming as loud as she could. “YOU CAN DO IT!” she screeched, cheering for her brother and you joined in.

already mounted on leo, jungkook looked up, right at your section. he gave a small wave and you all went wild - even mrs. oh, who brought her own sign to cheer him on. you guys weren’t the only ones, though, as it seemed that jungkook was a favourite amongst fans.

“jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook, jeon jungkook,” chanted the boys and you weren’t sure who started it, but you also began chanting, too.

he readied himself and at the sound of the horn, blasted off. the tensions were thicker, with the stakes at hand and the pressure on a seasoned competitor looking to re-establish himself. you couldn’t imagine the weight of the crowd under the beating of the july sun, considering the heat made you already down your water bottle by the first hour of the competition and were in half the clothing jungkook was in. between you and jiwon was a shared usb handheld fan, as the two of you silently took turns holding it - eyes too glued to the show and shouting jungkook’s name.

he was fast and sharp, yet every movement of his was so well thought out. at full force was a risky approach, but was so far bearing perfect results. you felt your heartbeat getting louder and louder, making your head pound with adrenaline. the last few seconds, the world became quiet and all you could focus on was jungkook. then, the eruption snapped you back into reality.

“LET’S GOOO!”

if someone was somehow not on their feet watching the final round of the show, they certainly were now, as jungkook zoomed to the end with no flaws and an incredible time. even you had to blink a few times, trying to see the time recorded clearly and realize your eyes were not deceiving you.

“there’s no way that’s not a record!” you heard jimin exclaim and you didn’t doubt him.

there was a hushed murmur over the crowd, as mayor kim stepped to the podium once more. tapping the microphone a few times, you and the rest of the crowd winced at the feedback that came with it. then, mayor kim spoke.

“ladies and gentlemen. . .” he begun, loud and clear.

jungkook was still catching his breath to the side, having yet to even take off his helmet. all eyes were peeled on mayor kim, as he took an extra pause for dramatics. if you weren’t also about to jump right out from your skin, you’d roll your eyes.

“. . we have a winner AND a record setting time. jeon jungkook, young man, please join me on this stage.”

no longer holding your breath, you roared along with your friends and the earth practically rumbled. jungkook’s smile was as bright as the day, as he whooped in response and raised his fist in the air. you were filled with nothing but joy.

before he stepped up onto the stage, jungkook displayed his integrity by walking towards yesung and enthusiastically shake the other man’s hand. yesung didn’t look too upset, more bewildered at the quality of performance that his opponent put on. they exchanged words, smiles reaching their eyes.

“that’s my brother!” screamed jiwon, as if no one knew the obvious.

jungkook then took mayor kim’s hand in one and attempted to balance his new, golden trophy with the other arm. in a split second, your friends, jiwon, and the oh family began filing out of the stands and you could hear hoseok yelling for you to follow. you widened your eyes, shuffling out of your seat as quickly as possible.

of course, jiwon was the fastest and made it to the lawn first. she squealed, as jungkook embraced her in a hug and spun her around. the cheers didn’t falter and only grew when namjoon and taehyung momentarily put jungkook on their shoulders.

you trailed behind everyone, nearly stumbling on your way down. you couldn’t see much, tiptoeing as far as you could. the chatter was still loud, but then the small crowd parted as you heard jungkook call out. it was your name. he was calling for you to come to the front.

“oooooh,” someone said, but you ignored it.

there was no doubt in your mind that your cheeks were a cherry red, but you refused to look anyone in the eye - even jungkook. you and your friends gathered around the podium with jungkook, as the event photographer asked you to move closer for a picture. everyone made way for you, as jungkook gestured for you to be the one on his right side, while jiwon and mrs. oh were on his left.

“congratulations,” you finally said, straining for your voice to be heard over the cheers. you still did not meet his eyes, finding yourself in a kind of shyness that was unknown to your normally headstrong personality.

that was something that came natural to jungkook, having an innate ability to bring out parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. before moving back to amber valley, you walked around with your chin up, thinking that you knew everything you needed to know.

now, at 25 years old, you knew harvesting soybeans and playing cards at the local pub with your new friends. you knew the smell of the ocean in the sweltering summer and you knew riding horses in sunflower fields at sundown. looking at jungkook, you knew what it was like to be slowly, but surely, swept off your feet. the realization creeped up on you, a sneaky little thing.

namjoon was the one holding onto leo, as your group huddled together for the picture. you instinctively hugged into jungkook’s touch, holding them in front of the camera.

jungkook spoke, right into your ear. “i’m so glad i was able to have this moment with you.”

that made you finally look up at his eyes and in that moment, a flash went off. this is when you also snapped out of your daze and despite his stare unwavering, you turned back to the photographer.

“oh, maybe we should take another -” you started, knowing that neither you or jungkook were looking in the camera, but he waved you off.

“no, no! this picture came out perfect,” the photographer winked at you and asked for everyone to disperse, before you could argue. something told you that you were going to see a picture of you and jungkook gazing into each other’s eyes on the front cover of the local newspaper.

he proceeded to take a few more solo pictures of jungkook with leo, followed by some shots with the mayor. jungkook was supposed to be kept busy, but he continued sneaking glances your way.

it was mrs. oh who gently tapped your shoulder. “now’s the time, honey. come to the store quick before he notices.”

beside her, sangwoo rolled his eyes. “he’s going to notice, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of her.”

regardless, you scrambled to follow behind mrs. oh. you weaved through the crowd, who all wanted to take a look at their champion in disbelief of the amazing time jungkook scored. the show began relatively early in the day, too, so the streets were only now becoming more and more full with the midsummer festival in full swing.

the roads were blocked off for pedestrian access only, as the fair was one of the busiest times of the year for amber valley. today was a day that drew crowds from outside of town, as the festival was an adored regional celebration and served as a tourist destination. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were told that the midsummer festival attracted the highest visitors of any other day in the year for the town.

carnival games, market booths and amusement rides were already set up since the morning and it was already getting tiresome to navigate through the festival goers. but, of course, you were trailing behind the force that was mrs. oh, who made way with ease with her commanding voice.

“time to get to work,” she sighed, pulling out a key from her pocket upon reaching the general store.

you said, “it’s a shame you can’t enjoy the festivities, mrs. oh.”

“oh, i don’t mind. i’ve lived in this town all my life, i’ve been here, there and everywhere when it comes to the fair,” she mused, unlocking the front door for the two of you. “business is business, the traffic the store will get is more important.”

a cool blanket enveloped your skin once you stepped in and you were never more grateful for the invention of air conditioning in your life. she was right, though, as you noticed some people nearby the store and already eyeing it.

“most businesses are closed today, but not us!” mrs. oh smiled, as she turned the sign by the window from ‘closed’ to ‘open.’

this is how you knew how much jungkook truly meant to mrs. oh. “jungkook is real lucky for you to open late just to watch him,” you said, examining the front counter and spotting a pair of jungkook’s work gloves.

“the store opens late every time he has a competition. sangwoo adores him and that young man and jiwon are family to us,” mrs. oh mused, seemingly lost in thought, before blinking back into the moment. “ah, don’t mind me. i almost forgot why you’re here, sweetie - the flowers are in the back room!”

you thanked mrs. oh, following the direction that she pointed towards. jimin called you corny for getting jungkook flowers for your first official date, but you thought it was fitting, given the competition. it was even better with the results of the show and you could only hope that jungkook liked the ones you picked out. you figured that men deserve to get a nice bouquet of flowers at least once, too.

the bundle of fresh sunflowers were actually your favourites, but that wasn’t important. you grabbed them from the backroom fridge, wrapped in cellophane and yellow paper. this was when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and your eyes widened, hoping it wasn’t jungkook just yet.

unfortunately, your hopes disappeared, but the text still put a smile on your face - just because it was him at the end of the day.

are you at the store? i saw you and mrs. oh lol i can be there in a few minutes.

you replied yes and came out to wait. the store already had its first customers within a few minutes of opening and mrs. oh was ringing them out. she met your eyes and winked, mouthing some encouraging words to you.

with the same smile on your lips, you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her.

although you would have loved to loiter inside the store for the air conditioning, you were already bashful enough from everyone watching you and jungkook at the show and you would have rather met jungkook away from mrs. oh’s nosiness. she was lovely, but she appeared to be one of your and jungkook’s biggest fans and you didn’t want to act awkward, knowing that you were being watched.

the bouquet was hidden behind your back, as you patiently waited outdoors. you didn’t know what to expect out of your day, but the longer you waited for jungkook, you grew more and more nervous. it was odd, knowing that the anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach was because of your childhood best friend.

the thoughts were promptly swept away when you caught sight of jungkook approaching you. he changed clothes from his riding gear, sans his favourite dirty boots that remained on his feet, and was now wearing a plain white t-shirt and denim jeans. you always had to take a moment to admire the definition of his muscles and his sharp gaze that left you breathless, but you were distracted this time by the bundle of golden flowers in his grasp.

jungkook looked a little bit concerned at your expression, as you were stifling a laugh. you almost felt bad, but the sight was too funny for you to ignore.

“hey - uh, what?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

you revealed the identical bouquet from behind your laugh and he, too, looked dumbfounded. the wrapping and greenery differed from one another, but it was clear that the two of you picked your flowers from the same field by your houses. it was the same field the two of you rode on the past summer and played in as kids.

“congratulations again for first place,” was all you could manage to say, offering your flowers towards him.

jungkook finally broke out into a chuckle, shaking his head. “thank you. congratulations, for uh. . “

“for what? being jeon jungkook’s date to the fair?” you chided, as you took his flowers in your hands.

“shut up. am i not original or something?” jungkook asked. “like, come on, we got each other the same thing. i’m already failing at this date thing, aren’t i?” he joked.

you rolled your eyes and flicked his arms. “it’s been, like, five seconds.”

“ow!”

“we’re not just on a date today, jungkook. we’re on a mission to win some prizes,” you declared.

jungkook tilted his head slightly with a smile growing. “oh, are we?” he paused. “then, am i allowed to hold your hand during this mission?”

the idea startled you, but you didn’t shy away. nodding without a word, this was the signal for jungkook to pick up your free hand and interlock his fingers with yours. somehow, it wasn’t a moment that sent ringing sensations in your ears nor was it one in slow motion. it was familiar, almost, and felt. . . right. it felt natural, like it was coming home after a long day.

you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “and thank you for the flowers. you remembered my favourite.” you weren’t even sure how he knew, but you knew that jungkook would only give you a gift with a well-thought out meaning behind them.

this time, it was jungkook’s cheeks who reddened slightly. he didn’t say anything else, only squeezing your hand and leading the way.

***

jungkook was tired. you were tired of telling him to suck it up. you had gone two summers in a row without winning a single prize and you were determined to walk away from the fair with at least one thing. albeit, at this point, you ran out of tickets to play games and you knew jungkook had extra, since he received some from his parents, but your grandfather also gave him some. he was your last hope, as you begged him to use the last of his tickets to get you something.

“hoseok hyung told me these games are rigged. can’t we just go do bumper cars, bunny?” jungkook groaned, as the two of you walked away empty handed from balloon darts.

you pouted. “no. i just want one of those big charmander stuffies, i know you can win them!”

“why don’t you play the games?”

“because i’m bad at them, how do you think i lost all of my tickets so quickly?” you responded, crossing your arms over your chest.

jungkook grumbled more complaints under his breath, while you forcibly dragged him towards the ring toss booth.

“hey kids! giving the ‘ol ring toss a try?” beamed the booth attendant, who was the same every year.

you weren’t entirely sure what his name was, but you and jungkook collectively agreed on calling him “carnival man” and he recognized the two of you each time the festival was in town. though you were about four feet of fury at the time, you had quiet rage against carnival man. you were convinced he cheated you out of getting the xl sized penguin prize last year and you wanted revenge.

“kookie will do it!” you exclaimed, smugly pushing your best friend forward.

“yeah, whatever, kookie will do it,” jungkook rolled his eyes and handed over a single ticket to carnival man.

carnival man happily took the ticket from jungkook. “it’s nice to see you kids again. you’re always together, huh?”

“unfortunately,” the two of you said in unison, only for you two to shoot each other identical daggers.

at this, carnival man guffawed in amusement and gave jungkook his sets of rings.

here, jungkook did not win. in fact, he didn’t win you a single thing that summer and you didn’t speak to him for the following day because of it. only a day, though, since carnival man was right - the two of you were always together. you eventually gave in after the first day of silent treatment and showed up to jungkook’s house with your horse, marshmallow, and convinced him to join you by the sunflower fields. he had scoffed, called you stupid, and then without missing a beat, came outside to accompany you.

***

“kookie! and. . .bunny? is that you?”

carnival man was a lot older than you remembered, but you weren’t sure if it was just the tricks of time playing a game on you. it seemed like everything was so much more youthful and bright in your childhood memories. however, the brightness in carnival man’s smile didn’t falter and it only widened upon laying eyes on you and jungkook. then, his eyes trailed over to your clasped hands together and it widened even more.

“you remember me?” you gaped, as carnival man took your hand and shook it vigorously.

“of course i do! well, i remember the two of you, specifically,” he exclaimed. “i see jungkook here, but i’ll always remember how you two kids came around together every summer! you’re all grown up now!”

although lines of age creased his smile and streaks of grey contrasted against his black hair, seeing carnival man again made you feel like you were ten years old all over again. the fair seemed so much more larger than life and this moment was one of those moments that reminded you of why you loved summer so much.

jungkook smiled, “it’s nice to see you, mr. lee.” he appeared to be a bit shy, as the older man was fixated on the sight of you two holding hands.

it occurred to you that carnival man was never his real name and meeting him as mr. lee felt like a call to the reality in which you were now a grown up. you realized that jungkook continued to see mr. lee at the fair over the years without you and didn’t feel the same rush of nostalgia.

the only reason why jungkook couldn’t also shake mr. lee’s hand was the abundance of prizes nestled into his arms. the two of you left your sunflower bouquets at the general store - luckily, it was now busy with tourists wanting water bottles or sunscreen and the two of you avoided any gushing or questioning from mrs. oh - and thank god you did because you did not expect to be carrying around so many things. a mini teddy bear, a sheet of temporary tattoos, a t-shirt, some gift cards, and a larger kuromi plush toy that was double the size of your head.

thankfully, jungkook held onto everything without complaint and remarked that you had no business carrying anything so long as he was there. the funny part was that you two had barely visited all of the games and the only reason why you’d won so many prizes was because you two were competing at each one.

“and you know i refuse to lose,” jungkook said at the first game, which was a basketball shootout.

with the same competitive spirit, the two of you both did very well at each game and walked away with a prize from almost every one. it also probably helped that you were now adults with disposable income and could pay to participate in as many games as you wanted. jungkook had announced that he was ready to make up for his past failrures, never forgetting the summer that resulted in your silent treatment because of his inability to win you a prize. you didn't think that meant struggling to carry around your prizes within the first hour.

now, mr. lee began setting up the ring toss for the two of you. “so, you moved back to amber valley, young lady?”

“yes, sir. i’m running the family farm now,” you replied.

“congratulations, bunny. that’s some hard, honest work, my best wishes to you!” mr. lee said. “you know, i always thought you two had quite a special bond, even at a young age.”

jungkook avoided eye contact. “mr. lee, you’re kind,” he chuckled, nervously.

“i mean it! it fills my heart with joy to see you two here after all these years.” there was twinkle in mr. lee’s eyes as he spoke. “for some people, their universes are stitched together with unseen threads that will always lead them back to where they belong.”

it was your turn to squeeze jungkook’s hand and neither of you said anything more, only exchanging a look.

***

jungkook wouldn’t stop pouting and you weren’t sure what to do about it. it really wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t help the fact that, like most young girls, you got your growth spurt earlier than your male friend. you were a few inches taller than jungkook at this point and he was deflated to learn that you were tall enough for the rollercoaster, while he had yet to measure up.

“sorry kid. maybe next year,” the ride attendant gave jungkook a small smile.

you were disappointed, as well, as you and jungkook had waited nearly thirty minutes in line. all for jungkook to not be able to ride the coaster. you turned to him, who sighed.

he said, “it’s okay, bunny. you can go on without me.”

a part of you did want to get on the ride, especially after waiting for quite some time, but you didn’t hesitate to shake your head.

“no. i won’t go on without you,” you stressed, to which jungkook looked at you in shock.

he shook his head. “no, it’s okay. just go, we waited for so long.”

“i said i’m not going,” you said, standing your ground.

instead, you walked off from the front of the line, ignoring jungkook calling your name until he ran up to catch up to you.

“hey! what are you doing?”

“i said i’d go with you. if you’re not there, there’s no point,” you shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “we’ll go next time. hey, wanna go see carnival man and do ring toss?”

you didn’t wait for an answer, as you made a beeline for the ring toss booth. jungkook jogged up to you and you noticed that he was trying to hide the smile on his face.

***

“jungkook. . .this is the kid’s roller coaster.”

everyone else in the line was about half jungkook’s size, unless they were one of the parents giving the two of you a dirty look for getting on the kid’s coaster. there was no explicit rule that adults couldn’t ride the rollercoaster, but it was a very popular ride and jungkook had the privilege of cutting the line, as the two of you were given a free “fast lane” pass by mayor kim for being local small business owners. the fast lane pass was costly and the majority of fairgoers opted to wait in the long lines.

jungkook didn’t seem to care too much, though. “yeah, so what? you picked the giant swing and said the next ride was my choice.”

“you’re pissing off the kids,” you whispered in a lower voice, as the attendant let out the last party from the rollercoaster. you guys were up next. “i thought you would want to do the drop tower or something.”

“you promised me that we could go on the ride the last time we were here. remember, when i was too short?” he casually whistled.

“jungkook, that was, like, seventeen years ago.”

he continued, “and i wrote it for our summer bucket list! you may have never seen it, but i was dying to go on this ride.”

and that was how you found yourself crammed into a kid-sized rollercoaster at the very front with jungkook. with impeccable timing, it looked as though some of the boys were passing by. seokjin caught your eye first and tapped taehyung’s shoulder beside him, who then got namjoon’s attention.

“oh my god,” you groaned, watching the three of them wave wildly at you and jungkook.

on the other hand, jungkook found this hilarious. he waved back and you covered your blushing face with your hands. you were already embarrassed from the cut eye given to you by the parents in line, now this.

“have fun, lovebirds!” called namjoon, as seokjin and taehyung proceeded to take several pictures of you and jungkook from afar.

***

“my tooth hurts!” you whined, shoving your cotton candy into jungkook’s hands.

at seven years old, it was on the later side for you to lose your first tooth. you’d been wiggling it for weeks, but cried when jimin offered to rip it out of your mouth for you. this happened just a few moments ago, before jungkook yelled at him to go back to his mommy.

jungkook didn’t seem bothered and was actually pleased to double fist two sticks of cotton candy. “thanks bunny!” he ignored your complaints and happily continued snacking away.

this was the first year that you and jungkook were permitted to roam around without adult supervision - kind of. as long as you were in vicinity of ten year old hoseok, who was sitting on a bench and playing on his gameboy advance, the two of you were free to play together.

“this isn’t fair, i’m not allowed to eat anything,” you huffed. your grandfather warned you that any sort of sweet will just hurt and you were better off enjoying other parts of the festival.

“don’t tell my parents, they said i could only have one cotton candy,” jungkook said, as he observed your sad appearance. “why do you look like that?”

“like what?”

“you look sad. it’s ugly on you,” jungkook mindlessly commented and you flicked his arm. “ow!”

you glared at him. “don’t call me ugly!”

“i said looking sad is ugly on you. so, don’t be sad,” jungkook replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

when your expression didn’t change, jungkook sighed and looked over to where hoseok was sitting. the older boy’s eyes were glued to his screen and was now joined by jimin, who was cheering him on in whatever game he was playing. then, jungkook turned back to you.

“what?” you asked.

“wanna go watch the magician show?” he asked, grinning. “so you can stop being sad.”

your eyes widened, as you took your turn to look over your shoulder at hoseok. “your mom said to stay nearby! what if we get in trouble?”

“i dare you to come with me to the magician show,” jungkook countered, knowing that was the secret word that made you do just about anything. you hated the idea of losing dares to jungkook and had yet to do so.

you knew you were going to get an earful if you left hoseok’s sight, who was supposed to be watching over you. then, you remembered that, earlier that day, hoseok refused to let you play a level of mega man on his gameboy and decided you didn’t care if you got him in trouble.

“okay! let’s go!” your features suddenly brightened and you let jungkook take you by the wrist - not the hand because, ew, it was jungkook - towards the other end of the fairgrounds.

the cotton candy had already been consumed and jungkook tossed the paper sticks into the nearest trash can, as the two of you quietly giggled about your mischievous sneak-away.

***

unlike jungkook, jiwon had no trouble tracking down her sibling at any given moment, even with the large crowds gathered for the festival. she also didn’t seem to care that her brother was in the middle of a date, as you were the one to first notice that she was dragging sangwoo by the wrist in your direction.

“is something wrong, jiwon?” jungkook asked and there was a tinge of annoyance in his voice at the appearance of the younger girl. the two of you were engaged in somewhat of a flirtatious conversation and jiwon’s premise immediately killed jungook’s mood.

“hi y/n!” she greeted and then she turned to jungkook wearing a sickly sweet smile. “oppa, may i have ten bucks?”

“i gave you twenty bucks this morning,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

meanwhile, sangwoo was in awe of the amount of prizes in jungkook’s arms. “woah! you guys won all of those?” at this point, there was an addition of a frisbee and a stuffed octopus.

“i won most of them,” both you and jungkook said at the same time, resulting in a shared glare.

jiwon cleared her throat. “so. can i have ten bucks, please? we wanna get cotton candy!”

“what did you do with the first twenty bucks?”

“we went on the teacup ride! oh, and we got rice cakes and funnel cake and actual cake,” jiwon explained and went a little too fast, so you didn’t doubt that the kids did, in fact, consume all that sugar.

it seemed like jungkook also didn’t doubt it and while you knew he wanted to scold her, you were taken aback to find him letting go of your hand to reach for his wallet in his back pocket. he sighed and, as he was still carrying all of your prizes, merely held it out for jiwon to fish a twenty out of.

“only because today is the festival,” he warned and muttered a second part under his breath, “and only so you can leave us alone.”

you also had the same feeling that jiwon and sangwoo were not going anywhere without their ultimate goal, especially since the former seemed to have the same persistence that her brother had.

“thank you, i love you!” jiwon declared, handing the wallet back to her brother and planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “thank you, thank you! we’ll leave you alone now!”

the pair scurried off together, as sangwoo also yelled out his thanks. they ran through the crowd together, giggling amongst themselves. when jungkook took your hand again, you were still lost in thought, watching the two purchase cotton candy from far away. sangwoo handed the first stick to jiwon and the two talked with one another, cheerily enjoying their treat.

“don’t get me wrong, making sure jiwon is eating healthy is important to me, but today’s the fair. it’s special for her and sangwoo like it was for us, might as well let her off the hook for today.” he noticed you watching them and followed your stare. “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

“they are. how long have they been that close?”

“since they were born, basically. they’re always with each other,” jungkook shook his head.

“do you think jiwon has a little crush?” you wondered aloud, as jiwon shoved sangwoo playfully for whatever joke he might have had made.

jungkook asked, “did you?”

he was referring to the two of you as kids, as it was clear that your shared wistful stares at jiwon and sangwoo were a product of looking back at your own childhoods. two best friends that stood by each other’s sides at all times and grew up together. you had to admit, you saw your and jungkook’s reflections when you looked at jiwon and sangwoo.

upon hearing the question, you rolled your eyes. “you wish, jeon jungkook.”

but, you weren’t entirely sure. adults joked that you and jungkook would grow up to marry each other, just from watching you two play chess or ride horses together. there was a magnetic force that naturally stuck the two of you together, from day one. you cared deeply for jungkook before you could have a comprehensive understanding of what it was like to have love for someone beyond your family.

“pretty sure i had a crush on you. that’s probably why i was devastated when you stopped coming to the valley,” he casually mentioned, but you turned to him in surprise.

“were you really?”

“yeah. you were my closest friend.”

“i’m sorry,” you said. “you were mine, too. i just thought you would forget about me, i guess. then, i don’t know - “

jungkook cut in, “- we grew up. that’s what happened, it’s okay.”

that was the reality of life. it was sad to look back on, but it was overshadowed by the incredible forces that brought you and jungkook back together. never, in a million years, would you have ever imagined standing in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again.

“ever since i came back, you became my closest friend again. even with all the weird stuff going on between us,” you admitted the last part with the roll of your eyes.

although you were just teasing, jungkook’s expression turned serious. “hey, i am sorry about that. but, honestly. . . “ he sighed. “like you said, we became close friends again. and so fast, too.”

“it got confusing, didn’t it?” you asked, looking at your feet. “when things seemed like it could be more, i kept trying to convince myself that, you know, this is just how we are. we’re friends, this is how we act and nothing more.”

“you read my mind. you really did,” jungkook said, looking at you with a surprised expression. “i think i always knew, though. from the moment i saw you again.”

you thought back to the first time you met jungkook again. you remembered how soft his hands were and how he managed to make you smile on one of the worst days of your life. that was just jungkook, though, and his way of bringing sunlight into your life, even when it was raining.

“i. . .i think i knew, too. but, i thought you just saw me as the little girl who used to play with you in your backyard.”

he shook his head. “i thought you had so much on your plate. and, well, i’ll admit, i’ve had trouble even considering a love life since becoming jiwon’s guardian. she’s always come first in my life before anything else.”

“i don’t blame you, i can’t imagine what the past few years have been like for you,” you said. “but, you were a tad bit stupid. let’s be real.”

jungkook snorted. “yeah, i know i was stupid. believe me, the last thing i wanted to do was fully push you away. my childhood best friend came back into my life and i had to confront that she was now a strong, beautiful and incredibly intelligent woman that i had feelings for.”

this was the first time that things were finally being said aloud and it was as if a thousand pounds was being lifted off of your shoulders. you were light, you were flying.

“but,” he continued. “i also had to confront that you were still my closest friend, the person who i can turn to when things go wrong. you were my friend who i laughed with and shared things with and i couldn’t lose that. i have the guys, but no one compares to how in sync we are.”

“i know what you mean. we complement each other in this crazy way. . .” you trailed off.

mr. lee spoke about destinies stitched together and things meant to be. holding jungkook’s hand felt meant to be in a way that it was just natural. so did laughing with him and making him dinner and letting him do things for you, simply because he didn’t want you to do it by yourself.

jungkook said, “do you see why i was afraid of this?” he gestured to the two of you holding hands. “if i fuck this up with you, i’ll lose both my girlfriend and my best friend. if i fuck this up with you, i’ll have let you down during a time where you just moved to a whole new town for a job with all these expectations that everyone has for you.”

“you don’t have to be afraid of those things,” you murmured, gently placing your free hand on his arm.

“i’m not. not anymore, when the what ifs and the idea of missing out on something good with you is even scarier.”

suddenly, you took a look around your surroundings. it obviously wasn’t planned, but the two of you were having quite the intimate conversation just across from the face painting booth and the craft stalls. you tugged jungkook into a random corner, where there was a lone chair in between walls.

“can you put the prizes down for a second?” you asked.

jungkook was confused. “huh?”

“can you put the prizes down so i can kiss you?” you commanded, giving him a pointed look.

then, he chuckled and without hesitation, placed your various trinkets down on the chair. you rolled your eyes with a smile and jungkook hooked a thumb on one of the belt loops of your jean shorts, using it to pull you closer. he leaned in, placing his other hand at the small of your back.

jungkook, too, smiled into the kiss and like everything else, it felt natural. it felt like home. you melted into his arms as you always do, softly kissing back.

although you could have stood there forever with him, lost in his touch, you had to pull away. “you scared of that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“shut up man,” jungkook said, but stole a quick peck from you before he let you go from his embrace.

you thought you would never stand in the middle of the amber valley midsummer festival with jeon jungkook ever again. the world worked in mysterious ways and you were proven wrong. more so, you weren’t just standing with jungkook. you were a woman standing in the middle of the town that built your hopes and dreams. you were standing in middle of the fair that never shook off its magic, even years later. you were standing with the man who made you realize that home wasn’t just a place.

***

it was safe to say that you freaked out when jungkook showed you what he stole from his dad’s tool box. you were so scared that jungkook had to beg you to not snitch on him and even threatened that he would tell your grandfather that you’d been making him help you complete your chores in the chicken coop.

“it’s just a pocket knife, bunny.”

“it’s sharp! you could hurt yourself!” you hissed, stepping a few feet away from him like he had mad cow disease.

jungkook sighed and ignored you, walking over to where your sitting spot was. this year, the midsummer festival fell on what was easily the hottest day of the summer. the heat wave was unlike any other you’d experienced so far and you were surprised that the fair was still going on. the two of you had completed just under ten minutes at the bouncy castle before you insisted you needed a break.

the two of you had found a random tree to sit under, as you split an ice cream float to beat the heat. this is when jungkook said he had “something cool” to show you.

you had no choice but to leave your grumbles under your breath, finding your place beside jungkook since the ice cream float was in his hand. “you’re hogging it all,” you complained and he handed it over to you.

“are you done freaking out?” he asked.

“what are you even gonna do with that?”

it was as if jungkook was waiting for you to ask the question. “this.” he clicked it open and turned behind him, to the lower part of the tree of which you were leaning on.

your eyes were wide, as jungkook began scratching away at the wood. the first letter you could make out was “J” and you nervously looked around your surroundings. it didn’t seem like anyone was paying attention to the two of you, occupied with the festivities or trying to not pass out from the sun.

jungkook completed a “K” and moved on to slowly carving out your initials. “so we remember today!”

“it’s gonna be there forever,” you sputtered. “my grandpa says that trees last forever if no one cuts them down. . .so, since our names are there, we’ll be best friends forever!”

a toothy grin stretched across jungkook’s face. “yeah! we are. we’re going to be best friends forever.”

***

considering jungkook’s victory earlier in the day, several people stopped to congratulate him throughout the afternoon. he was hard to miss and he was also just a generally well-known person around town.

that was precisely why you were scared shitless that someone was going to recognize either of you committing vandalism.

“you’re covering me, right?”

“i am, but can you hurry up?” you demanded through gritted teeth, trying to look over your shoulder to see if anyone was looking your way without looking suspicious.

from the unassuming eye, it looked like you and jungkook were merely engaged in conversation. . .but facing the tree. you were sat cross-legged, turned to the tree as if it was another person talking amongst yourselves. instead, you were trying to cover jungkook carving into the wood.

you shook your head. “i can’t believe our names are still on this.”

“we did say it would be forever,” jungkook reminded you and if he wasn’t holding a pocket knife in his hands, you would’ve shoved him over.

you always remembered that your and jungkook’s names lived on the bark of a random tree in town. there was no way you could forget the scolding the two of you received for defacing town property.

“what if they notice? we’re adults now, we could get charged for this,” you said.

“then we say it was always like this,” jungkook concluded and caught your eye. “what? what are they gonna do, tell my mom and your grandpa?”

at that, you did let out a laugh. “i can’t imagine what they’re thinking, watching us from up there.”

then, jungkook clicked his pocket knife close and scooted over on the grass, as he’d been blocking his work from your view the entire time. he made the initials deeper into the wood, ensuring that it wasn’t going anywhere, and added a heart around the letters. once depicting you and jungkook as friends “4ever,” it was now framed by the heart and shifted its meaning altogether.

“they likely made a bet about us getting together and the winner is probably rejoicing,” you suspected and jungkook nodded in agreement, snickering under his breath.

your hands grazed over the carved design and you thought back to the moment where the two of you first sat under the same tree.

jungkook said, “pretty good first date, huh? scammed some booths out of their prizes, pissed off the entirety of amber valley elementary and we vandalized town property.” he looked pleased with himself leaning against the tree and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

with your legs stretched out and the crime completed, you were able to relax underneath the protection of the leafy branches. “mhm, definitely a first date that i’ll never forget,” you laughed, placing your head on jungkook’s chest.

the two of you bought an ice cream float for old times sake and jungkook brought it closer to you, so that you wouldn’t have to move. it seemed to be a constant - jungkook doing things for you just because. just because he didn’t want you to do it yourself. just because he wanted to do something for you.

“i have arms, you know,” you joked, but took a sip regardless.

he responded, unfazed, “i know.”

the smile the two of you shared confirmed your thoughts. whether you were kids and jungkook walked you home every time just because or you were adults and jungkook wanted to spend his whole day fixing your windows just because. that was just how he was always going to be for you.

“well, do you know that a first date implies that there’s going to be a second date?” you decided to be bold for once, as all your anxieties evaporated when you accepted that jungkook was both your best friend and a person you held feelings for - a coexistence that you realized was possible and even exciting.

jungkook scoffed. “second date? did you not see the tree, you’re stuck with me forever.” his joke resulted in you playfully hitting his chest.

“did you just curse me with some witchcraft on this tree or something?”

“rock hard, huh?” he asked, ignoring your accusation and was referring to you hitting his chest. “trust me, i know.” jungkook flexed his arm muscles and although he was kidding around, it was quite impressive and distracting.

“i’m totally objectifying you right now, by the way. i can admit that now, right?” you smirked. “‘cause i’ve been checking you out for months.”

at that, jungkook genuinely appeared to be a bit sheepish, his ears first turning pink like they always do. “drink your float, man,” he insisted, using it as a tool to shut you up. you nearly choked from holding in your laugh as you took another sip, which made him laugh, too.

you sat up slightly, but still mostly laying your body weight on your jungkook, only to crane your neck to see the letters carved onto the tree. the carving waited for you two for years to return. a part of you couldn’t believe that it was jungkook you were stealing kisses and blushing from.

“but, for real,” jungkook spoke, now also looking at his handy work. “a second date is nothing when the tree says you’re stuck with me. that means you’re my girl.”

he held your chin with his free hand so that you could look into his eyes as he declared the last part. jungkook’s gaze was warm and you now understood what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. it was always one of those things that you read about in books and couldn’t comprehend. you understood the moon and stars and you understood economics and science. this moment with jungkook was a pair of fresh eyes that opened your heart to a feeling of completeness that felt like it had always been there.

“wow, you’re not even going to ask me? this is the worst confession ever,” you managed to tease, your smile failing to fight the happiness spreading throughout your body.

jungkook retorted, “i saw it in your eyes, you were about to ask me first. i had to beat you to the punch, you know i hate letting you win things.”

“i think i won either way here,” you beamed, placing your head back onto jungkook’s chest. you could feel his heart beating loudly, but he didn’t seem to mind and planted a kiss on your forehead. jungkook wanted you to know how much this moment meant to him, too.

your first summer back in amber valley was nothing you expected. your grandfather’s last wishes for you were for you to discover nature and what it meant to make real connections with people. it was a head first journey that you embarked on, all by yourself. yet, months later, you found yourself surrounded by a family you found yourself and the beauty of a town that you thought was forever going to only live in your memories and dreams. you found belonging.

jungkook taught you that home wasn’t a place. home was the sunday market with friends. home was doing things you would have never imagined yourself doing, like salsa dancing and paddle boarding. home lived in watching your hard work bloom into something greater than yourself, with each harvest and each morning you spent feeding your animals. home was even a person - a horse-riding man who was unselfish at his core and loved breakfast for dinner.

you dreaded the end of the night, as it seemed like the midsummer festival was a blissful magic that you never wanted to end. you could have lived in this moment forever.

“goodnight, bunny. i’ll see you tomorrow,” jungkook said, as the two of you stood at the doorstep of the farmhouse. he leaned down and met you in a soft kiss, where he murmured a thank you against your lips for the perfect day you shared.

there, you realized that the magic didn’t have to end. there was always a tomorrow to look forward to when everyday was a new day to fall more and more in love with your best friend. the magic in the air didn’t even have to end when the last of the summer heat turned into the first chill of autumn, amidst the shifting hues of the leaves. the magic kept you warm throughout the winter and blossomed in the springtime.

for the first time in your life, you no longer had to walk away from jungkook come the rain of september. when you were younger, it seemed like the magic of amber valley only existed in the warmer months. summer was a special place in your heart and the memories of your youth, but home was something that stood by you through the changing seasons.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @shellyyy177 @myseokjinji @teddybeartaetae @jalexad @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822 @seokout @taiwan0618 @firelcrds @xwniazx

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts series #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #bts scenario #bts fluff #*** / the farmhouse.

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aquaquadrant · 5 months

Text

from eden, part IX (act II)

Word count: 15,401 Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, internalized racism, past abuse/experimentation, dehumanization, self-hatred, kissing, mature implications (fade to black), voluntary decapitation Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This chapter had to get split into two parts bc Tumblr sucks, here's a link to the first half if u missed it. Hope y'all enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do!

Also please don’t think too hard abt the technical portal/redstone junk. I’m throwin a lotta random terms and conditions out there in the hopes of creating a feasible explanation for how portal travel works, and how Hels differs from other worlds in that regard. It’s possible there are contradictions or other things that I didn’t fully think through, but these details aren’t really important. Just try to suspend ur disbelief. - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part IX (act II) - no tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony

~*~

“Right then. Uh, thank you all for coming on short notice.”

Grian’s tentative welcome is met with a chorus of rather subdued greetings from the Double Lifers. Everyone is gathered in a loose semicircle around spawn, standing in their respective soulbound pairs and groups. Jimmy would’ve preferred to have this conversation sitting down, inside somewhere, but Tango had insisted on spawn.

Only now does Jimmy realize that the open nature of the forest clearing at spawn is less enclosed than a room filled with fourteen people would feel, and he understands.

Tango hadn’t been very talkative on the way over. But every time he said something, it was with that same forced ‘Everything’s fine!’ kind of attitude. It’s really starting to frustrate Jimmy, making him want to grab Tango by the shoulders and shout, ‘No, actually, everything’s not fine, and that’s okay!’

But he doesn’t think that’d be well received at the moment.

Tango, standing beside Jimmy, is still maintaining his fake nonchalance. To an untrained observer, he’d actually look quite casual. Simply standing with his hands in his pockets, listening intently to Grian with a plain, but not unpleasant, expression. The only indication Jimmy has that he’s at all uncomfortable is the complete lack of movement.

He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t pace, doesn’t shift his weight- all things that might otherwise be taken as signs of anxiety, but are usually normal for Tango. The stillness, though subtle, is concerning. It means he’s tense and on-guard. As if expecting an attack at any second. Which, to be fair, Jimmy doesn’t blame him for.

But more concerning is the fact that Tango can so easily and convincingly pretend that everything’s fine. He must’ve had a lot of practice.

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

Grian clears his throat. “So, as we all know… there was an attack yesterday by some strange fellas who came in through a hacked portal of some sort. I’ve locked the world down for the moment, but until we know all the who’s, why’s, and how’s, I’m afraid that’s only a temporary solution… since I’m sure you all don’t wanna be stuck here forever.”

He says it matter-of-factly, not a hint of any frustration, annoyance, or other ill-feeling in his voice. But Jimmy sees Tango’s face twitch anyway. Unsurprisingly, the guilt is getting to him.

“But that’s why we’re here,” Grian continues, taking a more upbeat tone. “Tango has kindly agreed to explain a little better what’s goin’ on, so hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this and uh… come up with a plan for moving forward.” He gestures invitingly towards Tango. “Tango?”

(Here we go…)

Tango clears his throat. “Right, yeah, thanks.” He takes a small step forward, casting a quick glance around the clearing. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I spawned in a world called Hels, where every player is sort of an evil counterpart to an overworld player elsewhere in the universe. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the Helsknight fiasco.”

Jimmy can actually see the sudden realization that settles over all the present Hermits- minus Pearl, who seems as out of the loop as the others.

Grian’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, that makes so much sense…”

“Oh, dudes,” Ren breathes, running a clawed hand through his hair. “Not gonna lie, I completely forgot about that…”

“Same here,” Impulse says, looking stunned. “I mean, it was over and done with so fast, and Wels didn’t seem worried, so I guess none of us really thought to look into it? Man…”

Scott puts a hand up. “Um, what’s tha’ Helsknight fiasco?” he asks, frowning.

“Oh, right.” Tango scratches the back of his head. “So, you guys know of Welsknight, right? One of our fellow hermits?” At the group’s hesitant nods, he continues, “On Hermitcraft’s seventh world, there was this player who randomly joined and attacked Wels. None of us ever saw him, but when Wels explained the situation later… he said Helsknight was some kinda evil clone, and that he came from a place called Hels.”

Murmurs of surprise and confusion ripple through the group. Jimmy longs to put a hand on Tango’s shoulder as a reassurance, but based on how tense he is, that’d probably set him off.

“Wait, really?” Pearl asks, her antennae curling in surprise. “What’re the chances of that?”

“I know,” Cleo agrees, “it was really strange, in hindsight…”

“So this Helsknight guy,” Joel says, knitting his brows together. “He’s what Bravo was talkin’ about, one of those Hels players? Like all the other people that came through the portal?”

“Yeah,” Martyn chimes in, “I- I noticed a lot of uh, ‘Hels’ in the names in chat. Or like, ones with ‘bad’ or ‘evil’ kinda vibes.”

“Yep.” Tango nods stiffly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know Helsknight or- or how he joined Hermitcraft, but it was obvious he was Wels’s counterpart. I mean, he said he was ‘all the darkest parts’ of Wels, right?” He folds his arms. “Well, I’m that for Bravo. A sort of uh- a personification of his badness, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bigb cuts in, holding his hands up. “So- so you’re sayin’ that we all have these… Hels versions of ourselves?”

“Evil doppelgängers, yeah,” Tango amends. “I mean, I don’t know why it’d only be for some players and not others, and Hels is plenty big enough for every player in the universe to have a counterpart. You go to any of the major cities around spawn, and it’ll definitely feel that way.”

“What’s this… Hels world like?” Pearl asks, her red eyes wide with a sort of morbid fascination.

Tango’s expression darkens. “It’s an ancient world, infinite and deadly. The overworld and nether are fused into one crazy, messed-up realm full of these weird hybrid kinda biomes, and- and you can’t access the end. The bedrock ceiling makes it so hostile mobs spawn basically everywhere, but you can’t find naturally spawning passive mobs for like, hundreds of thousands of blocks around spawn, ‘cause the early players murdered them all. And no portal travel in or out- at least, that’s what we thought.”

Jimmy’s starting to see why Bravo described Hels as ‘an inescapable prison of horrific violence and suffering.’

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

Etho, who’s been listening with rapt attention, tilts his head. “That Bravo guy, he mentioned something about my, uh… my doppelgänger?”

Tango shrugs. “He must’ve met them at some point in the last ten years, yeah. I- I dunno, I never did.” He pauses, creasing his brows as he glances around the circle again. “Actually, I don’t think I ever met any of your guys’s Hels. Or, if I did, I don’t remember.”

That makes Jimmy frown. “What do you mean?”

Tango gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “I uh, I wasn’t really that social for most of my time there, I spent my childhood being a general menace- most kids do, actually. There’s no infrastructure to look after kids, we- they’re basically on their own. So you can imagine it’s- it’s an interesting world to grow up in.” Idly, he kicks at a clump of grass. “Bunch’a little monsters runnin’ around unsupervised, causing chaos, trying not to get brutally killed by hostile mobs and players, it was great.”

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

“That’s just how it was,” Tango says bluntly. “I mean, try setting something like that up without an admin, right? See how that goes.”

“Wait, Hels doesn’t have an admin?” Grian repeats.

“Nope. At least, not when I was there.” Tango shrugs. “They hadn’t for a long time before I even spawned, so- so the whole place was basically anarchy, every player for themself.”

Aghast, Scar shakes his head. “What in the world…”

“How long did you spend living like that?” Impulse asks softly, his eyes sad.

Tango’s avoiding everyone’s eyes now, staring off somewhere into the middle distance. “Oh, probably ‘til I was like… fifteen or sixteen? Somewhere in the teen stage? That’s when I met Atlas.” A bitter smile splits across his face. “He told me he was recruiting for his redstone company, Hels Tek, and- and of course he threw in lots of cheap flattery, blah blah blah, and in my young, naive stupidity, I fell hook, line, and sinker. Turns out all he wanted me for was a blaze farm.”

There’s a brief silence.

“What?” Jimmy asks, confused. Is that what Atlas had meant about a farm design? Did they just want to force Tango to make farms for them? He knows Tango’s a bit of an innovator in that regard, but that’s an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that could easily be done by someone else.

“He… wanted you to build a blaze farm?” Impulse asks slowly, brows knitting together.

Tango laughs; a sharp, dry exhale. “No, no. Not to build one. To be one.” He reaches a hand up to tap one of the blaze rods hovering around his head. “I uh, I dunno if you guys have noticed, but these things here aren’t just for show. They’re real, functional blaze rods, and they just so happen to be respawnable.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

The clearing is deathly silent now. All Jimmy can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Everything is clicking into place, all the strange things he’s seen and heard suddenly making perfect, horrible sense.

They used Tango as a blaze farm. An actual sentient player, reduced to nothing more than a simple mob. A player with complex thoughts and feelings, with creative ideas and passions, with hopes and fears and dreams. They locked him up like an animal to use for profit- and even now, ten years later, he still can’t fully escape from it.

Jimmy has a sinking feeling he knows what Tango’s nightmares are about.

Tango keeps talking. “They didn’t start with that, of course.” There’s a bored sort of quality to his voice, like he’s merely commentating on the weather. “There was this uhh awkward phase where I thought I was helping with redstone experiments, when actually I was the test subject.”

It’s kind of surreal, actually. To be standing here and talking about this so casually. It’s like Jimmy’s having a nightmare he can’t wake up from.

“And once I caught on, well, they uh- they didn’t exactly have to play nice anymore,” Tango laughs. “That’s where I got these fabulous accessories.” He waves a hand, cuff jangling around his wrist.

Jimmy feels sick. They put the cuffs on Tango to lock him in a farm. To think he’s still had those on him, all this time-

“After that,” Tango continues briskly, “it still took, like, another year of testing for them to develop the most optimized farm.” He delivers the information almost disinterestedly, studying his claws. “It was a pretty smart design, nice and compact.”

Jimmy glances around the clearing. Amidst the shocked, horrified faces, he finds Impulse- who seems to be focused on taking slow, deep breaths, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

“Wither roses dealt constant damage,” Tango rattles off, “triggering my blaze rods to respawn as quickly as they could be skadoodled away by hoppers, and they had regen on an automatic clock to keep me alive- though there was a backup respawn anchor for any accidents.”

Wither roses. Of course. Jimmy can picture it, in his mind’s eye; Tango chained up among the ashen flowers. What must it have felt like, to be withering all the time? His health constantly wavering between the icy blackness and the regeneration, every minute of every day. How absolutely miserable.

Jimmy somehow finds his voice again. “How… how long did you spend like that?” he asks hoarsely, stepping next to Tango.

Tango won’t look at him- though he’s carefully watching out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I dunno… four or five months, maybe?”

Months. Jimmy’s heart aches. He can’t even begin to imagine what that existence was like. To spend all day trapped in a farm that’s constantly hurting him- and by wither effect, no less. Not to mention how dehumanizing the entire concept is on its own.

“How’d you get out?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “If- if you don’t mind.”

Tango snorts. “Yeah, so, one day, the charge on my anchor ran out when no one was around, so I was able to kill myself to get back to world spawn. And that’s when the portal to Hermitcraft appeared.”

Etho steps forward. “I thought Hels didn’t allow portals?” he asks, his voice as cool and unreadable as his partially-concealed expression.

Jimmy’s taken aback, his feathers puffing up unwittingly. He doesn’t understand how Etho can grill Tango about technical details in such an upsetting situation. In fact, he’d almost think that Etho doesn’t care at all- except the question makes Tango pause. In his expression, Jimmy can see his mind working, and realizes what Etho has done.

By circling back to a scientific topic, he’s provided Tango a distraction. Something less personal for his mind to focus on, and take everyone else’s focus off of him. Already, Jimmy can see that Tango’s less tense as he starts to explain.

“We didn’t have portals in Hels, but we knew the concept from data-mining.” Tango spreads his hands. “Locked comm commands, hidden recipes. But portals to Hermitcraft are made by the universe, right? So- so whatever is preventing Hels players from making portals, it- the universe can circumvent it. ‘Course, at the time, I didn’t know how it appeared or where it was gonna take me, but I went through. And apparently, somehow, a portal appeared in front of Bravo that took him to Hels at the same time. The universe must’ve tried to send Bravo to Hermitcraft, glitched ‘cause of Hels’s wonky portal technology, and swapped us by mistake.”

Etho hums noncommittally. “So it was an accident.”

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

(Yeah, he ‘accidentally’ didn’t tell anyone the truth for ten years.)

Jimmy angrily pushes the thoughts away. So long as Tango didn’t intend to strand Bravo in Hels, that’s all that matters to him.

Tango gives Etho a funny look. “I mean, that’s not the point? Bravo’s been trapped in Hels ever since, ‘cause of me. This whole invasion thing was my fault, they were tryin’ to get me back for the farm and help Bravo escape Hels, and... I dunno, get back to his life? Or, the life I stole from him ten years ago.” He shrugs. “So yeah. Secret’s out, sorry I’ve been lying to some of you for a decade, now, and- and sorry you all got dragged into my mess. I didn’t mean t- well, anyway, that’s- that’s what happened.”

“God, Tango,” Jimmy breathes, reaching a hand out, “I- I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Tango asks incredulously, jerking away from Jimmy. “Wh- for what? That’s just what Hels is like, okay, if it wasn’t the farm it’d have been some other terrible thing, so y’know, it’s- it’s whatever.” He lets out another harsh laugh, raking his claws through his hair. “If anything, I’m the one who should be sorry, I mean, I- I’ve been lyin’ for ten years and-”

“They put you in a farm?!”

Everyone jumps. Impulse’s voice is suddenly several octaves lower, quite a bit louder, and warped with distortion into something truly demonic. His pupils have eaten up the rest of his eyes, turning them solid black. The teeth bared in a scowl look bigger and sharper than they used to, and the hands at his sides have sprouted claws. His horns and tail have grown longer, too, and Jimmy can see what looks like dark, leathery wings sprouting up behind him. His entire body is outlined by a bright golden glow, like his skin has abruptly become as hot as lava, and the absolute fury in his expression burns even fiercer.

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

Bdubs quickly jumps in front of Impulse, grabbing him by the shoulders to ground him. Jimmy instinctively steps in front of Tango, wings snapping out to shield him from view.

But the damage is already done. Jimmy hears footsteps, and by the time he looks over his shoulder, Tango is gone.

“Tango, wait!” Jimmy turns to follow him, but a hand suddenly grabs his arm.

Martyn is there. “Don’t chase him,” he says lowly, “he’ll only panic more.”

Jimmy wants to argue, but the severity in Martyn’s solitary eye sobers him. “Alright,” he relents, folding his wings. “I… guess I’ll give him a few minutes to calm down…”

“Right, then.” Martyn gives a short nod, putting his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Tell me about it,” Jimmy mutters, gazing back over the clearing.

Impulse is starting to settle back down, Bdubs in front speaking to him in low tones while Etho and Joel each hang onto an arm. It looks like his extra demon-y features are reverting back to his usual state, though he still looks furious.

Grian is sitting against a tree, wings splayed out around him. He’s massaging his temples like he’s warding off a headache, his eyes squeezed shut, groaning, “How did I not see this coming?” while Scar, crouched beside him, rubs his back soothingly.

Ren is pacing back and forth across the clearing. “I should’a killed more of those guys,” he growls, tail lashing, ears pinned flat against his skull.

“Hey, you did all you could,” Bigb says comfortingly. “I was the one that got us killed. If I’d kept my shield up, he wouldn’t have gotten that shot on me.”

“I wish we’d realized that Atlas guy was in charge,” Martyn laments, crossing over to them. “If we’d stopped him from leaving, we could’a gotten a lot more information.”

“I wish we’d known Tango was dealing with all this,” Cleo says bitterly, her crossed arms resting on her knees, Scott leaned against their side. “I mean, honestly… ten years and we never knew? That’s- that’s- that’s rubbish. We’re rubbish friends.”

“Hey, hey now,” Jimmy says, lifting his voice to address the group, “this wasn’t anyone’s fault, okay? You guys have been great friends to Tango- otherwise, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long, right? It’s- it’s just his way, to try and deal with things on his own without askin’ for help. You know that.”

Cleo exhales slowly. “Yeah, I know. Still sucks.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy glances over at Impulse, who seems to have recovered himself back to normal, sitting cross-legged next to Bdubs. “You alright, Impulse?”

Impulse gives a slight nod, expression guilty. “I’m sorry. I- I almost never lose control like that, I just got so angry… not at Tango!” he quickly clarifies. “Never at him. I- I just… thinking about what they did to him, everything he went through…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Bdubs murmurs, squeezing Impulse’s hand. “That’s- it’s freaking crazy, right? With th- hyaugh, evil Hels world, puttin’ people in uh, in farms… sheesh.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. “I know you didn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m sure Tango does, too, he was just so on-guard the whole time… he just got spooked, that’s all.”

“Jimmy,” Pearl says urgently, fluttering over to him while tailed by her small pack of wolves, “d’you know- uh, is- is everythin’ Tango said true?” she asks, concerned.

Jimmy swallows. “It’s true. I mean, I- I didn’t know about the farm specifically, but based on what I overheard Atlas say- it makes sense.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And gosh, I didn’t know how awful Hels was, but the way Bravo talked about it…”

“But, um…” Bdubs pipes up hesitantly. “Just- just ‘cause Tango is Bravo’s… uh, Hels… doppelgänger, whatever… doesn’t mean he’s evil, right?”

“I know!” Jimmy cries, throwing his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell him! He doesn’t believe it. He thinks he’s a monster for what he did, killin’ those guys and burnin’ down the ranch.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Martyn scoffs. He’s coaxed a still-seething Ren to lay down now, absentmindedly stroking Ren’s ears as his head rests in Martyn’s lap while Bigb starts to braid his hair. “It was self-defense, yeah? A bunch of strangers invaded your home, and he defended it. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

Jimmy has a feeling it’s more to do with how Tango killed them and how the fire got started, plus the fact that Jimmy got hurt in the process. But Tango didn’t share those particular details, so Jimmy’s not about to now. Besides, in his opinion, that doesn’t change anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says ruefully. “But he still blames himself for what happened. For all of it.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Cleo deadpans. Then she pauses. “Or- sorry, his feelings aren’t stupid, but I- I hope he knows that none of us feel that way.”

There are exclamations of agreement and similar sentiments from the rest of the group, which helps ease some of the tightness in Jimmy’s chest. He knows his friends, and knows they’re all good people who wouldn’t judge Tango like that, but it’s been hard not to let Bravo’s words get to him.

“I’ll tell him,” Jimmy promises them. “I’ll try to make him understand, he just- I think he’s always been afraid this day would come, that he’s just been tickin’ down borrowed time.”

“What d’you mean?” Grian asks, rising to his feet. “It’s not like he knew they were coming, right?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s more like… he’s always had that possibility hanging over him.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Impulse says quietly. “The first time he saw a communicator portal open, you would’ve thought he was being sent to his death. It… makes sense, looking back now.” He puts his head in his hands, sighing. “Man, there were so many signs…”

Grian walks over, pulling his communicator out. “So hang on, the world itself is called Hels, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

Grian doesn’t respond, silently scanning his comm with his brows knit in concentration. And then something very strange happens. For a moment, it almost seems as if Grian’s eyes flash purple, and Jimmy hears his voice in his head.

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.”

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned.

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango’s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed.

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.”

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs.

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil.

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look.

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.”

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!”

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door.

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #hermitcraft #double life smp

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prouddogboi · 1 year

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Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor.

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?”

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.”

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away.

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other.

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in.

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying.

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant.

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair.

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings.

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed.

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable.

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words.

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

#call of duty #cod #cod x male reader #ghost cod #soap cod #john price #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #price is a tired dad #mw2 x male reader #roach cod #cod x reader #it's 3am in the morning im fvcked guys #angst #cod angst

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 4 months

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Sukuna: Hedonism and Short-Lived Pleasure

I’m going to start this off by saying Sukuna, at least from what I’ve seen, is possibly one of the most misunderstood JJK characters, alongside Yuji. Because of how he’s treated narratively, and the position he holds within the story, it’s very easy to take everything he says as the truth and nothing more, even moreso when he’s commonly rewarded for his mindset, it being praised as the correct one to have.

He is the pinnacle of Jujutsu society in both body and in mind. At least, that’s what we’re made to think, up until 248 that is, where the cracks in his mind become apparent.

These cracks didn’t come out of nowhere either. Once you examine both his words and actions closely, especially in recent chapters, the weak points in Sukuna’s mentality are almost always on display. These weak points are most obvious within Sukuna’s fundamental ideology: Hedonism.

To give a brief summary, hedonism is a philosophical theory about human behaviour and our motivations, regarding the avoidance of pain and longing for pleasure as the most important factors in the decisions we make and how we choose to behave. Pleasure, in the concept of hedonism, is typically a broad term that encompasses any good experience that gives a person a sense of happiness or fulfilment - the opposite of pain.

There are a lot of different branches of the hedonistic theory, all with their own interpretations, but this is about the gist of it. Hedonism is a philosophy in which we live life based on the search for pleasure, whatever that means to each individual. Pleasure is a priority, and pain and displeasure is something to be avoided at all costs.

In Sukuna’s case, his hedonistic mentality is a highly self destructive one, baring similarities to the concept of folk hedonism - stereotypical hedonism - wherein the individual will seek pleasure at any cost, without regard for others. So long as pleasure is achieved, the means towards it don’t matter, and in such an extreme case like Sukuna, this has major flaws. Sukuna seems to always be chasing after a new high, a fact that becomes evident after the death of Gojo, as he tries to find someone, anyone, who can rival Gojo, and thus satisfy his need for pleasure. This falls into the Paradox of Hedonism, a counter-theory where the search for pleasure and defining happiness and pleasure as the same thing actually interferes with one’s pursuit of it, leading to dissatisfaction, and, in turn, pain.

Sukuna actively trying to derive some feeling from his battle with Higuruma, pressuring Higuruma to evolve in that moment, displays this flaw perfectly.

And then there’s this:

The way he talks about other people really places emphasis on the fact he relies on them for his source of satisfaction in life. If it entertains me, I’ll throw it a bone.’ ‘The perfect thing to slurp up to pass time until I die’. It’s interesting that he speaks of his main source of pleasure in this way, like they are dogs, or food, something lesser than him or something that won’t last as long as him, an acknowledgment of their fleeting nature, which he also directly acknowledges. In that sense, Sukuna is very self aware - to an extent. He’s a poet, a philosopher, an artist in every sense of the world. In 248, we see he’s capable of deconstructing his own behaviours and understanding them deeply, but he will always come to a biased conclusion due to his refusal to change.

If Sukuna is a seeker of pleasure, then Yuji is a seeker of pain, and if Sukuna is refusal to change, then Yuji is change.

Sukuna’s hedonistic mentality cannot survive because it relies upon remaining unchanged, and thus repeating the same journey to pleasure over and over, whether as Yuji, someone who often seeks pain - the opposite of hedonism - is able to get back up again and again, because he accepts change, accepts pain as a part of life, and grows from it, becoming unbreakable.

Sukuna’s pleasure is also not a long-lasting kind, which again links with the Paradox of Hedonism. You cannot equate a happy life with a pleasurable one. Sukuna will simply never be content with the life he has, always searching for something better than the last, something that will satiate him longer, and that is another reason as to why he will lose to Yuji, who once lived by similar principles, and tried to avoid pain, but was punished for it. If Yuji paralleling Sukuna in that way doesn’t say anything about Sukuna’s inevitable downfall, I don’t know what does.

That’s about all I have to say for now, but if you find this interesting, I’d recommend looking into the different theories of hedonism and the counterpoints to it. I have my own personal beliefs on it, but it’s always interesting to see other takes on philosophical theories!

#JJK #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #Sukuna #jjk meta #jjk spoilers #manga spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #JJK Manga #originally I had more written down but I think this still gets the point across?

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zenkindoflove · 2 months

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"I want what Elain wants and she wants Azriel"

Is a claim I often see e/riels use to claim why they are "pro Elain" and implying that if you ship Elain with her mate because "she clearly doesn't want him" then you are anti Elain.

So yeah this whole post is why that's bullshit.

First let's get some things straight that we all can agree are facts.

1. Elain had a crush on Azriel. It's clear by their looks and touches and her showing body language that she wanted to kiss him in the bonus chapter. It's unclear whether that crush survived post her tears over his rejection and giving the necklace back as they had no canonical interactions post solstice.

2. Elain does not want to address the bond right now and avoids Lucien. Her feelings about Lucien specifically and what she thinks about the bond are unclear.

Now that we got that out of the way, the assertion that you are the most pro Elain because you ship her with Azriel is quite a stretch. I'm sure you like Elain, as do I, but you do not hold some moral high ground because of who you ship her with.

First, let's discuss the idea that you have to support who Elain wants. People can want all kinds of people who are not right for them for a lot of reasons. It's a common experience for many to want the wrong guy. To have a crush and think they're the best and it'll all work out only to have your heart smashed by the cruel reality that they were wrong for you or didn't want you the way you did. It's also common to hate your friends' boyfriends and husbands because they're assholes despite how much they "want" them.

People's feelings change. Feelings are fickle.

In SJM's canonical world, mating bonds are not.

It makes sense that Elain, after going through her horrible rejection by the man she actually wanted and loved, Graysen, would not be ready to face what having a mate means. I'm sure it felt like infidelity to her, especially if she does desire and feel a pull towards Lucien like every other female with a mating bond has in this series. Her avoidance of Lucien can mean a lot of things, including that she wants him even if she mentally isn't ready or feels she shouldn't.

It also makes sense that she would seek out and find herself in a rebound crush with someone who is in her proximity and is low risk. Azriel doesn't come with the pressure of being her fated soulmate. He's just a dude. A dude who is pretty and paid some attention to her.

So yeah, I get why she wants him. Doesn't mean I think he is right for her.

Why isn't he right for her? To make a long post short, Azriel often undermines Elain. He diminishes her need for help when she's clearly depressed (ACOWAR), and he speaks for her and directly contradicts her wants (ACOSF, scrying). He is entitled to her without merit (the third sister line, bonus). He ignores her wishes to avoid violence and wants to kill people who are important to her (wanting Graysen killed, saying he'd kill Lucien in a blood duel - we know canonically if a mate dies it is like losing half of your soul). He thinks very little of her past his lustful fantasies (bonus chapter) and even to the point of projecting his own self-hatred when he looks at her skin (bonus chapter). Elain is symbolic for him of the thing he covets most (a mate), and his crush on her is a manifestation of his psychological need to pursue unavailable females because of his self worth (friends who will never romantically love him or a female with a mating bond). Basically they are a recipe for a toxic relationship full of avoiding real personal healing.

So yeah sorry, even if Elain wants to kiss him I'm not shipping her with someone like that just because she "wants" it. I would rather see her have a story where she discovers who she is and what being Fae means to her, which means directly addressing not only her powers (hello let her scry) but also addressing her mating bond head on by getting to know the male that she will always have a pull to, no matter if she rejects the bond or not. Elain is a fictional character with a narrative arc. Her wants now will not always stay static.

For me, as someone pro Elain, I want her to give herself a chance at a forever kind of love, one with a soul to soul connection and an eternal devotion. I want her to experience that unconditional love she so desperately craves. I don't want to read her choosing just some regular dude who will probably drop her the second his mating bond snaps anyways. She deserves a mate. Even if she doesn't know or understand that yet.

And quite frankly, I think once Elain does learn not only who Lucien is but the way he thinks about her and how devoted he is to her and only her, she will want him soon enough. I don't ship for characters' frivolous crushes in the now. I ship for their potential with the right person. The person who will see them starving and depressed and worry about their well being rather than what their powers can provide them. Who will hear their vision and cross an ocean because they believe in it. Who will fight across a battlefield just to make sure they're okay. Who will even push down their own needs and wants to give them space because that's what they want right now.

You know what that means though. If you're pro-Elain for wanting what Elain wants, then Lucien is the most pro-Elain person there is. And why wouldn't he be? He is her mate after all, and he will do anything for her.

So yeah, that's who I want for Elain, and I think that makes me pretty pro-Elain too.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #anti e/riel #anti azriel #pro elucien #elain x lucien

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 2 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 15

The Golden Palace | Loki x Reader

Questions are answered at The Golden Palace of the Gods, but some things are best left unsaid.

Warnings: some language and angst, daddy issues but not the fun kinky kind (sorry!).

AN: Not gonna lie I've been nervous to put this one out, I've tried to research and add some gods that to be honest I didn't know much about. This has been a learning process for me! This is intened to be taken in the same vibe as Love & Thunder with depictions being very surface level, just like Thor and Loki aren't exactly as they are in their own mythologies.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

You had never travelled by Bifröst and, as Thor released your hand, you swore never to do it again. Your head swam with colours, your stomach churning and you regretted the second cookie you’d scarfed down while you and Loki hastily packed and left his cabin.

“How did you fare, Trouble?” Thor laughed, slapping a meaty hand on your arm and peering down at you. At your side, Loki slid his grasp from yours to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you steady against his sturdy body. You were grateful for his grounding presence, the way his sedir seemed to curl around your magic, keeping it from flaring in fear.

“Darling?” Loki pulled you impossibly closer, cupping your cheek with his free hand to look at your queasy expression.

“I’m never, ever, doing that again,” you groaned and the brothers laughed, Thor’s deep chuckle melted into Loki’s softer, more lilting laugh and you couldn’t help but start giggling too, the absurdity of travelling with two gods, on a rainbow bridge, magiced out of thin air was too much and you burst into peals of laughter.

Your laughter echoed back and you finally looked up at the wondrous place Thor had brought you to. The outside of the palatial building was clad entirely in polished gold which shone impossibly in every direction without shadow. Looking up the entire sky seemed to be made of sun, even the idyllic clouds that passed glowed from within. Turrets and spires decorated the outside and a series of walkways, bridges and staircases led the way from various pools, sunken gardens and lush looking courtyards. Everywhere you looked the palace dripped with opulence, every direction spun out into excesses of marble decked luxury.

“Wow.” You stared up, spinning slowly as Loki’s hands kept you steady around your waist, and attempted to take in the magnificence that surrounded you.

“Wow indeed.” Thor patted your shoulder, “this is the Golden Palace, home of the Gods themselves.”

“Which gods?” You asked, not daring to take your eyes from your surroundings. You knew that Thor and Loki had once lived in Asgard, as had you for a short time, though your memories gave you only glimpses of that time.

“All of the gods, I suppose, should they wish it, they come here to meet, socialise, and relax. So many gods are no longer worshipped and, until they fade from memory, they come here.”

At that you stopped moving and Loki, ever careful of you, took your hand again.

“What do you mean, until they fade from memory?”

“Well, ásynja, gods are only as good as their worshippers. So if a god is no longer worshipped they become weak, they begin to age. Some slip into deep sleeps and some become mortal and die.” Loki said, quietly.

To speak of such a death was not polite within earshot of other deities, it was a fear that gripped them all, and the brothers kept their voices unusually quiet as they explained.

You were stunned, it hadn’t occurred to you that gods could truly die. You’d seen Thor injured once before and you supposed should the injury be extreme enough perhaps they would die. But to fade into obscurity first. To be forgotten. That seemed a terrible way to go.

It is, darling, there is no entrance to Valhalla for those who become dust

Loki cupped your cheek, “my sweet darling, please don’t be upset. There are many ways for gods to be worshipped. Take your museums and galleries. When you stand before a Botecelli and gaze upon Venus, your reverence keeps her strong.”

“So art, history, documentaries…”

“Have you not noticed, we gods are vain creatures,” Loki smiled, preening comically and Thor laughed too, flexing his muscles.

It made your heart clench. How could the Avengers treat him as such a threat, when he was so funny and kind and witty. Mischievous? Yes. But evil? Never.

“That does help, Loki. Thank you.” You stood on your toes and kissed him gently while Thor made a show of looking disgusted behind you. “But, wait, if any gods can come here, why didn’t you come here after Ragnarok?”

“Ah - yes, well, there was the suggestion of that.” Thor looked at his brother, “I had already abdicated but, I like Midgard and I would have had to leave my people behind. I would not enjoy myself without them.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “I know what the Midgardian’s think of me, darling, but I can assure you my sentiments were very much the same. Though I am no longer in line to the throne -”

“You never were,” Thor muttered and Loki shot him a glare.

“- as I was saying, the throne matters not. What I truly care about is Asgard, whether that is a place or a people, I wished to remain and rebuild alongside my brother and the King.”

It wasn’t a surprise to you that Loki was sentimental, but it made your heart squeeze to hear him talk about his responsibilities and loyalties. This was the man, you loved and you desperately wanted to tell him. To share with him how deep your feelings ran, how clearly you saw his heart. But there were so many unanswered questions and Loki would never be just a man, he was a god, tied to his people and though he had expressed his loyalty, you feared he would not be able to give you his heart in the same way.

Instead of words you chose kisses to show your affection, reaching up and winding your fingers into the neatly brushed curls at the nape of his neck and crushing kisses to his lips.

Thor coughed loudly.

“When you two have finished, I did suggest our visit for a reason. Not just so you could have a romantic date.”

Loki pulled away and for a split second you chased his lips, not ready to let him go. He smiled down at you, that luxurious, lust filled smirk that told you this conversation, and the kiss, were not over.

“Now that we’re discussing this, I don’t think this attire is suitable.” Thor waved at hand at you both, still dressed casually from your morning at Loki’s cabin. Even Thor’s own clothes were too casual for the setting, his large sweatshirt and jeans not nearly as intimidating as his battle armour.

With a roll of his eyes Loki’s sedir flashed and he was once more in his Asgardian leathers, less formal that the fighting armour he’d worn at the end of the mission, this had a distinctly blue hue to the chest, with his signature black leather trousers and boots. His hair, still somewhat messy, was swept back by his long fingers as he carded them through his curls. He hadn’t looked away for a second, still pining you with that look. He gave you a wink and you snapped your mouth shut.

“What about me?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so petulant, but it was hardly fair that they always knew exactly how to present themselves. All of these formalities were so new to you.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of conjuring your own clothes, darling.” Loki purred.

“I am - but what do you wear at the Palace of the Gods?” You chewed your thumb, looking around at all the other gods as they passed. Many wore robes, some tunics and dresses, there were even a few that were mostly naked. “I only have my armour or my Earth clothes?”

“Think of your armour, the colours and textures, the images, and then imagine something you’d feel comfortable in.” Loki suggested.

“A dress, or something. Jane always liked to wear Earth Jeans.” Thor suggested with a smile, despite being glad almost exclusively in various kinds of polished metal.

“She cannot wear Earth Jeans, Thor, she is a Goddess, she must look like one.” Loki protested, rounding on his brother.

“Are you saying Jane is not a Goddess?”

“Yes, I am - you love her and I approve of her, but she is not -”

Their squabbling faded into a dull roar as you tried to concentrate, thinking about the rich blue colour of your armour, the soft velvet and smooth silver, and the weight of a dress settled around your shoulders and hips. It was surprisingly traditional, considering how much you’d hated the flouncy skirts you’d been put in as a child, but the low front and draped back felt more womanly and regal than any stuffy corset you’d been shoved into, the skirt was wide, but moved around you like water and you had the sensation of blossoming, like a midnight flower, under the gaze of your beloved Loki.

“ásynja, it’s perfect.” He held your gaze as he stepped forwards, offering his arm to you

Even Thor appeared starstruck, grinning happily and giving you a thumbs up. “Perfect, now we’re ready.”

Thor and Loki appeared stately as they marched through the gilded corridors of the Golden Palace and as you kept pace next to them you were transported to memories of your shared youth, following them around at first, until you had your bearings, and then racing with them between lessons, training, meals and meetings.

Faster and faster you ran, dodging guards and swinging around the pillars at the end of the corridor, your dress trailing behind you like a spring breeze. The soft linen snapped like a whip when you turned again, hiding yourself on the tall base of a column, and waited for your prey.

Thor appeared at one end of the corridor first, closely followed by Loki. You grinned, Thor you could catch but Loki? You didn’t trust the boy before you, green tunic fluttering around his hips. He’d tricked you far too many times for that.

You waited for him to pass Thor, a subtle nod to his brother, before you made your move.

With a yell you jumped out onto Thor’s back, your arms around his neck and your wooden dagger pressed to his throat. “I caught you!” You declared and Thor’s bellowing laugh echoed around the corridor.

In front of you both Loki whirled back and you threw the training dagger, only for it to pass through the illusion and fall to the ground.

“Not so fast, Trouble.” Thor laughed, “we may have you beaten yet.” You could almost see his grin.

Loki was swift and clever, you could feel the air move behind you as he made ready to strike and then you let Thor go, falling to the ground and rolling between Loki’s legs in one smooth movement. Smaller than both the Asgardian Prince’s your best bet was to always go very high, or very low.

Jumping to your feet you pulled Loki’s dagger from his boot and poked it into his side.

Thor’s laugh continued to boom but Loki lifted his hands in surrender. “You win again, ásynja, as always.”

He turned, smiling serenely, and you flipped the dagger, catching it deftly in your palm without drawing blood.

“As always, boys.” You smiled, fixing your skirts serenely and making to walk off, “want to play again?” And you broke into a run…

“Are you alright, my darling?” Loki asked, his eyes narrowed, “you look distracted.”

“Just remembering,” you smiled, and he kissed your temple softly, always worried by that glassy look in your eyes but pleased that the memories were coming back slowly.

Together the three of you walked through endless miles of gold corridors, halls with vast vaulted ceilings branched out from the central artery, below you were oasis after oasis of fountains and ponds, pools where gods swam and patios where they ate and laughed together.

The mere thought of all of these deities being real was making your head spin, let alone that you might actually belong here among them.

You belong wherever you chose to be

Loki’s mind spoke to yours, a soothing balm against your anxiety.

“Here we are,” Thor declared, outside two staggering doors of solid gold. “If we can’t find answers here, then I am all out of ideas.”

The doors swung open and flooded the corridor with ethereal light, almost as bright as Lugh’s had been when he’d appeared before you.

Shielding your eyes you took in the full height of the atrium. Decked out in polished gold and pure white there were rows and rows of seating in various sizes, as if for a giant theatre. Filling the seats were more kinds of people than you’d ever seen in your life, some looked like Loki and Thor, as if human but…more. Some were so small they were placed on towers of cushions and plinths rather than lounging on thrones. Then there were the giants, hanging over the edges of the balconies and peering in through the vast windows.

In the centre, floating on their own balcony, was a man of about average height, but his muscular body looked like it was brushed with gold to match his surroundings. His curled hair sat perfectly on his shoulders, one bare and one draped in pure white silk, a gold chest plate and gold leather pleats decorated the otherwise simple tunic and he was accompanied by a gaggle of similarly dressed women, all giggling and looking down at you.

Stunned, you squeezed Loki’s hand tighter in your now sweating palm, and tipped your chin up to meet the man’s gaze, wishing Thor had prepared you better.

“Welcome to the Golden Palace,” the man’s voice boomed around the room and all the other attendees went silent.

Everything will be okay, my darling Loki assured silently, but you were still rooted to the spot, terrified.

Looking again at the floating platform it became obvious who was staring back. Zeus waved the women at his side away and leant further over the balcony, his eyes roving over you again without shame.

“So this is who has caused such-” he waved his hand, “disruption and madness in our ranks.”

“We have come to seek answers, also, Mighty Zeus.” Thor answered for you, stepping further into the light from the towering windows. “We have received information regarding a prophe-”

“That is not to be spoken of here!” Zeus roared and Thor fell silent, snapping his jaw shut. “Lugh was sent to deal with you, what happened?”

What does he mean deal with me?

I don’t know, my darling, stay close

“Why did you defy him!?” Zeus demanded, his eyes boring into you, his entire court turned to you as well, the weight of their attention was crushing and your voice stuck in your throat.

“I didn’t - sorry - I -”

“We were not aware, Zeus, that anything was required of us. There was an incident with a kidnapping and it has made us wary of others.” Loki said and you mentally kicked yourself for your nerves.

“Well you are here now.” Zeus sighed and looked around, “where is Lugh?”

There was a commotion towards the side of the room and a familiar man strode forwards, he looked up towards Zeus and inclined his head politely before turning to look at you. Not Thor or Loki, who closed ranks around you, but straight towards you. Like an arrow he closed in until he could peer over Loki’s shoulder at you, so close you could see the fine detail of his armour.

“I did not wish for you to be here, child.” He hissed, turning his chin and addressing Loki, “why did you bring her?”

“Because we required answers from that irritating riddle of my mother’s” Loki bit back, his eyes shining with anger. “If you had explained instead of -”

“No whispers in my court!” Zeus bellowed and you all faced him again.

“Now we shall resolve this matter.” Zeus declared.

“Ah Zeus you know this is merely a squabble,” Lugh laughed, stepping forwards and, imperceptibly, to the side, placing himself between you and the head of the Greek pantheon.

Zeus nodded to Lugh in greeting, “it is good to see you back among our ranks, though we had hoped that this issue could have been resolved already.”

Loki tugged you backwards and Thor closed in around you.

What’s happening?

I cannot fathom, darling, just stay still, stay quiet.

Around you the sound of many people talking rose in a cacophony of sound, the once placid gods now talking heatedly between themselves.

“I can not take this arguing anymore. Can the disgruntled parties please step forwards?” Zeus waved one hand and placed his head in the other dramatically, as if he was physically tired from the entire argument despite his continued wide legged stance and the abundance of seating around him.

The first god stepped forwards, tall and broad with huge muscles, his long beard and the storm that followed him reminded you of Thor, but instead of a hammer, this God carried a mace and an axe.

He stopped before Zeus and pointed at you, barely looking at you before staring Zeus down. “She belongs to us, let her leave with me now and there will be no bloodshed.” You’d imagined that in a land of gods there would be many languages, but thankfully you were able to understand all that was said.

Lugh and Thor closed in tighter around you as Loki tugged you closer into his side. The storm that had arrived with this god made the air colder and your skin felt damp, as if you’d just stepped inside after being caught in the rain.

I won’t let them take you, darling

“Baal, we have discussed the need for evidence, what have you to provide -”

Before Zeus could finish, a second god stepped forwards. You had thought the first was large, but the second was easily eight feet tall, lean and slender with skin so lustrous it looked like it was made of polished bronze. Although his body was that of a man, even if it was a towering man, his head was that of a dog, black fur blurred down his neck and a long snout ended in a surprisingly soft muzzle.

Despite the attention of the room shifting, Baal continued to raise his voice, the clouds above him breaking into rain that pattered on the marble and formed splashing pools below his feet. “These powers are ours, Zeus and you know this to be true.”

Loki he squeezed your hand and turned to you slightly, the damp curls of his hair sticking to his forehead.

Everything here is translated or, it is now after the last argument erupted

Loki’s hand was a reassuring presence in your own and you stepped closer into his warmth as the God continued, the velvet of your dress feeling heavy in the misty rain.

His voice was deep, but steady, as he spoke not to Zeus and his retinue, but directly to you. The taught tension in his shoulders and the clenching of his hands told you, and the three men still surrounding you, that he was in no mood for an argument.

“Brigid visited me on her journeys and I claim you as my offspring, I have seen your many powers and I wish to welcome you to the Ennead as my daughter.”

You coughed, choking on your own breath in surprise. Next to you, Loki stiffened and you felt that piercing gaze of his turn to you, on your other side Thor stood in shock . But Lugh scoffed.

“You have never been able to prove anything, either of you. What evidence do you have for your claim now?” Lugh stared up at Anubis’ dark eyes first, and then Baal’s, standing his ground between you and the other gods. They had had this conversation before, that much was clear and as before Lugh refused to move an inch.

Before Anubis could answer a large serpent, covered in delicate, brightly coloured feathers, slithered from the seating and coiled itself around the gathered gods.As his tail came to rest on the polished marble he transformed into a man, feathers still decorating his turquoise and green clothing.

“Step aside, Anubis, you and I both know that this girl is capable of great things, death is not one of them.” His eyes softened as he turned to look at you, “we have spoken of the prophecy, we know that she would need both a mother and a father capable of -”

“And what of the other half of the prophecy?” Another man stepped forwards, though he seemed to be of average height he carried with him a huge cutlas and, as the wind whipped up around him, his gold eye glinted. “Surely there are many who can claim such gifts.”

Zeus raised his hand and a bolt of lightning flashed above his head.

“We agreed we would not discuss the prophecy in front of the girl,” he commanded.

“Only because you did not want us to take responsibility for her actions!” A voice chimed from high in the stadium.

“Aye, what if she needs controlling!” Another voice agreed, “surely you are to blame here, Zeus, you are the leader among us and a shape shifter as the girl is, you should take over controlling her!”

“Controlling? No one is going to -” you raised your voice, trying to make a stand in your defence, but Loki had tangled his magic around you, holding you back, though it appeared all he was doing was clasping your hand. You fought against him, determined to speak your mind. But even Thor, who revelled in your troublemaking, shook his head.

You would fry him for this, singe his hair and torch his precious leathers. Melt his daggers and - the coil around you tightened and it suddenly felt like an embrace, and not a leash, guarding you against the onslaught of opinion. The fire of your anger flickered, but didn’t go out.

“I?” Zeus looked genuinely upset at the prospect, which, despite your relief, felt a lot like an insult. “I have not sired the child, look at her, so full of destruction. Perhaps she really is yours Owuo, or, perhaps,” he turned to the voice in the crowd, “she is yours, Proteus, after all, she is a changeable thing.”

“Thing?!”

Your magic was roiling, perhaps you really were meant for destruction, desperate for a way to release the anger building slowly inside.

“Hush, darling,” Loki cooed, squeezing your hand.

“Don’t you tell me to hush, you’re as bad as them, what is this? A cattle market? I can’t tell whether I’m wanted or not!”

Still towering above you, Anubis looked down, placing a large hand across your back, he spoke softly and the words flowed through you.

“Of course you are wanted, child, but, you see, we have been arguing for many eons over you. Where there is awe, there is also fear.

Fear, they were frightened about you and suddenly you were frightened too. What if the prophecy was true, and you were destined to be a person you couldn’t control.

In the centre of the theatre the gods continued to argue, their voices becoming blurred as more and more descended from the steps. Some shouting that you should be made to go with them, back to their homes and worlds to rule in their pantheons, some arguing that you needed taking in hand, containing as you had been. But the word that kept appearing, that you couldn’t shake, was prophecy.

Frigga’s words were more than just a dream then, they had been heard across the pantheons, across time, and these gods were in disarray because of it. Even those who wished to claim you only sought control of the terrible destruction the prophecy had claimed. It crossed your mind that maybe you should have gone with Lugh and allowed him to hide you. He had come to your aid once more and he had never hurt you, even when he’d sent the boy to fetch you he’d been gentle, that was his undoing.

“If there is one more word about the prophecy then we will have Lugh remove her memories and send her back to be contained on Gaia with him until this can be resolved” Zeus boomed.

Your blood felt cold.

The air rushed from your body in a single huff.

Your body numb.

Lugh turned away from the commotion to look at you, the light around him dimming to a faint glow.

“Estrid -”

“Loki I want to go home,” you tugged him backwards, away from the man approaching you.

“Please, you must understand, I did what I thought to be right to protect you.” Lugh took a step closer, but Thor moved in front of him, blocking his path with a crackle of blue lightning.

“Loki!” You turned to him, tears streaming down your face.

“I only meant to protect you.” Lugh looked stricken, but Thor held him back. “See how they fight over you? See how they want to use you? I only ever wanted you to be free. Please, allow me to explain.” He pleaded.

“You took everything from me!” Your scream echoed, bouncing back into the flames that exploded from your body. Loki moved back and you swore he looked almost blue for a moment as he threw up a wall of protective sedir around himself and Thor. On the outside, Lugh continued to approach, his light wrapping around him.

“Please,” he begged, “I understand you do not wish to talk to me. Allow me to write you a letter? Or visit you somewhere when you are calm -”

“I’m very calm. I am very calm right now.” You snarled, your armour rippling over your body, your spear suddenly clenched between your fingers. “I never want to see you again, don’t ever try to talk to me again. You are a jailor, a kidnapper, get away from me.”

He didn’t have to hurt you, because he had so much more control than that, he had taken every thought and memory of Loki from you, your time on Asgard, your mother.

“Princes, please,” he turned to Loki and Thor, “your mother agreed, she helped, it was for the best that you forgot.”

You moved backwards again, dropping Loki’s hand as your spear sparked on the marble. So he’d hurt Loki too, there was no return from this, no way to atone when he’d hurt you both.

You were running for the edge of the stage before you could dwell on it anymore, towards what you hoped would be an exit, behind you your fire followed you like the sweep of a dress, melting the gold it touched into soft pools and charring the wooden legs of the pews that lined the centre of the stage.

You didn’t look back.

With one last look at the burgeoning fight brewing in the centre of the Golden Palace, Loki turned, his cape flowing behind him as he sprinted after you, catching you around the waist and vanishing in a flash of green and gold magic.

<<Part 14

Part 16>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #loki fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufesyon x reader #loki of asgard

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fairestar · 8 months

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“awakened imagination” by neville goddard · a summary

this post is the first of a forthcoming set in which i summarise and simplify neville goddard’s book “awakened imagination”. you can read the original here, and you can check other summaries here. please note this book is heavily reliant on his religion and, as much as i will try to make it as non-religious and simple as possible, there are still passages and comparisons that i can't take out without hindering neville words’ meaning. take these posts as if i were taking notes for future reference during class.

❁ chapter I : who is your imagination?

“imagination” is the kind of word that has been used for so long it has gathered plenty of different meanings, which often oppose each other: thought, hallucination, suspicion... neville identifies “imagination” with the power that makes achievement of our goals inevitable. there is only one thing in the world: imagination, and all our deformations of it. imagination is the very gateway to reality.

according to blake, man is only a natural organ subject to sense; the eternal body of man is imagination: god itself, the divine body. by imagination we have the power to be anything we desire to be; only as we live by imagination can we truly be said to live at all.

with this book, neville wants you to function imaginatively, to open your “immortal eyes inwards into the worlds of thought”, where you have all of your heart's desires ripe and ready to harvest. imagination is the hidden mystery from the ages, the hope of glory.

“every man is mary and birth to christ must give”.

imagination's birth and growth is the gradual transition from a god of tradition to a god of experience. if the birth of imagination in you seems slow it is because you are unwilling to let go of that comfortable, but false, grasp to tradition.

man is the garden in which christ —imagination— sleeps. man is awakened by his imagination getting lifted up to heaven and being made god-like. in the moment of awakening, he meets the test of sonship, of his imagination being christ: the forgiveness of sin (“sin” meaning failing to achieve one's aim in life, falling short of one's ideal; “forgiveness” meaning identification of man with his aim/ideal in life). this tests man's ability to inhabit the nature of his opposite (go from the state of the undesirable self to the state of the desirable self), to perform the work of an awakened imagination.

is imagination power sufficient to, not only enable us to assume, but to execute the idea too?

suppose i desire to be in some other place, but i lack the social and financial resources to do so; could i, just by imagining myself in such place, cause the physical realization? would only my imagination be sufficient to incarnate my desire? does imagination understand what is deducted from the senses? does it recognise the outer world?

suppose i am capable of sustaining the feeling of the wish fulfilled, of acting with continuous imagination; will my assumption harden into fact? and if it does, will i find that my actions throughout this period have been reasonable? after assuming that i already am that which i desire, must i constantly guide myself by “reasonable” ideas and actions so as to cause the fulfillment of my assumption?

the answer to all these questions is that an assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact; continuous imagination is sufficient for all things, all of our “reasonable” plans and actions won't ever make up for our lack of continuous imagination.

“imagine that you are and you shall be”.

truth depends upon the intensity of imagination, not upon external facts. you become what you imagine. you have a self-determined history. imagination is the truth, the life revealed.

but the thing is, we cannot get hold of truth with the logical mind (stop thinking and worrying about the how! logic does not come into play here, let it go, you don't need it), it cannot be enclosed by facts: as we awaken to the imaginative life, we discover that imagining a thing is to create it, that true judgement doesn't need to conform to the outer world to which it relates (this means, the truth doesn't always look the same as the 3D does at that moment).

the imaginative man does not deny the reality of the sensuous outer world (3D), but knows that the inner world of continuous imagination (4D) is the force by which the outer world comes to pass. he sees the 3D and all its situations as projections of the 4D. to him, everything is a manifestation of the mental activity present in his imagination, without the outer, reasonable man being aware of it. he knows that everyone must become aware of their inner activity, and the relationship between the inner and outer worlds.

the moment you discover that your imagination is god-like, you accomplish acts that can only be described as miraculous. but until you realise that everything you come across is part of yourself, you won't accept that you are the one that has chosen the conditions of your life, that they are in affinity to your mental activity. you must firmly believe that reality lies within you, not without; although others have bodies and lives of their own, their reality is rooted in you and ends in you.

it is a marvelous thing to discover that you can imagine yourself into the state of your wish fulfilled and escape the prison of ignorance. embrace this new knowledge and let go of your past beliefs for they're untrue. live in continuous imagination and make your desires come to pass.

#💐; evolve #law of assumption #awakened imagination #neville goddard #edward art #manifestation #fairestar

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 4 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 3

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None really. Angst. Dean being a bit of an asshole. A brief, near sexual encounter. Smidge of fluff.

Word Count: 3,654

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

The next morning Dean was sitting at the table in his tent, listening to the camp waking up around him, when his tent flap opened and Cas strolled in. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, we gotta put up a piece of wood on the tent poles or something so people can knock.” He said in a surly and growly, early morning voice. When Cas didn’t respond, he challenged him with an even surlier tone. “What? Why are you here?”

Cas walked further into the tent. “I saw you gave Y/N back her daughter.” Dean raised his hand and then dropped it, conceding the point. “And,” Cas continued, raising his hand in the air and waving it slightly, “no more manacles.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “These are all things I already know, Cas; why are you telling me this?”

Cas shrugged slightly. “So, can I assume this means you no longer think she’s going to turn into a monster at any minute?”

Dean blew out a puff of air. “It means, she’s been here a week, and hasn’t turned yet. And since that isn’t really something that happens to people who get bit, I think I can be reasonably certain she won’t turn, randomly, out of the blue one day. And I gave her back her kid so she can look after her, and I can get Risa back as a soldier instead of a nanny.”

Cas wore a very enthusiastic expression as he moved closer. “Come on, even you have to admit that this is exciting.”

Dean arched a brow. “Exciting?”

Cas’ voice became awestruck. “Dean, this is the most hopeful sign we’ve had in…years!”

“Aw, don’t come at me with that hopeful bullshit!” Dean’s scowl and fierce countenance was immediate and slightly intimidating, even to the angel.

“Hope is nothing but a fucking lie, okay? We know it. We HOPED we could stop Lilith breaking seals and we didn’t, we HOPED we could stop the apocalypse, but we failed at that too. We HOPED we could save everyone, and well, we’re doing a pretty piss poor job of that, aren’t we? Every single time we go out on a raid, I hope we come back with the same number of people we left with, but it doesn’t happen very often, does it? We hoped -”

Dean cut himself short and swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “We hoped that Sam would be strong enough to say no, but…he wasn’t. I hoped I could save him. And-” He cut himself off again and rubbed a hand hard across his face.

“So just don’t come at me with ‘hopeful’.” Dean said, sneering the word.

He tapped his fingers against his chest. “Cause I gotta live in the reality of this situation. And look, if you wanna hide away from that reality, you wanna get blitzed and bombed every day, and pretend like you’re some kind of sexual guru, fuck around with dozens of girls, I don’t really give a shit. Okay? Do it. But I,” he banged his chest with his whole fist this time, “I have to live in the reality of our lives.”

Dean stood up and stepped closer to Cas, swinging his arm out sideways. “And the reality is I have no fucking clue why that woman hasn’t turned.” He shrugged dismissively. “Maybe the person who bit her wasn’t fully turned themselves, or maybe they didn’t fully break the skin so it didn’t take completely. Who knows. All I know is that she’s probably not gonna turn and so now we’ve got one more mouth to feed. Two, actually.” He said holding up two fingers. “And two more people draining our resources.”

He stepped back and turned away, giving Cas his profile. “That’s the reality. So you wanna join me in it, great. If not,” He turned his head to look at him, lifting his hand towards the entrance, “there’s the door. Or, you know, the tent flap.”

He dropped down onto the chair he’d vacated and rubbed a hand across his lips. He looked up when Cas spoke softly.

“I don’t wanna live in this reality, Dean. I just can’t anymore. So I choose hope, I choose to be hopeful that maybe she marks a change, maybe things can be different. I’m telling you, this reality isn’t the only option.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s my only option. I learned a long time ago, and you should’ve too - hope is dangerous. Reality can’t hurt you like hope can.”

Cas’ expression was discouraged and disappointed as he nodded, looking away from Dean. He said nothing more as he turned and walked away.

***

A little while after Cas left, Dean moved out to his campfire and cooked and ate his ration of eggs and potatoes. As he drank his coffee, he was actively trying to push the argument with Cas out of his head. He had a camp to lead, he didn't need this crap clouding his judgment.

It was ridiculous to think the woman represented some kind of new hope for mankind. He rolled his eyes at the very notion.

Still, he found himself calling out to Johnston as the soldier walked by. The man stopped abruptly and turned fearful eyes on Dean. It drove Dean a little crazy that after more than two years of Johnston serving the camp, of protecting it and helping to run the day-to-day work and activities there, he still seemed petrified of Dean.

I can't possibly be that scary, Dean thought with a deep scowl. Not like I've had him flogged for looking at me wrong or something.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fear radiating from the other man.

“You settled Y/N and her daughter?” He asked.

Johnston's blue eyes were slightly bulging and his prominent Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Dean waited a minute for him to elaborate before prodding him gruffly. “And?”

The other man seemed at a loss and Dean snapped his fingers impatiently. “And where did you put them?”

Understanding finally lit in Johnston's eyes and he began nodding. “Oh, yes sir. I put them in the southwest corner. Fourth row, the tent on the end.” He seemed proud to get that much out. But then he raised a finger. “Oh, the tent is red.”

Dean nodded and waved at him. “As you were.”

Johnston saluted (even though Dean had told him a million times not to) and hurried on. Dean sighed deeply and without thinking about it too much, he headed in the direction of the red tent.

When he got there he shouted out a hello, feeling slightly foolish and vowing then and there to make it a project to put some kind of wood near tents’ openings so people could knock.

The flap opened and Y/N's face lit up with a beaming smile when she saw him. “Hi!”

Not knowing what to do with her enthusiasm, he just nodded. There was a slightly awkward moment and then Emma, her big blue eyes staring up at Dean, poked her head out from behind her mom, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around her hips and leaning her head into her side.

Y/N lifted her arm a little so Emma could shuffle out from behind her a bit more. She combed down Emma's slightly flyaway curls with her fingers and then settled her hand on the little girl's thin shoulders.

She gestured to Dean. “Say hi to Mr. Winchester.”

The little one just pressed closer and looked away from Dean to bury her face in her mother's side.

Y/N gave him a slightly chagrined look. “She isn't usually this shy.” She said by way of apology.

But Dean simply shook his head. Unlike Johnston, he understood all too well why this blue-eyed moppet was scared of him. She'd watched him nearly end her mother's life - not something she was ever likely to forget.

Dean hated that that realization came with a trace of guilt. Feeling very annoyed with himself, he straightened up and nodded curtly.

“Good.” He said succinctly, responding to nothing. “I just wanted to make sure you were settled properly.”

He turned in an abrupt about face and started walking away.

“Dean, wait!” Y/N called out to him. He turned back to see her wave Emma back into the tent and head towards him. When she reached him she wore her bright smile again, and he frowned deeper as a result.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

Dean said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to be a little nervous, fiddling with her hair. She finally clasped her hands in front of her and continued.

“So, I was talking to Eric?” She said as though it was a question. Dean did give her a puzzled look.

“Eric?” He asked.

Y/N had opened her mouth to continue talking, but then closed it and gave her head a shake, pointing to the side at nothing in particular.

“Eric Johnston? The…soldier that brought us to this tent and helped us set it up.”

Dean nodded in recognition. Yes, he remembered now, that was his first name. He never used it. “Right.” He waved her on.

“And I was asking about school for Emma, but he said there isn't one.”

Dean shook his head. “No, the parents, guardians, they look after that themselves.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, but I was thinking…well, I was a third grade teacher in the…before.” She thumbed behind her as though their former, normal lives were just right behind them, around the corner, instead of existing eons ago.

She shrugged. “So, I was thinking that maybe I could start a kind of school for the kids here. Eric figured there were about 35 or 40 of them. So I thought we could hold lessons somewhere outside most days, but if the weather's bad, maybe we could use the main cabin.”

Dean was scowling harder now, so she rushed on. “It would only be for a few hours a day. Wouldn't be anything spectacular, but it could help them with reading and math, and just some basics. Keep the kids' minds occupied and give their parents a couple of hours on their own.”

She shrugged. “It's nothing much, but it might help people feel a little more hopeful about the future.” She finished with another bright smile.

Dean felt his ire rise with that word again - hopeful. This woman was going to upset everything, tip the precarious balance of the camp on its head.

He shook his head angrily. “We don't do shit like that. This isn't a fucking gated community, okay? These are survivors who get by together. That's it.”

Y/N's eyes were so earnest it almost hurt to look at her. “But, don't you see, it could be a community. Not gated, but open. We could do more for each other than just survive.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if you're unhappy with being here, we can happily help you on your way.”

Y/N raised her hands. “No, of course not, that's not what-”

Dean cut her off with a cold, hard voice. “And you can't teach kids like this.” He waved a hand towards the red rings encircling her irises. “You'd scare the shit outta them. Take one look at you and freak out, thinking you're gonna turn into a monster any minute.”

That pulled Y/N up short and Dean could see by her slight flinch that his words had hit home. She was quiet a minute and her smile was dimmed as she nodded.

“Right. That's…no, you're right.” She gave an imitation of a chuckle. “There aren't many mirrors around, so I…sometimes I forget about…” she gestured to her eyes.

She shook her head. “I was just trying to find a way to be helpful, you know.” She shrugged. “But yeah…” She trailed off and Dean felt a sick gnawing sensation in his stomach as she gave a final dull smile.

“Okay, well thanks.” She said as she turned away. Though what she could have possibly been thanking him for, he had no idea.

He thought about Cas’ disappointed expression, and Y/N's bent smile and he gritted his teeth. This morning was not going well for him.

The day didn’t get much better from there. He spent most of it planning their next raid for canned goods. They were running low, and it was September already. Over the next couple of months they’d have to make sure they had whatever they needed for the winter. Once the snow hit, the winter roads were sometimes impassable for weeks at a time.

They were having to go further and further out from the camp to find supplies. The area was becoming picked clean. There were four or five other, smaller, groups of survivors within about a hundred square miles of their camp. For the most part they all rubbed along together alright, pretty much just leaving a big buffer of space between the camps, and leaving each other alone.

However, Dean was starting to worry about what would happen now that resources and supplies around them were starting to run out. In this last year, they’d started having to drive hours and hours away from camp to find un-ransacked grocery stores and restaurants in the abandoned cities. They could manage it because of their size, but some of the smaller groups had very few working vehicles, making it harder for them to travel. Dean worried what would happen when they got desperate.

He wanted to be ready for winter.

So, he tried to spend the day planning the best route to hit as many cities as they could without hitting too many known Croat hives, or cleaned out cities. But he kept getting interrupted by his soldiers. The concerns of the camp were unending, and sometimes felt completely overwhelming.

The morning kept being interrupted by issues and grievances his soldiers brought him from some of the camp inhabitants. He tried to put out as many fires as he could, while continuing to plan the raid.

Then he ended up spending far too much of the afternoon talking about drainage and irrigation with the young guy who used to be an engineering student, and an old farmer who’d spent his whole life in the fields. The two very different men were teaming up to try and see about making bigger winter crop plots this year. They’d grown some winter vegetables last fall and winter, and even that small amount of fresh food had made a big difference in the health of the campers. So this year they were hoping for more.

Finally the men went off to plan some more and Dean folded up his maps. He hadn’t made much headway into the raid route, but the light was getting low; he’d have to come back to it. He fried up some spam and a few of the cooked, frozen potatoes they’d put up in the spring and sat beside his fire for a while before tossing water on it and going inside his tent. He lit a lantern and started to try and look at the maps again, but he was interrupted by Risa.

Dean lifted his chin towards her by way of greeting. She came forward and dropped a small piece of machinery on his table. “Here’s the piston for that Ford we towed back last week.” She said, referring to the truck they’d found abandoned on the side of the road with no owners in sight. “Should work.”

Dean nodded. “Great.”

Risa lingered a moment and then walked closer to him. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine.”

She moved forward to stand between his legs and then reached out to run her hands over his cheeks and down his neck. She bent over and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

“I miss you.” She said, her voice softer and more intimate than it ever was when they were soldier and commander. “You haven’t been to see me in weeks.”

“Sorry.” Dean said gruffly and then let her kiss him again, kissing her back for a moment before pulling away.

Not willing to give up, Risa straddled his outstretched thighs and reached for his zipper. “It’s okay, I bet I can find ways to entice you back.” She said, dark brown eyes flashing with heat.

But Dean grabbed her hands and pulled them away. He kissed her briefly to try and ease the sting of his rejection. “Sorry, not tonight.” He nodded towards the maps on his table. “I’ve got shit I gotta finish.”

Risa bit into her lip, looking down at their hands entwined in his lap, and then nodding before she stood up. She lifted her mouth in a smile. “Yeah, sure. ‘Kay.” She nodded again and pointed to the piston as she left. “Let me know if that works.”

Dean sighed as his tent flap fell back into place. And that was the third person he’d disappointed today. Without his permission Y/N’s face floated into his mind. Despite what he’d said to her, he couldn’t deny how beautiful that face actually was. The red pigment in her eyes made no difference to that beauty.

He couldn’t erase the image of her crestfallen expression when he told her she’d scare the kids. That was complete bullshit and he knew it. Five seconds in her shiny presence and the kids would be eating out of her hand.

He growled slightly as he could feel himself caving. But would it really be so bad to let her teach the kids somewhere? They’d have to stay out of the way, and she’d have to keep them all quiet when they were together in a mob. But it might actually free their parents up for more of the endless tasks it took to maintain the camp.

If he let her do it, he’d have to make sure she knew he was only saying yes so that they could have the kids out of the way for a while. This wasn’t some hopeful mission for the future. It was just a practical solution for improving the camp.

He nodded. Yeah, I'll tell her tomorrow.

But even as he though it, he got up and walked out of his tent, moving towards the southwest corner of the camp. Within a couple minutes he was standing in front of the red tent and again found himself clearing his throat and embarrassingly calling out a hello, like he was the Avon lady.

Y/N poked her head out of the tent and smiled. But she lowered her eyes a little and wouldn’t look directly at him. He wanted to punch himself.

“Hi.” She said softly, and then stepped out of the tent into the cool, late evening breeze. She waved towards the tent. “Emma’s sleeping.”

He nodded. She rubbed her arms and he frowned. “Didn’t they give you a jacket?” Then he noticed she was still wearing the grubby clothes she’d been wearing when she came. “And clean clothes?”

Y/N nodded and even in the dusky twilight Dean could see her blush. “Yes, but I realized…I’m all dirty.” She shrugged. “Nothing but basin baths for weeks. I’d like to get cleaner before I put on the clean clothes. One of your soldiers said there was a place where people went to bathe nearby. But he didn’t have time to take me.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, there’s a river about four miles south of camp. It does the trick. I’ll take you tomorrow.”

He scowled; he didn’t know where that offer had come from. He could have had one of his soldiers, or any other camper really, take her out to the river. But he didn’t rescind the offer and Y/N nodded happily.

“That would be wonderful.” She said rapturously.

Dean nodded curtly again. “Yeah. And uh…you can do the school.” Y/N looked directly at him now and her face was surprised, but clearly thrilled.

“Really?”

He nodded and scowled. “Yeah, the kids'll get over it." He said with a nod to her red eyes. "But just make sure you all stay out of the way of the work in the camp. And let the parents know we’ll have some work for them during the hours their kids are gone. We can use the extra hands.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help out where they can.”

Impulsively it seemed, she threw her arms around him, squeezing his arms tight to his sides as she hugged him. Shock coursed through him and he didn’t know how to move. Thankfully it was a brief hug and she was soon pulling away.

“Thank you so much, Dean. I’m so excited. I think it’s going to make a real difference. Just wait.”

As she bid him goodnight and bounced back into her tent, he shook his head, frowning deeply.

Fuck, he thought, everything is too different already.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series #spn fan fic #endverse

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anim-ttrpgs · 1 month

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Wait does Eureka have its own established lore for how different supernatural creatures work?

Yes, it does!

(I’m going to preface this post by saying that just about everything I’m talking about here, and more, is available FOR FREE for you to read in the free pre-release version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook that you can download from our website. Go to Chapter 8 to start reading about the supernatural lore. The rulebook itself will do a lot better job of explaining all this than I will, because it has the exact details of how each one works, and I’m just hitting the highlights and going over what those details mean.)

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is a game about very human and believable investigators digging into dangerous (often supernatural) mysteries way over their heads, and sometimes those very human and believable investigators will be supernatural creatures themselves.

These supernatural creatures are every bit as human and “normal” as their mundane investigators counterparts, they have jobs, friends, families, hobbies, etc. They live among mundane society, not outside of it.

Most modern fantasy settings have some kind of separation between normal society and magical society, like you see in Harry Potter where there is normal society, and then a separate, secret magical society hidden away from it, or Vampire: The Masquerade, where vampires all have an agreement to keep themselves a secret from normal society despite acting within it.

In Eureka’s world, there is no “masquerade,” but that doesn’t mean that magic and monsters are well-known and well-documented phenomenons. Supernatural creatures such as vampires, wolfmen, etc. are exceptionally rare. Don’t take this as an exact number, but you can probably assume there’s about one of these per every 3.3 million normal people.

This rarity, as well as the fact that each individual has little to gain and everything to lose by revealing themselves (try “coming out” as a person who regularly assaults people and drains their blood), has led to them going largely undocumented in the modern day. Sure, this is the digital age, there are videos, but viral videos are not exactly scientific evidence. For every real vampire caught on camera, there are a thousand hoaxes and horror short films.

There is no secret vampire government controlling things from the shadows—most vampires don’t even know any other vampires, let alone enough to form a secret society with any effect on national politics.

As for how they work, well, that’s one of my favorite parts to talk about.

There are five playable monster types in Eureka (The Vampire, The Wolfman, The Fairy, The Witch, and The Thing From Beyond) plus two extras that are Kickstarter stretch goals (The Dullahan and The Gorgon), but in the interest of time, I’m only going to really go into detail with one of them.

Most playable monster types in Eureka are very, very old-school, with an emphasis on actual historical folklore over just making up all our own lore. That doesn’t mean Eureka doesn’t have a unique approach to the supernatural, though. Little of it is “new,” but it is certainly unique, because to my knowledge no other RPG has ever taken the old stuff this far before. A PC being a monster in Eureka isn’t just a few +1s here and there and maybe a little extra damage from silver weapons, it means playing by an entirely different set of rules from fellow investigators.

The vampires and vampire lore you see in movies are not folkloric vampires, they are mostly a 20th and 21st century pop-culture creation. Eureka’s vampire abilities, weaknesses, and other traits are based on pre-1900 vampire legends, with older traits usually taking precedent over newer ones. Thus, a lot of assumptions you might have about vampires going in could end up being very wrong. For instance, in movies, vampires instantly die when exposed to sunlight, but the first ever instance of a vampire in a story being killed by sunlight was in the 1922 film Nosferatu. In Eureka, sunlight is still awful for vampires, it strips them of their vampiric powers, but it doesn’t do any real damage to them. Sunlight is an issue vampires have to deal with, but it is far from instant death. That doesn’t mean being a vampire is inherently easy though, because in addition to having all the powers that folkloric vampires have (which is a TON), they also have all the weaknesses, and it is the emphasis on weaknesses that really makes the moment-to-moment playing of a monster PC in Eureka the most interesting. A few of my favorites for vampires are the refusal to enter homes without a direct invitation, and the compulsion to count large numbers of small objects. I think most vampire media these days considers these to be “silly” weaknesses and don’t want to acknowledge them in the lore of their “serious” scary horror vampires, but honestly I think that the “sillier” vampire stuff can still be used to great effect in horror. Imagine knowing that the only reason a vicious killer at your door hasn’t stormed in to rip your throat out is because they’re being polite.

A vampiric investigator will need to work around these weaknesses, and more, in their daily life, all while being sure not to reveal their true nature to their more mortal friends. It’s something that really changes how a character behaves and goes about problem-solving.

For instance, the rest of the party may be able to break into a house no-problem, but the vampire cannot. They need a invitation. That’s a problem. That’s a puzzle. It makes me excited just thinking about it.

This was originally going to be a much longer post where I went into more of the themes of monsters in Eureka, but I have decided that that would be most cohesive as its own post, an upcoming essay titled "How Eureka Handles Disability." So stay tuned for that.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is kickstarting from right now until May 10th! Back it while you still can!

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If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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lightwise · 28 days

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Hey guys. I know I’ve been relatively quiet on here since the finale, and I wanted to let you all know I haven’t just liked all your posts but not reblogged for the sake of lurking 😅. I had an insanely chaotic week in my personal life/schedule and the finale hit me hard, in some ways that I wasn’t expecting, so I’ve been processing a lot behind the scenes and trying to play catch-up.

I know there’s a lot of opinions, a lot of hurt feelings, and a lot of processing going around, no matter what your opinions about the finale itself. And even if it had satisfied every one of us, it still is hard to say goodbye to our Bad Batch in canon media. I’ve been crying every time I see shots from those last few scenes and the epilogue 😭❤️

I’ll be sharing everyone’s thoughts and my own as I have the bandwidth this week/ongoing. I have a lot of things I want to address:

- How Tech was handled

- Project Necromancer and Omega’s m count

- the death trooper batch and what worked and didn’t work for me

- how Crosshair’s hand was handled

- my reaction to the finale, as well as the pros vs cons of how it was executed

- the pros and cons of the season overall

- potentially analyses on Hunter and Crosshair throughout their arcs

- some posts that I had been compiling before the finale that will now have a very different tone 😅🫣 (you’ll know what I mean when I get there)

- final update on my Crosshair Sighs count

- additional chapters of the Be There one-shots I started at the beginning of the season. I have Hunter and Crosshair’s perspectives, and I will add in Wrecker’s, Echo’s, and Omega’s.

- I still have an upcoming Hunter short fic and my long fic Compass Pointing North (Rex and Echo leading the clone rebellion) that will fill in all the gaps of the last two seasons and potentially more (I have so many ideas!)

In short, I’m still here, not going anywhere, just need some time to process and get my thoughts together. For those of you grieving or feeling let down, I see you and feel the same way about certain things. For those of you ecstatic and fulfilled about certain things, I see you and feel the same way as well.

And lastly—I’ve been seeing and hearing both behind the scenes and publicly making fun of, tearing down, or vehemently shaming people for their various reactions to this finale. I have to say I’m a bit disappointed at some of the backlash that has been happening between fans for holding differing opinions and emotions. If someone else has a different favorite character than you, a different perspective, a level of difficulty that you are not experiencing—do not shame them for that. Do not go on anon and harass them. Don’t try to tell people who are upset that they should just be happy and get over it. And don’t tell people who are really satisfied with what we got that they shouldn’t be expressing that or that they are inconsiderate for feeling that way.

In short, don’t let the end of this show tear apart all of the good and wonderful and fun moments that we’ve built together over these last three years. This fandom has been a special place and a very meaningful place for most of us, I believe, and those who are in this fandom do not deserve to be treated poorly simply for having their own perspectives. Be kind to each other. Please. I know you all are capable of it 🙏🏻✨❤️

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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girls-are-weird · 11 months

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YR fanfic pet peeves (and corrections): latin america edition

so. i was originally going to post this in january as a kind of "new year, new opportunity to learn about simon's hispanic heritage" kind of a thing, but life got busy, and then my computer died and i lost my original list, so i've had to reconstruct this from memory as best as i could. there may be some stuff missing, so perhaps i'll just keep adding to this post as missing/new points come to mind.

disclaimer 1: if you've included any of the points made here on any fanfic of yours, please don't take this as a call-out. this isn't intended to shame anyone, but rather as an educational opportunity. it's very rare that a latin american nationality that is not mexican or colombian or puerto rican is showcased in an international show, especially outside of the US, and it's given me such joy to have all of you lovely folks make the effort to be open to and research and understand the idiosyncrasies of simon's (and omar's) heritage because the rest of latin america tends to go overlooked in most other fandoms. so i don't intend to scold anyone with this. we can't all know everything about every other culture-- lord knows i don't know everything about sweden, but i want to be respectful to the country and its people and that is why i heavily research anything i don't know and ask people who do know when my research doesn't quite cover it and am open to corrections when even that falls short. i expect most of you come to write about simon's family background in good faith and also want to be respectful to his family's culture, and so i thought i might make things a bit easier for you all by putting the most common errors/misunderstandings i've seen in one handy post. but once again, it's not a call-out, i don't get offended by these things, and i'm in no way implying, if you've done any of these things in fic or in life, that you are a bad person. i understand people make mistakes when they don't know things.

disclaimer 2: i am not venezuelan myself. i was born and raised in the same general region of latin america, though, and i have venezuelan friends and have worked with venezuelan people and have visited venezuela. generally speaking, i feel their culture is very similar to mine (though our spanish is much closer to spanglish than theirs is, haha xD) and feel a deep kinship with them. but of course, i'm no native, and if you're venezuelan and catch anything here that you feel is incorrect, feel free to point it out and i'll add a correction in your name.

warning: this is very long. christ almighty. DX if you can't make it to the end, tl;dr-- feel free to ask if you have any questions or if anything isn't clear. my ask box/messages are always open.

1- "mijo." this is the only one that legit has caused me to click out of several fics/chapters, at least in the beginning, but i've learned to grin and bear it by now. it's not so much that it's wrong, per se, but rather it's more of a location issue. "mijo" is, to my ears, very much a mexican (or, if you stretch it, northern triangle) slang. it IS used sparingly in other countries, but rarely used unironically. instead, if you hear the term used in the caribbean region of latin america (which my country is part of, as is a large part of venezuela), it's almost always used… let's say sarcastically. for example, if your grown-ass adult friend is being a dumbass and doing something reckless, you might call out "oiga, mijo, se va a romper el cuello" ("hey, mijo, you're going to break your neck"). basically, it's a way of calling someone immature like a child. it doesn't have to be ENTIRELY unaffectionate (kinda like the way someone might call their significant other "idiot" or "dummy" but mean it endearingly. in fact, in colombia it's way more common for spouses to call each other "mijo/a" than it is for them to call their children that), but you can also use it with complete strangers-- like if someone cuts sharply into your lane while you're driving, you might yell at them "oiga, mijo, a donde le enseñaron a manejar, en un potrero?!" ("hey, mijo, where did you learn how to drive, in a horse paddock?!"). but even in these sarcastic/neggy cases, it's rare. and EVEN RARER to hear a mother call her children "mijo" or "mija" in this region. it's just not a thing. so when i read it in fanfic, it immediately takes me out of the story because it's so weird to me that linda would sound mexican-- it's a very distinctive accent, which carmen gloria 1000000% does not have. (plus, "mijo" in spanish is a type of birdseed. so it gave me a chuckle the first few times i read it in a fic because i always have that brief second of confusion where i go "why is linda calling simon birdseed?" before it clicks. xD i'm a dork.) it's much more likely that linda would just say "hijo" or "mi hijo," instead.

1b- the way you decide on whether to use "hijo" or "mi hijo" is important because "mi hijo" can sound overly formal in the modern context especially, much like it would in english. in fact, you can use the english version of it, "son" vs "my son" to guide you on which of the two to use. like for example, if linda were to say directly to simon "i love you, my son," she would sound oddly old-timey and anachronistic, so you would just use "son" ("hijo") in that case. whereas if she's talking about simon with someone else, for example saying "i told my son to be here on time," you'd be perfectly okay to use "mi hijo" in that sentence in spanish. it's very transferable in that case.

2- speaking of non-transferable, though, you can't use "cariño" in all instances you would use "sweetheart" or "sweetie." it really depends on the grammatical construction, and it can be tricky to get it right, but it depends on whether you're using it as a direct address or as an object. for example, if you're using it in place of someone's name-- say, a mother telling her child "te quiero, cariño" ("i love you, sweetheart/sweetie") is perfectly fine, because in that case, she could also say "te quiero, hijo" ("i love you, son") or "te quiero, simon" ("i love you, simon"). but if, say, simon says to wille "you're my sweetheart," you would not use "cariño" there; you'd go instead with some syrupy way to say "boyfriend," like "eres mi novio" or "eres mi enamorado" or even "eres mi amor," and if sara tells felice "you're a sweetheart," that would also not involve "cariño" at all. in addition, "cariño" is also very rarely used in plural; if linda is using a term of endearment for both her kids, or for a group of teens her kids' age, she would use a different term of endearment altogether: "hola, mis amores" ("hi, my loves"), "hola, bebés" ("hi, babies") or "hola, mis tesoros" ("hi, my treasures") among some examples. one exception is when you say "cariños míos" ("my sweethearts"), but very rarely the plural by itself. in fact, "cariño" is often slang for gift or present, especially in the diminutive-- for example, if you go to someone's celebratory party for some occassion (birthdays, graduations, baby showers, heck even christmas), you might hand them a small gift and go "te traje un cariñito" ("i brought you a small present"), and if it's more than one gift, or you're bringing gifts for several people, then you'd say "unos cariños" or "unos cariñitos" in the plural.

3- simon's skin is tan, not tanned. this… doesn't personally bug me as much because it's more of an english grammar issue, but i know people who might actually feel very offended if you get this one wrong with respect to them. "tan" is a color; a light shade of brown. "tanned" implies the original color of your skin has darkened with the sun. now, i'm sure simon can tan (lucky goat, says she whose skin burns even while indoors), but about 95% of the time "tanned" is used in YR fanfiction, it's used as a descriptor of the color of simon's skin as we see it on the show. that would imply his skin used to be lighter at some indeterminate before-time and has been darkened by the sun. this is incorrect; that is the natural color of simon's skin. so stick to "tan skin" instead (not tan PERSON, mind you. his SKIN is tan, he is not). and i would gently suggest that if you take away any single thing from this post, make it ESPECIALLY this point, as someone more sensitive than me might interpret this error as some kind of retroactive whitewashing. and i don't want anyone here to get in trouble for simply not knowing.

4- pabellón criollo is one dish, yes, but it's four different FOODS. it's not something a newbie would be able to make off of a recipe (i don't know how to make it and i've been eating it all my life), and it's not something that's likely to be taught in just one day. also, if you're bringing it to a dinner or a potluck, you're bringing four separate food containers, not just one.

4b- also, venezuelan food, for the most part, is not particularly spicy. you CAN make it spicy if you want, but traditionally, it is not. it's flavorful, maybe even saucy depending on the dish, but rarely spicy. i know the joke of white people being unable to handle spice is funny, but there's also plenty of us hispanic people who are equally terrible at it, because there's different levels of spice in the food from different regions of latin america. besides, as a friend of mine perfectly put: we are living in the 21st century now. if you can eat mild mexican food, you should be able to handle traditional venezuelan food just fine. and i'm pretty sure there's mexican food in sweden. plus, wille would probably be more used to international food-- not only does he have the means, but having traditional meals in foreign countries is kind of part of the job.

5- while i'm at it: simon is definitely half venezuelan. this is canon as of S2. there is no other place in the world where that dish is called pabellón. please keep that in mind when you're writing and researching.

5b- this, along with several of the points above, is important because it's a bit of diaspora trauma that whenever we venture outside of latin america and people learn we're latino, they immediately assume we're mexican, or that our culture and traditions are the same as those of mexican people. it happens often, and it's incredibly annoying. not that there's anything wrong with mexico or mexican people-- they're lovely, and their traditions and culture and food are fantastic-- but we are not them, and treating us like we are is reductive. the rest of latin america can be very different and incredibly diverse, and it can be dispiriting when people treat us like we're all the same. so that is why it is important when writing about simon, his family or his venezuelan roots, that you take care to actually research things as they are in venezuela, and not just pick the low-hanging fruit of latino facts you might've learned through pop cultural osmosis, which eight times out of ten will be mexican-only because most hispanic people in the US are mexican and the US exports its media all over the world. i've learned to just roll my eyes at it by now, but some people might actually feel offended or hurt, and i'm sure nobody here intends for that to happen.

6- although simon speaks spanish, neither he nor sara nor his mother nor any aspect of his mother's culture is spanish. "spanish" is what people from spain call themselves. people from spanish-speaking latin american countries are not spanish; we are hispanic, or latino/a/e. "latinx" is… let's call it controversial, at least outside of the US. most people born and raised in latin america don't like it; i personally don't get offended if people use it, but i don't use the term myself. also, you can say "latin food" or "latin music," but we usually don't refer to PEOPLE as latin, but rather latino/a/e. if in doubt, just use latin american or hispanic. they're also conveniently gender neutral.

EDIT: @andthatisnotfake also brought up a very important point: "if you spell it latinx, it makes it harder for screen readers to read (or so I've been told) and some people depend on those, so there's another reason to avoid it." (the unpronounceability of that term is at least part of the reason why hispanic people who live in latin america don't like it.)

6b- never use "the latino/a" on its own to refer to people. "latino/a/e" is an adjective, not a noun, so you would say "the latino boy" or "the latino man" but never just "the latino." kinda like it would be weird to point out the one japanese man in a room as "the japanese." there are some nationality/ethnic terms that just don't work as nouns in english.

7- spanish is not simon's one native language-- or at least not any more than swedish is. he grew up in a mixed-race household, speaking two different languages. it's pointless to call spanish his native language when comparing it to swedish. both are his native languages. also, while we're at this, wille is probably at least bilingual (i'm assuming he can speak at least english), although he only has one native language. it's hardly a competition between the two boys as to who's more of a polyglot.

7b- simon wouldn't take classes on the spanish language-- like to learn how to SPEAK the language-- since spanish is one of his native languages. he wouldn't take them at hillerska, nor in university, nor elsewhere. he wouldn't be allowed. you're literally not allowed to take classes on your native language, nor get credit for said classes. trust me, those would've been an easy extra 24 credits for me in college if that was a thing.

EDIT: have been made aware (thanks, @rightsogetthis and @plantbasedfish!) that at least in sweden and in finland one IS allowed to take classes of your non-swedish/finnish native language, in certain circumstances. i have to say, i'd be pissed if i were taking my french classes alongside a french native speaker, but hey, the system's the system, i guess. ;) so i've struck this one out.

8- dear god please don't use google translate for your spanish translations. listen, i'm not judging-- i do it with other languages, too, when i'm in a pinch. but google translate is literally The Worst (tm) so i always try to either check with someone, or stick to the stuff i already know is correct. seriously, you don't want to know the kinds of crazy stuff GT can spit out that people actually put out in the real world; some of them are quite hilarious. if you're unsure, my ask box/messages are always open and i looooove helping people with this kind of thing, hispanic language and cultural stuff. i know it seems like i'm hardly around, but i do check my messages. don't be shy, even if it's something really small.

PS: while i'm talking pet peeves, malin is wille's bodyguard, not his butler. she's nice enough to attend to him at hillerska because there's no other palace staff around and she's literally stationed outside his door, but she wouldn't do that in the actual palace. there's other staff for that. she wouldn't even guard him at the palace, i don't think, because the royal palaces in sweden are guarded by the royal guard, not SÄPO. if anything, malin might spend the time while wille is in the palace grounds at a gatehouse (like in YR 2x03 and onwards) or at some kind of security office in the palace, and then get called whenever wille needs to go anywhere. she wouldn't be giving wille messages from the queen or walking guests to wille's room or anything like that. that's not her job. (sorry, i had to get that off my chest, lol.)

#young royals #young royals netflix #netflix #simon eriksson #sara eriksson #linda eriksson #omar rudberg #carmen gloria perez #latin america #latino #hispanic #latin american culture #latin culture #latino culture #hispanic culture #spanish language #i hope this is helpful #if not feel free to ignore lol

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 7 months

Text

Baby Daddy chapter 4

Note: another request tied into this story! (I adjusted it a tiny bit, to make it make more sense). chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3

Warnings: fluff/suggestive/angst.

pairing: modern!Sihtric x you (f) x modern!Sigtryggr

summary: A little over one year has passed since you divorced Sihtric, and you had to go shop for a wedding dress… again.

wordcount: 4,4k

Masterlist

The Wedding.

'I hope it won't be weird, I understand if it's weird. It's a little weird, right?' you rambled on the phone, 'I'm sorry if it's weird. I'm okay with it, but it's really Odin's request. He wants his dad present.'

'It's fine,' Sihtric laughed at the other side of the line, 'I'll go with you guys, no problem.'

'So it won't be weird? Oh, hey, you can bring your wife too?'

'Eh, yeah, about that,' Sihtric chuckled, 'I, eh, I'm already on my second divorce, pookie.'

'What?!' you gasped and sat down on your couch, 'no way!'

'Yeah,' he sighed, 'it didn't work out.'

'Wha- wait, how long were you even married to her?'

'Like… two months.'

'Oh my god,' you snorted, 'Sihtric! That's a record, even for you.'

'Oh, come on, we married in Vegas. Everyone knew it wouldn't last,' Sihtric said, 'I mean, she hasn't even really met Odin, she only once saw him in passing. I kept her away because I knew it was going too fast too, but you know...'

'Yeah, you're a little impulsive,' you sighed and chuckled, 'Sihtric Kjartansson, you will never change, will you?'

'Who knows, pookie, maybe,' Sihtric laughed, 'but, hey, I gotta head to work. Text me the time and address and I'll be there.'

You hadn't seen Sihtric in over a year. You tried to maintain contact after your divorce, but you both struggled every time you had to face each other, so you both quickly agreed to avoid each other when Sihtric came to pick up and bring back Odin. And by some kind of miracle it always worked out. You heard from Finan that Sihtric got married again at some point, and you were happy for him. Of course, there was a bittersweet feeling still, but you were happy with Sigtryggr too. And clearly Sigtryggr was happy with you as well, because he proposed, and you had said yes.

And now the wedding was approaching fast. With only one month left to go, you had to go dress shopping, and because you knew your options were limited due to the short time you had left, you went to a store that specialises in these kinds of situations. You wanted to keep it small and simple, and only wanted to take Odin with you, but Odin insisted on being accompanied by his father. To your surprise, Sihtric agreed, and you had to admit that you were a little nervous to see him again after all that time.

And to make it worse, Odin threw a huge temper tantrum before you had to go and he was simply unmanageable. As you really had to leave for your dress appointment, you decided to leave Odin back home with your future husband. You texted Sihtric about the change of plans and said you'd still wait at the agreed spot; the entrance of the shopping centre.

You parked your car in the parking garage and made haste to the meeting point. When you saw Sihtric wasn't there yet, you slowed your steps a little to check your phone. You saw that Sihtric hadn't read your message yet, and for a moment you wondered if maybe he wasn't even going to show up at all, even though that was very unlike him.

While you waited at the entrance, Sihtric parked his car and jumped out. He feared he was running a little late, even though there were still ten minutes left before your scheduled appointment, he still sprinted towards the parking garage exit and jumped up the stairs. He became more nervous with each step he took, and when he finally saw you, waiting at the entrance, his heart skipped numerous beats. You looked up from your phone when Sihtric neared you, and you both couldn't help but smile at each other as soon as you locked eyes.

It seemed like Sihtric had become a whole different man in the time you hadn't seen him. His hair was long, on both sides now, and he had it braided on the top while his loose curls hung majestically in the back. He was wearing a black tight fitted, long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And instead of sweatpants, he wore well-fitted black jeans with a brown leather belt, and black leather boots with the laces tied. He looked… sophisticated.

'H-hey,' you smiled, rather stunned at his appearance and your heart beating out of your chest.

'Hey yourself,' Sihtric smiled.

His smooth, warm voice caused butterflies in your stomach and you both kept an awkward distance for a moment, just looking at each other. Then you both chuckled nervously and leaned in for a hug. Sihtric circled his strong arms around your waist, holding you tighter than necessary, and you were suddenly reminded how absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of being in his arms.

'You look pretty, pookie,' he said in your ear while your arms were circled around his neck.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his pleasant, familiar scent, completely melting into his embrace, feeling as if this is where you always should be.

Then Sihtric pulled away, but only slightly, and his hands lingered on your waist as he looked at you, 'How have you been?'

'Not too bad,' you said and stared up into his mismatched eyes, keeping your hands on his broad shoulders, 'you look… different,' you chuckled.

'Different?' Sihtric asked playfully.

'In a good way,' you added, 'you look more… mature?'

'I was always very mature,' Sihtric feigned offence, 'but you're right,' he smiled, 'I guess I did grow up a little. A second divorce changes you, you know?' he said with a serious face, then grinned.

'Yeah, that took me by surprise,' you snorted, your fingers mindlessly plucking the neck of his shirt.

'What?' Sihtric asked and lightly touched your chin with his tattooed fingers, 'that someone was stupid enough to marry me or that the marriage didn't last?'

'Both,' you taunted when he leaned in slightly, and your hands moved to his biceps, 'Christ, have you been working out?' you asked without thinking as you squeezed his toned arms.

'Only the same as I always did,' Sihtric said, a little proudly, 'why? Are you impressed?' he asked and flexed his muscles just to mess with you.

You blushed and decided it was best not to answer his question.

'Uh,' Sihtric suddenly said as he looked around, still holding you close, 'where is Odin?'

'Oh, crap,' you sighed, 'you didn't see my text, did you?'

'Text? No, I left my phone in my car actually,' Sihtric just realised, 'why?'

'Odin threw a huge temper tantrum before we had to go. He didn't want to get dressed, so I had to leave him at home. I hope this day won't be weird now that it's just us?'

'Oh,' Sihtric laughed, 'yeah, that sounds like my son. And don't worry,' he gently cupped your cheeks and leaned in closer, 'it won't be weird. It's good to see you,' he smiled and kissed your cheek.

'It's good to see you too,' you whispered and pushed yourself up your tip-toes to kiss his cheek in return.

'Yeah?' Sihtric hummed softly, before planting his lips on your cheek again.

And you did the same, but then your own and Sihtric's lips trailed further from each other's cheek with each peck, until your lips locked into a sudden, deep kiss. You both got lost in the moment as you nearly devoured each other like starved animals, and you were only brought back to reality when a car suddenly honked somewhere, and you both pulled away, finally leaving each other's arms.

'Fuck,' Sihtric hissed, and he looked down at his feet before he rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

'Shit,' you muttered and wiped your lips, the taste of Sihtric's kiss still lingering on your tongue, 'fuck.'

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'm so sorry.'

He looked at you, a little bewildered, and you returned the same look.

'No, I'm sorry, I- I… I let it happen too,' you groaned and hid your face in your hands for a moment, 'fuck. Fuck!'

'This was… I mean, this,' Sihtric stammered, 'it was an accident, right?'

'Yes!' you quickly agreed, 'an accident. T-this won't happen again,' you swallowed hard, 'I mean, it- it meant nothing, right?'

'Oh, no, exactly,' Sihtric nodded, 'this was just… a… yeah, no, it was a mistake. A harmless mistake.'

'Yes,' you breathed, 'no one has to know.'

'No one,' Sihtric said curtly, 'this… this never happened.'

'It never happened.'

Sihtric followed you closely as you strolled through the store, looking at a head spinning amount of wedding dresses.

'Hi, welcome!' a cheerful employee greeted you both, 'would you like me to assist you by picking out dresses, or do you wish to look around yourself for a moment?'

'I'd like to look around first,' you smiled, after which the employee nodded and told you that if you needed something, you could just call her over.

'So, when is the wedding actually?' Sihtric asked as you continued your hunt.

'Next month,' you said, casually, as you took a dress off its hanger.

'Next month?!' Sihtric stopped walking.

'Yes,' you sighed and looked at him, 'I also wanted to use today to invite you to the party, after the ceremony. Odin wants you there and Sigtryggr doesn't want to exclude you. And neither do I,' you took his hand, 'I understand it if you don't feel comfortable, but we'd like it if you'd be there.'

Sihtric stared at you and slowly bit down on his lower lip, contemplating your invitation.

'Eh,' he scoffed, a little surprised, 'are you sure you want me there?'

'Yes,' you said and squeezed his hand, 'I do.'

'Well, okay,' Sihtric mumbled, 'then I'll be there.'

You smiled at him and your eyes remained locked, both not having the strength to look away, and neither of you pulled your hand away either, keeping your fingers laced. Until the employee startled you, and you accepted her help as you had no idea where to begin really.

The employee told you her name as Sandra, just before she grabbed a few dresses while you waited in the dressing room, and Sihtric enjoyed some fancy coffee just outside of your dressing room. When Sandra returned with a handful of dresses, you were quick to try on the first dress, wanting to get this over with, and you actually liked the dress immediately.

'So,' Sandra smiled as she helped you in the dress, 'it's quite uncommon to bring the groom when looking for a dress.'

'Groom?' you frowned at her as you locked eyes in the mirror.

'The… the guy with you today?'

'Oh,' your eyes grew wide, 'oh! Oh, god, no,' you chuckled, 'no, he's not the… he's not my fiancé.'

'Oh,' Sandra looked stunned, 'I'm sorry, I… gosh,' she blushed, 'sorry, I assumed it was him because I, well, I saw you two when you were just browsing through the store and, well, I don't think anyone could deny the sparks flying.'

'Sparks?'

'I mean, there is clearly a lot of chemistry between you two. But,' she cleared her throat, realising how inappropriate this was of her, 'I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry if I saw it wrong.'

'No, it's okay,' you said, anxiously plucking at the lace skirt, 'we, eh, there is history. You're not wrong about the chemistry, I guess. He was my first husband.'

'Oh,' Sandra stared at you, 'oh…'

'He's the father of my son,' you explained, 'my son was supposed to be here too, and he really wanted his dad present, so I invited him. But my son was not having a good day, so I had to leave him at home,' you sighed and laughed, 'the universe works in mysterious ways sometimes.'

'It does,' Sandra chuckled and stepped back, 'well, you can show the dress to your ex-husband,' she smiled sheepishly.

You took a deep breath before you stepped out of the room. And when Sihtric saw you, half of the cookie he was eating fell out of his mouth and he just froze as he stared at you with big eyes. You gave a little twirl and looked at yourself in the mirror again.

'What do you think?' you asked him.

Sihtric forgot how to speak, and he suddenly felt his heart break into a million pieces when he realised he was not the man you were getting married to this time. Up until that very moment, it hadn't really dawned on him. He understood you were getting married, but he just didn't grasp it. Maybe because he didn't allow himself to really think about it. Maybe because he divorced his second wife so soon because he couldn't stop comparing her to you. Maybe because not a day went by he didn't think about you. And maybe because deep down he knew he was still head over heels completely fucking in love with you, and that never changed. Not even when he slutted around after his second divorce, as a way to try and forget you, again, but just like all those times before, it never worked. And now you stood in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever in a wedding dress, and he understood you had slipped out of his hands, again.

'Sihtric?' you turned to look at him when he didn't answer, 'what do you think?'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak, but he already felt the lump in his throat, and he knew that you and Sandra could see how his eyes were completely filled with tears. Speaking now would only make everything worse. But then he cleared his throat.

'I- sorry,' Sihtric searched his pockets with his hands, 'm-my phone is- I have to take this call,' he lied and got up, trying to walk as composed and calm as possible out of the store.

He held his breath until he was outside and walked around the corner, into the public toilets, where he locked himself in to scream and curse into the void for a few long seconds, before he broke down in tears.

And you were left behind in the store, bewildered and all teared up too as you knew exactly what Sihtric felt, because you felt the same. Sandra helped you out of your dress, which you had said 'yes' to, and as you paid she looked at you. Then she placed her hand on yours, and you looked up.

'Are you sure you're going to marry the right guy, honey?' she asked.

After your purchase, you were in desperate need of a drink, and so was Sihtric. You were already sipping your beverage at the dimly lit pub when Sihtric found you in a cosy corner, after you had texted him your whereabouts. He had enough time to compose himself again, and you both decided to pretend that nothing that happened earlier ever really happened.

'Wasn't sure if you'd be able to find me,' you smiled when Sihtric neared you.

He sat down next to you, on the couch, instead of taking a seat across the table from you, but you didn't mind it.

'Of course I'd find you,' Sihtric said and he pulled you in for a hug, 'so, eh, you got that dress?' he asked when he pulled away, but kept his arm on the backrest of the couch, and more or less around you.

'Yeah,' you said, 'I liked it and it could be altered in time, I can pick it up in two weeks.'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled faintly, 'you looked beautiful.'

'Thank you,' you nearly whispered.

Sihtric went to order a drink, and you couldn't stop yourself from checking him out as he leaned on the bar. You felt your cheeks redden as you eyed him up. His ass looks amazing in those jeans, you thought, god, a fine ass he always had, but it looks even better now. Your mouth nearly watered as you stared at his toned arms. He definitely changed his workout routine, you thought and squinted your eyes a little, his physique was always insane but this? Those arms? Fucking hell, the way he could throw me around. You bit down on your lip with a sly smile as you imagined how he'd manhandle you in the bedroom, like he used to when you were still together, and god, how you always loved that.

Not that you had anything to complain about with Sigtryggr, but it was just different. After all this time, you still felt that no one compared to Sihtric, and nothing compared to what you had with him. And you'd lie if you said you didn't miss him, and you allowed yourself to fantasise about your ex-husband a little longer as you sat in that pub. What you didn't know was that Sihtric saw your face and the way you looked at him, as he looked up into the mirror above the bar while he waited, and he deliberately leaned in a little more, as he watched you shift on the couch, and a smug smile appeared on his face.

And when Sihtric walked back over with his drink, he placed it on the table while you pretended to be busy on your phone. Sihtric sat down next to you again, turned to you, grabbed your face and then kissed you, hard and passionately. And as if you had been waiting and longing for it, your fingers grabbed at his shirt while your tongues slid into each other's mouth, and you kissed until your lips were bruised.

The big day was finally here. With mixed emotions you had said your vows to Sigtryggr, who was now your husband, and you considered getting very drunk at the party after the ceremony. But then you saw Sihtric, who congratulated your husband after he had hugged Odin, and then he came over to you.

'Congratulations,' he smiled weakly and kissed your cheek, 'you look gorgeous, pookie, as always.'

'Thank you,' you blushed a little, 'you're looking as handsome as ever.'

And you didn't lie. Sihtric looked dashing in his black tuxedo trousers and black blouse, which was fancy but still casual, as he hadn't fully buttoned his shirt up. You hadn't seen Sihtric since the day you bought your wedding dress, you had only texted every few days, while you never spoke a word about your infidelity to Sigtryggr. And in truth, the guilt was eating you alive every day, especially during the wedding, and you had to fix this.

'Can we talk?' you suddenly asked, and Sihtric nodded.

You beckoned him to follow you, away from the party, and you found quietness by locking yourself with Sihtric in the large restroom area of the venue that was hired for the night. You didn't care that no one could use the toilets for a moment, you just needed a private moment, because you were about to have a breakdown.

'What's up?' Sihtric asked, and frowned when he saw you lock the main door, 'pookie, are you okay?'

'I made a fucking mistake,' you said, and broke down in tears as you leaped into Sihtric's arms, 'I made the biggest mistake of my fucking life!' you cried.

'What? I- wh-' Sihtric stammered as he held you, 'w-what do you mean? Did something happen? Did Sigtryggr… did… did he… find out?'

'No,' you said with a sob, 'I just mean that,' you sniffled and wiped your tears, 'Sihtric, it should have been you!'

'What?' Sihtric stared at you, 'what… what do you mean? I don't understand-'

'Oh, you donkey,' you groaned, and couldn't help but laugh through your tears, 'I should've married you!'

'Me?' he almost yelled, surprised, 'what, again?!'

'I've regretted the day I divorced you ever since we finalised it,' you confessed, 'not a day went by that I didn't end up in tears somewhere, because I hated how I wasn't with you. I should've been with you, always. All that time, Sihtric, it was only you on my mind, every fucking day and every fucking night. I love you… I still love you. I never stopped loving you. And now- now I'm fucking married to some guy who is amazing and treats me like a queen, and I hate how I'm not happy. I hate how I'm not truly in love with him. All because he's not you. Because he's just not you!' you yelled and punched Sihtric's chest, weakly, 'just because he's not you! He's not you, Sihtric! He's nothing like you!' you shouted as you cried, and banged your fists on his chest, again and again, until Sihtric grabbed your hands.

'Then fucking say it!' Sihtric said, his voice raised slightly as his mismatched eyes darted all over your face, and he lowered his voice as he leaned in, 'then say it, pookie. Use your words for me and say it, love.'

'I want you,' you finally said, 'I want you back, Sihtric!'

'Then you're mine again,' he said with a sigh of relief, and pushed you up against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours as you tried to take each other's clothes off as fast as possible.

Twenty minutes later Sihtric helped you back in your dress again, and then he dressed himself up. When you both looked presentable again, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you soft and gentle.

'I love you,' Sihtric whispered, 'I always have, and I always will. I promise this was the last time I let you get away,' he pecked your lips, 'I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make this work.'

'I love you too,' you smiled and kissed his lips, 'you know it's always been you, and it always will be you. All this time of trying to forget you,' you exhaled sharply, 'I was just denying my feelings for you. We'll figure it out this time,' you said, 'I promise, we'll make it work.'

'I know,' Sihtric said, 'we'll make it work.'

And just as you were about to kiss him again, you were both startled when you suddenly heard someone sneeze in one of the toilet stalls.

'Oh my god,' you gasped, and stared at Sihtric.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought that someone had just heard you and Sihtric fuck like wild animals, while you got married to another man only a few hours ago. And you just really hoped that it wasn't your father…

'Just come out already,' Sihtric clicked his tongue, and you both waited to see who unlocked the toilet door and stepped out.

'Osferth!?' you and Sihtric both blurted out at the sight of his red cheeks peeking around the corner.

'I- I'm sorry, I… I,' Osferth stammered as he avoided eye contact, and he nervously plucked the sleeves of his white blouse, 'I- I didn't… hear or- or see anything,' he lied and quickly walked past you, 'God bless you, God bless you both,' he said and desperately tried to open the main door, not knowing it was locked, and he looked like a fly trapped in a cobweb.

Sihtric sighed and stepped towards Osferth, he unlocked the door and held it open for the poor boy, and Osferth ran out as fast as he could.

Sihtric turned back to face you, and you both broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

'Have you seen my wife?' Sigtryggr asked as Osferth passed him in the empty hallway.

'No,' Osferth lied and kept his head down, and ran even faster than before.

Sigtryggr frowned at the boy's weird behaviour, and he chuckled. Then he continued his way to the restroom, but stopped and hid behind the corner when he saw you and Sihtric walk out. And Sigtryggr felt his heart break when you kissed Sihtric, but at the same time, he also wasn't surprised. That didn't mean he wasn't angry though, and with a sudden fury, he stormed towards Sihtric. He grabbed Sihtric by his shirt and harshly shoved him away from you, 'My wife!?' Sigtryggr shouted, 'you dare to kiss my wife on my wedding day!?'

'Sig!' you shouted, panicked, and you tried to pull your husband's hands off your ex-husband.

'I will not let my wife be touched by a rat!' Sigtryggr shouted and punched Sihtric in the face.

Sihtric, who wasn't afraid of a fight, was quick to adjust to the situation and before you could blink twice, the two men were in a full fist fight.

Finan and Uhtred happened to stumble onto the sudden fight, after they had seen Osferth run past them with terror in his eyes, and they figured something odd was going on. They were quick to break up the fighting Danes, and they didn't know how to compose themselves when they saw you tend to Sihtric, instead of your new husband. Uhtred and Finan both sighed and rolled their eyes when they realised what must have happened, and Finan broke out in a loud laughter when he understood what Osferth must have had witnessed, when he made the connection that you and Sihtric were probably in the restroom together.

Then, Odin ran happily into the entire dramatic event, and Finan was quick to grab the boy and lifted him up.

'Aye, you're staying with me tonight, big man,' Finan said, and Odin giggled.

You gave Finan a look of thanks, and he simply nodded in reply before he left, while Uhtred checked up on Sigtryggr, who said he was fine. When Uhtred left too, and you were alone with the two Danes again, you all stared back and forth between each other.

'So,' Sigtryggr sniffed and wiped his bloody nose, 'you couldn't have decided this a day earlier?'

'I'm sorry,' you said, ashamed, 'I truly don't deserve you, Sig. You're a great guy, but you… you're-'

'Not him,' Sigtryggr said bitterly, and he glared at Sihtric, who had a black eye and a cut lip, 'I know,' he sighed, 'I knew you always loved him. I just felt it…'

'I'm sor-'

'I'll send the divorce papers over as soon as possible,' Sigtryggr sneered, then turned on his heels and walked back to the party, where he'd get drunk until he couldn't walk anymore.

'Are you sure about me?' Sihtric asked after a long silence, 'because you could still fix things with Sigtryggr now, but tomorrow might be too late.'

'I'm sure,' you said, 'I'm sure about you, Sihtric.'

'Okay,' Sihtric smiled, 'then you're going home with me tonight,' he kissed your lips softly, and then suddenly snorted, 'gods, your second marriage was even shorter than mine, pookie.'

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