#I started with Unravel II

[a-z-4-m-i]

"Poor little Az used to always quit

But she never really quit, she just say she did"

-Cigarettes out the Window (TV Girl)

I just though this song would fit since this fandom never really left me- I mean, my OC whole entire backstory is heavily inspired of this universe so....

[highvern]

Honey

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strip tease, kinda public sex?, unprotected sex, creampie, simp mingyu, established relationship, dry humping (in a hot tub), fingering, face fucking/oral (m. receiving), porn with feelings, mingyu has a thing for being called husband, breeding kink

Length: ~2.8k

Note: inspired by the two seconds of mingyu in lalali. sorry @gyuswhore next time dont let your man act like a fool. this is a continuation of Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) but can be read as a stand alone! see below for their master list

Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) [f,s], Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II [f]

Pre-Drunk Goggles (in order): Peaches [f], Bite the Bullet [f, h], Jealousy [a, h]

Post-Drunk Goggles (in order): Silk [s], Aphrodite [f, s], Discovery [s], Lucky Me [f], adamas et aurum [f], Baby Blues [f]

Summary: The best way to recover from the stress of your wedding and celebrate your marriage? Some private time in the hot tub with your new husband.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Twenty four hours.

You’d been married for twenty four hours and can barely keep your eyes open from exhaustion. Not because of your husband and the vigorous but romantic sex he insisted on having on every surface of the cabin your friends chipped in to rent as a wedding present. No, you’ve barely managed to touch each other beyond agonizingly fatigued kisses and sentimental cuddles. 

Last night you both barely managed to make it into the bed before passing out cold. This morning, you found Mingyu nodding off at the stove after insisting on cooking breakfast while you showered. A few lazy gropes during breakfast (Mingyu’s hand barely toeing the line of indecent on your thigh) and a hot kiss before he left the bed was all the action managed in the first day as a newly wed couple. 

It’s still a funny word: husband. For so long husband was hypothetical; a distant idea that someday you’d have one. Maybe. If you found someone you could put up with long enough to start considering them as a long term partner instead of a fling.

And then Mingyu went from an acquaintance to boyfriend in a matter of months and the hypotheticals started shaping into realities with shocking speed.

The amorphous face of your hypothetical-husband slowly started to resemble Mingyu’s day after day. Week after week. And now, after months of planning, hair pulling, and a day full of tears, Mingyu is your husband. 

And he’s waiting for you in the hot tub just outside.

It’s the middle of the day but time ceases to maintain importance on vacation. But after a late breakfast you both agreed the best thing for your aching bodies was an afternoon relaxing in the hot tub until you both pruned like raisins. 

You spot the head of dark hair belonging to your fiance husband through the glass sliding doors leading onto the back porch. Beyond him is a full view of the lake, sparkling under the sun. It’s a deception of warmth but a breathtaking sight nonetheless. 

But nothing compared to Mingyu whipping around at the sound of the door opening with a pleased smile. Until his eyes drop to your bikini. 

“Why are you wearing that?” he asks with a pout. 

Glancing down at the black two piece, you pout back. “I thought you liked this one?”

“I like whatever you wear, but the point of being married is that we can walk around naked as much as we want.”

“We already do that.”

“And it’s one of my favorite traditions,” Mingyu says, resettling across the tub to watch. “Now get that off and get over here. I miss you.”

You reach behind your back, you tug at the string of your top until the knot unravels. As the fabric slackens around your chest, Mingyu’s eyes follow with rapt attention. He’s seen you naked thousands of times but never fails to act like it's the first again. Your nipples peak under his stare, sensitive as the fabric brushes against them as you fling the top to the ground. 

“Now we’re the same,” you say with a coy smile, closing the space to the hot tub in a few short steps.

“Wrong.” He fumbles for a second, hands disappearing under the surface. The water sloshes around as he battles to pull off his shorts and drops them to the deck with a splat. “The only thing I want to see you in are those rings.”

“Mingyu!” you gasp mockingly, ignoring the heat pooling between your legs in favor of dragging out the game. “What if someone sees?”

No one will. The cabins on either side of yours are dark and empty, and most of the houses skirting around the lake are so far away no one could possibly decipher what you two were doing in the shade of the porch awning anyway. 

“Then they’ll see how beautiful my wife is.” 

Blood rings in your ears at the way he says it; fond with a hint of pride. Like he still can’t believe you said yes in the first place. Like it was ever a question if and not when.

Mingyu whines pathetically as you scramble to remove your flimsy bottoms without flourish. It's too cold to stand around and do a full strip tease even if your husband’s eyes burn right through you. They join his swimsuit at the foot of the tub before you slip into the gentle embrace of the water.

Your ass barely meets the seat before Mingyu pulls you into his lap and kisses you. Arms circling around his shoulders, you sink a hand in his hair and tug until he welcomes your tongue. Your thighs straddle across his, bare skin on bare skin only interrupted by the silky feel of water. Even that doesn’t manage to disguise the electricity between your bodies. Or the fact that Mingyu's cock is already hard and waiting for use.

“Mmm. Missed you,” he whispers into the warmth of your cheek before descending across your jaw.

Bones turning to jelly, you melt under his attention like always. Mingyu loves to make you putty with little effort. You tip your chin up to make room for his tongue over the dip between your collarbones. “I was gone for five minutes.”

“Too long.”

He punctuates the complaint with a harsh suck of your nipple. It puckers between his teeth, sensitive and needy for attention. The sting serves as the perfect distraction from his hands sliding lower to palm your ass, fingertips grazing your entrance. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. Your hips search for more pleasure, sinking back until Mingyu stretches you around his knuckles with practice ease. The water washes away any arousal lingering but you won’t give up the prod of thick fingers for a little discomfort.

“Can you say it?”

Even before it became official he loved hearing you say any declaration that he belongs to you: boyfriend, fiance, and now—

“Husband.”

Mingyu groans into your chest as you whisper his new epithet, exploding with renewed vigor across your neglected breast. Indulging in the way his cock twitches against your thigh at the word, you curl your hips into the pressure. It's a difficult choice: Mingyu’s fingers filling you just right or the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit. 

Moving back and forth, the water sloshes over the sides of the tub as you greedily try to keep both. It’s hotter knowing Mingyu gets off on it too; the way you always want more, more of him, his hands, his mouth, his cock. Even rutting across his thigh after he cums until it hurts can make him hard again if you’re enjoying yourself.

Sinking a hand down, you tug at his cock, jerking him off right against your folds. With a tight fist, you crumble Mingyu to pieces with a few short strokes. The effort is rewarded with bites into your bottom lip and a hand at the base of your spine.

“Wait, shit,” he gasps. He’s closer than he wants to be. Clear in the tightness of his shoulders and pinch around his nose. Nothing gets him hotter than the memory of your first time together, when he used you pussy to jerk himself off; coating your panties in his cum. You know he still has a picture from the second time he did it saved on his phone after all these years.

Mingyu’s lips don’t leave yours as he stands, carrying you to the lip of the tub and sitting back down. He doesn’t let you slip to your knees in front of him at first. You’re trapped with lewd kisses and the flex of his fingers into the dip of your waist until he calms. 

“Let,” kiss. “Me,” kiss. “Taste,” teeth. “You.” 

Mingyu bucks into your ass at the offer before letting go. He’s never said no to a blowjob and he won’t start now given how much you like it too. 

But he’s cocky, arms resting on the edge of the tub as he presents the nude visage of his front like a dare. It’s bold given his habit of devolving into a needy mess at the first hint of satisfaction.

Your hand keeps pace while your lips ghost down Mingyu’s neck. His nipples stiffen with quick attention, almost more sensitive than your own but that isn’t your goal right now. Your mouth starts to water when you reach his stomach, tracing the ridges and dips with all the time in the world. 

Just as Mingyu gets the first syllable of protest at the tip of his tongue, you suck him between your lips with cruel enthusiasm.

All the kinks in his armor become the highlights: a coarse lick where he leaks, a tight fist at the base, your other hand cupping lower until he moans loud enough to echo across the lake. For your own sick pleasure, you back away enough to tap him against the flat of your tongue, pink against the tip of his cock, eyes on his until Mingyu is forced to look away or risk painting your face in white far too soon.

“Slow down,” he commands. More of a beg since his head tips back when you take him until the curve of your throat objects. “Fuck–Jesus Christ.”

You arch your spine, ass displayed like a prize. Another one of Mingyu’s weaknesses. You can count on one hand the number of times he’s let you suck him off without reaching over to feel how wet you get from the weight against your tongue. If he chances a look down again (inevitable) you’ve provided a great surprise.

His cock falls from your hold long enough to rasp, “Fuck my mouth.”

At the end of the day, who is Mingyu to deny his wife what she demands for?

Timid with the first thrust like always, Mingyu plants a hand on the back of your head, fingers woven into your hair for his own sanity. You like to surprise him by filling your throat as quickly as possible just to see Mingyu squirm. Nothing makes you blinder to your own limits than his pleasure. But years of taking him make it easy to work around. 

He’s trying. The effort is in the twitch of muscles bracketing your shoulders, the gentle tugs of his fingers, the way Mingyu can barely bite back the flow of curse when you choke around him deep in your throat. Your jaw is already growing sore but no obstacle against the desire to see Mingyu shake.

Then Mingyu does something that shocks you.

Your hand pauses its work under the gentle squeeze of his. Mouth still full, you flash your eyes open to find him staring down in awe. For a second you wonder if it's just because time had been short the past few weeks between wedding planning and traveling. But then he pulls your hand away from his cock and towards your mouth, and you finally realize what caught his attention.

The rings. The plain band that matches the one circling his finger and the special one he spent months trying to keep a secret.

Mingyu kisses across your knuckles, thumb tracing the metal and stone like it’s a wonder. He did the same motion over and over again last night: walking back up the aisle as husband and wife, at the reception as you both greeted guest after guest while glued to each other, in the car ride to the cabin across the center console, before you both fell asleep still fully clothed. 

Without any words, you’re pulled up into his lap for a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he sighs. His tongue slides against yours, slick as he tastes the mess you happily lapped up at his crotch.

“I love you too.”

You feel it. Feel it more than anything in the world. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It shivers down your spine, and blushes across your front. The effect of those three words, simple but so much more, seems almost too much for the daylight just beyond the awning of the porch. 

Out of the water, the cool air prickles along your back, forcing your chest to cave against the cold but Mingyu is there to warm you up with the stretch of his cock. 

You hide the satisfaction in the column of his neck, teeth razing wet across the vein there. He tastes like chlorine and that expensive cologne you jump his bones for. The idea of leaving a bruise like some teenager where everyone can see settles an ache in your core. It’s the first time Mingyu is inside you as your husband and it nearly rips apart the fabric of your being,

In a frenzy, your hips rut before Mingyu can orient himself to the snug feel of your walls. The angle is nothing short of cosmic. Clit rubbing against his pubic bone, cock battering that place inside that makes your joints lock. And the stretch after an unfulfilling glimpse on his fingers only burns you hotter.

The slap of your skin against his is an afterthought, background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. In the thick of need, you aren’t even kissing. Just panting into one another’s mouth with narrowed vision. 

Mingyu sinks you lower in his lap with a smooth grind. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Like my husband is trying to get me pregnant.” You go cross eyed from the drag of his thumb against your worn bundle of never. Nothing makes him more desperate to please than the thought of you heavy with his your baby. 

No chance it’ll happen any time soon but the sentiment does wonders.

Another hard thrust threatening to leave you bedridden for the next week.“Fuck—please.”

“You’re mine,” Mingyu groans.

Writhing against his grip, sweat blooms at your brow. You can’t manage to respond with more than a cracked whine. Too focused on the wave rushing across the edges of your senses. 

“There! Fuck! Right there, Gyu.” You come in hot, carried by the rough way Mingyu forces you down his cock again and again. 

Nails biting into his biceps, your insides flutter tight, trying to pull Mingyu deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Full, deep, stretched beyond belief. Eyes cinched, muscles vibrating, you cum on your husband's cock with a broken grunt you’ll remember to be embarrassed about later.

“That's it, take it.” Mingyu coos with an edge. “My pretty fucking girl, my wife. Mine, all mine.”

Your knees hurt and your legs are numb from exertion and a killer orgasm. But you won’t call it until Mingyu gets his fill too.

“Close?” you pant. 

A hand at your throat is the warning, already knowing your plans to goad him to the edge if he isn’t there already. His thumb cocks your chin up so his tongue can lick the words right out of your mouth. 

A few more weak movements spell his ends. Mingyu cums with a grunt. Muscles tense, stomach caved, you scramble for hold under the threat of slipping back into the hot tub from the rushes of his cock to stuff you full with his spend. You’ll be sore tomorrow from the way he forces your thighs wider, until you’re flat against him, taking it deeper.

A sticky mess grows between your legs, warmly welcomed since the last time you felt it weeks ago. A peek between your bodies gets you ready to go again. But you still crave more. Ringed white around the base, Mingyu twitches inside you again when you clench just to tease him. 

“Love you, love you, love you…” Mingyu chants into your mouth until he goes slack with a long huff.

You find rest in his shoulder. Mingyu rubs his cheek against yours, innocent and domestic. He isn’t shy about most things but after you fuck eachother silly he likes to remind the universe its from a place of devotion.

“Marriage looks good on you.” 

“You too.” You smile. “Now take me to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Whatever my wife demands.”

“That's my good husband.” The hand ruffling his hair is quickly snatched away, giving Mingyu the perfect opening to toss you over his shoulder before heading inside.

--

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @bbychocolat

@dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[maidragoste]

Needy

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Warning: +18, NSFW, unprotected sex.

MDNI!

A/N: It was supposed to publish Jacaery drabble first but I woke up thinking of Aegon and I could not avoid it 🤭

If you enjoy reading please do not hesitate to leave a comment or reblog 🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also, I don't usually write smut so I apologize if this is a mess, have mercy on me lol

Thank you for reading!

When you put on that pretty new skirt, a little shorter than you were used to using, to go to the Helaena house it had been with the intention of attracting Aegon's attention. But you never imagined that when he offered to take you back to your home you would end up being fucked by his fingers in the passenger seat of his car.

Your skirt was lifted, your panties to one side and two Aegon fingers didn't stop moving quickly inside you while with his thumb rubbed your clitoris seeking to give you another orgasm.

You had already cummed before and made a mess on the seat but Aegon instead of worrying about it he continued fucking you and telling you how pretty you looked making you fall in love with him even more.

“Come on babe, I know you can give me another one” Aegon said increasing the intensity of his movements making your moans increase “Come on, be a good girl for me and let me see again how pretty you look while you cum” his words were like a switch because you began to move your hips desperately trying to reach your orgasm faster.

You cried his name as you felt the knot in your stomach unravel, wetting his fingers and part of the seat again. You felt empty as Aegon's fingers left your insides. You thought disappointedly that it was over, that you would just be best friends with his sister again, but then Aegon put his fingers in his mouth and the image of him sucking his fingers to taste your juices made your pussy throb. You are greedy and want more so you went to sit on his lap. You looked at the bulge in his pants before looking into his eyes.

“I want your cock, can I have it?” you asked directly, forgetting about any modesty you may have had before. If this was going to be the only time you could have Aegon then you wanted to have the whole experience. “Please,” the smile on his face made your desire for him increase.

“Come on, take me” as soon as you had his permission your hands went to his belt but you were too anxious so you were having a hard time unbuckling it making him laugh “Look at you, so desperate to have me” he mocked before helping you.

Maybe at another time you would have been embarrassed but the only thing you were thinking now is that you want him. So once him got rid of the belt you hurriedly pulled down his pants and boxers revealing his erection. Aegon watched enthralled as you lowered your hand to your wet pussy and then spread your juices over his cock, moving your hand up and down making him sigh. Seeing that he was starting to get impatient, you directed his cock towards your entrance and slowly began to put him inside you. Aegon gasped as he felt your walls tighten around him and you dug your nails into his chest as you began to ride his cock. Then he lunged at your mouth, giving you messy kisses because in the middle of them he couldn't help but moan at how good your pussy felt. Hearing it only made your lust increase. You love hearing him needy for you, feeling the warmth of his hands on your waist, his tongue and teeth on your neck. You're so caught up in your haze of lust that you can't help but let out a surprised scream when he begins to ride you on and off his cock at a more intense pace. Now it's you who seems needy, whining to Aegon not to stop, that you love the way his cock feels, that you're close to cumming and you want to cum along with him.

The volume of your moans increase as you get closer to reaching your climax, Aegon should put his hand over your pretty little mouth and try to shut you up because the last thing he wanted was for someone passing by on the street to hear you and interrupt but he doesn't because he loves to listen to them. Now the next time you come home the only thing he will think about when he sees you will be this image, you cumming on his cock, looking at him with eyes clouded with ecstasy and moaning his name.

Aegon cums inside you and you feel his heavy breathing against your neck. You wonder if now is the time to go back to normal but he surprises you by giving you kisses on your neck and gently caressing your waist making you melt in his arms.

“Are you coming home next Saturday?” he asks, looking at you without stopping his caresses.

“Helaena is busy on Saturday,” you respond, knowing that your best friend had planned to meet up with her college classmates that day.

“I'm not asking you if you're going to see Helaena, I'm telling you to come see me” he smiled when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I want to fuck you in front of the mirror in my room, what do you think?”

Your response comes with a hungry kiss.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson

If you want to be part of my taglist

hotd masterlist

[beloved-calypso]

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖒? ♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡ 18+!

♡ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁.” – 𝐿𝓊𝒹𝓌𝒾𝑔 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒾𝓃 ♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III.

ᴍᴅɴɪ!!! ʏᴇᴘ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ. ᴇxᴄᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ.

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა

[2 of Swords rx, Emperor, Judgment rx]

Well pile 1, your sexual prowess is rough and playful. I think you have a dominant streak, or at the very least, you like to take the reigns from your partner, and guide how the night goes. I think ya'll are natural leaders, and have the need to take control for yourselves. The ones that pick this pile are definitely toppers. I'm seeing some wild-girl cowgirl positions mostly front facing, but some back rides as well. Do some of ya'll go to a ranch and ride horses? Ya'll have strong thighs and stamina. Ya'll like to grind and ride and have a fun time doing so, may have a reference for teasing and play-fighting. You make sure that your partner is the focus and that they are completely distracted and absorbed by you, like nothing matters in comparison to the moment. Your partners find this irresistible, tempting. Your demeanor feels playful, I can see you being the initiator, and rarely will you ever be denied. You may like to sex it up in unfamiliar spaces, experiment here and there and try new things. You can be a bit demanding, even forceful, but your partners will like it. They find it sexy, and are relieved that they have found a partner who can speak their mind and is able to handle even the awkward, embarrassing parts of sex with grace. I think you give them the space to think, to pause for a moment in their busy, possibly tumultuous lives, and let loose with your sex. You create a bubble like atmosphere where it's just you and your partner, and you both can relax and be yourselves, all giggles, smiles, and laughter. I can see you directing the way things play out; play fighting, subduing, and then consuming. I see you being the type of lover that is excitable, loud, and always un-serious. You may like to start off with foreplay-touching, squeezing and embracing-and then the main event, making sure needs are attended for and that you both are satisfied. Not seeing many quickies. You like to enjoy yourself, and take as much time is needed to commit to the act. Sex is a fun exorcise to stress and negativity. Climax's are maximized and prolonged. I can tell ya'll are lovers of penetration and motion, and are very good at pacing. I heard you put the motion in the ocean 😂. I genuinely laughed with those one. But ya'll are so free and enticing. I can see that the best parts of your sex are the way your partners can relax with you, melt in you. They are comfortable enough to let you take control, and they are relieved at someone that can give them pleasure just as much as they take it from them. Your sex feels so fun and freeing.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა

[9 of Wands rx, 8 of Swords, Knight of Cups]

Ya'll are slow lovers. I think the most important thing other than exploring each others bodies is exploring the others' minds. Vulnerability is a big highlight here. In order to satisfy you, your partners need to come with mental stimulation and not just physical. I'm getting in general, you like to unravel your partners, do to them as you would a piece of chocolate in a wrapper. Your partners feel quite naked with you, figuratively and literally. It's hard not to attach to you because in order to bed you, your partners feel like they have to sacrifice something to you. I got a vision of you in a cave at an altar, lit with candlelight, and a person with a hopeful, almost fearful, look on their face, on their knees with an offering presented. They can't come to you with an empty plate and expect to win you over. I don't think ya'll would give your time to casual relationships either. Partners would have to work at lowering your defenses. You're like a princess protected by a moat. On the outside, you may come off as closed off and uninterested, but there is much activity going on in your mental space. You have a lot to offer, but partners need to come to you with just as much. You're quite selective and come towards those that match your energy. I think you prefer sex at a slow, measured pace. I'm getting my lovemakers here, and the energy is very dream-like and cozy, like a person wrapped up in blankets, eyes closed, and day-dreaming. There's also a pronounced aspect of wetness in your sex. Lots of fluids are exchanged here, and a playing of those fluids. Why did I hear, "relaxed cumplay,"and "slip and slide", lmao. You may get very wet, like to play with oils and lubricates, and are attracted to sweat and moist skin. It's also the emotions revealed in sex that attract you. I see your partners get so worked up that they climax big and long. You transport people into a fantasy. You may especially like to cater to people and agree to whatever you wish they share with you. There's also a need to please and serve. Your touch is very soft and giving. I'm getting roleplay and sensory play. Your bedroom is such a secluded and sacred space that every partner will feel like stepping into it, is like stepping into a new world. I think you like to push your partners and make them open up to you, but gradually and slowly, so that they are willing. ✨️Very Lilith vibes.✨️It's giving the impression of control through submission. This pile is more into vanilla stuff but enhanced, like conventional kinks if that makes sense. Sex while soft and slow won't be boring. It will be emotionally fulfilling. The excitement that comes from the build-up alone will be enjoyable. If you imprint anything on your partners, it's that sex isn't a race, it's a journey, and the small things do matter in the end goal.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა

9 of Cups, The Emperor, Wheel of Fortune

People here have a big personality and a competitive streak. Sex with you is exciting and unpredictable. There's a want to prove something through sex, as if it's a battlefield of some sort, and only one can come out the winner. I feel like a few people in particular have a thing for woman empowerment, and want to prove just how powerful they are through sexual means. Ya'll use it as a style of communication, as an expression of sides of yourself that can't be easily seen or received. I think this pile has sex for the fun of it, and there's a pinch of mischief that comes out once the bedroom door is closed. This pile likes to play coy, likes to tease and rile up their partners and prolong their anticipation. I think ya'll are quite wild in the bedroom, and I just saw a vision of two people going at it like tumbleweeds, lol. I think the want for sex often corresponds with your moods, and your tastes can vary widely, so your a sporadic lover, the type able to adjust to anything thrown at them and improvise, also the type able to be 100 different people in the bedroom. Pile 3 are some minxes. I think some of the people here are short, and get a kick out of acting bigger than they are. It's cute. I think a big thing that comes out is your masculine side. Like I said that competitive energy stems from a need to please and be the best pleaser. Your masculinity makes you eager and able to confidently do things others would be too shy to do. I think ya'll focus on creating multiple climaxes; multiple sessions, multiple places, multiple positions. The possibilities are endless, and there are many records to break is my point. Ya'll are very driven and full of energy. That translates into a fast and frenetic passion of the moment. Your partners absorb your energy, try to match you and share in your delight. I see lovemaking in the morning, a couple fresh from deep sleep, still looking disgruntled, but warm sunshine cutting through the curtains and laughter seeping through blankets. I'm not seeing specific kinks, but I see a platter with a variety of assortments. Ya'll are comfortable in your bodies and may like to study on different, sometimes extreme, positions to try next. I think this pile are Kama Sutra naturals. Sex isn’t taken too seriously, but it brings some measure of emotional fulfillment. Your partners find satisfaction quickly, completely, and they succumb to a warm afterglow in the end. I feel this pile has the best hugs and the best aftercare. I feel the comfort of a bear hug and the warmth that comes with it. It feels very tender and very at odds with what would be an exhausting but vigorous bout of sex, but it works out in an endearing way.

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ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

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✨️ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

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[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part II

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand’s Sister!reader | WC: 2.3k

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

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Being labeled as ‘tainted’ had a few perks.

The best perk was that no male in the camp wanted your hand in marriage nor sought you out in any way. They behaved as if you were diseased, avoiding you at all costs outside of the tavern you worked in. 

It worked well for you - even the most handsome of males and females in your village did nothing to make you feel any sort of attraction.

You had lived in your village for a century, the familiar homes and people doing little over that time to ever make you feel a part of the community. You had always considered leaving, but your village was rather progressive with allowing you to run the tavern the barkeep had left to you when he died a few years prior, and you knew you wouldn’t have nearly as good luck in any other village.

You had been working in this tavern for nearly seventy years when the previous owner died, leaving the entire place, including the apartment upstairs, to you. At first several of the males of the village had been upset before quickly realizing you would just refuse to serve them their only source of alcohol at any sign of tension.

You lived over the bar and most of your patrons were the males of your village, which allowed you little access to the females. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them - they all seemed fine, several were even friendly when you lived in a smaller shack. Some part of you found it incredibly difficult to connect with them, every attempt you made to develop friendships with them were quickly sabotaged by your own inability to follow up. 

You felt guilty every time you did it, but something inside of you rang out wrong, wrong, wrong. So between your lack of interest in being outside of your bar and the very close knit group of friends you had (approximately no one), not much really tethered you to this village.

You had heard rumors throughout the day from the other women that the High Lord had been snooping about the village. You hoped so - perhaps he could see first hand how little the armies beneath him respected him or his policies, how they sneered and called him a variety of names, their favorite being some variation of ‘wingless pointy eared bastard’. You weren’t sure why the nicknames bothered you so much - you had no attachment to the High Lord, nor had you ever met him nor had a desire to do so. 

It just gnawed on some part deep inside of you.

Thoughts of the High Lord quickly dissipated as you spent the afternoon pouring drinks and serving tables. The males of your village found you unmarriable and a potentially bad omen for females everywhere, but they did enjoy the alcohol you cured.

You’d take their money over their acceptance any day.

The door opened, the chill from outside coming in as you looked up briefly to find a beautiful male in the doorway, his pointy ears and violet eyes giving away his identity immediately.

You put down the glass you were drying, focused instead on the male who stood in the doorway, unmoving as he looked toward you. Something about his gaze felt so familiar - he looked at you with fondness and longing, and it was starting to upset you. You began turning to go back to the task at hand when a second male appeared from the High Lord.

He was taller, his eyes deep, rich hazel pools of warmth. He had some slight freckling across his strong Illyrian nose, some of them reaching down to the sharp jawline you were sure could cut paper. The male the High Lord brought was clearly Illyrian, his large frame making that abundantly clear. Yet he had these wisps of black shadow that circled him in a frenzy, leaving trails of smoke in their wake.

The sight of him knocked the air from your lungs - he was stunning, perhaps the most gorgeous male alive. His downturned eyes and long eyelashes gave him a perpetual look of sadness that just made you want to kiss the corners of his eyes.

You widened your eyes at the thought, where did that come from?

You bowed slightly towards Rhysand, the movement spurring him into movement away from the door. It was not a deep bow, but just enough for it to count. The High Lord made a slight face, one you couldn’t discern. Shock at such a display of nonchalance in his elegant presence, you presumed.

“High Lord.”

You moved around the bar, walking toward them. You really didn’t have time to cater toward him and the male with him. You weren’t even sure what the two of them were doing so far out in Illyria. The tavern was full of patrons, all looking toward the two males who just entered. You felt their gazes on your back making your scars tingle.

“Do you have a table you’d prefer us to be at?”

The High Lord’s voice was soft, his eyes unmoving from you as he asked. His question caught you off guard, making you eye him suspiciously. Why was he speaking to you like this? The males of your village often completely disregarded any preferences you might have, and they were absolutely unnoteworthy in the grand scheme of things.

Why was the High Lord addressing you at all?

You eyed him warily before you pulled out a chair from the table in front of you, the wood scraping the floor. You tapped your nails on the top of the table before moving away to tend to your other patrons, all of whom had their gazes fixed on the High Lord and his companion, several of them openly sneering at the pair.

You really, really didn’t want a brawl to break out in your pub. 

You tended to the other tables, your feet swift across the stone floor as you tried to ensure even the most unpleasant of males was content with your service. The whole night your eyes never strayed too far from the High Lord and his companion. Their eyes never strayed from you either, their gazes were piercing as you flitted about, feeling their eyes with every movement.

You got back to their table, and you hadn’t been able to really look at the High Lord’s companion until you faced him. He was sitting down, his long legs closed and tight beneath the table, as if he were incapable of allowing himself to linger for too long. Sitting down made him look even more massive - he was nearly as tall as you are in the chair.

His wings were massive behind his back, the black leathery skin seemingly connected to his shoulders with the way the wispy black shadows that followed him curled on his skin. They looked antsy, an occasional wisp darting a few inches away before being pulled as if some invisible leash were keeping them back.

But him. Your heart stopped at how beautiful he was up close - his hazel eyes betrayed nothing, but golden flecks inside of them sang to you, desperate for you to keep looking at them. Your gaze flickered down to his hands, and your breath got caught in your throat at the deeply scarred tissue. 

The male flexed his hands before hiding them beneath the table, his eyes still on you. 

Despite their disappearance, you couldn’t help but continue to look at where they had been, the sight of them floating around in your mind, the image burning inside of you. You cleared your throat, looking between them. “Can I get either of you some wine?”

The High Lord looked to his companion before nodding his head, the silent male doing the same before you turned around, heading back to the bar. You hadn’t heard or seen them speak to each other, but you’ve seen them staring at each other this whole time, lost in thought. Their faces gave nothing away, but perhaps the High Lord had an additional consort to the High Lady. The male was quite pretty, despite his inability to speak or look anything other than strained.

You headed behind the bar, popping the cork on a fresh bottle of wine. Pouring two glasses, you dropped them off before tending to your other patrons. The night went by in a blur - several males gathered at different tables, hunched together, voices low. Everyone in the tavern spent the evening paying attention to the High Lord and the male with him, discretion be damned, but no one approached either of them. 

They sat silently at their table all night, making their way slowly through the one glass of wine you poured. The night moved on, patrons of the tavern making their way to the door, each one stopping to gawk at the High Lord. You came back from the store room to watch the door close behind the last of your patrons, save for the High Lord’s party of two.

He pulled another chair out and brought it to their table, leaving space for you to sit before he tapped his own nails against the wood. You watched his violet eyes assess you at his invitation - the way you stood there, eyes moving in uncertainty until finally you dropped your rag at the bar, taking the seat he offered. He looked at you, something twinkling in his violet eyes. 

“I’m Rhys, this is Azriel.”

The High Lord pointed to himself before nodding towards the male who made no movement at the acknowledgement. His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes almost squinting in assessment, as if he tried hard enough, he could see right through you.

“We wanted to speak with you privately.”

His voice wavered just slightly - he seemed confident, but every time he spoke to you, he had to suck in a breath as if preparing himself.

“What does this pertain to?”

Rhys took a deep breath, his eyes trained on yours. “I will cut this short. We know you are an empath.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. It became hard to control your face, but you tried to remain neutral. He kept speaking, but the words all muddied together, your brain unable to pick up the different syllables and words. Your eyes briefly roamed over the bar again, ensuring no one was still in the building. When you looked back, Azriel had been tracking your eye movement.

“I am unfamiliar with what you speak of, I don’t know what an empath is.”

His violet eyes were so much like your own as his gaze pierced into yours. His face adopted a sense of familiarity as he looked at you. “We both know that’s bullshit.” He sighed, taking another sip from his glass. Azriel still hadn’t spoken, but his eyes never left you, tracking all of your movements. Your ears roared, uncertain how they had known you were an empath and what they were going to do to you now that they knew. You surveyed the room, trying to get a sense of anything you could use against them to get to the door.

Would the males of your village help if you were able to make it outside? Would they stand up to your High Lord? Or would they leave you, the tainted goods that you were?

You stiffened, your jaw going rigid as you quickly assessed your options. You schooled your features, looking toward the High Lord in challenge. He merely shrugged before scooting his chair back, the wood making a high pitched noise as it rubbed against the floor beneath. “Fine, if you wish to pretend you do not possess such powers, we will be going.”

You almost missed how wide Azriel’s eyes went, back to their normal size in the blink of an eye. A trick of the light, perhaps. The two stood, Rhys nodding to you before turning, Azriel lingering behind in contemplation. He looked at you as if he might say something, his first words of the night. Your voice stopped him before he could, your eyes looking back to the High Lord. 

“Why are you looking for an empath?”

The High Lord turned back to you, his mouth slightly quirked in amusement. A predator assessing their prey. And you had put yourself directly in the predator’s path. 

“We wanted to help train an empath, keep them safe while we help them develop their powers.” 

He took a few steps toward you again, now standing next to Azriel. The silent male just watched the exchange as if he were taking notes.

You cleared your throat. “What would such training entail?”

“Daily training with the High Lady. Practicing techniques. Learning the scope of these powers. It would be difficult, tiring work, as no one has seen an empath for a very, very long time.”

His voice got softer by the end, a melancholic lilt to it. 

“And in return?”

“In return, I sleep soundly knowing one of my enemies did not get an empath in their ranks. And that a wingless female has some control over her powers.”

There it was.

He choked briefly on the word. Wingless. 

The word came from his mouth like venom, Azriel visibly flinching in the wake of it. You had kept your eyes on Azriel since the motion, your eyes moving over his icy exterior, taking in every part of him. His body screamed hypervigilance, his muscles not even twitching in your presence until Rhys had said it.

But his eyes screamed with need. They were practically hypnotic the way they called to you. Something about them felt so familiar, the brown ring around his iris melting into green, strokes of warm gold bridging the gap in color. They were beautiful eyes. Something stirred in you at them - a deep sadness, an impossible weight in your chest leaving you stranded.

But buried somewhere amidst the grief and despair in his eyes laid a small drop of hope that was so strong it nearly consumed you.

Perhaps that is why you agreed to go with them. 

A hope induced decision.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites

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Series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchiii

Thanks for reading ❣��

[aquaquadrant]

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?!”

~*~

[wileys-russo]

hey! no clue if your requests are open but if they are how about leah x reader where leah plans a date where they go golfing, hoping to impress reader with her skills but reader actually plays golf too and ends up being better than leah at it. so leah is just completely dumbfounded and slightly annoyed (in a good way) but also impressed. also cueing some teasing from r about being better.

big swing II l.williamson

"this is where we're spending the day?" you laughed as leah pulled up to the golf course, grinning at you as she parked the car. "i told you we were doing an outdoor activity and to dress for the occasion." leah hurried out of the car and to your side, popping open your door.

"thank you, charmer." you smiled, pecking her lips as she closed the door after you. "when the hell did you pack those?" you shook your head as leah popped her boot, grabbing out a set of clubs.

"never you mind my girl." leah grinned. "oh you're a sick sick woman." you sighed, seeing the engraved LW on each club, your girlfriend shoving your head playfully before slinging the clubs over her shoulder, locking her car and holding out her hand for you to take.

she booked you both in, promising to take you out for lunch afterwards as you watched on in amusement as she made a point to greet everyone you came across, relishing in the fact they all knew her by name, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye clearly trying to impress you.

she made sure to introduce you to everyone as her girlfriend, dropping the word as often as she could with a proud grin on her face. "hey stewart, can you hook my girlfriend up with a set of clubs please?" leah leant forward on the counter with a charming smile toward the older man.

"i'm just gonna go put my clubs in the cart love." leah murmured quietly, kissing the side of your head and stepping outside as stewart brought out a few different sets for you to try.

selecting the ones you were happy with you were quick to pay for them before your girlfriend returned, earning yourself an annoyed scowl from the taller blonde as you met her outside, handing her your chosen clubs to load in the back of the cart with her own.

"today was supposed to be on me, cheeky girl." leah tutted as you slid into the cart beside her, kissing her cheek and mumbling a thank you into the skin as she started the cart, driving you to the first hole.

"you go first babe, show me how its done." you waved for her to start as leah hopped out of the cart, riffling through her clubs and pulling out her driver, sending you a wink as you leaned against the cart, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose as she positioned herself.

you clapped politely at leahs first shot which sailed straight down the green, the blonde nodding in satisfaction as she made her way back to you. "do you want a hand picking out which club to use?" leah offered with a somewhat cocky smile, and so deciding to play into her ego you nodded.

leah selecting your club she took your hand and guided you to the tee, making a show of demonstrating where your hands go and how to swing, only stepping away once you assured you were okay.

you smiled to yourself as your first shot went straight, it didn't go as far as leah's but it did remain on the fairway and you shrugged happily. "nice shot gorgeous, must have a good teacher!" leah winked as the two of you drove down to where your balls sat.

"mmm something like that."

~

it turns out, it was something like that however not what leah imagined.

she'd taken you golfing in hopes of being able to show off, wanting you to be impressed and proud as well as giving herself an opportunity to get a little handsy with you as she showed you the ropes.

however, leahs plan was unraveling with every hole the two of you played. you'd rejected needing her help and much to leahs absolute horror you were winning.

by now she'd put two and two together that you'd clearly played before, your shots all effortlessly successful as you'd send her a smile and a wink afterward, asking if there was anything she'd have you do differently as your teacher, only winding up the defender further.

"so. did you plan on ever telling me you're secretly a golf pro?" the blonde asked moodily as you returned by her side after making a birdie with a happy grin. "you never asked." you smiled smugly, stealing a kiss and gesturing for her to take her shot.

"you never asked." the blonde mocked under her breath with a huff, only widening your smile at how much this was getting to her. her annoyance grew as she missed an easy putt, smacking her club into the ground and swearing loudly.

"hey hey williamson we treat our tools with respect here, this isn't a football pitch there isn't someone who comes and fixes the grass at half time." you teased, the blonde sending you a murderous glare as you grinned, blowing her a kiss as she tapped her ball in and made her way back to you.

"don't be a sore loser." you cooed, grabbing her face and kissing her cheek repeatedly as she pushed you off. "i love golf! why didn't you tell me you were so good, we could have played together already." leah pouted with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

"because i hate golf. the only reason i'm decent is because its the only way my dad ever tried to bond with me, we spent almost every second sunday playing golf and he was not a patient teacher." you laughed, grabbing her hands and squeezing them gently.

"you'd still destroy me on the football pitch lee, now stop being so stroppy." you kissed her knuckles. "we're going for a kick around for our next date then." leah decided firmly making you laugh and agree, pulling the older girl into a proper kiss.

"now, would you like me to show you how to properly swing captain?" "oh fuck off!"

[forthechubbies]

Stowaway°One Piece Drabble I II

Zoro X Chubby!Reader

Your words were stolen from your lips as you were forcefully lifted onto the man's shoulders, your heart pounding with fear as you were carried towards the captain.

Your pathetic attempt seems to have no effect on the wretched creature. "Release me this instant!" "Filthy scum, remove your repulsive hands off me!" His monstrous grip held your feeble legs captive, restricting any chance of escape.

"Captain!" He bellowed, causing everyone to freeze in terror. "Stop!" A fiery lash scorched your backside. "You kick me again, and I swear to God-"

"What's the matter?" Luffy mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Then what's that slab of meat stuck to your cheek." Usopp murmured out of suspicion from his Captain.

"Ooh, looks like we've got ourselves a little stowaway," He purred, a sly grin spreading across his face. Zoro pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around your body. "She's an imperial, and she's got the power to bring the whole damn navy down on us." His voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

"Ouch..." you groaned, rolling your eyes at the agony shooting through your wrists from his death grip. "Oh, spare me the drama, darling. I swear, I have zero intentions of harming your precious little boat... or its oh-so-charming crew, especially the lovely brute who seems hell-bent on snapping my wrists like twigs." You emphasized the word "lovely" with a sarcastic smirk, even daring to wriggle free from his clutches.

It wasn't til two girls and a man appeared where things started to get interesting; Nami took the liberty of informing the uneducated of your bloodline...and your wealth.

Nami was the first person to realize the trouble their in. "Zoro, Let her go! Right now!"

"Yea!" Sanji added. " You heard,Nami Swan,Let her go, Block head." Sanji bellowed, unleashing a insult mocking his pathetic excuse for a love life and his habit of manhandling stunning women.

In response, Zoro shot back with a devilish grin, " They can barely catch their breath, let alone complain." His words oozed with a shocking confidence, leaving no doubt about his ability to satisfy any woman lucky enough to cross his path.

The flames of the dispute ignited swiftly, ensnaring you to be caught between two rugged men. They were nothing but wild beasts, you mused, as you pressed yourself closer against Zoro, feeling the intoxicating rush of danger coursing through your veins. The confrontation escalated, teetering on the edge of violence.

You skillfully maneuvered your way out of the treacherous territory, evading the watchful eyes of the two pirates. Just as you were about to catch your breath, a tantalizingly long rubber band coiled around your voluptuous waist, forcefully yanking you towards the captain's commanding presence.

A rapid realization hit you like a ton of bricks. It's his arm!

"Luffy, No!"

"Damn it, Luffy!"

"LUFFY!"

You heard some stuff before bumping into the captain's arms. But Luffy didn't seem to care much - "Are you a real princess?" His eyes twinkled as he hugged your soft toy-like body.

You stood there, utterly astounded by his mind-boggling talent. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a sense of horror that coursed through your veins. "What on earth are you?" you whispered, your curiosity piqued to its very limits. And then, with an audacity that defied all reason, you reached out and pinched his cheeks, unraveling his skin stretched like mochi. "Oh my goodness... You're a rubber man?" It seemed utterly and completely... impossible.

Luffy giggled and pulled his arms back to his sides. "Hey, I asked you something first, so you gotta wait for my answer!"

You nervously cleared your trembling throat, a feeble attempt to steady your quivering voice. "Y-yes," you stammered, desperately trying to adjust your disheveled nightgown, hoping to salvage even a shred of regal composure that remained. "Tell me, do you truly bear the mark of a pirate?"

Fearlessly, He smiles. "I'm gonna be the pirate king."

Of course , you don't believe him but that light in his eyes showed his determination.

Pirates are real? The maids often would fill your brain with these nightmare inducing stories of cut throat pirates slaughtering anyone in their way.

Trembling with terror, you couldn't bear to stay put any longer. Without a second thought, you darted further into the ship, seeking refuge behind a sturdy, locked wooden door.

[muzanswaifu]

A Step Ahead - V (Chapter finale)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Yandere! Tomioka x Fem! Reader

18+

Previous Choice: "Stop and ask him where he's taking you"

This is the fifth round of the game and the end to the first chapter. Census has determined that you shall ask the man where he's taking you. Why can't you just listen? He's been angered. Tread carefully.

Warnings: Yandere, Slow Burn, Stalking, Kidnapping, Non-con, Kissing, Violence, Smut later on

-

-

-

You needed to get more answers first before you could make a proper decision.

Digging your feet into the sodden snow, you planted yourself into the ground, temporarily stopping his drag of you.

“Where are you going?” you burst out, forcing the words from your lips in fear they wouldn’t come out at all.  You weren’t saying no to him, but you weren’t saying yes either. It all depended on what his intentions were.

But the moment you stopped, you felt his grip tighten, his fist burning a tight ring around your arm that made you whine in pain. It scared you. But not nearly as much as the look in his eye as he slowly turned back to face you, his brows pinched and eyes scowling. You’d upset him.

“Would you rather I take you back to your home? To your family? To your mother?” 

You cringed at the question, unsure of his implication. “W-what?”

He scoffed. “I’m sure they would like to know that you’ve blatantly disobeyed them. Punishment would be in order.” Your eyes widened with his statement, dread growing in your gut. You’d never told him your family was waiting. You’d never even told him you’d snuck out.

“H-how did you know that?”

He never answered, returning to tugging you along with him to an unknown destination. His grip was far firmer now, still bruising you.

You tried to wriggle away, tried to rip your arm away to no avail. The man was strong, far stronger than anyone you’d ever encountered. It was like you weren’t even struggling as not once did his hold falter, much less his movements onward. You were starting to tear up, fearful of what was to happen to you. Suddenly getting in trouble with your parents was the least of your worries. 

“W-wait! Who a-are you?!” you cried, still attempting to take your arm away from him without any progress. You even tried unraveling his fingers from you with your free hand, but they were melded to your bone like steel. Your hand was starting to turn purple from the lack of blood flow.

“You’ll soon understand,” he growled sternly, giving another harsh jerk to your numbing arm.

Against your best interests, you began to wail and scream, overwhelmed with the pain of his grip. It hurt terribly, he was frightening you, it was all too much. You viciously tried to pull away from him, desperate in your attempt to escape, but he wouldn’t let go. Your legs ceased to move correctly on their own and the fallen ridged branches on the ground scraped at your legs and clothing, tearing them to shreds.

Suddenly he flung you around, pressing you up against a nearing tree and slotting you between himself and the trunk, making you feel even smaller than you already were. His hand was wrapped around your mouth, silencing any noise you attempted to make and slightly suffocating you. His skin was calloused, and he smelt like moss. A fresh rush of tears glazed your eyes as they met with his intense gaze. Your faces were only centimeters apart.

“Do you want me to tie you up? Gag you?” he asked, as if it were a common question. As if he wasn’t a danger to you.

You hesitantly shook your head, shutting your eyes and praying he understood you. He sighed and carefully released your mouth, laggardly in case you changed your mind.

“Then hush,” he whispered, leaning in until your noses brushed together. His tousled hair ticked your face as the wind blew it against you, his eyes piercing right through you with their obsession. He delicately tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“I'm doing this for you, (y/n).”

You gasped.

But that only paved the way for his next embrace, his lips instantly slotting against yours, closing the distance. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t get away. He tasted bitter like tea, minty almost. It seemed displaced as you would more so expect a man who acted like this to taste disgusting and horrid. Nevertheless, you tried to turn away, to get away from the unwanted kiss, but he wouldn’t let you. The hand that had previously silenced you returned, wrapping under your jaw and squishing your cheeks together, forcing you to remain merged and eliciting a groan from him. Saliva began to drool down the side of your mouth from how sloppy it was. Your head was becoming light, your vision blurring.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled away, a strand of spit breaking between your lips and falling down your chin. You openly panted and gasped for air, swallowing as much oxygen as you could. Your mind slowly cleared, and the gravity of the situation began rushing in again. Your body was shaking, a panic taking over you as well as a strange thrill. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was most certainly your most passionate, and you hadn’t even been participating.

“I’ll wake you when we’ve arrived.”

Before you could even answer, even comprehend what he’d said, a sudden strike to your neck had you choking, a darkness spreading across your vision.

You fell unconscious.

This concludes the first chapter.

[amourtoken]

So ultimately Sleep Token threesome pairings won the poll *however* I don't think yall would mind polytoken either so there's gonna be a bit of that strewn about through here

*nsfw below the cut, MDNI*

CW: threesomes, some aggressive behaviors, dom/sub dynamics, gross eepy men, breeding, raw sex (don't be like me), oral (both recieving), DP, light bondage, cum play, primal play if u squint, anal and general filth

to start off, here's my personal favorite three way pairings with them:

Vessel/iv

♡ this one is a LOT.

♡ they're both insanely possessive and touchy, dominant headspaces cloud their brain and all they can piece together is you're theirs and theirs only. Theirs to care for, spoil, fold in half and pump full of cum, just theirs.

♡ when these two are sharing you, you don't have to lift a finger. They're here to make you feel good! They get off on watching you get off.

♡ Vessel typically takes a leading position in every aspect of his life, this is no different. Although iv is very dominant himself, he'll follow the lead started by Ves and share his thoughts on occasion. Sometimes they have full conversations about what they'd like to do to you while you're inches away, and they just carry on as though you're not in the room.

♡ Vessel loves having you cuddled against him while iv plays with your body like he owns it. He'll hold you in his lap, praise you profusely and manipulate your body in whichever way would benefit iv the most. He's also not against restraining you while iv overstimulates you to hell and back, reprimanding you for squirming.

♡ iv adores this dynamic, sees it as a great opportunity to spend time with both his best friend and love of his life. A little unconventional I guess but it doesn't matter. When you're sat on Vessel's lap, legs hooked over his arms to give iv perfect access to your pussy? Nothing else matters.

♡ these two take their mf time. They'll touch every single square centimeter of you before getting to the actual sex. They want to unravel you, get you whining for friction and complaining impatiently so they can make you eat your words. You'll tolerate an hour of feather light teasing to be folded into a mating press and crying the next minute. Vessel is usually the first to give in cause he just can't help himself.

Vessel/iii

♡ I said the other was a lot, it's nothing compared to this ok

♡ Vessel takes the main dominant role here, maintaining control over both you and iii. He fucking thrivessss in this pairing.

♡ there's so many possibilities here but Ves can't help but enjoy watching his two subs put a show on for him. He'll sit back and instruct the two of you on what acts he'd like to see. It's almost a sort of foreplay to him even though it's actual play to you both in the moment.

♡ sometimes he's instructing you to suck iii's cock and will make you stick your tongue out to prove you swallowed all his cum, other times he's critiquing iii's movements while he's eating you out from your place on Vessel's lap. it's not very often he lets iii outright fuck you but sometimes if he really wants a show, it's like letting a rabid dog off a leash once he tells iii he's allowed. He'll almost tackle you to throw your legs over his shoulders and start a messy rhythm, groaning loudly cause you feel so good around his achingly hard cock.

♡ if Vessel isn't looking for theatrics, he's gonna play with both of you. His favorite thing in the world is having you both play with his cock at the same time. Whether it's both of you running your tongues up and down his length or one focusing on the tip while the other massages his balls he doesn't care he's just happy to recieve the attention. He's fucking gross, and really enjoys watching you and iii make out after he cums either in one of your mouths or all over both of your faces. He'll stare in admiration at you both.

♡ Vessel has absolutely made iii eat you out after he's filled you with his cum js

ii/iv

♡ tbh this might be the most lol

♡ this pairing makes you feel like you're being hunted for sport (and ultimately, they feel like you're a little prey animal)

♡ they'll stand over you, nearly stalking you like a literal predator. It makes your knees weak and your head spin. There's not as much chatter as there is between iv and Vessel here, it's mostly straight to the point. Due to this, it's a little less coordinated but much more primal and messy.

♡ ii is more insensitive in this group since iv makes up for it.

♡ there have been many occasions where you're laying on top of iv, with ii above you, and both are teasing the head of their cock against your pussy and seeing who's gonna fit inside you first. With great effort, they both will. Sometimes one will take your ass and one will focus on your pussy but they can't help but enjoy a challenge on occasion. ii is so fucking thick it's definitely just that.

♡ sex toys lol these two loveee playing with you like a literal doll, just tolerating everything they put you through. Iv will have your hands tied behind your back and a vibrator held against your clit while ii is working a set of anal beads in and out of you. You're drooling and whining and they're just watching your brain melt above you.

Polytoken!:

♡ hope you're ready to be the most exhausted you've ever been lol

♡ typically, there's an almost pre arranged order of positions here. Vessel gets to choose first, it's not like they necessarily had a conversation about it but everyone happily falls in line behind him.

♡ by this I mean Ves is gonna fill you up first. The others can figure it out from there.

♡ while Vessel is fucking you, your head is leaned off the edge of the bed, perfect for iv to fill your throat. Vessel loves reaching up and resting his hand against your throat so he can feel iv stretching you out.

♡ while they're going at it, ii and iii are enjoying your hands. It's a little uncoordinated but feels nice regardless. If there's room, iii is for sure teasing your nipples and leaving dark ass hickeys anywhere he can reach. ii would for sure reach between you and Ves to play with your clit, making you twitch and whine pathetically.

♡ ii might also try and join iv, the two of them taking short turns fucking your throat or both of them rubbing the tips of their cocks against your tongue, making a huge sticky mess of your pretty face.

♡ they'll trade off positions until you're so spent you literally can't hold your head up, which is fine, they can do it for you. You're in for a long ass night either way but they're gonna take care of you <3

[kayleighwinchester]

Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't: II

(( Here we go, all! The second installment of Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't! Sickeningly fluffy, for this one! As with most of these so far, much love to @artyandink for suggesting and running the Jensen-a-thon, and thank you so much for all of the love on part 1!)) Dean Winchester was a mystery. 

It was one you were slowly unraveling bit by bit, visit by visit; he would climb in your window every month or so, stay a few days, and disappear again by the end of the week – but slowly, you were learning about him, about who he was, beyond the charismatic smile and easy, confident attitude.

.*

You learned quickly how much touch meant to Dean.

It was like he couldn’t get enough of even the simplest contact. You saw it in even the simplest things – how he seemed to melt into every hug, how he leaned into each kiss, treating all contact like he was a man starved. 

He’d arrived far earlier than usual this time, coming through your window in the early morning; you didn’t want to know what, exactly, your neighbors had to be thinking when he scaled the tree beside the house to your bedroom window in broad daylight. 

You had only woken up about a half an hour before, and had yet to move out of your bed - you were still stretched out like a starfish under the covers, groggy and content, eyes half-following some trashy reality TV show that you, truly, couldn’t care less about. He’d given you that brilliant, million dollar smile of his as he toed his way out of his boots, folded his jacket and placed it in its usual spot on your dresser, and plopped down on the edge of your bed, as if he belonged there. 

“Mornin’, Sweetheart.” 

You didn’t reply – not at first. No, the first thing you had the energy to do was roll over, arms snaking slowly around his middle, your words muffled by his tee-shirt as you offered a mumbled, “Too early.” into his side. You could feel him shake slightly with silent laughter, his hand running down your back briefly. 

“What can I say? Wanted to see my favorite girl. Didn’t even get a motel this time.” 

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement, arms tightening around him. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position to lay in, even you had to admit that, and, a bit reluctantly, you released your grip, sitting up and scrubbing a hand over your face. “Where were you this time?” You asked. Sitting up fully didn’t last long – only long enough for you to stretch, before you were slouching forward again, your forehead pressing against his shoulder.

His voice still held that barely-contained laughter as he spoke once more. “Chicago. ‘Least it wasn’t a bad drive.” 

You hummed out another soft little sound, letting your eyes drop closed for a moment longer, before you spoke up. “Did you get breakfast on the way?” The last time you’d looked at your alarm clock, it had been just barely seven – it was a good enough excuse, you supposed, to try to stick to the healthy habits you’d been struggling to keep; breakfast was the most important meal of the day, or something like that.

“Nah. Bit burnt out on McDonald’s, ‘n I didn’t wanna stop for real.” He turned slightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. 

“I can make something.” You offered, finally forcing yourself to sit up once more, quickly turning your face upwards to steal a brief, light kiss. You never got tired of it, the way his eyes sparkled, the way his lips curled up into a smile every time.

“You sure?” He asked, watching you fumble your way out of bed, his eyes lingering on the tiny pajama shorts you wore, before they darted back up to yours. “You don’t have to get up, y’know – I can wait,” 

You shook your head. “I’m trying to actually start eating breakfast,” You informed him, “so I was gonna have to get up sooner or later.” You weren’t sure that helped your case much – he still looked a bit guilty, but pushed himself up off of the bed anyway. 

He followed you like a shadow, only breaking away once you entered the kitchen; you made a bee-line for the fridge, and he stopped in front of the crappy little coffee maker you’d picked up at a resale shop. It wasn’t the first morning you’d spent together, and there was at least a loose routine to it, though you were typically practically falling asleep at the table as he got the coffee going.

For a time, you worked in companionable silence – once the coffee was started, he leaned his weight against the counter, just following you with his eyes. You’d just started on the pancakes, a pan of bacon on the other burner, eggs on the third, when he moved forward, his arms winding around your waist, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” He barely more than mumbled it, his voice giving you the distinct impression that he was far more tired than he’d let on. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “‘N not just for the food.”

He was taller than you – you couldn’t imagine the way he was standing was particularly comfortable for his neck or back – but he nonetheless nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt him so relaxed – there was no tension in the way he was standing, his hold around you loose and lazy, his breathing even and his heartbeat steady and calm against your back. 

“You better not fall asleep on me,” You warned halfheartedly, though you instinctively leaned your head against his, even if your newfound positions made flipping the pancakes and keeping the bacon from burning a bit more difficult than was strictly necessary. 

“Not going to.” He said simply, pressing a lazy kiss beneath your ear, before he straightened up slightly, though his arms didn’t leave your waist, as if he couldn’t bring himself to lose that contact, his thumbs moving in lazy circles on your sides over your sleep shirt. 

He finally reluctantly pried himself away when the coffee maker let out a chime – one that was beginning to sound a little old, a little like you’d be needing to invest in a new one soon. As you plated the pancakes, bacon, and eggs, moving them over to the table, he busied himself with the coffee – yours with a generous amount of sugar and flavored creamer, and his black – before he settled into his usual seat beside you at the table, his leg just barely brushing yours. 

You’d barely gotten the first pancake onto your plate before he spoke up, the bottle of creamer held in his hand like he fully expected it to bite him. “‘S this any good?” He asked, studying the label intently.

“I mean, I like it.” You offered, continuing to plate up your own breakfast.

A beat, and then, as if he fully expected something – laughter, maybe – he asked, “Mind if I try it?” You glanced up again, startled to find that he genuinely did look a bit like he expected you to say no, or maybe tease him for it. 

“Go ahead,” You encouraged. 

He studied you for a moment longer, before adding a splash of creamer to his coffee, taking a drink. His expression lightened a bit, but there was a certain forced gruffness to his voice as he offered, “‘S alright, I guess.” You pretended not to notice as he added a bit more. You couldn’t, however, not notice the way his free hand settled on your leg, just above your knee, as he ate, his fingers occasionally gently squeezing – and it was only a few moments before he offered, “Really, Y/N, thanks.” He paused for a moment, before he added, “This’s… Nice.” His expression screamed that there were probably a million other words he could have used, but even that one spoke volumes.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, generally, with neither of you being particularly fond of mornings, and this time was no different; the longer he sat there, the more you could see the exhaustion creeping onto his face, the way his eyes began to gloss over just a little, the way his shoulders slumped. If he really had driven all the way from Chicago, presumably through the night, one cup of coffee wasn’t going to be a miracle cure. 

He tailed you like a lost puppy as you cleared the table, and as you gave the dishes a quick rinse off, intending to leave them for later, his arms snaked around your waist once more, his chin resting against the crown of your head. You didn’t have to look up to know his eyes were probably rapidly closing. Still, you’d known him long enough to know his stubborn nature, so you gently offered, “It’s still a little early for me,” A glance at the clock on the stove read just past eight, which certainly was a few hours earlier than you typically tended to get up. “I could use a couple more hours of sleep.”

You could practically feel him sag against you in relief. “I could pro’lly snag a couple hours.” He said – his tone, which attempted to imply that it was a ‘maybe’ and not a ‘definitely’, certainly screamed that he could do with more than just a couple.

This time, his hands never left you fully as he followed you back up the stairs – first his hand resting on your back, then, as you made your way back into your room, his fingers found yours, the contact only breaking for a moment as he fumbled his way out of his jeans, finding a pair of sweats he’d left behind the last time, tucked carefully into the top drawer of your dresser alongside other bits and pieces of clothing he’d forgotten – or maybe left on purpose. 

You lifted the covers as he padded back over to the bed, flopping down beside you with a quiet groan that he couldn’t quite muffle – he always treated your bed like it was the most comfortable thing he’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. He rolled over, his arms snaking around you and pulling you close, his lips pressing to your forehead. His breathing had already evened out, soft and slow against your skin.

It was practically instinct, the way your hand moved up to comb through his hair, and you could feel his lips twitch into the faintest sleepy smile, and the words he mumbled against your forehead practically made your heart stop. "Love you, Sweetheart."

(( Tag List? Maybe?: @keanuispunk ))

[saltofmercury]

PART THREE OF THE BREAK IN PLEASE 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🫠

Pairing: König x f!reader

A/N: Thank you for being patient! I liked writing this one a lot.

The Intruder part ii (but I love that you guys call it part 3 of the break in!!!)

I told you what I was, what I was capable of. His eerie voice replayed in your head.

It sent chills down your spine. It was almost a week later that you sat in your apartment contemplating what you had got yourself into.

There was no doubt in your mind König could’ve killed that man easily but in your mind you knew that wasn’t him that night. 

You thought about texting him but every time you reached for the phone, you pictured the man that let you go that night and who was hungry to kill another man in front of you.

Your heart was set on letting him battle whatever struggle he had by himself. You could only hope he would attempt to try to come back.

*

König laid awake at night thinking of the events that unraveled just a few hours ago. He had been set on killing the man that trespassed in his home with you in it. He was blocked. He couldn’t bring himself to think of any rational decision but to end the man’s life. He kept thinking about how you had heard the intruder before he did. Was he losing his touch?

Death came easy to him, his job which was once just the military, became Austrian special forces, then became KorTac, trained + hired mercenaries. His reality of work had meshed with his real life, again.

He sighed. He walked around his house. For some strange reason, his footsteps brought him to this door.

Inside his home, was an office that was tucked away on the other side of the house. This office was closed and off-limits. He really didn’t even think you knew about this room. 

A key was tucked away above the door frame.

He reached up and unlocked the door.

Inside the room was a bookshelf tucked into the right side wall. A large desk with a computer monitor placed neatly on top of it. The desk inside was dusty, König had not been inside this room for a while now. 

This office was his therapy room.

Across the bookshelf lay notebooks, workbooks, and different textbooks on self-help, conversation books, behavioral therapy books, relationship books, and books that he never even got to read because he thought for a while he was finally cured from whatever voice was living inside his head. 

He approached the binder at the end of the shelf. This binder was the year he met you. He stopped talking to his therapist this year thinking he was cured.

He stayed up and opened the notebook reading his progress.

There was a checklist of what he did this year.

-being able to greet someone good morning. (complete)

-being able to go on a walk around his neighborhood (complete)

-maintain eye contact with a stranger (complete)

- Shop at the grocery store during the day (failed)

- give the cute girl the grocery store his number (complete)

He stayed up until 7 in the morning.

He knew this voice inside his head was good at using those thoughts when he was outside on the battlefield, but when did he lose control of it when he was safe at home?

He turned on the monitor and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Amelie. 

*

The start of the second week had you hanging on by a thread. There was a dead end. No communication. You had tried to occupy yourself with work but ended up calling out sick. What usually makes you feel better? König. That wasn’t an option right now.

You busied yourself cleaning the apartment when your phone screen lit up. Sure enough, a message from him.

“Are you home?”

You bit your lip and gave in.

“Yes.”

Another message —

“I’m coming up.”

You felt nervous. You weren’t sure what or where you guys would stand after this. After all, he came back to you as someone else.

A gentle knock at the door, you ran over and opened it. Leaning against the door, König had worn the same mask he wore at night. He was dressed in a dark green flannel, black sweats, and running shoes.

You could smell the cologne on his body.

“Täubchen…” (dove) he looked at you, softly spoke your nickname. 

Your heart swooned at the pet name he had used for you. You missed him. His eyes looked red, worn out, and gloomy. 

You made space for him and walked over to the couch. You sat with both knees tucked under you at one end of the couch. König took the hint and sat on the other end of the couch.

He inhaled—

“I suppose I should start. I am the reason we are on a break.” He had started rubbing his thighs.

A break?

“I don’t think I came back the same after my last mission, I’m sorry for scaring you.” He exhaled.

“I think I brought a little bit of the mission back to our home and I shouldn’t have.” 

He looked up at you, his fingers were fidgeting. 

“While on this mission, someone took me by surprise and pulled my hood off.”

Your stomach dropped. Comfort and security had been stripped from him. You knew how much the mask meant to him. You yourself hadn’t asked to see his face until he was ready.

You bit your lip, kept looking at him, unsure of what to say next. 

“You don’t have to forgive me, but you should know I would never hurt you, I would never let anyone else even attempt to hurt you, and I think that’s why I turned so protective.”

“I know,” you said simply.

He stared up at you, bringing his hand close to you but flinching away, holding it into a fist.

“I wanted to tell you that I am working on it, and I promise you I am.”

“You are? How?”

“I just want you to know I am. I am seeing an old friend.”

You scoot closer to him and hold his hand.

“I know you would never hurt me. I’m glad you’re seeking help from whoever it is.”

Part of you seemed concerned but you trusted him. The same way you trusted him and put patience in him from the first date.

“Täubchen… I’m sorry, I can’t help what I am, but I can promise you to not bring that version of me when I am home.”

You smiled. It was a start.

He grabbed you, sat you on his lap, nuzzled his face in your neck.

“Can we stop being on a break now? I can’t sleep without you.”

[sinkovia]

Black Market: II

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

Your eyes shot open, and you quickly sat up, scanning the unfamiliar room around you. The soft bed beneath you and the clean, modern surroundings were unexpected, given the circumstances. It felt more like being in a newly furnished home than the aftermath of a kidnapping.

Checking your clothes, you realized you were still in your pajamas, and nothing seemed out of place. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you confirmed that you were unharmed.

Getting off the bed cautiously, you scanned the room for any potential weapons. Your eyes landed on a trash bag on the floor next to the bed, prompting you to approach it carefully and untie it.

As you sifted through the contents, your brows furrowed as you found your clothes inside. You pushed aside your confusion and moved to the nightstand, you searched for anything usable, but it was empty. With a plan forming in your mind, you unplugged the bedside lamp and approached the door with caution, slowly turning the knob and stepping out.

You hear noise coming from the next room over, prompting you to press against the wall and cautiously peek over. Your eyes widen as you spot a man with his back turned, busying himself with making coffee.

Moving stealthily, you approach him, intending to use the lamp as a weapon. But just as you lift it, he turns around, catching the lamp before it can hit him.

"Good morning to you too, love," he remarks casually, holding the lamp securely.

Your wide-eyed gaze meets his, and you attempt to retrieve the lamp, but it remains firmly in his grasp. A rush of disbelief floods through you as you recognize him from the courthouse.

Why the hell would he-?

You let go of the lamp and took a step back shaking your head “No. absolutely not. I already fucking told you I don’t want to be your doctor.” You turned around and immediately started walking back to the room you came from and grabbed the trash bag full of your belongings. 

You walked to the front of the door and when you reached out to unlock you were met with a digital passcode. You dropped your bag and turned towards him, “Open the door.”

“You are in need of money and I’m in need of a doctor. What more could you ask for?”

“I’ll find another way to make up the money.”

Simon stood against the counter with his arms crossed and a smug smile playing on his lips. He knew you needed this job, knew you needed the money no matter how much you didn't want to work for him. 

"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny," you cursed at him, frustration evident in your voice. "Unlock the door so I can leave."

He leaned back, his smile widening. "You'll get forty thousand dollars for a single contract I complete," he said casually, watching your reaction.

Your brows furrowed at the offer. "Forty thousand?" you quietly repeated.

He nodded. "You'd be paying off your million-dollar debt for the rest of your life with a regular paying job. And even then, you might not pay it off before you die of old age."

You sighed, running a hand over your hair. He was right, as much as you hated to admit it. You needed the money. 

"You need the money," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "And I'm not letting you go. So you better start getting comfortable sweetheart."

"Fuck you," you seethe, grabbing your bag full of clothes and storming back to the room, cursing under your breath.

"There's coffee hot in the pot," Simon calls after you, but you cut him off, slamming the door shut behind you with a loud bang. Simon's smug smile remains as he walks over to his basement, unfazed by your outburst.

Who the hell does he think he is?

You drop the bag on the floor and look around the room, finding only an empty closet behind a set of double doors and a small bathroom behind another. No windows in either, no means of escape.

Sitting heavily on the bed, you bury your head in your hands. It's only a few months, right? You'll be able to pay off your debt, and then you'll be back home again, far away from him.

Suddenly, you're on your feet, determined to confront him. You swing open the door and stalk around the house, slamming open doors in search of him.

Finally, you come to one that's locked, another with a digital code. You sigh in frustration and knock. After a few moments, the door unlocks, revealing Simon towering over you with that infuriating smug smile.

"Come to your senses, love?"  Simon's voice broke the silence, drawing your attention.

"We need to talk rules," you assert, and Simon quirked his brow, gesturing for you to follow him down the stairs into the basement. You hesitate for a moment before reluctantly obeying, your curiosity piqued.

As you descend, your eyes widen at the sight that greets you. Rows upon rows of different guns and weapons are mounted on the walls, the basement stretching out before you, vast and intimidating.

"Okay, John Wick," you remark dryly, Simon's lips twitch into a slight smile. He walks over to his desk and picks up his coffee mug.

Leaning against a nearby counter, you face him. "What's your name?" 

"Simon. You?" 

"Y/n," you reply shortly, cutting straight to the point. Your gaze sweeps the room, taking note of the absence of any medical supplies.

"First of all, you have no medical supplies: no blood bags, no needles, no medication, no defibrillator. How the hell do you expect me to be your doctor with nothing to work with?"

"Give me a list of everything you need, I'll buy it," his tone firm as he stared at you expectantly.

You released a breath, looking away from him. "I'll patch you up here, I'm not joining you on missions,"

Simon furrowed his brows, scoffing. "How in the bloody hell are you going to be any help to me if you're here?"

You shake your head, meeting his gaze squarely. "Even if you get gutted like a fish, if you make it back to me, I'll save you,"

Simon shook his head, striding over to you and standing directly in front of you, his imposing figure towering over you. "You're coming with me,"

You glare up at him, your resolve unyielding, "You can grab a gun off the fucking wall and shoot me. I'm not coming with you." Within a second, Simon grabs the pistol behind your head and holds it against your forehead. You slightly lean forward, pressing the barrel even harder against you. 

Simon had underestimated everything about you, but would he gamble underestimating your medical abilities?

"Why do you refuse to come?" His voice was stern and deep as he held your gaze.

You gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact, not an inch of fear coming from you. "I have my reasons, but if you want me to be your doctor, then I stay here."

Simon released a breath through his nose, dropping the pistol and returning it to the shelf. He walked over to his desk, retrieving a notepad and pen. "Write down everything you need and give it back to me," 

You took the notepad and sat down on the leather chair near his desk, jotting down the list of medical supplies you required. Simon took a seat at his desk, reviewing a contract he was considering.

It took you thirty minutes to write down everything you needed, meticulously listing all the medications, surgical tools, and large equipment required for your medical setup.

Simon would occasionally glance at you from time to time, unable to read your demeanor, which only added to his frustration. He couldn't understand why you refused to join him on missions or why you remained so composed after being kidnapped. Did you have ties to the black market? His mind buzzed with questions, but you offered no answers.

You set the notepad down on his desk and crossed your arms, awaiting his response.

“Where will all this stuff go?” Simon motioned to the opposite side of the basement, where sleek cabinets lined the walls. You glanced over, pleased with the ample space for your medical equipment.

He examined the list and began searching for the items you needed on the black market. “Should come in a few days,” 

You nodded and started walking back to the stairs leading up to the main floor of the house.

“The kitchen is yours to cook whatever you want. If we run low, just write it on the notepad on the fridge,” 

You nodded in acknowledgment and continued on, finding solace in the confines of your room. As you settled in, you couldn't help but wish he had just shot you back there; it would have freed you from the debt, the black market, and the haunting memories of your past.

By the end of the week, you had organized everything neatly in the cabinets of your designated space. As you finished sorting through the medications, you hoisted yourself up onto the counter and let out a tired sigh.

Meanwhile, Simon was gearing up, packing his black duffel bag with all the essentials for his upcoming contract. You observed silently as he selected guns, securing one to his belt and concealing several knives over his body. 

With a sniper case in hand, he made his way up the steps, his back turned to you. Without so much as a backward glance, he muttered, “Be back in a few hours.”

“Wait, how am I going to get in and out? What's the code for the basement?” you called after him. 

“Twelve twenty-five,” he replied before disappearing through the door. As it closed behind him, he added, “And no, the guns aren't loaded.”

You rolled your eyes at his parting remark. Killing him wouldn't solve your problems. You'd still be trapped behind the locked front door, food would eventually finish, and you’d be dead with time.

You prepared yourself some lunch before settling in the living room, turning on the TV to pass the time. After a few hours, the sound of the front door opening alerted you, and you glanced up to see Simon entering, clutching his side with traces of blood on his hand.

Moving swiftly, you rose and opened the basement door, beating him to the bottom of the stairs to wash your hands and don gloves. Simon followed, dropping his duffle bag on the floor before approaching you.

“Take off your shirt,” you instructed, your tone brisk and no-nonsense.

“Take me to dinner first,” Simon grinned as he shrugged off his shirt and reclined in the chair. You rolled your eyes, focusing on the task at hand.

“Bullet graze?” you asked, assessing the wound on his lower torso.

“He was expecting me. Fucker had twenty bodyguards,” Simon replied, closing his eyes as you gathered the necessary supplies.

Seating yourself on the rolling chair, you elevated to his level, swiftly tending to the wound. Your hands worked with precision, staunching the bleeding, disinfecting the area, and stitching him up in a matter of minutes. Simon kept his eyes closed, not even wincing as you stitched him up.

"All done,"

Simon's eyes flew open, surprise evident in his furrowed brows as he glanced down at his now-bandaged wound.

“How’s the pain?” Simon marveled at the swiftness of your work, feeling as though mere seconds had passed since he closed his eyes.

“Barely hurts. Scotch will help,”

You responded with a nonchalant hum, proceeding to disinfect your workspace. Meanwhile, Simon fetched a clean shirt from the cabinet near his desk, swiftly pulling it on before making his way back to where you were.

"What made you want to become a doctor?" his curiosity evident in his tone. Memories stirred within you, but you maintained a neutral expression as you responded, "I just want to save people."

"People are shite, why would you want to help them?" Simon probed further, attempting to understand you more.

"Not everyone is," you replied cryptically, your mind drifting to past experiences.

"They're not until they are,"

As Simon's words hung in the air, you remained silent, your attention focused on meticulously disinfecting every surface for a second time. His probing didn't faze you; you were determined to keep him at arm's length, unwilling to share any details about yourself or your past. If he wanted to uncover the truth, he'd have to delve into the darkest corners of the web to find any semblance of who you truly were.

Tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla @lieutenantlashfaz @neothewitch @birdienotting @jupiternighties @samiiii333 @elowynnlane @silverianni

[whenmemorydies]

Has anyone on here talked about The Bear's story progression following the three act structure often used in films? Asking cos I know there's a lot of film buffs in the fandom!

I'm thinking about this given Chris Storer's original intention to write The Bear as a film. I'm 100% sure this man has known how this show was going to start, progress and end from the time he wrote the pilot.

I also came across this diagram online:

Source: Studiobinder.com

And also this slight variation on the 3-Act Structure (with two climaxes at the start of Act 3):

Source: patricia-morais.com

Could the show, as it has run so far and how it could run next season, be mapped onto the trajectory of the second 3-Act Structure diagram with the following key beats:

Act 1 Climax: money found in cans of tomato; the pact made between Carmy and Sydney to build their restaurant together

Midpoint (Plot twist): Carmy gets stuck in the walk-in, a few of his relationships unravel

Act II's 'Disaster': Michelin-mode Carmy throughout Season 3/the fine dining industry itself

Act II Climax: Carmy confronts his professional trauma and Chef David Fields

Act III Climax(es): Carmy confronts his intergenerational trauma and DD; Carmy and Sydney confront each other over what they want from the restaurant and each other. Sydcarmy becomes a reality and they return to family-style.

I'm not a film student so keen to hear what others' views are on this. If there's meta already out there going into this, link me up please! I'm keen to read that analysis!

[shadesoflsk]

  — MILLION DOLLAR BLOODLINE

PREVIEW

In the middle of the glamorous and alluring 80s decade, a new case of crimes has started to alarm Raccoon City’s citizens. Politicians and cold-blooded people are stabbing each other in their backs, forgetting about alliances or even morals.  As a young detective tries to unravel the deep and hidden secrets in the city of freedom, no villain is safe. Meanwhile, a mysterious leaker and traitor is on the loose, working in the shadows to bring down those who drained innocent people of their lives and money.

pairing: Vampire/Agent Leon x Fem Detective reader

warnings: +18 CONTENT MDNI Rivals to lovers, crimes, messed up government, end justifies means type of mindset, set in the 80's, misogynistic terms, (from the press) gore, death, violence, blood, catholic symbolism, angst, Leon is a softie with reader, eventual smut, biting. (Read author's note for more information.) I'll write new warnings for each chapter.

CHAPTER I — Adam & Eve

CHAPTER II — Traición

CHAPTER III — Revelation

CHAPTER IV — Songs of Solomon

CHAPTER V — Judas

CHAPTER VI — Apocalypse

author's note: Hello! How's everyone? This is my first time writing a series and yeah... I have always liked mystery and crime novels so I knew I had to do this at one point. Leon being a vampire is a plus because I was dying to write him as one. But he's still the same agent even though he might nom nom on reader's neck once! (or twice)

If you have any other question regarding any warnings or content, feel free to send me an ask. (And please, read my guidelines so you know what I'm not comfortable writing)

I'll try to post the first chapter this Friday 2nd.

Take care everyone! Love ya.

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - drabble 2

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which it's the morning after

warnings: none

word count: 600+

author's note: the fluffiest fucking thing ever holy poop

previous part | next part

When Tara woke up, she tossed her arm out to the side, expecting to find you beside her and ready to cuddle for another hour or two. Instead, she found nothing but blankets, and she sat up, looking at your empty spot. She doesn't have morning classes on Monday, she thought. And she would've told me if she were working today. Where'd she go?

She slipped from your bed, threw on the nearest piece of clothing she could find, and shuffled into the living room, her feet cold against the wood floor. Her eyes glanced around the room, noting the rose petals still on the ground, until she found you standing by the stove dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers, a spatula in your hand. Perfect even in the mornings.

She made her way to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. You jumped slightly at the feeling before leaning against her. "Good morning, baby," Tara murmured into your shoulder with a yawn.

"Hi, sleepyhead," you giggled, turning around to kiss her. When you pulled away, you glanced down, and Tara watched as a blush painted your cheeks pink. "You're wearing my sweatshirt."

She looked down, smiling at the graphic design on the front. "Looks like I am."

"You look good in my clothes. I might need you to wear them more often," you said.

She's gonna wish she never said that. Tara nodded. "That can be arranged." You kissed her forehead before turning back around, spatula flipping the pancake you were in the midst of making. She unraveled herself from you, standing beside you instead. "You're cooking breakfast," she pointed out. Wifey material.

"Astute observation, Tar," you teased. "I got hungry, waiting around for you to wake up, so I figured I'd make something."

"It's not that late."

You tilted your head at her. "Tara, it's almost eleven o'clock."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, shit! I have a class at 12:30."

"I know." You chuckled, plating the pancake and sliding it toward her. "I was gonna wake you up soon, but you're here." You nodded toward your fridge. "Butter and syrup are in there. Oh, and feel free to help yourself to a cup of coffee," you said, pointing to your espresso machine.

She hummed as she opened your fridge, grabbing the necessary things. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?" she asked. You turned to her, your eyebrows furrowed. There was the smallest of frowns on your lips. I want to kiss it away, she thought, so she did as she sidled back up to your side.

"Do I really?" you asked, pouring more batter onto the pan. "I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing."

Tara shook her head, slathering butter onto her pancake. "It was mostly just little grunts at first, but then you started"--she giggled as she thought about what had occurred throughout the night--"you started reciting Shakespeare."

The spatula clattered against the counter as you whipped around, your eyes wide. "No I did not!"

She laughed. She's so cute all flustered. "Yes, babe. You did. I didn't really know what it was at first, but then I looked it up and you were saying lines from Richard II."

You groaned. "That's so embarrassing." You narrowed your eyes at her. "Do you remember what lines I was reciting?"

"Something like 'with mine own tears I wash away my balm, with mine own hands--'"

"'I give away my crown,'" you finished. You groaned again. "Not the damn Richard monologue."

"It was cute," Tara said. "You're just so nerdy that you're constantly thinking about literature." She rubbed her hand down your arm. "Were you dreaming about the play?"

You shook your head, going back to making your pancakes. "No. I didn't even have any dreams last night. I slept like a rock."

She chuckled, biting her lip. "I tired you out, huh?" And I'll do it again, given the chance, she thought.

You turned pink again, waving her off. "Just eat your pancake."

"I will if you recite more Shakespeare to me."

You huffed. "'Unquiet meals make ill digestions,'" you mumbled. "The Comedy of Errors." You glanced at her, smiling at her own grin. "So, hush up and eat your food, or your tummy's gonna hurt."

"...Did you just say tummy?"

"Tar, just eat your pancake."