#and atlas's need to ALWAYS get a word in

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part V

Word count: 13,626

Warnings: Violence, strong language, mild body horror, blood/injury, death, emotional and physical abuse, manipulation, unreliable narrator, shipping (nothing explicit, just kissing and suggestive implications), grooming (non-sexual)

Summary: Following Tango’s escape from Hels Tek, head scientist Atlas finds himself in hot water. With his sponsors unhappy and his scientists’ faith shaken, the situation quickly spirals into a full-on nose dive, and he suddenly faces losing everything he’s spent decades building. But fate is a funny thing, and after receiving help from an unexpected place, Atlas just might discover that some things do, in fact, happen for a reason.

A/N: WELP I did it again. This oneshot has to get split into two because Atlas’s ego wouldn’t leave enough room for another POV (he needed over 13k to himself, greedy bastard). So, the next one will pick up right after this and will hopefully be out in a timely manner (no promises ofc). Here’s a link to read the previous parts of the au and all the other info!

Note that there are some Helsmits in this, but there are also lots of random OCs/NPCs in the background. They’re not important, they’re just there to help fill up the Hels roster. And ofc, Atlas himself isn’t supposed to be the Hels of anyone we know, he’s purely an OC. Hope y’all enjoy, please reblog if you do! This was a labor of love so it’d really mean a lot <3 - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part V - to the strand, a picnic plan for you and me

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player just woke up to very bad news.

“Drowned?” Dr. Atlas Syn, head scientist of Hels Tek Laboratories, demands furiously as he leaps out of bed. “How could he have possibly drowned?!”

(An addendum: he’s not leaping out of his actual bed. Rather, he sleeps on a 2x2 pad of moss, the softest substitute for wool available. His real bed is hidden deep beneath his feet, within an obsidian safe room that’s fully stocked with armor, weapons, food, and whatever other resources he might need in the event of his untimely demise.

Owning a bed is a prestigious thing. Not all players are well-off or well-connected enough to obtain a bed from the scarce wool merchants in Hels, all of whom guard their rare sheep fiercely. Instead, most players utilize respawn anchors to set their spawns, as the materials required to craft one are far easier to come by than wool.

The only players who are aware of the bed’s existence are Atlas himself and the man who gave it to him, and that’s how Atlas likes to keep it. If certain enemies or rivals of his were to discover his bed, them breaking it is the least of his concerns.

It’s a privilege to own a bed, allowing him to bypass the thousands of blocks of treacherous terrain he’d have to travel if he died, but it’s also a great risk. Setting one’s spawn via bed or anchor doesn’t allow for the same protection as afforded by the default world spawn and its anti-griefing perimeter. Knowing the location of a player’s spawn allows for the deployment of traps- the longest death loop Atlas has ever seen lasted a solid month, and only ended because someone got fed up enough with the constant death messages to free the poor chump.

Anyways, this is all besides the point. Atlas leaps out of ‘bed.’)

“We aren’t sure, sir,” the player cowering in front of him says. Some new intern, Atlas thinks, which is probably why he was the one chosen to inform Atlas of this unpleasant development. “But there appear to be bloodstains on the inside of the farm-”

“Where is he now?” Atlas cuts him off, pulling up his communicator. It takes a bit of scrolling through all the usual random death messages to find it: Tango drowned.

He curses himself for having his notifications silenced. But really, who doesn’t? Death messages are so numerous in Hels, the constant beeping would be intolerable. Not to mention it would be a dead giveaway- pun intended- in any situation that required stealth or discretion.

“We don’t know, sir,” the intern says with a wince.

“How long ago did this happen?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Who last checked the respawn anchor?”

“We don’t-”

“Okay, let’s try this,” Atlas says, pinching the bridge of his nose even as a grin splits across his face. “How about you tell me what you do know, and we stop wasting time?”

The intern straightens his back. “The incident was discovered when myself and Drs. Riposte, Ironclad, and Heligan arrived this morning. There’s no evidence of a break-in, everything outside the farm is completely intact. The only damage to the enclosure itself is the chains, they’ve been snapped near the shackles- probably due to respawn. No one was awake when it happened, but the last person to clock out last night was Dr. Clear Cut, at 0200.”

Of course. Atlas isn’t surprised; Clear doesn’t know the meaning of a twelve-hour work day. What’s more surprising is that the mad doctor actually remembered to clock out this time. “Has anyone questioned him yet?” Atlas asks, grabbing his lab coat off its hook.

“No, sir,” the intern says. “But security is fetching him now, they’re bringing him to the farm.”

“Very good.” Atlas gives a short nod, pulling his lab coat on before swiftly exiting the room. The intern jogs to catch up, falling into step beside him. “Assemble the rest of the staff in conference room A1,” Atlas orders. “I’ll be in to speak with them once I’ve finished with Dr. Clear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Atlas abruptly stops walking, whirling around to loom over the intern. “And this probably goes without saying, but I do not want word of this escaping the premises,” he says, his tone dangerously light, a smile through gritted teeth. “Do you understand?”

The intern nods frantically. “Yes sir, Dr. Atlas.”

“Very good.” Atlas turns away. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The intern’s rapid footsteps fade off down the hallway, allowing Atlas to continue alone.

It’s a short walk to the lab. Atlas is once again thankful that he decided to have employee housing built so close to the actual laboratory.

(Every now and then, new hires complain about having to live on the premises, reluctant to leave their own bases behind. But it saves so much time, and he placates them by allowing them to decorate their rooms however they see fit- within reason, of course- and by giving them ample time-off to make trips away from the premises- which he gradually decreases over a matter of months.

Eventually, they accept that they don’t have time for a life outside of Hels Tek, and then things run much more smoothly.)

Atlas comes to a stop in front of the lab’s main entrance, pressing the button that opens the iron doors. He enters into a short hallway that leads to a piston door, casting a quick glance around himself before entering in the combination to open it.

(The laboratory’s design is quite clever, if he does say so himself. All the outer walls of the facility are four blocks thick- the exterior and interior decorative blocks, and then two blocks of cobblestone in the middle. They’re part of an anti-break-in system; an infinite piston tape and cobblestone generator combo that will replace any block that’s mined away, faster than even the best enchanted netherite pickaxe can break them.

Although evidently, all the clever designing in the world cannot account for the stupidity of players. What good is a facility that can’t be broken into if their one prisoner was able to break out? 

Even as he’s thinking about what next steps he should take and how best to minimize the fallout, part of his mind is pondering how they ended up in this situation in the first place, running through rapid-fire scenarios. He’s realized that for Tango to spawn outside of the farm, the respawn anchor must’ve been drained of charge. That’s not something that happens overnight- this is clearly the result of ongoing negligence, and he cringes to think how this might reflect on him personally, as head of Hels Tek.

Ah, but he’s let his train of thought get away from him again. He can worry about these things after he has his property back.)

Atlas’s footsteps are wholly automatic as he makes his way through the lab, towards the chamber where the Tango Tek farm is located. Stopping in front of the door, he fishes a slip of paper out of his lab coat pocket- his ID- and drops it into a dispenser embedded in the wall. The security system reads his paper and then spits it back out, the door swinging open for him.

Atlas steps inside, and the door locks shut behind him.

The room is empty save for three people; two security guards standing on either side of a scientist, hunched over in a chair as he works on a redstone component. His curly mustache is more unkempt than usual, the facial hair positively frayed at its edges. The man must’ve been woken abruptly, for although he’s wearing his lab coat (stained and wrinkled, as always) his shirt is partially unbuttoned and he’s not wearing a tie.

Atlas clears his throat. “Good morning, Dr. Clear.”

“Mornin’,” Clear replies automatically, not even glancing up from the comparator he’s fiddling with. His thick accent is even rougher in the early morning, a slurred drawl that never fails to get on Atlas’s nerves.

Atlas disregards him for a brief moment to stride over to the farm, the small glass enclosure against the opposite wall of the room. As promised, it’s largely intact and untouched- the only differences are the black bloodstains smeared against the glass, the snapped chains hanging from the sides, and the complete and utter absence of a blaze hybrid inside. As expected, the respawn anchor fitted into the wall has gone dark; out of charge.

Atlas turns back to Clear. “You were the last one at the lab this past evening, is that right?” he asks, neatly folding his hands behind his back.

“Right, sure,” Clear mutters absent-mindedly. “Got a lotta work t’do, you know. Ain’t gonna do itself. Gotta be perfect.”

“Of course,” Atlas replies smoothly. Normally he wouldn’t tolerate such inattentiveness, but he’s long since learned to pick his battles with Clear. “Before you left, do you recall if Tango Tek was still functioning properly?”

“Who?” Clear asks, unbothered.

“Tango Tek, the blaze farm,” Atlas emphasizes, managing to keep his tone slow and patient. “Was the blaze hybrid still inside it when you left?”

“Blaze?” Clear frowns, one greasy, redstone-stained hand coming up to twirl his mustache. “No, no, no, I don’t work with blaze,” he chatters, more to himself than anything. “Don’t do a lotta damage, them blaze. I’m more of a TNT-duper myself. World eaters, y’know, that sorta thing-”

“Dr. Clear,” Atlas says calmly, stepping forward, “might I have your undivided attention for a moment?” He reaches out and grabs Clear none-too-gently by the chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “I’m asking if you remember seeing the blaze hybrid, Tango Tek, inside his farm before you left the lab last night.”

Finally, finally, clarity sparks in Clear’s bloodshot eyes. “Oh. I suppose he was, yeah,” he says with a shrug.

Atlas leans in closer, close enough to smell the potion of swiftness on Clear’s breath (and thank the universe for that, because otherwise the man would probably be comatose). “Did you see anyone or anything out of the ordinary before you left for the night?”

Clear snorts. “Ordinary. Who decides that, huh?” Just like that, his gaze is clouded again as he starts rambling. “What’s ordinary to one person might be extraordinary to another, y’know. After all, everythin’ is relative, innit?”

Atlas sighs. “Indeed.” Releasing his grip, he steps back.

He never truly suspected that Clear had anything to do with Tango’s escape- the man’s mind is too fragmented to concoct a plot like that- but he’d been hoping Clear would have some sort of useful information for him. Evidently, it was too high of a hope.

“Go prep the flying machines,” he orders. “After I debrief the rest of the staff, I’ll be taking a team over to spawn to correct this little mishap.”

Clear gives a faint nod, already having turned his attention back to his comparator. “Right, sure. Just lemme finish this last-”

“Now please, Dr. Clear,” Atlas says firmly.

Clear heaves a sigh, sliding out of his chair. “Alright, alright…” He straightens his back with a loud pop before immediately reverting to his horribly hunched posture. “Flyin’ machines, right… where, exactly, can I find them?”

Atlas snaps his fingers at the security guards. “Do make sure he gets there, won’t you?”

The two players quickly nod and usher Clear out of the room. Atlas takes one final look at the empty farm before departing.

~*~

It doesn’t take long for Atlas to get everyone caught up to speed.

Hels Tek isn’t as large an operation as one might presume based on their reputation. Their numbers include fifteen scientists (including Clear and himself), ten security guards (including the two currently babysitting Clear), and two interns (for the time being).

All of them gathered in an average-sized conference room during an emergency might’ve been cause for a headache, if not for Atlas’s tight leadership. They await his instructions in stony silence, masking the nerves they must surely be feeling. Once he informs them of the situation, there isn’t a second spared for outrage or disbelief or panic- they simply ask what to do next.

They don’t have a protocol in place for this sort of emergency (an oversight on Atlas’s part, he’ll admit) but every one of his scientists is used to rolling with the punches. He quickly divides them into teams; one to search the entire lab top to bottom in case Tango simply respawned outside the enclosure and has hidden himself somewhere, one to form a perimeter around the premises to steer away any happenstance visitors, and one to accompany Atlas to the world spawn, where Tango most likely ended up after his death.

Atlas takes most of the security force with him as well, because even with flying machines, the journey to world spawn is long and dangerous. Every second spent chugging along through the smoke-filled air feels like an eternity, making Atlas quite aware of the invisible timeline closing down on him.

The longer Tango is free of Hels Tek, the greater the risk of him slipping away forever. And even worse, the greater the chance of Hels Tek’s sponsors catching wind of this disaster.

(There’s one in particular that Atlas shudders to think about discovering his blunder.)

For the most part, their formation of flying machines is left alone. Hels Tek is well known in this area, and has earned its reputation for dealing with troublemakers severely. Every now and then, they do get arrows sent their way, from bold (and stupid) players hidden amongst the landscape. There are also a couple close calls with ghasts, the monsters spawning out of nowhere in a burst of fireballs and demonic screeching. 

But it’s nothing they can’t handle. The security guards make quick work of mob and player alike with their own volley of arrows. Those Power V crossbows pack quite the punch, reminding Atlas how nice it is to have wealthy sponsors.

Which he might lose, if he can’t recapture their blaze farm.

Eventually, the biomes start to give way to the horrendous moth-eaten terrain of the outer spawn chunks. It’s barren as always, with no signs of life amongst the patchwork of holes. Once the actual world spawn is in view, the pristine natural landscape, Atlas signals for the fleet to stop. Flying machines can enter the anti-griefing perimeter around spawn, but if they stall or get stuck for whatever reason, there’s no removing blocks, so they’ll be floating up in the air forever. 

Which isn’t the end of the world, but it’s a meaningless waste of resources that Atlas would prefer to avoid if possible.

Fishing his water bucket out of his inventory, Atlas slides off the side of his flying machine. His stomach lurches as he drops, placing the water down just before he lands to negate any fall damage. Straightening up, he scoops the water back into the bucket and puts it away.

“We go on foot from here,” Atlas announces, as the rest of the search party follows suit. “Keep your eyes peeled, he could be hiding anywhere.”

“Yes, sir!” comes the chorus.

Traveling becomes considerably more difficult at that point, dodging holes every two steps. But soon enough, they reach the start of the spawn radius. Using the stone they’ve brought with them, they stack up to ascend the squat, sheer cliffs left behind by players long ago, digging for blocks the second they were out of the anti-griefing perimeter.

(Hels is ancient. By the time Atlas spawned into existence, the world already looked much like this, and has changed very little in the years since- as best he can tell as someone who seldom visits spawn, anyways.

But he remembers the day he spawned in. He remembers toddling over towards the cliffs on short, unsteady legs and dropping off the side, the painful crack of fall damage, his first damage, rattling through his feet. He remembers a sudden urge overtaking him, an instinct written into his very code, to start digging and gathering resources. And he remembers taking his tiny fists to the nearest block, an oak plank, only to find it’d been left by some other player to plug up a one-block hole that went all the way down to bedrock.

That wasn’t a fun fall.

He had to wonder, why would a player even bother to plug up a single hole in that disaster zone? It wasn’t as if anyone who’d respawned would have wooden planks on them, or a way to gather them, so it must’ve been someone coming to spawn instead of trying to escape from it. And so he’d decided, with all his two minutes of life experience, that it must’ve been done deliberately to trick someone, newly respawned and desperate for resources, into falling down that hole.

Just like he did.

That was also the moment he resolved to never let himself be outsmarted again.)

Atlas hops to the ground within the spawn radius just in time to see a dark shape flying up one of the netherrack mountains surrounding spawn. Before he can blink, it vanishes into the cliffside- probably into a hidden cave.

Well. Atlas had been hoping to find Tango here (even a respawn won’t have been enough to return him to full strength right away so he can’t have gotten far), but perhaps he’s found a witness.

“Fan out around the perimeter,” he says over his shoulder, as the rest of the group pull themselves up onto the level ground. “I think I see someone who might be able to help us out.”

“Yes, sir!” 

Atlas approaches the mountain at a leisurely pace, arms folded behind his back. He comes to a stop at the foot of the cliff and looks up, allowing a wide grin to spread across his face. “Yoo hoo, hello up there!” he calls.

Silence, unsurprisingly.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple questions,” he continues, voice cheery. “I can come to you if you want, we’ve got flying machines. It’d be no trouble at all.”

It’s a very clear threat, shoddily wrapped under the guise of politeness. And it seems to do the trick- a figure slowly creeps over the edge of the cliff, peering down at him.

The player isn’t very imposing; he’s pale and scrawny, practically emaciated, with big, hollow eyes. He’s an avian hybrid of some kind, black wings just barely visible poking over his shoulders. Interesting, but not important at the moment beyond what he can tell Atlas about recent arrivals to spawn.

He doesn’t seem to be wearing any armor, and as such, likely isn’t a spawn camper. Why else a player would hang around spawn, Atlas doesn’t know, but since he fled at their arrival he probably wants to be left alone. That increases the likelihood that he’ll answer Atlas’s questions readily, if only to get rid of them.

“... yes?” comes a soft, but labored, voice.

He sounds quite weak. Atlas’s grin widens. “Do you know if a blaze hybrid respawned here?” he asks. “He would’ve shown in the chat as Tango.”

The player seems to nod- a faint gesture from this distance.

“Wonderful!” Atlas claps his hands together, noting the way the player jolts at the sound. “And did you happen to see which direction he went?”

Slowly, the player lifts one trembling arm to point eastward. “Over… there,” he says, tone wary but seeming genuine. “Haven’t seen… him since…”

Atlas hums, pleased that at least someone is cooperating with him today. “Thank you very much.” He snaps his fingers- immediately, several members of the search party peel off from the group to head east. “Now, have you been at spawn for a while? Do you know how long ago he respawned here?”

The player hesitates. “Not… sure…” It sounds like he’s cringing, afraid of not knowing the answer, so it’s probably not a lie.

“That’s alright,” Atlas assures him, pulling up his communicator. He scrolls through the death messages again when something catches his eye. The first message after Tango’s death; Bravo has joined the game.

The only players that join Hels are children, new-spawns. They can burst into existence at any moment, with no rhyme or reason; sometimes there’ll be ten in a row, and sometimes weeks will go in between. It shouldn’t stand out as unusual… and yet, the names have an odd similarity that won’t leave him alone.

(Already, a part of Atlas’s mind has snatched up the idea like a wolf and ran with it. If the two events are connected- Tango’s death and Bravo’s entrance- then there must be something bigger than random chance going on. If there’s a way for players from other worlds to travel to Hels, and potentially viceversa, then Atlas has to be the first one to know about it.)

“Who’s this Bravo that joined shortly after?” Atlas asks, as casually as he can.

The player’s answer is just as casual, despite the way he sounds as if he’s on death’s door. “Just… a kid.”

“Mm.” Now that Atlas is looking more carefully, he sees an actual message from Bravo, asking for help. That message is promptly followed by several deaths, interspersed amongst the regular deaths of other Hels denizens.

Of course. Just a stupid kid.

(Atlas purges the idea from his mind, embarrassed to have given it any significant thought at all.)

Sighing, Atlas puts his communicator away. “Alright, that will be all. Thank you.” He turns away with a wave, moving to rejoin the search party. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The player’s response is so faint, Atlas almost misses it. 

“... thanks... you… too...”

~*~

Only minutes later, a new message comes through the chat.

AnimosityGaming starved to death.

Well. That explains a lot.

~*~

They don’t stay around spawn very long.

Since the spawn chunk can’t be altered in any way, there’s no possibility that Tango has made himself a hiding place by digging or placing blocks. So after a quick sweep of the area, they move on to the outlying chunks. Searching through these is a more difficult task than it’d seem, because despite the terrain’s barren appearance, there’s an infinite maze of tunnels underground from years of desperate players trying to safely make it out of spawn.

They split into pairs and fan out, searching for hours on foot until Atlas finally calls in the towel, fed up with bumping his head on the two-high ceilings. After ordering everyone back to the flying machines, they continue their search from the air, flying in concentric circles around spawn. Even this method is limited by the terrain- high mountains and low overhangs from the nether ceiling blocking their paths.

(He should’ve let Clear install TNT-launchers on these things.)

As the day wanes on, Atlas grows increasingly frustrated. Tango shouldn’t have been able to get very far from spawn, not in his condition, unless he asked for help. But Atlas knows the blaze hybrid’s mind quite well, and knows that asking for help is the last thing he’d do.

(It’s the last thing any sensible resident of Hels would do.)

So they should’ve found him by now, or he should’ve had another death. Hels is a dangerous place for anyone, even more so for a very weak creature with absolutely no resources to speak of. After spending his last few months in the farm, Tango should barely be able to walk. And yet somehow, he’s managed to evade them, and death itself.

(Atlas would be impressed if he weren’t so infuriated. Clever devil. He’s always privately thought that Tango would’ve been an excellent Hels Tek scientist, if he weren’t spawned as part blaze.)

As a last resort, Atlas swings by the Arena.

It’s been a while since his last visit- he doesn’t make a habit of it. Too chaotic for his tastes. But he knows its recruiters often pick up cannon fodder from spawn, and they’re especially keen on nabbing any kind of ‘exotic’ player for their fights.

The two recruiters that greet him, a cat hybrid and a large zombie player, heartily assure him they haven’t been by spawn lately. They even take him on a tour through the underground cages, where gladiators of all shapes and sizes await their fates. And sure enough, none of them are Tango.

The recruiters promise to let Atlas know if they see him. However, Atlas doesn’t fail to notice the sly look they give each other when he takes his leave. They’ll almost certainly be out to spawn soon, to try and catch Tango for themselves.

Perfect. Just perfect. He’ll have to have someone keep an eye out at the Arena, in case they actually end up finding Tango in the coming days. Normally, he stays informed on the major businesses of Hels through his various sponsors. But that doesn’t work very well when he needs to be informed of something he’s trying to keep from them.

Wouldn’t that be a bad look, for the blaze farm he’d just shown off as part of his big Phase Two proposal to suddenly appear as a new punching bag at the Arena.

In any case, it’s late into the night before Atlas finally gives up the search. The last actual civilization to check nearby is New Helington, and showing up there would be like signing off on his own death warrant. Besides, if Tango was foolish enough to seek refuge in the city, then Atlas will hear about it anyways, and at that point he’s already doomed.

Their ride back to the lab is spent in stony silence. Atlas can tell everyone is wary of his temper- and certainly, there’ll be a time for that- but right now, he’s too preoccupied with figuring out how to fix this. All he wants to do when he gets back to the lab is down a potion of swiftness and pour over all his collected research and data on Tango, in the hopes of finding a way to track him.

But as soon as Hels Tek comes into view, they’re flagged down by a scientist on the ground.

“Dr. Atlas!” FlySpeck calls, her voice tightly wound with nerves. “There’s someone here to see you, says it’s urgent. I tried to tell him you were out but he won’t leave-”

“Who?” Atlas asks, sliding off the flying machine.

“bXMiner.”

Atlas’s stomach sinks.

Whenever Alisker needs to conduct business, he usually does it through some other underling acting as a go-between. It’s not often he sends his right-hand man bXMiner, and when he does, it’s usually a bad sign.

There’s only one thing that could have prompted the visit. “Where is he?”

FlySpeck casts a wary look over her shoulder. “We put him in the lobby to wait.”

“Thank you, I’ll see him now,” Atlas says curtly, brushing past her.

He walks to the lobby at a speed just shy of running- it simply won’t do to be seen running around in a panic at his own lab, but he knows he shouldn’t keep bX waiting. Not because the man is particularly impatient, but because the longer he’s away from Alisker, the more Alisker’s mood will sour. And Atlas has a nasty feeling Alisker is already quite displeased with him.

(Of course Alisker found out. He has eyes everywhere.)

Atlas sweeps into the lobby with the casual presence of a man with nothing to fear and nothing to hide. “Hello, Mr. bX!” he says warmly, as if greeting an old friend instead of a glorified attack dog.

The man waiting on one of the benches looks over at Atlas with a grin. “Hey, man,” he says nonchalantly, rising to his feet.

He doesn’t quite match Atlas’s height, but he’s certainly the bulkier of the two. Broad shouldered and well-muscled, bX is a formidable force. His face, however, is deceptively pleasant, his teal eyes bright and kind. They match the shimmering diamond chestplate he’s wearing over his smart leather ensemble, as well as the trident strapped across his back.

(Atlas isn’t surprised to see it, despite the weapon’s usefulness being somewhat limited out of water. They love using tridents at the Arena, and it seems bX never gave up the habit.)

“Thank you for your patience,” Atlas says smoothly, coming to a stop in front of bX. “I do hope my staff have been accommodating?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” bX assures him. He gives Atlas a knowing look. “Rough day?”

Atlas manages a polite laugh, despite the implication that his appearance and demeanor are visibly haggard. “You could say that. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

bX tilts his head. “You mean you really don’t know why I’m here?” he asks, a playful hum in his voice. He’s having fun with this, the bastard.

“Well, I have an educated guess,” Atlas allows, with enough amusement in his voice to imply he’s in on the joke rather than being the butt of it. “But I must admit, I’m surprised to hear from Mr. Alisker so soon.”

bX shrugs a shoulder, scratching at his well-groomed beard. “People might not chat in Hels, but we certainly whisper.”

Atlas sucks in a breath through his smile. “Indeed.”

He’d known there was a high probability that someone on his staff was secretly reporting to Alisker. After all, Atlas hired most of his security force through him. But he’d been hoping they’d developed enough respect for him to trust in his abilities, and give him time to correct the problem before bringing it to Alisker’s attention.

Apparently not.

(One of these days, his hubris will be the death of him.)

Atlas spreads his hands. “I can assure you, Mr. bX, I have a perfectly reasonable explanation-”

“Save it.” bX waves him off, somehow still managing to seem friendly. As if he truly doesn’t want Atlas to waste his breath. “Papa Al wants to talk to you, in person.”

“Ah.” Atlas folds his hands behind his back, his smile sharpening. “You know, if it was that urgent, he could’ve simply sent me a message. Would’ve saved you the trip. I was just in the area, in fact, paying a visit to the Arena.”

If the pointed mention has struck a nerve with bX, he doesn’t show it. “He just wanted to make sure you got there safely,” he says easily. “You know how dangerous traveling can be on your own.”

(Translation: Alisker didn’t trust that Atlas would come voluntarily.)

“Indeed,” Atlas says, masking his displeasure. “Very well, then. Shall we take my flying machine?”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d offer,” bX chuckles. “It’s not an easy journey to make on foot.”

“No,” Atlas sighs, turning to head back outside, “no, it’s not.”

~*~

If the purpose of having bX fetch Atlas was to make him sweat, it’s certainly working.

The journey to New Helington is always long and arduous, but it’s far more nerve-wracking in bX’s presence. He spends the time making casual small talk and launching into the occasional story, as if their relationship is perfectly amiable. And even worse, he’s resistant to all of Atlas’s attempts to unbalance him, letting every snide remark and underhanded compliment glide off his back like water. As always, his demeanor is perfectly unflappable, as if the man is physically incapable of being anything but totally relaxed and jovial.

Atlas doesn’t trust it. He’s seen what bX is capable of. The front he presents only means that he’s better at covering up his true emotions, thoughts, and desires than most- which makes him even more dangerous.

(Because it’s not like anyone could truly be that content all the time. True happiness in Hels is like sunlight; unattainable, and thus supplemented by other cheaper means.)

Eventually, New Helington’s skyline rises in the distance. The city was around long before Alisker, the remnant of early civilizations that were griefed faster than they could be built, but it’s only been able to flourish under his iron fist and watchful eyes. They’ve seen great expansion in the last few years and will likely continue to do so at an ever-increasing rate. Atlas wouldn’t be surprised if the city ended up encroaching on the outer spawn chunks someday, if Alisker can be bothered to cover up the eyesore that is its current terrain.

“You can park here,” bX calls above the chugging of the sticky pistons as they approach one of the city’s gates.

Atlas leans forward to place the stopper block, bringing them to an immediate halt. “Lead the way,” he says wryly, as if he didn’t just drive himself to his own execution.

bX hops to the ground, waving at the player standing guard at the gate. “Hey man,” he calls as they approach, “keep an eye on this, will you? We’ve got business with Papa Al, shouldn’t take long.”

The player nods and steps aside, pulling a lever on the wall. The gate- a massive piston door- opens up to admit them into the city. Atlas follows bX through, pistons churning as the gate seals behind them with echoing finality.

No matter how many times Atlas visits New Helington, it’s a jarring adjustment.

Flashing redstone lamps and blocks of glowstone adorn the front of nearly every building, which are packed together in a haphazard array. The air is thick with steam and filled with sound- voices shouting and screaming, hydraulics hissing and pounding, metal clashing and screeching. There’s activity everywhere he looks; a player rushing out of a bar as bottles are thrown after him, a player tumbling off a roof and crashing through the awning of a market stand, a player chasing a little horde of kids while screaming about pickpocketing.

Truly, a brilliant reminder of why there are so few thriving civilizations in Hels. Most Hels players are unpleasant on any given day, but they’re even more unpalatable in large numbers.

The cobblestone streets are crowded, players packed together as densely as a piglin swarm. Atlas walks closely next to bX so as to decrease the likelihood of being hassled by anyone. bX is well known here- the crowd parts for them like fish in a stream.

Soon enough, the buildings fall away and the road opens up into a sort of courtyard, paved with polished diorite and framed by lush shrubbery (as lush as it can be in this biome, anyways). Looming on top of the hill in the distance, beyond the tall iron gates, is a lavish mansion made almost entirely out of quartz.

(Seems that Alisker has made good use of the piglin bartering farm Atlas had installed for him. Not that the man will likely recall that particular favor during this meeting.)

bX approaches the gate first, nodding at the two players standing guard. “Hey guys,” he greets them pleasantly. “Got a friend here to see Papa Al.”

The guards exchange a knowing look. “Sure thing, sir,” one of them says, stepping aside to open the gate for them.

Atlas gives them a pointed grin as he passes; he refuses to show even the slightest amount of trepidation lest they realize their assumptions were correct. For all they know, he could be here on perfectly pleasant business, or even a social call.

(Yeah, right.)

The paved path to the front doors slopes gently upwards as it curves this way and that, taking a rather lackadaisical route through the garden. If Atlas were here under different circumstances, he might spare a second to appreciate the landscaping. Not because he has any particular interest in building aesthetics, but because of what it represents. To own so much excess land in a crowded city like New Helington that serves no purpose except to look pretty is quite the power play.

There are no guards at the front doors, which open up into a grand entry chamber reminiscent of a lobby. In the middle of the room, a receptionist sits within the center of a circular desk. She straightens up at their arrival, notices bX, relaxes, notices Atlas, quirks a brow, and then goes right back to her paperwork, an amused smile playing on her lips.

Atlas is certain they’ll all be talking about his visit today, and the thought only sours his mood even further. He’s invested a great deal of time and effort into crafting his reputation as the intelligent, business-savvy, and ruthless head of Hels Tek; he’s not happy about being treated like a misbehaving child.

bX wastes no time leading Atlas to an elevator at the side of the lobby. After bX spins the floor selecting key in its item frame a few times, the redstone lamp in the wall lights up, and the pistons beneath their feet start to churn. The elevator jolts at the movement, starting to ascend in jerky lurches.

(It sounds a lot like the flying machines Atlas has been listening to all day and night. He’s really starting to hate that sound.)

It doesn’t take long for them to reach their floor. The elevator grows still and silent, the redstone lamp going dark, and opens up into a long hallway with a single door at the end.

bX gives Atlas a sideways glance, mouth quirked into a smile. “Three guesses as to what’s behind Door Number One.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Atlas huffs.

“Alright, alright,” bX chuckles, stepping out of the elevator. He leads the way down the hall, stopping in front of the door and rapping his fist against it.

“Hollo?” comes a distinctive voice from inside. “Who isss it?”

“Honey, I’m home,” bX drawls, his voice lighting up with mirth.

There’s a gasp. “bX! That you, sweet face? Come in!”

bX opens the door, and the two of them step inside.

Atlas has been inside Alisker’s office only a few times before- they rarely conduct business in person- but it’s clearly seen some renovations since then. Most of the walls are quartz, a mixture of smooth and polished, while the back wall is made of glass. It provides an excellent view over the lush backyard gardens of the gated property. And to top it all off, the floor is paved entirely with solid diamond blocks.

(Tacky, sure, but also an undisputable show of wealth.)

The man sitting at the desk is just as flashy. He wears a bright teal suit, dyed the exact shade of diamond, and is wearing several of the little stones on his fingers. His actual features, however, are more plain; short brown hair that’s neatly combed back and wide brown eyes set in a somewhat soft, rounded face. The only thing unusual about him are the dozens of thin lines that haphazardly zig-zag across every inch of his face, like paper cuts.

(Atlas doesn’t let himself stare; Alisker loves making people uncomfortable.)

bX waves Atlas inside before closing the door behind them and crossing over to the desk. “Sorry it took so long,” he says ruefully.

“Spank you, queenie,” Alisker hums, tilting his head up to kiss bX on the cheek.

(Atlas isn’t fooled by the tenderness of the gesture; it’s nothing more than a display of power. Showing outright affection to someone like that plainly exposes a weak spot, like baring your throat to a knife. Alisker is saying, in no uncertain terms, that this is his house, and he can do whatever he damn well pleases with no fear of retribution.)

bX moves away to stand in front of the door. Alisker now turns to Atlas, a broad grin splitting across his face. “Doc-tor Sinny!” he croons. “It’s been sooo long since I’ve seen dat beautiful face. Come in, come in! Just sit back, and relax.”

Atlas sits down in the solitary chair before Alisker’s desk, offering a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Alisker-”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Alisker tsks, giving him a bemused look. “How many times I told you? Call me Papa Al.”

Ugh. “Papa Al,” Atlas corrects himself begrudgingly, his smile strained. “I assure you, I can explain-”

“No need,” Alisker says loftily. He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “Look into my eyes, and nufin’ but my eyes.”

Atlas has already prepared himself, but his stomach still jolts when the rest of Alisker’s eyes open up. Every line on his face peels open into a pair of lids, behind which an eye peers out. They’re not symmetrical in size, color, location, or orientation- it’s as if someone’s scooped a bucketful of mismatched eyes out of a bin and crammed them into Alisker’s face at random, wherever they’d fit. His forehead, the bridge of his nose, cheeks, jawline, chin- they all twitch and blink and roll completely out of sync, as if trying to look everywhere at once.

But Atlas has seen all this before, and manages to keep his gaze centered on Alisker’s main eyes, the only two located where eyes are normally found.

“I already know alllll about wha’ happened, mhmm,” Alisker says emphatically, nodding his head. His various eyes roll around in multiple directions at the movement. “I must admit, I- I was shocked- no, I was hurt, dat you didn’t tell me yourself. What’s dat about?”

Atlas inclines his head. “I do apologize for the secrecy,” he says mildly, “but I can assure you, this is just a minor setback. I didn’t see the need to bother you with this when I knew we’d have him back soon enough-”

“But you don’t,” Alisker interrupts pointedly. “How long it’s been, a day and a hoff? Two? Almost two days since you lost the blazey farm, and I gotta say, I’m not- I’m not happy.” Absent-mindedly, he scratches at his cheek- the three eyeballs crammed into the flesh there quickly squeeze shut against his fingertips. “I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d just told me, you know.”

That’s a blatant lie, Atlas knows. He feels himself bristle. “I was just-”

“I gotta know dese things, Atlas!” Alisker interrupts, his tone chiding- like he’s scolding a child. Some of his eyes are looking at each other, as if exchanging a private glance. “Dat’s my investment at stake!”

Atlas talks a breath, centering himself. “You know I appreciate your investment in Hels Tek,” he begins smoothly, spreading his hands, “and I fully intend to deliver. But as inconvenient as this development was, we don’t need him anymore.” His lips split into a winning smile. “We have virtually infinite blaze rods stored up, absolutely no problem there, and I feel as though we’ve more than proven the concept of hybrid powered farms to be a success. We can still proceed with Phase Two-”

“Oh, can we?” Alisker asks in mock surprise, cocking his head to the side. Several of his eyes are looking Atlas up and down, scanning so intently it makes his skin crawl. “You really fink I’m gonna lend you even more of my guys and my pwecious resources so you can go catch more mob hybrids to lose? If you can’t even keep ahold a one, how am I supposed ta trust you wif a whole factory, hm?” 

Keep it together. “I understand your trepidation, I do,” Atlas says calmly. “Look, we’re both businessmen. Let’s just discuss this rationally. You’ve known me a long time, I’ve proven myself to you-”

“You’ve proven dat you can’t be trusted,” Alisker snaps, finally letting some heat into his voice. “I spent all dese years funding your research, supplying your security guys, providing you wif all da information you need to be a success, the very bed you sleep on, and dis is how you repay me?”

(Atlas could point out he doesn’t actually sleep on the bed Alisker gifted him, but that information doesn’t seem pertinent at the moment.)

“I don’t- I don’t love it, Atlas,” Alisker continues, his tone grave. His eyes are glaring now, all narrow slits of pupils. “And right now, I don’t love your face.”

Atlas’s stomach drops. “Papa Al, please-”

“You were nufin’ when I found you,” Alisker says darkly, leaning back in his chair. “And if you’ve forgotten, then bX over here will remind you.”

He snaps his fingers.

bX suddenly appears next to Atlas. He doesn’t fight as bX grabs him by the front of his shirt, heaving him out of the chair until their faces are only inches apart, close enough for Atlas to smell the saltwater that always seems to hang off bX’s breath despite them being thousands of blocks away from the nearest ocean.

“Nothin’ personal,” bX chuckles before throwing Atlas against the wall.

The blow shudders through Atlas’s skull, knocking his shades clean off. He manages to stay on his feet, clutching his head and straightening up just in time to see the first punch swing towards his face.

He retreats into his mind right before the impact.

(This is probably how bX manages to stay so collected, Atlas thinks to himself, observing with detached interest while his body is beaten. bX gets to let out all his frustrations on whatever unfortunate player Alisker sics him on that day. It’s something Atlas can relate to, somewhat. After all, there are times where he has to use a little force of his own to keep his staff in line and remind them who’s in charge- because some of them still only respond to violence, the brutish law of beasts.

But he can never let himself go this far. If he did, he’d lose their faith completely. Why would they stay with him if Hels Tek wasn’t better- more civil, more orderly- than the alternative, the lawless wasteland of Hels?

Besides, he hates to admit to himself how good it feels to use violence, so he avoids it when he can. He prefers to use the more elegant method of psychological torture to break a spirit. There’s beauty in laying a trap like that, in spinning delicate spiderwebs of lies and manipulation until his victim is so thoroughly ensnared they can’t even think to fight back. It works like a charm- most of the time, that is- and it’s far less messy.

Of course, that’s not to say Alisker’s methods are ineffective. Atlas has been dreading this meeting for very good reason.)

He isn’t sure how much time passes before the beating is over. When he comes back to himself, he’s on the floor, curled onto his side. One of his eyes won’t open all the way, pain radiating through his skull. It’s only dimmed by the pain pulsing through his chest and stomach- he’ll likely have some boot-shaped bruises come morning.

He can taste blood from a split lip, smeared against his teeth- he runs his tongue along them just to check he hasn’t lost any, because those don’t always respawn.

Another small mercy; once the room stops spinning, Atlas sees his shades lying on the floor a few feet away, without so much as a crack in the lenses. Taking a slow, deep breath, he pushes himself upright- and grits his teeth against the wave of nausea that crashes over him.

(Any hope of leaving with his dignity intact has been utterly destroyed, but at the very least, he’d like to not lose his lunch all over Alisker’s diamond floor.)

Atlas can’t know for sure without checking his communicator, but he’s fairly certain he must only have one or two hearts of health left. Carefully, he reaches for his shades, placing them back on his face before pulling himself to his feet.

bX is on the other side of the desk, hands braced on it as he leans over to whisper something in Alisker’s ear, which makes him chuckle. His extra eyes have closed once more, leaving just the two normal ones eyeing Atlas as he stands, one brow quirked.

“Well?” Alisker prompts, almost sounding bored.

Atlas chokes back his anger. “Message received,” he breathes, grinning despite the sharp pain in his lip. “It was a mistake I won’t be making again.”

Alisker snorts. “If you even get da chonce…” Seemingly satisfied, he turns away from Atlas and runs a hand up bX’s arm, letting it rest at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t even look over as he adds, “I trust you can find your own way out?”

(What was it that Atlas called bX, an attack dog? More like a glorified lap dog.)

“Of course,” Atlas says shortly, heading for the door just as bX leans down to meet Alisker’s lips. “Good day, gentlemen.”

It’s humiliating, to take his own leave from the mansion in such a sorry state. He thinks it almost would’ve been less humiliating if Alisker had him dragged and thrown out, instead of forcing him to leave with his tail tucked between his legs.

He briefly debates taking a short walk off a tall building to respawn his injuries away, and to save himself the trip back to the lab, but having the death against him would be even more of a bruise to his pride.

And he’ll be damned if he lets them keep his flying machine.

~*~

After a long flight back home, Atlas is greeted with even more bad news.

Four of his security guards have quit. The cowards couldn’t even stick around to hand over their resignations in person. Sensing the start of a worrying trend, Atlas quickly assembles the rest of the staff for a meeting.

(Normally he’d give it a few days for his injuries to heal, but this is important. Besides, it’s not like they couldn’t guess what happened. A visit to Alisker is never a good thing.)

Atlas explains that yes, their chief sponsor is informed of the Tango situation, and yes, he’s quite unhappy about it. But he also explains that this is just a little snag, and that efforts to recapture Tango will begin anew very soon. In the meantime, he expects business to proceed as usual; they have plenty of other projects that require attention, and all reports are due at their normal times.

That refocuses some of the heavily work-driven scientists. But over the next couple days, there’s still far too much gossip and speculation for his liking.

And at the end of the week, three more guards resign.

~*~

“You’d better have a good reason for interrupting me,” Atlas says without looking up.

He’s given his staff strict instructions not to bother him. It’s no easy task, going through all their accumulated knowledge on Tango in the search of something that might help them track the hybrid down. All that’s come of it thus far were the coordinates of Tango’s starter base, which had turned up empty. It’d been griefed years ago, with no signs of life or recent activity. Tango probably doesn’t even remember where it is, but Atlas had the whole place trapped just in case.

The player standing in the doorway of Atlas’s office sucks in a breath through his teeth, like a wince. “Sorry, sir. It’s just, uh- well, I just need to-”

“What is it?” Atlas snaps, finally looking up. It’s the intern- no surprise there.

The intern gulps and holds out a piece of paper. “Dr. Ironclad resigned.”

Atlas blinks. Slowly, he rises from his desk and takes the paper. Quickly reading it, he shoves down the violent collision of emotions rising up inside him and drops the paper into the little waste bin beside his desk.

“Well congratulations, doctor,” he says simply, turning away. “You’ve just been promoted.” 

The intern makes a disbelieving squeaking noise. “Oh! Oh wow, sir! Th- thank you, sir! I- I promise, I won’t let you down-”

“You can go now,” Atlas says dryly.

“Yes sir, right away, sir!”

~*~

The intern-turned-doctor only lasts two days before he flees in the middle of the night.

~*~

Atlas’s communicator beeps.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I heard that old al pulled the plug on HT. True?

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Not in the slightest. If you must know, the terms of Alisker’s sponsorship deal with Hels Tek have become complicated, but the deal is still very much intact. The details beyond that are confidential.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> interesting. You know, we’re always hiring at iRaid… 

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Respectfully, fuck off.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> :P

~*~

Despite Atlas’s best efforts, word spreads quickly.

Soon enough, the rest of Hels Tek’s sponsors are at the door, demanding to know about the status of Phase Two. Atlas does his best to assuage their concerns, but they insist on seeing the farm.

And from there, things go rather poorly.

Atlas’s sales pitch, insisting that Tango is not a necessary component in the Phase Two expansion, isn’t well received. By the end of the visit, two sponsors have walked out on the company. He does manage to convince the remainders to give him some time, but they make it quite clear that the terms of their investment lie entirely on Tango’s swift return.

As soon as the sponsors leave, Atlas tears through their research on Tango with renewed urgency. But aside from observations about blaze hybrid behavior and habits- which they’ve altered by pure virtue of scientific experimentation and thus cannot rely upon to be constant- there’s nothing they can use to locate him.

They’ll have to do this the old fashioned-way.

~*~

Over the next few months, Atlas sends out several more search expeditions- but all to no avail. He finally gives up when the last expedition doesn’t return; three more scientists run off with the last of his security team to seek employment elsewhere.

There’s nothing else to be done. He has to accept that Tango must’ve slipped past them, escaping to the wilds of Hels. The hybrid is probably long gone, hundreds of thousands of blocks away.

It’s either that, or else…

(There are whispers, sometimes, of players vanishing from Hels. Not dying, but well and truly vanishing without a trace, never to appear again, not even in chat. Atlas knows there are worlds beyond Hels- he’s an analytical purist at heart, and he knows Patho’s deduction is sound. He’s worked over that theorem enough times himself to nearly have it memorized.

But he’s had some of the best scientists in Hels attempting to construct a working portal for the better part of two decades now. If it was possible, they would’ve done it already.)

No, no, he’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing mysterious or otherworldly happening here, just a sneaky blaze hybrid that’s managed to evade him. All Atlas can do now is keep an ear to the ground and an eye on the chat, waiting for Tango to slip up and expose himself.

(It’s a hard pill to swallow. Atlas would greatly prefer if something mysterious and otherworldly was happening here.) 

He’d send a whisper to Tango, just to confirm that the hybrid still exists somewhere in Hels and put those ridiculous fears to bed, but they took Tango’s communicator from him a long time ago; it’s still collecting dust on a shelf in Atlas’s office, unused but fully-functional.

Atlas briefly thought it could be of use; communicators are unique items that spawn into existence with their player, so he hoped there might be a link to Tango buried within its data. But the data analysis he ran came up dry. He could call in a specialist to have a look at it, but those contacts operate through Alisker, and he certainly won’t be doing Atlas any favors.

Nevermind that. The next time Tango dies, his name will appear in the chat whether he has a communicator of his own or not.

Atlas just has to be patient.

(Hels Tek’s sponsors, it seems, do not share the same sentiment.)

~*~

“- such a big fucking deal?”

“I can’t work in these conditions!”

Atlas quickens his pace down the hallway towards the sound of shouting. Tensions have been rising among his staff since another one of their sponsors pulled out a couple days ago, and he’s had to break up several squabbles already-

“You don’t work at all! All you do is stand around complaining-”

“Hybrid farming is my life’s work, you asshole-”

“And what’s it amounted to, huh?”

Atlas rounds the corner just in time to see Riposte tackle Malvin to the ground. The scuffle between the two scientists quickly turns bloody- Riposte’s fingernails rake across Malvin’s face, who retaliates by biting down on the meat of Riposte’s thumb. Diving into the fray, Atlas wrenches Riposte off the other man, throwing him against the wall.

“Dr. Riposte!” Atlas barks. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Riposte is glaring daggers, but makes no move to break free of Atlas’s hold. “He started it-”

“Oh, fuck off!” Malvin snarls from behind them.

“That’s enough!” Atlas can feel his own temper coming to a boil. “Both of you! This behavior is not acceptable at Hels Tek.”

“Yeah?” Riposte pushes Atlas off him and stalks down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, “Well, I quit!”

“Good riddance!” Malvin shouts back.

It takes all of Atlas’s self control not to whirl around and kick him.

~*~

On the first anniversary of Tango’s escape, bXMiner drops by Hels Tek.

“Mr. bX,” Atlas greets him with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Been a while since we’ve heard from you,” bX hums, clearly not in the mood for small talk. “Papa Al sent me to check in.”

Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I hate to disappoint,” he says, trying to sound sincere, “but if I’d made any progress you would’ve already been informed.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” bX says, shaking his head.

Atlas’s grin is so tight he might just crack his teeth. “I do hope Mr. Alisker doesn’t see the need to discuss the matter in person?”

“Oh no, no,” bX laughs, cracking his knuckles. “He just told me to give you a message.”

Atlas sighs. “Very well.”

Gingerly, he takes his shades off, folds them, and sets them on his desk.

bX seems amused by that. “Again, nothing personal,” he says, winding up for the first punch.

Again, Atlas doesn’t fight. There’s no point; Alisker is relentless and if it wasn’t bX, it’d be any number of vicious goons sent after him. Might as well just get it over with and then get back to work, so it never has to happen again.

(Atlas doesn’t know it at the time, of course, but this soon becomes a yearly tradition.)

~*~

Time passes. Still no news of Tango.

Nothing in the chat, nothing at the Arena, nothing in the city.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

~*~

On one unassuming day, Atlas is pouring over his files on Tango for what must be the fiftieth time when three unfamiliar players burst into his office, equipped with swords.

“What’s the code to your vault?” the player in the middle demands.

Atlas stares blankly at the players. Hels Tek is being raided, now. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Security has admittedly taken a steep dive, considering they no longer have any security guards employed and are only eleven scientists strong, but he didn’t think players would be bold enough to actually attempt a raid-

“Hey!” a second player shouts, raising her blade. “We’re talking to you, poindexter!”

Atlas sighs. “Very well. I know I have it written down somewhere,” he says, reaching for the loaded crossbow stashed in an item frame beneath his desk.

~*~

biaxialcloud78 was shot by Atlas Syn

Hoaxboat was shot by Atlas Syn

Ballet Bob was shot by Atlas Syn

~*~

Their villagers were slaughtered in the raid, of course, bringing the iron farm to a screeching halt. Hels Tek has a villager farm in reserve, of course, hidden deep beneath the facility. But of course, no one is willing to fetch the replacement villagers and undertake the arduous process of wrangling them several floors up into the iron farm. Atlas would assign the task to someone himself, but of course, he’s too preoccupied with his own work to bother.

So iron production halts, and scientists start running out of materials, and by the end of the week, Heligan and FlySpeck have quit.

Of course.

~*~

“Oi, Atlas,” Clear huffs, poking his head into Atlas’s office, “could’ya tell Mal to quit nabbin’ all me spare pistons?”

Atlas can’t even bring himself to be irritated. “Dr. Malvin left three weeks ago, Dr. Clear.”

“Oh.” Clear blinks. “Alright. Can I ‘ave some more pistons, then?”

“No,” Atlas says, rising to his feet, “no, you cannot. Do you know why that is, Dr. Clear?”

Clear frowns at him. “What, you gettin’ stingy on us alluva sudden?”

Atlas feels himself smile entirely without humor. “Us? When’s the last time you looked around yourself, Dr. Clear?” he asks. “All that’s left of Hels Tek is you, me, and four other people. Our sponsors are dropping like bats and we’re still no closer to recapturing Tango than we were the day we lost him! Do you even realize how many years have passed without a single whisper of his existence?”

Clear, as usual, seems entirely unfazed by Atlas’s tone. “Well, if you ask me, I don’t see why losin’ a blaze farm is such a problem,” he huffs, absently drumming his greasy fingers along Atlas’s doorframe. “Ain’t we got other things to work on?”

“Oh, believe me,” Atlas snarks, “I’d be perfectly happy to move forward with Phase Two.”

“So why don’t ‘cha, then?” Clear asks plainly.

“Because our sponsors, Dr. Clear, don’t share the same opinion.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back, walking around the desk. “They require Tango Tek in working order as proof of concept before they’ll fund my expedition, and an effort of this scale cannot be orchestrated on empty pockets.”

“Sponsors,” Clear scoffs, as if he’s only heard every other word Atlas said. “Bunch’a ninnies, the lot of ‘em. What’s a sponsor know ‘bout redstone anyhow?”

Atlas exhales slowly. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, “redstone endeavors of this caliber don’t have the luxury of being entirely unattached from politics and personal agendas. No one will fund science for science’s sake.”

Clear shrugs. “Then we’ll do it ourselves.”

Atlas rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“We’ve got most the infrastructure in place already, ain’t we?” Clear continues, now twirling his mustache.

Atlas knits his brows together. “Infrastructure is useless without the manpower to utilize it.”

“Then get some manpower.”

“I already told you, our sponsors-”

“If I ain’t mistaken, Hels Tek didn’t ‘ave any sponsors when I joined up.” The look Clear gives him is surprisingly lucid, framed by hard determination- a shadow of the man Atlas knew so many years ago. “Just you, standin’ there with your trim black coat an’ a grin that said you’d ‘ave all of Hels in your pocket someday, an’ I believed it.”

Atlas is silent for a moment. “Is that so?”

Clear inclines his head. “I’m still ‘ere, ain’t I?”

“I suppose you are,” Atlas says quietly. “Thank you, Dr. Clear.”

“Sure.” Clear glances away, his expression quickly clouding again. “Glad to help. Now, about them pistons-”

“Prepare a flying machine, if you please,” Atlas says, turning back to his desk.

“Oh,” Clear says, taken aback. “Oh, alrigh’ then. Fine, sure, not like I’ve got me own work to do…” he mutters to himself, starting down the hallway.

Atlas quickly starts packing. Aside from the essentials, he won’t need much. A stack of business cards, his blueprint for the Phase Two factory, and the abstract of Riposte’s thesis on hybrid farming (which is now the intellectual property of Hels Tek, of course). The sales pitch is still as fresh in his mind as the day he wrote it, all those years ago. 

He’ll start with the cities. New Helington is off the table but while it may be the largest and most centrally located, there are plenty others he knows of. And if that fails, he has no problem poaching talent from other redstone communities and corporations. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time-

Clear pokes his head back into Atlas’s office.

“Uh, flyin’ machines are… where, exactly?”

~*~

Atlas’s first recruitment tour is a smashing success.

Six new redstoners to join the staff, with several more on the line and likely to join soon. Since security is still a work in progress, he ensures that every one of them is well-armed and fully capable of defending themselves. Once he has them settled in, he tasks them with whipping all the farms back into working order.

(In the years after Hels Tek’s mass exodus, several more farms have broken in addition to the iron farm, falling victim to glitches and overflow and lack of maintenance. The only reason Atlas didn’t realize this sooner was because he hadn’t had enough scientists to complain about the lack of resources.)

The feat gets accomplished in record time, as each new hire is determined to prove their mettle to him and stand out from the pack. Resources start flowing in, and crafting begins shortly thereafter. Soon, their storage system is well-stocked with all the redstone essentials.

It’s not a completely smooth transition, of course. Many of them have heard rumors about the decline of Hels Tek and there are questions about the empty blaze farm, which Atlas does his best to deflect. There are squabbles between the new hires and the old staff, squabbles about which office spaces and dwelling chambers go to who, and squabbles about what projects to work on next. It doesn’t help that the only scientists who stayed from the old payroll, including Clear, are the most eccentric and stubborn ones he ever hired.

In the end, Atlas assigns the new scientists to ongoing projects based on the skills and experience listed in their resumes, under the supervision of the old scientists (who he finds quite like being called ‘supervisors’) and with the promise that success will award them the chance to manage their own projects. That makes everyone happy, and Hels Tek sees a sudden surge in productivity, the likes of which Atlas hasn’t seen since before Tango escaped.

After two months, when Atlas feels that all the little snags that come with change have been ironed out and things are now running smoothly, he starts looking for new sponsors. He sends whispers out to a long list of his former sponsors, past and current clients, and affluent business moguls, announcing Hels Teks’ grand reopening.

Most of his whispers go unanswered- which isn’t a surprise, considering he doesn’t have Alisker’s name behind him (because although Alisker hasn’t formally revoked his sponsorship and still sends his monthly stipends, he’s no longer conducting business on Hels Tek’s behalf).

But some of them don’t. Some of them get interested responses, and with a little back-and-forth, Atlas is able to set up a couple facility tours. Once those go off without a hitch, the money starts pouring in.

And with it comes all the influence and notoriety that he once enjoyed; the peak of a mountain he feared he’d never climb again. He’s able to hire decent security (who are only interested in money, unlike the scientists that can be won over on the merit of redstone alone). The employee housing gets expanded, as does the facility itself. Projects are completed and approved for sale at a tremendous rate. Soon enough, even the Arena is sporting Hels Tek brand piston doors.

But even so, Atlas isn’t completely satisfied. That empty blaze farm burns at the back of his mind. And despite his recent progress, Phase Two still feels like a far-off dream at this stage, well out of reach- just like the hybrid who has all but vanished off the face of Hels.

(He still checks chat every day, just in case.)

~*~

<InstinctEV whispered to you> There’s a new redstoner settin up shop near the eastern wastes, seems big into farms. just so you know…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> And why, pray tell, did you decide to share this information with me?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> I tried to hire him and he told me to piss off, figured I’d let you take a crack at it.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> How uncharacteristically generous of you. What’s the catch?

<InstinctEV whispered to you> He seems skittish around monsters but you tend to only hire normies anyway. plus it’s only fair, I got five new scientists out of HT’s nose dive and i dont like owing anyone.

<You whispered to InstinctEV> I’d hardly call that a debt.

<InstinctEV whispered to you> That mean you don’t want the coords?

…

…

…

<You whispered to InstinctEV> Send them.

~*~

Atlas finally brings the flying machine to a halt, dropping to the ground.

It was a painfully long trip. Hels Tek is located a couple thousand blocks to the west of spawn as it is, and the eastern waste itself is several thousands more blocks still. It’s quite a remote place for a redstoner to settle, and the netherrack landscape is barren, bordered by an insurmountable lava ocean almost entirely spanned by a soul valley biome. Ghasts spawn all the time, taking out anyone stupid or desperate enough to try crossing or building near it- anyone hoping to head east will have to go around it, adding weeks and weeks of travel.

Even now, Atlas is keeping his distance from the glowing orange horizon as he starts towards the coordinates Instinct gave him. Dying now would almost guarantee he gives up on the idea altogether, because he can’t be bothered to make such a long trip again.

He really hopes whoever this mystery redstoner turns out to be is worth it.

There, in the distance; a modest blackstone structure about two stories high, fenced in by thick walls. Luckily, it’s far enough away from the soul valley that no ghasts are spawning. Atlas thinks he might be able to see the top of a farm peeking above the fence, though he can’t say for certain what kind.

Everything is still and quiet as Atlas strolls up to the front gate. Posted against the wall is a birch sign with ‘NO TRESPASSING, KEEP OUT’ scrawled on it. And on the other side, a second one that says ‘NO SOLICITORS, GO AWAY’.

Chuckling to himself, Atlas pushes the gate open and walks inside.

The yard is simple, but meticulously landscaped. Over on one side is the farm he saw on his way in, which he can now identify as an automatic bamboo farm. Not much on its own, but bamboo is one of the most rapidly acquired fuel sources; an essential piece of infrastructure for any large scale smelting. That shows good foresight, and at least a basic understanding of redstone mechanics.

Perhaps this trip won’t be a bust, after all.

Atlas comes to a stop at the front door of the building. It’s an iron door, with no visible button or other unlocking mechanism. He suspects it must be hooked up to a hidden hopper that reads a specific item, a ‘key’, before permitting access. That’s slightly more complex redstone, and shows a wise amount of paranoia- though of course, a truly determined raider would just break it down.

(It’s as if this player expects others to abide by gentleman’s rules without the threat of force, just the principle. Interesting.)

Atlas knocks loudly on the door. “Hello,” he calls, “anyone home? I’m looking for a redstoner.”

A sound pricks at his ears; the gentle thump of something or someone landing behind him. Just now, it occurs to Atlas that the second floor had windows- one of which was positioned right above the front door.

(Clever devil.)

He whirls around right as the player draws his sword. He means to say something witty, but his grin drops clean off his face as soon as he gets a look at the player’s face, because he knows that face, that messy blond hair and slim nose and pointed chin.

He’s staring at Tango.

Except-

It’s Tango, except the ears are too round, and there are no wither stains beneath his eyes. It’s Tango, except the teeth bared in a scowl are blunt, and the hand gripping the sword ends in fingertips instead of claws. It’s Tango, except there isn’t a single ounce of recognition or fear in his expression, just displeasure bordering on annoyance. And furthermore, there are no blaze rods floating above his head.

Atlas tilts his chin down slightly, enough to look over the top of his tinted shades, and he sees that the player’s eyes are green.

Not Tango, not quite- but close enough.

“I’m Bravo,” Not-Tango says in Tango’s voice, leveling his sword at Atlas’s throat. “Who are you?”

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a long time ago, a player climbs a mountain.

The cluster of basalt spires in the delta north of New Helington isn’t for the faint of heart. In this biome, the risks are many; fall damage, tripping into a sneaky lava pool, and nearly infinite spawning of those damned magma cubes. Even the very air, choked with an ever-constant downpour of ash, is hostile by design.

But Atlas is here for a very good reason.

He’s gotten a tip from Alisker about some new redstoner leaving traps near the borders of New Helington. He even went through the trouble of having one of his goons sniff out the player’s base, so all Atlas has to do is follow the coordinates.

It’s not the first time Alisker has informed him of a potential new hire; several of his full-time scientists came as recommendations. But this time, Atlas is less interested in what this player can do with redstone, and more in what kind of player this is.

<Some kinda mob hybrid> Alisker had written dismissively. <Blazey, me thinks>

There’s a lot that can be done with mob hybrids, far more than a non-redstoner might think. One of Atlas’s own employees just wrote a thesis on the subject. So for that reason alone, it’s worth making the treacherous journey.

(And he’d never admit this, for fear of hypocrisy, but it’s nice to get out of the lab every now and then.)

Glancing at his communicator, Atlas comes to a stop. Based on the coordinates, the hybrid’s base should be just in front of him.

The terrain has opened up into a small plateau, perfectly in line with the normal generation of these biomes. Except there’s the slightest jut out from the far cliff- perhaps a single block too wide than what would’ve spawned naturally here. The blocks themselves are right; basalt in vertical orientation, but the positioning is off. As if someone placed them there to cover something up.

A piston door, perhaps.

(An untrained eye never would have noticed it. This hybrid is clever.)

Atlas puts his communicator away and walks up to the cliff. He’s planning to announce his presence plainly and loudly, not wanting to waste any time or come off as a threat, but he doesn’t get the chance.

A snarl fills his ears, high-pitched and animalistic. He whirls around in time to sidestep the blur of movement coming at him- he only registers them as claws when they scrape the basalt cliffside behind him, leaving four shallow gashes in the stone.

Atlas backs up a few steps, quickly holding his hands up. “Take it easy! I’m not here to fight.”

The figure has backed up as well, pausing, posture slightly hunched as he looks up at Atlas and catches his breath.

The hybrid.

Atlas peers down at him over the brim of his glasses; turns out the hybrid’s eyes are actually red, not just tinted that way through his shades.

The hybrid’s young, though not quite still a kid- somewhere in what most players refer to as the ‘teenage stage.’ His limbs are growing faster than the rest of him, though he remains at least half a block shorter than Atlas, and his face is rounded with the last stubborn remnants of baby fat. Two oversized pointed ears jut out from beneath a mop of wild blond hair. And dancing in the air just above it are several fine cylinders, no thicker than Atlas’s finger, glowing with red heat as they spin and fizzle in a defensive display.

Blaze rods. The entire reason Atlas is here.

He doesn’t let himself stare at them long. The hybrid is watching him closely, those red eyes burning with a calculated intelligence that Atlas seldom finds in a player so young. 

“Hello there,” Atlas starts, keeping his tone brisk. If he tries to be too kindly, he’ll scare the hybrid off for sure. “My name is Dr. Atlas Syn, head of Hels Tek Laboratories. Have you heard of us?”

The hybrid peels his lips back into a snarl, showing off a mouth full of sharp teeth. The blaze rods floating above his head ignite with flames.

It’s not a surprising reaction. Most children in Hels grow up completely wild, at the mercy of the unforgiving world. But truthfully, the ones lucky enough to get taken in by other players or accepted into a community don’t seem to do much better.

Atlas suspects it’s part of an innate defense mechanism, built into the data of young players to protect them from the hostile environment until they’re able to properly look after themselves. Players generally don’t mellow out and start acting civilized until they’ve matured (Atlas considers himself the exception in this case). And of course, a hybrid will be battling mob instincts during any moment of stress or strong emotions, bound to their code.

Rather than react to the threat, Atlas shrugs. “That’s alright,” he says easily. “We’re quite a way’s west, word must not have reached here yet. We’re a redstone laboratory. I hear you know a thing or two about that.”

The growling stops. The hybrid eyes him warily.

“I’m on a recruitment mission of sorts,” Atlas continues, undeterred, “seeking out new scientists to join our staff. We’ve got lots of projects in the works at the moment- plenty of specialties to choose from. Now, you are a bit younger than we tend to hire for full-time scientists, but there’s an opening for an intern that I think you’d be well-suited for.”

The hybrid hesitates- his eyes flick to the side, as if debating whether or not to run. “What makes you say that?” he asks finally. His voice is higher than Atlas was expecting, strained with the characteristic cracking of youth.

Atlas inclines his head. “Whenever people talk about some new player building clever redstone contraptions, I hear about it. And from what I hear, your work is quite impressive for your age.” He lets just the slightest amount of approval enter his voice, not enough to be taken as disingenuous or overly flattering. “I think you could have a bright future with Hels Tek, with a little guidance.”

The blaze rods twirling above the hybrid’s head are glowing yellow, now- and there’s a warmer, less hostile feel to it. It’s likely no one has ever praised him before.

But he’s still on his guard. “What would I get out of it?” he asks dubiously.

Atlas counts on his fingers. “A secure base to live in, a state of the art laboratory to work in, full access to a complete stock of redstone components, nearly unlimited resources, and collaboration with the brightest redstone minds that Hels has to offer,” he says. “Hels Tek has caught the eye of several prominent beneficiaries; you’ll find we’re quite well-supplied.”

Atlas can almost see the gears turning in the hybrid’s mind. “And- and what would you have me do?” he asks, folding his arms.

“Well, that depends on you,” Atlas says simply. “Sometimes, younger interns find the work too challenging. But those that succeed go on to become full-fledged scientists running their own experiments, conducting their own research, constructing their own contraptions- with complete control over their projects.” He spreads his hands. “We don’t constrain our scientists to working on what’s most profitable, we let their passions guide them. Under this methodology, Hels Tek has recently made stunning advancements in redstone technology- with slime block flying machines and iron farming, to name a few.”

The hybrid’s pupils expand a couple of millimeters; the idea excites him. “You guys have villagers?” he asks, trying but mostly failing to keep the excitement from showing in his voice.

Atlas allows a knowing smile to spread across his face. “Like I said, Hels Tek is privy to several lucrative sponsorship deals. We’ve got all sorts of things most redstoners can only dream of. I’m sure we’d find something to suit a man of your talents.” Here he pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Though I must say, I hope your redstone prowess extends beyond simple traps and pranks.”

The hybrid actually puffs his chest up at that. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he says, his eyes flashing at the proposed challenge, “I’ve got plenty more than that.”

He suddenly strikes an arm out at the pillar of basalt beside him- a stone button, almost perfectly blended into the ashen gray landscape.

(Clever devil.)

A chugging sound fills the air. The two peculiar blocks of basalt Atlas noticed earlier are retracted by pistons and tucked away, revealing a small opening in the spire. Beyond that, he can see the inside has been hollowed out, stairs leading down to what must be the rest of the base underground.

“We can talk more inside,” the hybrid says, extending a clawed hand. “I’m Tango.”

Shaking his hand, Atlas grins.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tango.”

~*~

[explicit-tae]

i seen you did a request so i as wondering can i request something? 🥹

jk x reader where the reader gets cheated on by her boyfriend and she gets her lick back 💜 love your stories!

I'm sure I can do something quick 💜

Lick Back

Realizing that your boyfriend has become a completely different person & being malicious towards you could only mean that he’s being nice to someone else.

Word Count:4.298

Warning: dry humping, kissing, neck kissing/sucking, dirty talking, nipple pinching, praising, affair/cheating, oral sex, breeding kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, slight voyeurism, teasing/taunting, squirting,

Your mother always told you that if your dog started barking at you that it only meant that someone else was feeding it. A dog would never bite the hand that feeds them.

Your mother wasn’t talking about an actual dog.

However, you had a dog - in a way - and recently, it began doing just that. It became annoyed with you for every little thing you’ve done. It’s tone changed completely when speaking with you; always rushed and not attentive. It started to be mean for no reason, nearly foaming at the mouth when you questioned their sudden change of actions - or questioned it at all. It wanted to be outside longer than usually and would be upset when called back home.

The dog being your boyfriend of nearly 5 years. You noticed the shift a year ago, but you ignored your gut feeling of something being terribly wrong - but now, you are numb and though it hurts in a way, you are also relieved. The love that was one there in your relationship appeared to expire without you realizing it - or maybe you had not wished to accept it.

And yet, here you are in a home the both of you share. He is out, not bothering to tell you just where he’s at - and you don’t ask. You stopped asking a year ago when you grew accustomed to sleeping alone.

But even if the love for your dog is no longer there - and if it was, it was slowly drifting away - that didn’t mean the anger wasn’t. The fact that you allowed the dog to stay with you because you loved him, fed said dog his favorite meals and showered him with love and affections. They were supposed to be loyal - but atlas, someone else had gained its love while you were left in the dark.

But there was someone else who liked what the dog had, you noticed. Someone who appreciated the meals you cooked and ate them with ease, who would come when you called them. They were loyal - even more than your own dog - and it just happened to be the dogs friend.

Jeon Jungkook is an attractive man and he knew it. It showed in the way he struts, shoulders lax and head held high. He almost wore a smirk, but never a cocky one. Jeon Jungkook could be an asshole - a complete fuckboy. He could turn his nose at anyone because he had it like that - but he didn’t.

Jeon Jungkook was a kind individual. He was caring - especially to the ones he was close with. You recall many times when you’d had to call him because your boyfriend had gotten so drunk that you’d need a man's help - and Jungkook was always that man.

 And even though Jungkook was a friend of your boyfriend, he was kind to you, as well. He changed your tires on numerous occasions, making sure to give you the speech that “You need to make sure you keep up with your car, Y/N.” or the “Your oil and tire lights are on, how do you even drive this still?” he had good intentions.

“This is so good!”  Jungkook says, mouth full of the pork belly. He licks his lips to savor the flavor. Jungkook always wore a disgusted face when something was amazing in taste and even now, his eyebrows are knit together in confusion and he appears utterly disgusted - that was a good sign.

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” you smile at him, washing the dishes you’ve made when cooking. 

“I told you I don’t mind washing the dishes, Y/N.” Jungkook says, glancing upwards at you. “It’s the least I can do since you cooked.”

You sigh, smile never ceasing. “It’s alright. You’re a guest after all.”

Your dog wasn’t home and you don’t know when he will be - nor  did you truly care. His friend was nicer, more entertaining, as well. He ate your cooking as if it was fine dining, and appreciated it, too. He was kind and good at conversation - he was caring, far more than your dog. 

“I enjoy cooking for you, Jungkook. You deserve it the most.” you turn off the water and begin to dry your hands. Your eyes meet his and for a moment, you’re pondering if he’s thinking about your words the way you intend him to. 

“Thank you.” Jungkook grins, tiny dimples at the side of his cheek forming. 

You lean against the island that he sits at, quiet and content that he’s eating the food you’ve made for him. It wouldn’t be the first time you cooked for Jungkook - you recall the first time without your dog being present was a year prior. You had cooked and waited for his return and was left with nothing. It was hours after when you heard him return - this time not alone or coherent. Jungkook had slung the man onto the couch annoyed with just how drunk he had become and when you emerged - in nothing but a nightgown - he had apologized profusely. 

“I cooked.” you had sighed, disappointed but not the least bit surprised by the actions of your dog. “Do you want a plate?”

It has become a tradition now. You’d cook for Jungkook often and each time, he'd come and enjoy what you’ve made him - whatever you made him. 

Jungkook was no fool, as well. He knows just how independent you’ve become, especially within the last year. He knows that you know that he knows of your boyfriend's loyalty - or lack of - but you never question him about it, even when he prepares himself to tell you the truth if you had. 

Over time, Jungkook noticed that you don’t seem to care about your boyfriend's whereabouts - and around that time, he picks up on just how you begin to dress when around him. It was subtle at first, sure. You showed more skin - more legs with your shorts, more shoulders. He notes that the clothes you wore were tighter but relaxed seeing as you were in the comfort of your own home. You’d wear tanktops that showed your breast with shorts that made your thighs highly appealing for his eyes. Overtime, you ditched the bra and it became harder for him to not gawk at the way your breast looked in them.

Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything - you were so far removed from your boyfriend that you didn’t care anymore. One drunken wine night when the man was away on a “business trip”, you had told Jungkook that you hadn’t had sex with him in close to a year now - his own drunken response was that if he was your boyfriend, he would fuck you any chance he’d get.

Jungkook isn’t sure if you remember that night and neither of you brought it up after.

“You seem tense.” Jungkook is behind you now - when he has gotten up from his seat, you are unaware, consumed by your own thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

You slowly nod your head, turning it slightly to get a glimpse of him. 

Jungkook snorts. “Your shoulders are tense.” he says, gentle hands placing themselves on your shoulders. “Is everything alright with work? The car?”

“Yes, Jungkook. I’m fine.” you giggled. “You worry too much.”

Jungkook’s fingers begin to rub at your shoulders, applying pressure to them. You swallow, your hands gripping the edge of the sink.

“You should relax, Y/N. You’re always doing something and never truly giving yourself a break.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches your neck. They run up slowly, goosebumps left behind in its trail. Your eyes flutter close at how good it felt to be massaged.

“Does it feel good?”

There’s a drop in Jungkook’s voice - it’s deeper. He whispers it, as if only speaking directly to you, even if you and he are already alone in the home.

“Yes.” you murmur back, head falling back against his chest just as he reaches the front of your neck. A tattooed hand wraps around it, thumb caressing your skin in circular motions. 

“I’m glad.” Jungkook is subtle when he presses himself against you - so gentle that you don’t notice it at first. You're completely against his body, in blissful relaxation. “You deserve to be taken care of, too.”

Even now, you dressed so comfortably - shorts stopping high above your thighs and a shirt that sculptures your breast so lovingly that he had a difficult time not watching the way they bounced as you walked around the kitchen preparing him the meal.

“I don’t really have anyone to do that.” you whisper back, a slight moan creeping past your parted lips.

“I can take care of you…unless you object.”

You nod your head and instantly, his free hand roams down to grip your clothed breast. He can feel just how hard your nipple was.

You hiss, back slightly arching.

Jungkook engulfs both breasts in the palm of his hands and begins to rub, your light moans enticing him to continue. He can feel your nipples harden in his grasp and he himself begins to hiss lowly to himself on how heavenly they felt in his hands. 

There’s no doubt that the two of you wanted this for far too long by the way you completely allow him to touch you without any resistance. He presses himself against you needily, face in your neck as his hands continue to grip and pull at your breast.

“You smell nice.” Jungkook grumbles in your neck, nose inhaling your sweet scent; he’s sure he sounds like a creep, but he wasn’t going to hold himself back . Not now he’s certain you want him just as much as he does you. “I like this scent on you the most. This and the jasmine one.”

You swallow, heat rushing through your body at his words. Jungkook had memorized the perfume’s you’d wear due to the countless times he’d be around you. He recalls the time he even had to help his friend pick out a gift for you on an anniversary and how upset he had been when he chose the cheapest scent he could find - and one you’d never wear. Jungkook had swamped them out and chose the very scent you wore now and you’re none the wiser.

Your arms reach behind you to cup Jungkook’s head just as you feel his teeth sink into the nape of your neck. He’s being more rough; dominant. You don’t remember when the last time a man has touched you with such possessiveness - a sex-toy could only do so much.

“Such pretty skin,” Jungkook’s tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick onto your neck. “just want to mark it all up.”

“Then do it.” you respond. If you and him were going to do this, mind as well go all out. Your dog often comes home smelling like sickly sweet fruit perfume and cigarettes at times - you wanted Jungkook’s scent all over you. 

Jungkook does, biting your skin harshly and then suckling on it until your neck is perfectly marked up. He’s then quick to turn you around to finally face him, the both of you now locking eyes. 

“Are you upset?” Jungkook questions, eyes dark with lust but a bit concerned.

“With you?” you ask, raising a brow. “Never.” 

“Not with me. In general.” Jungkook murmurs, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently traces your lips. “I’m sure you know…what he does.”

You nod your head, leaning into Jungkook’s touch. 

“Don’t want you to regret or feel bad afterwards.”

“Are you?” you ponder aloud.

 You were so far removed from your boyfriend that you could care less about what he thought. In your mind, he was nothing but a roommate now; the two of you not even sharing a bed. 

Jungkook, however, was your boyfriend's friend and maybe he would feel remorseful.

“I told you that I’d never stop fucking you if given the chance.” Jungkook snorts, thumb tapping your lip. 

“Then don’t stop.” you murmur, tongue poking out to wrap poke his tongue. “I haven’t been fucked good in so long.”

Jungkook hisses, his hand now gripping your cheek. He shakes his head. “He told me what you like.” he confesses, unsure if you were willing to go down that route with him. 

“He was never really into anything.” you shrug your shoulders - this is why you ended up with a vibrator and a dildo; and you were currently looking into a vibrating dildo, how sad your life has become. 

Jungkook is aware of his friend's lack of foreplay - he was only ever interested in his own pleasure. Jungkook, however, didn’t mind pleasuring you until you were begging him to stop - but maybe he was just a bad person to think about his friend's girlfriend riding his face until she came.

Then again, you were being cheated on by said friend so maybe this was just his karma; it wasn’t like you were a bad person and deserve such treatment.

“I want to eat you out.” Jungkook declares suddenly that it catches you off guard completely. “Why do you look scared?”

“Just shocked.” you say, body growing even hotter. “Wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“‘I want you to ride my tongue until you’re squirting all over me’ is what I truly wanted to say.” Jungkook deadpans and blinks. “But I didn’t want to scare you away.”

You gulp, eyes widening and thighs clenching. 

“And by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, it didn’t scare you.” Jungkook smirks and instantly, he presses his lips against you. It’s a deep kiss that catches you by surprise, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave more. 

“I can kiss you, right?” Jungkook says against your lips - maybe he should’ve asked first. “I know kissing is more intimate-”

You shut him up by kissing him, arms wrapping around his neck to assure that he doesn’t get too far away from you. 

Kissing Jungkook came naturally - as if the two of you had done it before. He pries your mouth open and allows his tongue to dance around yours, all the way he holds onto your hips. 

“Bed,” you kiss his lips again. “room.”

Jungkook follows behind you, unable to keep his hands off of your body as you lead him to your bedroom. He doesn’t even bother to close the door before he’s already tugging at your clothes.

Your shirt is the first to go, breast pooling out that Jungkook cannot focus on anything else but them. He dives into them, your back hitting your mattress just as he begins to suckle on your left nipple, his thumb and index finger pinching the right.

The noises Jungkook made were just as filthy, wet sucking and groans echoing off of your walls. How  long he had craved to see your bare breast - they were always teasing him when he was around. Bouncing whenever you move, nipples always erect for his view.

“So pretty.” Jungkook brings the right nipple into his mouth, showing the same amount of needy lust and love to it as the left. His hand squeezes your left breast in the palm of his hand, the pain shooting pleasure right to your core. “I can suck on them all night. I don’t know why he doesn’t.”

Now, Jungkook brings both nipples into his mouth, needily needing to taste you. He has a crazed look in his eyes that only causes you to squirm beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist to feel him.

“You can suck on them whenever you want.”

Jungkook grunts, teeth grazing against your nipples as they pop from his wet mouth. “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

You were positive you didn’t want Jungkook to leave. 

“I want you naked right now. I wanna see just what that idiot has for me right now.”

There wasn’t much Jungkook had to do to get you naked - in seconds, he had helped you kick off your shorts along with your panties, needy pussy on display for him.

“Need you on my tongue now.” Jungkook hisses, flipping you and him so he is beneath you now. Your pussy is so close to his face that it causes you to yelp in slight humiliation.

“I-I wasn’t really prepared to do this, i-I-”

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls, tone dismissive. “I’m a man. Just fuck yourself against my tongue.”

So you do - and Jungkook’s hands only make you do more. His hands slap your thigh to kick up the pace, his eyes boring into your face as it contorts with pleasure. Your hips just as you grind against his tongue, hands gripping your breast.

Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face. He enjoys watching the stress leave your body as you pleasure yourself, it tells him that this is something you truly needed. His hands begin to rub along your hips, encouraging you to continue until they slide down to your ass. He cups them, his own head swaying side to side to further stimulate your needy clit.

“S-S-Shit!” your body leans back, hands planting against his thighs as he devours your cunt as if it was his last meal. “I-I’m gonna cum…you gotta move.”

That was the last thing Jungkook was going to do - not even as your hands try to pry him away from your pussy, he doesn’t. He continues to suckle onto your clit until you’re visibly shaking above him, but even then he was determined; fully committed to having you cum hard on his tongue. 

Your legs begin to quiver and Jungkook soon was going to get what he was looking for - you cum. He licks the arousal up, slurping and suckling loudly as your moans mewl out of your mouth.

“I could eat you all day.” Jungkook speaks beneath you - and you knew he was serious. 

You did the wrong thing by looking at him. His mouth and chin was fully coated in you and just the sight causes you to cum even harder - the hardest you have ever had in your life; right onto his tongue like he wanted. 

You fall back against the bed with a tired sigh, breathing hitching. 

Jeon Jungkook was a dangerous man. No wonder the universe gave you your dog - you couldn’t handle a real man such as Jungkook, surely. 

“Can I fuck you?” Jungkook asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Unless you’re tired then-”

“I want you to cum in me.”

Jungkook coughs, his cock jumping in his pants. “I-I…really?”

“If you’re going to fuck me, you mind as well go all out.” you pant, widening your legs. “I don’t want you to hold back, either.”

You were going to be the death of him - but if this was what is going to kill him, then he’ll be content. 

“Fuck.” Jungkook is in a hurry to remove his clothing, scattering it all around the room without a care. “Fuck you’re so perfect. I would treat you so well, Y/N. Fuck I hate him.”

Jungkook’s words causes you to giggle at the circumstances. He hated your boyfriend - his friend - for allowing you to fall into the arms of another man - him. It’s all comical, truly. 

“I would fuck you all day if you’d let me. Come home every night and fill you with my cum. How are you not pregnant yet?”

Jungkook’s babbling to himself, even if you could hear it. It’s questions he has asked himself time and time again - wondering why his friend would rather sleep with other girls when he had someone like you at home. You cooked every day and assured the home stayed just right. He would have put a baby in you - and of course married you; but this wasn’t about him now, was it?

Jungkook positions himself at your center and swallows. You’re clenching, ready to be stuffed. 

“I bet you’d like to put a baby in me.” you tease, hips slightly wiggling for him to enter you. “Why don’t you?”

Jungkook growls. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Y/N. You don’t know how many times I imagined you in my home.”

Maybe Jeon Jungkook was a bad friend for imagining said friend's girlfriend in his home cooking for him - or in his bed breeding her. BUT he had since stepped out on the relationship so karma would have to skip him, right? If anything, you being with him would be doing both of you a favor - you wouldn’t be cheated on and he would dote on you every chance he had.

Jungkook begins to enter you, shuddering at the tightness of your pussy. It engulfs him completely, as if shoving him in with whatever powers it held. 

Shit.

Instantly, Jungkook begins to pound into you - you casted a spell, surely. Whatever you put in the food had caused him to be highly consumed by you entirely. Maybe a baby would be nice, right?

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to get right into it - neither were you against it. He holds your legs apart in a tight hold, cock pounding into you so heavenly that even you thought about giving the man what he has been imagining.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses when his eyes catch the white, creamy ring around his cock. “you haven’t been fucked good in so long. You’re milking my cock already.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy before you could’ve been fucking me.” you needed Jungkook to fuck you harder if possible. Making him mad and taunting him was an amazing way to start. 

Jungkook’s eyes are furious, lust and anger swirling in them. “Maybe if you would’ve  asked me to fuck you I would have.” he spits back, his thrust quickening. “You always looked so desperate, too.”

“I was.” your hand slap against his bare chest, but it doesn’t cause him to stop - no, if anything it makes him fuck into you even deeper at your retaliation. “You were desperate to fuck me, too.” you moaned when he hit that sweet spot that has never been touched before. “Like a little teenage boy.”

Neither of you notice the footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, far too entangled with one another's pleasure. 

“I know when a bitch needs to be stuffed. Should’ve filled you with my cum years ago.” Jungkook flips you onto your stomach. He yanks your hair back so your back is perfectly arched - and then he takes you just as hard as before. “But tonight will be the night that I do what we both want, huh?”

“Fuck, you’re so deep.” your eyes snap shut, stomach forming knots. Your breast bounces in the rhythm of his powerful thrusts.

One hand in your hair while the other begins to play with your wet clit. Jungkook buries his head at the side of your neck, lips against your ear.

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Y/N. I’m going to breed you here, then you’re leaving with me.” It’s the sex and lust talking that's causing him to be so demanding and possessive, but you and him both go along with it. When the high was down, then maybe the two of you could talk with sense.

But as of right now - he was determined to put a baby in you without thinking of any consequences and stupidly, so were you.

“You’re gonna leave him right?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hair harder as his hips jut into you. “You’re gonna give me that baby you want me to put in you so bad and you’re gonna leave that sad excuse of a man.”

Your pussy clenches around him and your eyes manage to open. You’re shocked to see him at the door, eyes wide and watching his friend fuck you into oblivion all the while bad mouthing him.

“Y-Yes!” your juices leak down your thigh, overstimulated due to Jungkook’s fucking and aggressive rubbing along to your swollen clit. “Want your baby.”

You don’t break eye contact with the man - it’s evident that he’s shocked, but he cannot be angered. Not with you, at least, maybe with his friend. 

“He could never fuck me like you. Never give me a baby.”

Now you were purposely taunting him, upset that this is when he decides to come home - but a bit glad that he gets to witness the end of an already crumbled relationship. You wonder how he feels witnessing his friend fuck you better than he ever could; with more passion.

You cum around Jungkook’s cock, juices leaking out of you and onto your bed and Jungkook isn’t far behind you. His thrust began to grow sloppy. He leans away from your neck, eyes glancing up at the figure watching them - the same figure of his former friend; one who had not spoken to him in months unbeknownst to you. 

The friendship had ended months prior when Jungkook had suggested that he treat you better, in which he responded angrily that if he wanted you to be treated good so bad that he should have you, declaring that he would have nothing but his sloppy seconds. Never truly imagining that he would witness it happen before his eyes - he was just angry and drunk at the time when he spoke so harshly of you.

Jungkook cums inside of you, so deep and so much. His eyes never leave the shocked ones of his former friend at the door as the both of you allow the high to die down. “You’re coming home with me tonight.” he says, not asking but demanding.

You nod your head, eyes leaving that of your former boyfriend and they close as his (former) friend gently lays you down onto your bed.

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘, 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 1.8k words puppy boy hybrid x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags hybrid puppy, breeding kink, knotting, master kink, humping

—📜" As much as you wish that owning a pup is easy, it’s not. You’re going to end up with a headache, missing clothes, and an aching hole at the end of the day. His rut is approaching and—oh dear, this is going to be bad.

When people tell you to get a pup, they don't tell you about the horrid responsibilities you have to go through. 

It's always: 'They're such sweet things! You will always feel loved', 'Very loyal boys and girls', 'It's always going to be a joy around the house', and 'You have to be prepared to give them a lot of love. Ha. Ha. Ha.'

They don't tell you about the burden of actually having a pup.

"Fucking—Atlas! Drop that right now!"

Atlas, your newest pup, is bigger than your average pup. He's also a lot more handful than you imagined. A German Shepherd hybrid is often rare to come across in normal companion shops. Most are already taken by some older chap who wants some protection.

This one appeared at your doorstep. Now, he's currently running around your house with your socks in his mouth.

You groan, almost unable to keep up with him, "What is with you? Why're you so goddamn hyper?"

He tries to say something, though his words are muffled by the pair in his mouth. His tail wags behind him enthusiastically as you continue to miss him when you attempt a tackle.

Fastening out the living room, you try to keep up. "Atlas! Down boy!" He ignores you as he keeps manoeuvring inside your house. He ends up in the storage room, and you corner him there.

When you expect him to cower with nowhere to go, something else catches your attention. Atlas is rushing towards the corner behind some boxes. You peer; he has his old mattress covered in a cloud of your clothes.

"Fucking hell, Atlas," you sigh, "what is this?"

He looks at you like he has nothing to say. "What is what?"

"This? I thought I lost my sweatshirt, but—god, your fur is all over my pants!"

An unbothered look is plastered on his face. He sits on the pile of clothes happily before you start pulling them away.

Rushing, he goes after your cruel hand to take away your clothes. "Hey! That's mine!"

"No, it's not," you snatch your fucking underwear from the pile, "this is all mine, and I'm putting them all in the laundry."

"But what am I supposed to do if you're gone~?" he falls to his back and rolls around. His arms spread to cover all the clothes he could. He's too protective of your dirty clothes and you need to take them away now.

"Guard the house," you say. You kneel down on the mattress, tugging for the shirts. "Seriously, I would guess you're a retriever if I didn't see your papers."

He huffs. "Don't compare me with those sons of bitches." Atlas sits up, defeated. All of his work disappears into your arms. "I'm way better than all of them."

"Yeah, yeah." You need to come back to get the rest. With a grunt, you stand up and take them to the laundry room.

An extra pair of steps follows you there. Surprisingly, you turn to see that he's carrying the leftover clothes. "How nice of you to help for once," you say. "Just separate the whites, okay?"

The two of you fix your laundry. His tail sits low between his legs, a shy blush accompanying his downward ears. He's looking at your clothes like it's his arm—taken away forcefully by some evil monster. Which is you, by the way.

Overcome by his puppy looks, you throw a sweater in his direction. "Keep it," you say, "but if you take any more, I'm making you sleep outside."

He yips excitedly, cuddling the sweater by his chest as he's come alive again. That fucking easy to make this silly pup happy.

"Thank you so much~!" he giggles as he hugs you from behind. Seriously, is he a retriever? Atlas embraces you tight, pulling your body as close as possible to rid the distance between you.

You ignore him as you put your underwear away. "Yeah, yeah. You're welcome, pup."

"My master is the best," he cooes, head nuzzling to your neck. His ears tickles.

Pulling away is impossible. He tightens his grip as he moves the both of you back and forth. "Absolutely the best," he says, his tongue licking under your ear and to your nape.

Suddenly, his innocent movements are not so innocent anymore.

"Y-yeah. Just let me down, Atlas." His embrace starts to become little humps. "Atlas!"

"Master," he breathes out, teeth feathering over your skin. "A-ah… I love Master's scent so bad," he giggles, loopy.

"Good for you, Atlas," with a rough hand, you attempt to pull away. It ends with him whining and pinning you down to the washing machine. "Fucking hell, Atlas..!"

For a fact, you know that his rut is nowhere near. You were planning to neuter him for your safety, and now he's grinding needily on your clothed cheeks. You struggle against his strength. All he does is disapprove of your rejections.

When he growls, it's your time to scold him. "Atlas," you harden your tone, "fix your attitude."

A pained whimper leaves him. Immediately, he backs away. Turning around, you can see his hardon through his shorts.

"S-sorry," he says, pulling down his shirt to try to have some decency. "Master, I'm just really happy to have something of yours. I'm getting really excited."

You can tell. "Yeah, but I'm busy doing laundry right now. Now I got more clothes to wash because of you. See my dilemma?"

For a split second, you can see his cock twitch in his trousers. You sigh. "Sorry," he says, "Can I… fuck, can I just maybe hump you? Please, Master? I'll be so careful."

One thing that they were right about pup boys is that they're needy. And that they're good at giving you those stupid puppy eyes everyone is irresistible to. You feel yourself giving into his whims.

"Fine," you say. His eyes light up like fireworks. "Don't get too carried away. I'm still sore from last night."

Last night: getting stuck on his knot for an hour before having to calm him down when you pull away.

Atlas is back to his excited self as he mounts you from behind. Thankfully, you've placed most of your clothes back in the machines now. He pulls down your shorts, spitting on his hand as he rubs your hole—Jesus.

"Be careful," you hiss, gripping the ends of the washing machine. "Seriously, I'm sore.

"Don't worry," he smiles. "I'll take care of my Master~"

Red rises to your face. Somehow, he makes the simplest thing sound so sexual. You try not to let it sink in but he keeps mumbling your name as he fingers you open.

"So open for me, Master," he moans, rubbing your insides and scissoring you open. He's breathing into your neck and his cock is pressed against your thighs.

The height difference between the two of you is making the angle a bit awkward. He pulls you up so one of your knees lays on top of the vibrating top of the laundry machine. He's breathing hard, turned on just watching your hole clench around his fingers.

A breathy laugh leaves him. "Mmph… I'm sorry, Master. I need to be inside you now—"

"Wait!"

You're not sure when he undressed himself. But he has a leg up as he fucks his cock inside of you. A guttural moan leaves you, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch. Though your body remembers his shape, you're still too sensitive for this.

"Master," he moans, panting as his tongue tickles your neck. "S-so good… You feel so good around me, Master. I wish you could feel it~!"

He puts both of your hands on your stomach, making you feel the little bulge in your stomach. His long pup cock is thick, reaching deep inside of you with the base of his knot already forming. He's too excited and you're sure he's in his rut.

Atlas fucks his cock deep inside of you. He tries to slow his movements as much as possible. Yet, you can feel him whimper and whine as he struggles to keep a tame pace. His mouth is dropped open as he pushes his cock as deep as possible—he has a need to imprint inside of you.

"Atlas," you breathe out, clenching around him. "Just fuck me already, pup. Breed me with your big fat knot."

Your words are immediate. If you could look back, you would see his ears perk up and his tail wag excitedly. Taking your word, he ruts inside of you as if his goal is to put a baby inside of you.

"Yes! Th-… thank you, Master!" he moans, hips slapping lewdly against your ass. "So fucking good, Master. I love it—hahh… I love your sloppy hole so much. S-sucking me in like you want to be bred by me~"

He's manic as he puts a hand on your hips. "So good, so good, so good, so~… good!"

You want to lay your head down. Each thrust hits you deep inside; it rubs against your sweet spot. You feel yourself go crazy as he doesn't care for your own pleasure. He's chasing his own climax, and it makes you clench around him in desperation.

"Maste-e-e-r," he drags out, burying his head in between your head and your neck. "Puppy wants to breed master so bad. Wanna—wanna see you round with puppy's seed. S-so good."

"Breed me, pup," you cry, whining as he's basically only grinding inside of you. You can feel his knot start to attempt to push in. "Get inside of me, pup. Let me have your seed."

"Ah, ah, ah~!" He screams as his knot spreads open your hole—it pushes inside and he's quivering. Your oversensitive hole is being stretched to its last extent. You can barely feel your legs as he's grinding his knot inside.

"So good," he moans. You can feel drool going down your shoulders. "M-master… I'm gonna cum. 'm gonna cum. Puppy's gonna cum inside ofMaster. Gonna-gonna fucking breed Masta-haaah..!"

Waves of his hot cum surges inside you. He's holding you tight; attempting to fill you to the brim, he doesn't let you leave his knot. You're left hanging there to take all of him. When he thrusts inside of you unexpectedly, you can't help the spurt of cum that comes out of you.

He feels you tighten more and groans. "S-so tight," he whines, wiggling his lips as if that would help. "Mmph. Master, you're so nice."

If you were in a better mindset, you would be criticising him. Saying that your compliance is his fault. Instead, you just lay there and take it.

A few minutes in, the haze leaves you and realisation punches you. "You little shit, your knot is gonna be in me for an hour!"

"…I think I'm going into rut, Master. I'll- er… I'll maybe last an hour or more."

"Atlas!"

Owning a pup boy is way too much work. You briefly consider giving him away to some adoption centre. Though he's too attached now, and you might find him back at your doorstep.

UPDATE ! 📢 @wiltedpoison @elloredef @alureasoley

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ shu_TMX

[xxgoldie]

went to karaoke and someone sang crush by david archuleta so now im thinking abt lighter romance enthusiast lorenz also listening to the most pining songs just the sappiest playlist known to man

as usual, i am Obsessed with lighter being down bad. he's such a fucking dork, i need him. have been listening to a variety of love song playlists for the last few days as i write this and its not helped the brainrot. cw: none, pure fluff, gn!reader wc: 444 (or 618 with the bonus)

when he's out and about, he tends to listen to metal and rock, the same kind of stuff that's in his demo trailer. it gets him in the right headspace for his champion duties. when he's alone, though? his headphones are playing exclusively sappy glitter-gel-pen love songs. he would rather die than let anyone know, he has an image to upkeep - wouldn't even put it past him to have a second spotify account, bc u know the girls will bug him to see his wrapped every year.

within the love song genre, his favourite songs are ones that remind him of you.

his listening history is an amalgamation of different musical styles, but what he really pays attention to is the lyrics; if there's a song that really captures the way he feels about you, or one where the singer describes their lover and they're similar to you, he can't help but put it on repeat. he also loves duets - just like with romance movies, he loves imagining its the two of you in that situation. when he's deep in crush territory, he'll even make a playlist of those songs (it's long - can't help that every other song reminds him of you).

when you're finally together, he's more open about his love of love songs. it may take a bit into your relationship, during some late-night conversation about your respective silly behaviours when you were pining over each other, for him to show you the playlist, titled with just your initial and a heart emoji. but even before that, if you happen to play any of the songs he secretly listens to, you might catch him singing along under his breath (lowkey this post every five seconds). you might chalk it up to him picking up the words of songs the girls listen to, but that's because you don't catch the way he looks at you with the lyrics on his lips.

there are other times where he'll slide up behind you in your kitchen, arms around your waist and head propped on your shoulder, the domesticity and the fact you're wearing his tshirt getting to him. he's not much of a singer, but he'll hum one of those songs in that moment (his voice has a lovely smooth n deep timbre, so his humming sounds Heavenly in your ear). he might get a little embarrassed if you recognise the song and start humming along with him, or god forbid singing, but he'll still sway the both of you along to the music. he's not much of a dancer either, but he can figure out a midnight slow dance in the kitchen for you.

bonus!! a few songs i think he'd listen to, tho kinda influenced by my own music taste (+ spotify links): kiss her you fool - kids that fly (he has it on loop when he's psyching himself up to ask you out) meteor shower - cavetown davy crochet - the backseat lovers (perhaps i'm biased on this one bc i crochet) stitch me up - set it off can't help falling in love - elvis presley cloud 9 - beach bunny ("even when we fade eventually to nothing / you will always be my favourite form of loving" really hits with his whole 'dying for love' thing) love grows (where my rosemary goes) - edison lighthouse paper rings - taylor swift jackie and wilson - hozier (there's a lot of hozier in his playlists, but he really likes the thought of a family with you, even if that's only a couple lines of the song) valentine - atlas sweet tooth - cavetown ("guess i must be satisfactory / you said you love me exactly the way i am" takes him Out i can just feel it) would you be so kind - dodie

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Zuko when you’re paralysed with fear at the sight of Azula…

It had been a peaceful morning just like the previous two days - until the ground quaked violently. Eyes flew open at the imminent danger and Aang was quick enough to deflect an incoming fireball as the rest of the group scrambled to their feet.

Zuko’s eyes widened when he realised their attacker. “It’s Azula.”

You had just thrown a bag into Appa’s saddle when you heard him and ice trickled through your body. Stumbling back, you accidentally stepped on Momo’s tail to which he screeched and then nursed in his little paws.

You would have apologised. You would have done anything but you stood frozen with fear clawing at your throat seizing all breath.

There was a series of calls for you but it was fuzzy to your ears - all but one. Golden eyes found themselves in your line of vision until it was all you could see. A warm hand against your waist, another on your cheek giving off a natural heat that thawed you for a few moments to focus.

“Look at me. You need to get on the saddle, okay? I’ll handle this.” Zuko said.

You took in a small breath, apparently you were still alive and breathing. Unable to find the words, you blinked and it was enough for the Prince.

He gently but quickly urged you towards the sky bison where Sokka had a hand extended. When he had yours gripped firmly, Zuko let you go and ran for the ledge to face his sister.

What happened in the moments after were a blur, there was yelling and the smell of fire and earth in the air. Appa was speeding through the valleys in order to escape and you held the side of the saddle to keep from flying off.

Just as he levelled out, you heard a voice in the air. That conceited, cold, relentless one that spent days and nights in your prison chamber. Then you heard her laugh - the very same one that echoed when spikes of lightning shot into your shackled, defenceless body until your screams forced blood.

Scrunching your eyes, you let go of the saddle and covered your ears. You didn’t care if you flew off. You just wanted to be away from her. Curling into yourself, you laid on the leather base and tried to drown out the sound.

There were shouts from somewhere above. A hand gently pressed against your arm as Appa changed flight and dipped low hard. The hot rush of air reminded you too much of the prison cell and memories began to flash. You started to drown in them, missing the additional thud of a body in the saddle.

Appa levelled out once more, still maintaining speed but the loud voices outside had reduced to softer tones - unlike the ones in your head.

Your nails dug into your scalp as your mind drowned you in the very worst trauma. And you begged for it to stop. You’d do anything for it to stop.

Something familiar moved closer, warm hands finding purchase over yours. They were steady and safe, carefully prying the tight hold away. A muffled voice made its way through your head and worked a soothing balm across the chaos.

Finally, you could feel a line between the past and reality. And you fought hard to stay in the land of the latter.

The air around you had cooled. Your cheeks felt wet and your hands were holding onto a soft fabric that smelled of home.

It was enough to finally pull you out of the haze and understand where you were.

Zuko was laying with you. His arms wrapped protectively, body flush against yours. His head nuzzled by your neck while his mouth whispered to you alone.

He was telling you a story about a prince who promised to give his life to protect the love of his life.

“You’re the love of mine.” He said with a gentle squeeze. “You will always be and I will never let you hurt like that again. I promise.”

~ More imagines here ~ (for more ATLA)

A/n: 2.5 hours sleep works wonders sometimes…

[yawnderu]

My life is falling apart - could you write how Ghost might save reader from her emotionally abusive and toxic husband? I thank you, maybe one day I'll have someone like Simon.

Whoever you are, I'm here for you if you need to talk. Stay strong sweetheart, this too shall pass. 💖

CW: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, protective Simon Riley.

Simon had sneaked his way into your life with the same stealth he uses on missions— a man who barely spent any time at his apartment and was always away for what he said was just ''work''. The same man who after a few conversations, started bringing you small gifts from his missions, always something different that he thought you'd like.

Simon isn't dumb— far from it, he's always aware of his surroundings and throughout the years, he knows how to read people well. That's why it breaks him to see the way your smiles now came accompanied with a nervous look in your eyes whenever your husband was home, despite you and Simon simply being friendly towards one another.

Whenever he was back at his apartment, he started listening more and more. Paying even more attention to you, ear pressed against the wall while he listened to your husband berate you for a plethora of reasons, all of them more absurd than the other, the truth heavy on his shoulders, weighting him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to go inside your house and ravage your husband the same way he does so casually in the battlefield— but he can't. Simon Riley is not Ghost. Simon has to lay low, to ensure both his safety and yours, so he starts planning. Planning how to approach the issue, how to get you out of the situation and understand you better. He'd never admit it, but he spent the entire night reading the experiences of other married women when it comes to abusive marriages, restless dreams full of ideas on how in the bloody hell he'll get you out of this.

He waits until the next day once your husband leaves for work, waiting out five minutes that feel eternal just to make sure he doesn't come back. Unmasked and with very faint stains of eye black that he never seems to be able to fully remove, he knocks on your door. You answer with teary eyes, sniffling softly as you try your best to give him a small smile, yet he can see the pain. The same pain he saw in his mother's eyes his entire life.

''Simon!'' You greet, moving aside so he can enter your house, closing the door behind you as you both go to the living room.

''Would you like a cuppa?'' You offer and it takes him a few seconds to decide, ultimately nodding his head. Maybe this will be easier if you're both having a nice, warm drink. You come back minutes later with a tray and some crumpets, something you started buying when he casually mentioned liking them.

''Thank you.'' He takes a sip of the perfectly made chamomile tea, done the way he loves it— with two teaspoons of honey and hot. You give him a happier smile, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a secure blanket, a far cry from your marriage.

''Love...'' He begins and your full attention goes to him, noticing his serious tone and pensive expression.

''There's no easy way to say this, but with this place having thin walls, I sometimes hear things I shouldn't.'' You immediately know what he's talking about, but before you can apologize on behalf of your husband, he keeps speaking.

''You deserve so much better.'' He puts his cup down, eyes looking down to his hands— the hands he keeps ungloved just for you, the hands that are protected by his skull gloves whenever he's out in missions, so he can come back to you free of sin. He sits down next to you, one of his arms wrapping around your back reassuringly.

''Why are you still with him?'' There's a hint of desperation in his tone, thin eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You want to look away, but his brown eyes are almost hypnotic. So expressive, so telling whenever words aren't enough.

''I... I don't know.'' You reply with honesty, tone strained as you hold back tears and try to dig into your brain for any reasons you're with the man, yet nothing comes up. ''I don't have anywhere else to go to.''

Your words hurt him as much as they hurt you, looking at the potential you have that is being wasted on some ungrateful wanker who berates you for the smallest things.

''Run away with me.'' He suggests in a spur of the moment and before he can even process his own words, a small giggle escapes your lips. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, curious as to what's so funny. Your giggling stops when you notice the expression on his face.

''You're serious?'' You ask carefully, not wanting to make a fool of yourself despite knowing he'd never joke about something like that.

''I'm serious, love. We could go somewhere far away from here, safe. You can leave all of this behind, just say the word.''

''I...'' He can see your hesitancy, his warm hand rubbing circles on your back while the other one holds your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your hand reassuringly.

''What if he finds me?'' It's the first question that comes to mind, not wanting to deal with more of his abuse if you ever manage to get away.

''He won't, doll. I can promise you that. I'll get some of my mates to watch out for you when I'm busy at work, if it helps you.'' He knows it will, and he already has highly trusted friends from the 141 in mind to watch out for you whenever he goes on solo missions.

It took almost two hours of convincing before you agreed, and that's where you are now. He's helping you inform the police about your situation and why you're going away, just in case your husband tries to report you missing.

Most of your belongings were left at the house, but... it surprisingly doesn't bother you. It'll be a new beginning, the same furniture that has witnessed years of abuse is now left behind, only a few clothes inside his car while you both leave the police station. You take a deep breath, the warmth of the sun washing over your skin as you close your eyes, a sincere smile on your face for the first time in years.

''Thank you, Simon.'' My angel, my savior.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

Gojo / Fem Reader

Warnings; cursing, kissing, blowjobs, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, dirty talk, bit of brat tamer Gojo

Satoru who is the prettiest, no — the most ethereal man you’ve ever come in contact with. It’s comparable to gazing upon the biblically accurate form of an Angel. Whose beauty you fear may burn your eyeballs out of your skull.

Satoru who is annoyingly aware of how breathtaking, how feminine he is. The man hit the genetic lottery. Who regards you in the exact same light. Who gets you giggling every time he dramatically complains that you must’ve bewitched him.

Satoru who is so insanely tall, it gets your heart thundering every time he has to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. Who winks each time, sporting a knowing grin like the bastard he is. Who has long, slender fingers that envelope your entire hand when he sweetly laces his dainty fingers through yours.

Satoru who enjoys accentuating his fingers by wearing eye catching black rings. Who places a hand on the nape of your neck, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver as he guides you in different directions.

Satoru who has tons of admirers. Girls and guys alike. Who could not give less of a fuck, and pays them no mind. Whose crystal blue eyes always seek you out, no matter where the two of you go. Who ignores all the unrequited stares of longing he receives. Who gravitates towards you like the beckon of a siren call.

Satoru who tells you the cheesiest, cliche, most tooth-rottingly sweet pick up lines that you’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing. You reluctantly admit it makes you fall more in love with him each time.

Satoru who gets the biggest thrill out of playful flirting with you. Whose giddy when he manages to get under your skin. Who coos at you and thinks it’s so cute when your eyebrows scrunch together and your lip curls up in annoyance. You struggle not to punch him sometimes.

Satoru who started to become obsessed with you. Who was enamored watching you teach his students. He admires the way you fill in wherever you’re needed. You mainly go on missions, but recently you started teaching to help Yaga and subsequently started spending more time with Satoru. He started requesting you help in his class so often it became ridiculous.

Satoru who clings to you like a koala in bed when you cuddle. Whose long limbs tangle with yours and cause you to wake up sticky with sweat — and not in a good way.

Satoru who takes you back to all the random sweet stands and shops he finds while he’s sent away on missions. Who, of course, returns with trinkets or items he knows you’ll love.

Satoru who is unbearably difficult to read at first. Who wears a fake smile that’s razor like at the edges until you coax him into letting his guard down. Whose real smile is warm, lighting up his whole face and melting your heart. Satoru who’s another version of Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Satoru who is nothing short of petrifying when he’s truly furious. Who is 100% unhinged. Whose blue eyes glow as he massacres anything that stands in his way. Who gives you chills when you witness this side of him. You’d never wanna be on the opposing side of Satoru during a fight.

Satoru who is definitely an asshat. Who is annoying. Who texts you at 2 am for a booty call, which is funny because you’re already in a committed relationship. Who only texted the literal words “booty call” before you’re swinging open your bedroom door ready to rip him a new one. He’s already naked when you get there, and you’re ashamed to admit you gave in.

Satoru who learns he loves to bake with you. Who loves making cupcakes. Who whips some up for your birthday. Who was so excited he was practically vibrating when you ate one. Surprisingly, they were amazing.

Satoru who you’re unconditionally in love with. Who wants to marry you someday. Who becomes the best daddy to your little ones. Who is your other half and who you share the deepest, richest love with. Who is the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

Satoru who has to admit that he has a thing for bratty girls. Girls who aren’t afraid to be bitchy towards him. Who are mean to him and don’t put up with his bullshit. Who step up and put him in his place.

Satoru whose cock gets full and achy along his inner thigh when you come into his classroom to bitch at him about stealing your bento box. You know he loves it, the man leers at you as if he’s going to devour you whenever you do come in and yell at him.

Satoru who eagerly makes out with you in his classroom. Whose tongue plays with yours as his limbs buzz with lust and the anticipation you two getting caught. Who has a bit of an exhibitionist kink. Who will unabashedly shove his hand down the front of your pants and play with your clit until you shove him away.

Satoru who grips your hand and sends you two straight back to his home once you’re fed up with his attempts to fuck you in public. Who will lay you out on his bed and groan when you snarl at him “honestly Satoru you’re such a fucking dumbass.” Who hums in agreement, sinking his teeth into your collarbone and neck until your bitching turns into breathy moans.

Satoru who wears a smug expression when you lay pliant under him. Who pinches your nipples and bites at the fat of your tits until you’re crying out, weaving your fingers through soft, white hair.

Satoru who rubs tight circles into your clit with his thumb until your orgasm starts to burn in your lower belly up. Who stops right before you go over the edge, just to get you to bitch at him. “Are you fucking kidding me Satoru? What is wrong with you.” Who cuts off your complaining, slipping two fingers into your pussy as an apology. Who thumbs at your clit again and works you over until you cum for him.

Satoru who swears he’s on cloud 9 when you roll him onto his back. Whose cock twitches violently when he gazes down at you. Whose head gets fuzzy when you start to suck his cock, swallowing him until he’s shiny with your saliva.

Satoru who pulls you off and flips you onto your back. Who splays his hand out on your sternum. Who tries to shove you through the mattress as he pushes his thick cock into you, spreading your pussy to the max. Who tilts his head, wolfish grin on his face as your whines fill the air.

Satoru who calls you his “fussy little brat,” when you writhe underneath him. Who teases you with the shallow rocking of his hips. Who’s so condescending when he bites his lower lip before asking “where’s that shitty attitude you had earlier hmm? Not so big and bad now are ya? Needy little brat.”

Satoru whose arousal is turning him to ash while he watches your tits bounce with each thrust. Who drapes one of your legs over his shoulder and bends you in half. Who throws his weight into his thrusts, bullying your g-spot until you cum around him three times.

Satoru who lets his fingers wrap around your throat like a necklace. Who squeezes gently to make your head fill with cotton as he fucks you. Who watches your eyes roll back and feels your back arch into his thrusts. Whose mouth drops open as he says “fuck yes, that’s right baby girl. You just needed me to fuck that shitty attitude outta you huh? Don’t worry I’ll make you cum on my cock a few more times.”

Satoru who takes note of your fourth orgasm building. Who releases your neck as you swallow air desperately. Who rubs quick circles into your swollen clit as you cum. Whose name you wail when you squirt all over his pelvis.

Satoru who can’t fucking take the way your warm pussy sucks his cock like a vice. Who presses his forehead against yours as his cock kicks inside you repeatedly. Who murmurs “I’m gonna fill up your bratty little pussy since you’re being so obedient.” Who buries his cock until his balls are snug against your ass and cums with a whimper.

Satoru who pulls out so slowly. Who allows you to melt into the mattress. Who cleans the both of you and nuzzles into your neck. Who loves the aftermath of sex when you cling to him adoringly. Who revels in the fact he has the privilege to tame the brat in you one hundred times over.

[go6jo]

(one can only truly feel with their eyes closed) s.gojo

it’s three in the morning and satoru is standing outside your bedroom door, pinching his bottom lip in between his fingers while anxiously awaiting your arrival. you should’ve been back before midnight and there is something unfamiliar stirring inside him, something that is rendering him restless. there is a heavy lump on his throat that is making it hard to swallow and he can feel himself starting to feel sick.

satoru was born bearing the curse of atlas, the world weighing a little too heavy on his shoulders ever since he was little. the body of a child is a frail one and satoru had been too scrawny at the time, bones too fragile to handle all of that weight by himself. he’d fallen on his knees one too many times and had struggled to stand up on his own until he had grown to become something akin to a god, one who barely even knew fear. 

satoru reaches for the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, waiting for something, a call, a text even - anything to let him know that you’re okay.

however, his head is quick to turn at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing throughout the entire floor when he catches sight of your silhouette emerging from the shadows on the other end of the poorly lit hall. he feels his heart cave in on his chest for you, eyes softening and full of compassion when he notices the sole of your feet dragging laboriously against the floor, weary and sore after being away for so long and having just traveled all the way back here, back to him. 

ten days to be precise. that's how long you’ve been gone. and when you manage to make your way along the seemingly endless corridor, so very tired from your lengthy mission overseas, satoru can visibly see your body cease its fight against gravity as you let yourself collapse into him. he is so quick to guide your arms that had fallen limp by your sides to wrap themselves around him, pulling you closer, craving the proximity after having longed for your touch every day for the past week and a half. he follows it by looping his stronger ones around you, offering you the stability you need, holding you and welcoming you back with a quiet good girl whispered to the crown of your head. 

in the quietude of the moment, while trying to recover from the fretful state he had induced himself into, satoru realizes now that fear has become a constant in his life.

“you’re late” he threads his fingers through your hair, soothing away your fatigue though he thinks he might have just lulled you to sleep because you’re standing so still, breathing so softly. at your lack of response, his hand cups the back of your head tilting it upwards and your lips begin to part, ready to protest but it’s only then, when you meet his gaze, that you become aware of the distress graven on his handsome features, brows furrowed and bottom lip swollen with the indents of his remaining anxiety, teeth merciless as they tried to chew away the nerves in his system.

satoru is always so good at hiding his feelings. he might’ve been terrified out of his mind, but hardly anything gives it away. his voice never wavers when he speaks and his hands have such a steady grip on you that his inner turmoil would’ve almost gone undetected. almost. because concern is so easily discernible in his eyes - his eyes are so honest, as honest as satoru gets. they have always let on more than his words — they’re his biggest strength and yet his biggest weakness, his blindfold keeping any vulnerability from seeping through.

“i know but i'm here” you close your eyes when his thumb rubs the spot between your eyebrows “my flight got delayed and i didn’t wanna wake you up with a phone call”

“i wasn’t sleeping” not until i know you’re safe.

“i’m alright, satoru. im here” you two speak in whispers like two kids sharing a secret, your voice barely audible as you lean your cheek against his chest, a hand rubbing circles over his heart.

a placid wave of silence envelops the two of you in its calm embrace as you take your time to touch, to grab and to squeeze — to let your hands get acquainted with each other’s skin again — you swear you feel him shiver against you, when you caress the skin behind his ear, where you know it’s sensitive.

“let’s get inside, baby.”

you nod against his chest and squeeze him in your arms one last time before you pull away to unlock your bedroom door. you lace your fingers together with his and pull him along, dropping your luggage somewhere in a corner and not even bothering to turn on the lights instead guiding him towards the bed that you’ve shared during so many other nights before — so eager to be cradled in his arms, to drift off in the warmth of his presence. but when satoru drops his head to your shoulder from behind, you halt all movements, stopping in your tracks.

he doesn’t say a word, just moves the palm of his hand gingerly up the skin of your exposed arm, only stopping where the strap of your dress sits on your body, gripping the fabric in his fist, begging to see you, whole. to make sure there is not some invisible force holding you together and that you won't fall apart under his fingers. he still touches you so carefully as if you will.

for a long time now, satoru has worried that the eyes he has relied on throughout his entire life might fail him sooner rather than later. reality can be deceiving and he has grown to harbor a certain skepticism towards it. after all, his best friend had met his demise at his own two hands, had taken his last breath in his arms, however, that unfaithful day in shibuya there he stood, intact - alive. satoru is now imbedded with a constant feeling of uncertainty, doubting what otherwise he would’ve believed to be the undeniable truth.

you lift your hand to rest over his, loosening the grip he has on the fabric of your garment before you slide both straps off your shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground and revealing your partially nude body to satoru’s prying gaze. he closes his eyes with a sigh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise in anticipation. he brushes a few strands away before he presses a kiss to the mound of your neck where your spine protrudes your flesh, where your skin is most tender and delicate, feeling the subtle bumps of your skin against his lips — the way your body reacts to him proof that you’re not just some hallucination. that you’re here. that you’re alive and well. 

he figures he is so much more in tune with his surroundings whenever he’s not looking. his eyes are closed shut yet the way you shudder under him when he runs the tip of his finger up the curve of your spine, the little sounds you make, the gasp that unintentionally escapes your lips when he lays the most gentle of kisses on the shell of your ear — he’d know you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. he knows the way you feel, the way you sound, the way you smell. even blind, his other four senses would still lead him to you.

he touches you until your skin starts feeling feverish under his fingers, wishes you’d just melt into him and would fill in every crevice in his body until he’s so completely covered in you he can barely breathe. and when he needs more, he carries you to bed in his arms then lies you down in the white linen sheets. he reaches for the back of his shirt and tugs it off before taking the spot next to you, yearning for the feeling of his skin against yours.

he kisses your collarbone, left then right, worshiping you whole, paying equal attention to every part of your body, then dips lower to kiss over your sternum. he loves on the freshly inflicted wounds on your skin then proceeds to run his tongue over the newly healed scar that runs diagonally on the flesh of your stomach — your taste, that, too, he has memorized by heart.

“i always come back looking worse than when i left” and it's supposed to be a lighthearted joke because you're smiling and your tone is somewhat playful but it makes satoru wonder if you think he loves you any less because of it.

sometimes it’s hard baring yourself to satoru like this, he knows it. your scar ridden body a striking contrast to his almost pristine, untouched one. however, it’s on nights like this one where you feel closest to him, laying bare your insecurities to him and, in return, he entrusts you with his — more often than not as he impulsively lets them escape his lips in the form of strangled moans against the sweaty skin of your neck, telling you he loves you. don’t ever leave. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you, too.

“you returned, baby. that’s all that matters.” he utters against your belly then comes to rest on your chest, ear pressed atop your heart.

satoru has grown fond of the sound of your pulse lulling him to sleep, slow and steady. he unwraps his arms from around you, moving his hands up your sides until they settle around your ribs, feeling the way your lungs fill up with air, his head moving up and down, in sync with your heaving chest. he smiles fondly to himself, every heartbeat, every breath you take a reminder of the life flowing inside you.

he looks up, eyes searching for your face after a few minutes have gone by since you stopped playing with his hair. he had wanted to protest but then he takes in the image of you, mouth slightly agape, a subtle frown on your face — an angel lying under him. so fragile, so innocent.

you're sound asleep and satoru is overcome with the intensity of the sheer adoration he feels towards you when he comes to the realization that you had felt so at peace in his arms it had only taken you a couple minutes to doze off. it is as if your body reacts to his presence on its own, telling you that it's okay to let your guard down, that it’s safe around him. to him, there is no bigger privilege than to know his touch brings you such tranquility — that he’s your safe haven.

upon further inspection, however, as his eyes linger on you for a little longer, there’s a cold shiver that makes its way up satoru’s spine when he notices how still you are, barely even moving. apart from the subtle rise and fall of your chest, you’re so inert, so lethargic. so lifeless.

and suddenly it is as if there is not enough oxygen in the room as he finds himself gasping for air, lungs growing heavier by the minute as he starts to drown in mirages of your inanimate body in his arms, hands clammy and fingers digging into the flesh of your ribs instinctively, out of desperation, as if he’s trying to stay afloat.

he calls out your name once, and he would’ve felt bad for waking you up but, right now, he can’t even seem to think straight. he could be so selfish at times still you never resented him for it. so he calls for you again.

you don’t answer at first, his voice too weak to even pull you out of sleep. satoru hoists himself up on the bed, lying sideways next to you, his body looming over yours as he brushes the strands of hair that are sticking to your forehead away from your face — your complexion looks so much paler under the moonlight.

“baby.” he calls in between heavy breaths, eyes frantic searching for something. anything. this time you stir in your sleep, turning around and nuzzling into the crook of his neck as if seeking for the heat of his body on instinct alone. he sighs releasing some of the tension inside him “baby.” though there is still a hint of urgency in his voice.

“im sleepy, satoru” he can barely hear you as you bury yourself deeper into his neck.

“i know, baby. i know” he tries to soothe you, cradling your head closer to him but pulling you away from him just as quick, grabbing your cheeks in between the palms of his hands and gently holding your head up to take a look at you instead. your eyes remain closed, still so heavy with sleep.

“just need you to say my name.” it sounds like a desperate plea.

“satoru.” you barely even manage to mumble as you lean deeper into his touch, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of his hand. moving only on instinct still, too drowsy to even make sense of what is happening, to notice his agony.

“that’s it.” he pecks you on the lips “again.” he is trailing kisses across your cheeks, his breath heavy on your skin when he begs you in a quivering voice “please."

the feeling of his hands shivering against you it’s what gradually rouses you, opening your eyes only to be met with his wide-eyed gaze, pupils fully blown out in the dark, alert with fear.

you know how he gets, it isn’t the first time this happens yet it never fails to alarm you. you’d seen it in his eyes many times before and you’d seen it again earlier tonight, when you arrived, tenuous yet just waiting for the smallest trigger to so easily turn into something out of control.

it's as if he's suddenly put in a trance and nobody can pull him out of it. his hands start wandering everywhere and in a rather frenetic way, feeling around your skin as if he has gone blind. hands fumbling to hold whatever is within their reach, clenching whatever it is you're wearing in his fists, searching for something that you can’t quite understand.

you never know what to say, you can only hold him in hopes it will pass. you hold him and coddle him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear in hopes that you can be as much of a source of comfort to him as he is to you.

he apologizes afterwards, he always does. apologizes for needing you so much that sometimes it drives him close to insanity. then he always whispers a thank you from under his breath, thank you for letting me rely on you, but he barely ever does, only when he so desperately needs it — when it’s him lending others his strength, being relied on, who says thank you to him.

you sit up in bed, extending your hand towards him, waiting for him to take it. you pick him up when he does and you let a hand wrap around the back of his head, guiding him to rest on your shoulder.

“satoru, satoru, satoru.” you whisper against the shell of his ear while stroking his hair. he thinks he could fall sleep right here, like this.

please, lean on me, too.

i got you, you don’t have to be strong all the time.

 if you let me, i can be strong for the both of us. satoru thinks he knows what you’re trying to tell him.

“i’ll say it as many times as you need.”

once again, he is so overwhelmed by his profound infatuation that it is as if his love has grown a will of its own, as if it has grown fangs when his teeth sink, unwarranted, into the skin of your shoulder, love wishing to seep itself deep into your bloodstream. “want you whole.”

“so greedy.” you wince quietly, nonchalantly against his snowy hair and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of your neck.

he keeps on nibbling on the tender skin of your jaw, as if he’s hungry and trying to prove a point. that if he so wished to, if he was greedy enough, vile enough, he’d devour you full.

“i'm the greediest, baby” for what is love if not greed. is it not wanting to consume the other person and let yourself be consumed in return? for his entire life, satoru has known nothing but an insatiable hunger. always wanting more, always needing more. gluttonous for more, more, more. in the end, he always managed to get what he wants and he doesn’t hold back, you never asked him to either.

he knows he owns you wholly, that you placed your soul, mind and body fully on the palm of his hand and he doesn’t think he could ever settle for less. doesn’t think his hunger would ever be satiated with less than a handful of you.

he places a trail of kisses that goes down to your shoulder again and he pulls away from your skin with one last kiss to the spot where he left a mark. a mark that is so unlike any other in your body. one that comes from love.

“i'm sorry that i need you so much” he envelops you in the tightest of embraces, touching his heart with yours.

he wishes you understand that he’s apologizing for so many other things, too. he’s sorry that he can’t give himself to you the same way you’ve given yourself to him. you’ve always kept your heart so willingly open to him yet it seems that he only ever allows you a glimpse into the heart inside his chest on nights like this, when fear holds him in it’s strong, relentless grip or when he’s falling apart at the feeling of being inside in you, body panting above yours, too lost in his own pleasure. only then does he allow himself to be vulnerable with you, spilling all of his heart's content into your distracted ears — when he thinks you’re far too gone to listen, to truly acknowledge his feelings — but you treasure every single moment of fragility of his, for they are so scarce, listening attentively even when he thinks you don’t.

“say my name one last time” he breathes against your ear.

here, in these sheets, satoru pretends to forget his name and the burden that inescapably comes with it. he forgets the world needs him and lets himself need you instead, just this once. — just this once, he’ll pretend to be the weak one, the one who needs saving and finds a shelter in your arms.

“satoru…” your words are spoken barely above a whisper, like they’re meant just for him.

“again” he connects his lips with yours and holds the back of your neck with one hand, the other resting on your lower back for support as he dips both of you down onto the mattress.

and you say it. again. and then again. not because he asks you to but because satoru knows how to get what he wants. he pries his name out of your lips as he trails open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, forces it out of you in the form a laughter as he nibbles on the inside of your thighs, tickling you with his breath and ultimately earns it in moan that you cry as a prayer when he sinks down on the mattress and makes a home in between your legs — until you're chanting his name over and over again, sobbing that you love him, you love him, you love him.

he smiles to himself, does it half smugly, half earnestly. satoru is now twenty eight and his shoulders a little lighter, the world fitting all too perfectly in this queen sized bed.

[artbyblastweave]

So I recently had the thought that Superman as depicted in the DCAU canon probably has the best-articulated-by-the-narrative and most-consistent character flaws of any Superman I’ve seen, in a way that’s enabled by the long-formedness and consistent creative vision of the series.

He’s got an Atlas complex that grinds the gears of his equally-durable, equally-capable colleagues in the Justice League. He has deep-seated fears of moving the wrong way and breaking something or someone, which is then upstream of some moderate control issues. He’s got anger problems, although it’s rare for someone to push him far enough that this takes center stage; you see this with Prof. Hamilton in the series finale of STAS, but also in a number of fights against opponents strong enough that he starts getting frustrated. When the stakes are lower, he can be cocky bordering on genuinely vindictive; there are lots of examples of him rubbing his opponents' noses in it when he finally gets them on the back foot, and it’s shown in flashbacks that he was genuinely kind of a dick when he was a teenager and hadn’t completely sorted out what proportional responses looked like. He doesn’t always think through the implications of his grand projects, be that the implicit threat-escalation posed by the expanded JLU, or the massive disarmament project he spearheaded that turned out to be part of an alien invasion scheme. There are probably more of these that I’m forgetting. The final roundup here is that he’s a good guy. He’s far and away from a perfect guy, with perfect judgement. All of this amounts to something that’s more coherent and specific than the contradictory, subject-to-eternal-revision mess you could assemble from his 60-something year publication history in the comics, but nonetheless with a substantial-enough runtime that all of these traits can be put on display again and again.

In turn, this allowed the collective DCAU continuity to get away with at least three “what if Superman went rogue” plots- four if you count the mind-control situation in Legacy- specifically because they did the legwork to establish the concrete neuroses and psychological vulnerabilities that might cause this specific version of Superman to go rogue. It was never completely insane that Luthor might figure out the exact set of words, actions, and personal losses necessary to coax this depiction of Superman into an authoritarian partnership for the supposed greater good. It’s not completely insane that this depiction of Superman, if pushed far enough, might lose faith in the collective judgement of humanity and decide to put the world and all his loved ones in a bottle. And when the Cadmus plot rolls around in JLU, it’s as effective as it is because they’ve already advanced two roads-not-taken, established what levers you need to pull to make this specific version of this guy cross the line, and that Cadmus and Luthor are pulling all of them. 

I emphasize the specificity here, because the flipside of this are Superman-gone-rogue narratives that jump right to that as the cornerstone of the continuity, with no real opportunities for juxtaposition. A major issue I eventually developed with the Injustice franchise is that despite its pretenses of being an alternate universe, there’s no established continuity that it’s deviating from, bar its own. To some extent I feel as though it’s banking on the audience transposing their gestalt-understanding of Superman and the broader DCU- hell, their understanding of the Justice Lords arc in particular- in order to elide that they’re playing extremely fast-and-loose with the specifics of what has and hasn’t happened to Superman in this continuity. The DCEU is a runner-up- jumping right to the Damocles-sword of a bad-future after two movies is jumping the gun, in the same way everything about the 2010s DCEU was jumping the gun. I think you could plausibly attack TDKR’s portrayal of Superman under this logic, although I personally wouldn’t- but that’s its own post.

Point being that you can’t sell me the upset of a paradigm if you never established it-you need to set up the pins before you can bowl worth a damn.

[neosexuals]

˙ 𖥦  ⪧ ◟together ˒ ˶ taehyun

> synopsis: you and taehyun have been in a business marriage for 4 years,you’ve never had anything between you two. Most of the time taehyun would go around fucking other rich women, everyone knows it’s just business. Exept you

A/n : I literally loved writing this like AHHHH I hope you guys like it <3

Tag list^^: @heiiolifeee @f4iryfever @iweirdthingsblog @yuriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @cinnikoi

“Always been mine…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Honey im home” he sang out as he entered the home you had together. You were pissed to say the least, you let out a heavy sigh “don’t call me honey, taehyun you’ve gotten into another scandal” you huff again “how do you plan on covering this up”.

He stares at you, his gaze confused and amused at the same time. He ruffled his hair "why do you care?" He grunted as he sat down beside you on the couch "you know that means I'm the wife who let's their man whore of a husband fuck around right? Which leads to them thinking I'm cheating too..?" You argue scooting away from him, before getting up to go away "whatever it's not like you aren't, your just better at hiding it" his attitude scorching through you, grabbing your hand "now sit down I'll go get coffee and tell you everything"

He walks away , once again. You never said you need or want an explanation, but deep down you do.your heart burns as you stare at your phone, the article everywhere.

"Kang taehyun , cheater"

The silence becomes louder in your head, you try to surpress tears. No matter how hard you try he always replays in your mind, he hurt you. He doesn't even know after 3 years of your undivided attention towards him. He doesn't realise you love him. Before you know it your lost in your thoughts once again....

"y/n? Y/N?" He waved his hand infront of your lost figure, you jumped back when he smacked your head "y/n oh my god" his voice clearer now. You won't even acknowledge that he hit you, you don't care.

To be honest taehyun felt bad for you too, he loved you just as much, he wanted to hold you, to feel you to be close to you. But he knows he couldn't, he knows you dont like him, so he acts like he hates you, he hooks up with girls left and right 'knowing' you don't care.

The problem is, you do care.

"anyway, I met her at a club, I felt sexually pent up so, I decided to... You know" he explained himself he was rambling on and on after this before you stopped him "taehyun stop rambling I really don't care" you did.

"I'm gonna go to bed" you walked upstairs the stairs tiring you out before you plop onto your bed,you had a joint bedroom only a wall and a door dividing you twos room.

He regrets his decision every time he fucks around, he acts like it doesn't matter but when he walked into his room he feels an absence. You were that absence.

#######

"Kang y/n finally gets revenge"

"icon y/n"

Your name surrounded the web , you finally decided to fuck around after 3 years. It felt odd ofcourse but you didn't carw., You just wanted to get over taehyun. But you got caught, you thought he wouldn't care since he's always on the news.

You sat on the couch once again, it was a habit for you by now to wait for him at the couch. As soon as the door handle turned,so did your stomach why did you feel so bad all of a sudden.

"how was it?" He dropped his bag, not even making eye contact with you. "How was what?" You asked hesitant of his reply, you were slightly trembling "the sex" his tone grew more aggressive by the word. "I asked how was the sex y/n"

His tone had a hint of sadness to it, you didn't notice it though. His gaze hit you atlas the flames in his eyes grew."it wasn't great" you responded, you wanted to lie but you couldn't. It wasn't great it was sad, miserable actually.

"then why'd you do it" his voice odly calmer than before, he was less jelous. Yet you stayed quiet

You wanted to talk back, you couldn't however. He walked towards you, step by step making you tremble. His next move wasn't clear at all, he sat beside you grabbing your jaw "look at me darling, why'd you do it" you were now facing him, the tention grew between you.

"I..." You fucked up, how or why you don't know but it felt like you fucked up "you??" His leg shaking, you couldn't tell why tho.

"taehyun." You paused his eyes widen as you use his name anticipation coarsing through him.

"taehyun...I used to like you." You blurted it out, the gaze and pressure let it out of you. But you still liked him.

"like I know it's not meant to be that way, I know it's business and I know I'm just being delusional but-" your ramble cut off by his touch. He wraps his hand around your nape, pushing your face closer to his. Your lips almost meeting.

He stares at your lips, your eyes roaming the situation, trying to avoid contact. Your mind travels wanting to kiss him so bad, but you don't want to act suddenly. Waiting for him to make the move, was he playing with you?

"I like you too" he mumbles onto your lips before smashing them together. The kiss soft yet laced with desire. He was holding back for you, the kiss sent shivers down your spine. You stay frozen in place before he pulls away , "you didn't pull away?" He cuts your words off again with a kiss, this time you reciprocate the kiss sending shivers down your spine. Your arms wrapping around his neck pulling him closer, he smiles during the kiss as you do this.

Breaking off once more his smile widens he stands you up "wait." You pause the situation. His eyes widen once again. "Shit whatever" you dismiss your negative thoughts smashing your lips together once more, your hands still wrapped around his neck as his hands roam around your body landing on your waist.

Picking you up lightly. You wrap your legs around his torso as he indicated with a tap on your thighs, the kiss sloppy as he climbed up the stairs carrying you. He opens his door with force as his hands still roaming your body.

"you've always been mine baby" he mumbles onto your lips , dropping you on the bed as he climbs over you leaning for another kiss. This time hungrier more rough. You start to crave his attention, you needed him more than ever now.

"fuck babe" the nickname forming something in you. As the kiss continued, Taehyun's hands moved up to play with your hair, his tongue exploring deeper into your mouth. He could feel himself growing hard against your leg and he knew he wanted more than just a kiss from you.

Feeling the heat between them, Taehyun broke the kiss, panting softly. His eyes met yours, filled with lust and anticipation.his breath hot against your skin. “Taehyun….” You huff out. Wanting more out of him . With a smirk, Taehyun slowly removed his shirt, revealing his well-toned body. His hands slipped back down to your pants, tugging them gently over your hips and down your legs. You were even more beautiful than he had imagined. He kissed his way down your stomach, taking in the taste of your skin. His hands continued their exploration, tracing patterns on your thighs and teasingly brushing against your underwear.

Eager to work with you, he knew his girth couldn’t fit into your pussy. “Want you so bad…” his eyes practically eating you out. His hands find its way inside your soaked panties, his fingers running through your folds. Playing with your puffy clit he starts slowly inserts a digit into you, your folds tightly squeezing his fingers “so tight….” He whispers into your ear “are you sure you’ll take my cock like this?” He glides his free arm across your face, his eyes loving yet sarcastic pity covers his face.

His finger working on you painfully slow as he leaves marks on your neckline. His length gets painfully harder as he fingers you, starting to grind on your thigh. He slowly inserts another finger his breathing ragged as he continues to finger you slowly, his other hand moving up to massage your breast. your breath heavy trying to speak while he mercilessly fingers your cunt. Scissoring inside stretching you out.

You moan out his name softly. “You feel so good around my fingers, baby. My little whore” His words are heavy with lust as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck and shoulders, nipping and licking softly. He can feel your pussy tightening around his fingers adding a third one chasing your high.

Your moans seem to get louder as his actions get faster, your hips bucking grinding against his fingers. You let out his name before releasing over his fingers as he curled them inside, the orgasm shaking you. You try to catch your breath laying there a bead of sweat trickling down the side of your face.

He gives you time to breath tasting you on his fingers, licking them dry. His body gets more tense as it seems his boxers now have a wet spot from his pre cum, he couldn’t wait any longer kneeling onto the bed and pulling your legs onto his tights “sorry baby, you look so Pretty I can’t take it anymore” he leans in, now in a missionary position and kisses you, the kiss hungry deep and sultry. You could tell how desperate he was

“You ready?” He lines himself between your legs, lubricating his tip with the remaining orgasm you had let out. You nodded eager for his cock to fill you up. As he slowly enters you realise how big his member actually is.

Stretching you out deliciously he groans feeling your tight walls around him “such a slutty little pussy hm?” His breath getting heavily, he would’ve cum right then and there “can their cocks stretch you this well” the pleasure distracts you from his malicious words. He goes on whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally fills you up balls deep.

He gives you a pause to get used to his length “says the man-whore” you finally catch your breath replying to his former words. He fumes with anger and starts to move relentlessly.

“Man-whore?” He huffs fucking into you his girth so mouth wateringingly wrapped inside your soaping pussy. He whispers sweet nothings once again, nicknames spewing out of his mouth sweetly.

“y/n if you, fuck- if you keep squeezing me like that I’ll cum inside” he groans and curses under his breath. He was addictive to you, you felt painfully pleasant his, face admiring your features. His girth creating a small outline in your stomach, his cock twitching at the sight.

Your eyes close shut as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, evident by your pussy tightening around him. He takes this as a sign to press on the outline around your stomach , causing you to whimper, the stimulation making you sensitive.

“Baby I’m gonna” his words get cut off by his groan

“Just- do it Baby” you nod your head allowing him to release inside you as you chase your high along side him. He gets cockier and starts to play with your clit, your words driving him. His movements get faster, slowing down at lass to release alongside you.

His juices mixing with yours as he falls on-top of you he slowly pulls out. Shifting beside you, cuddling you to relax.

“Why did you fuck around if you like me?” You start to question his actions. Looking forward to his response

“Cause I thought you hated me , I tried to get over you…” he paused “and also,I don’t just like you y/n love you” his words shook you, a smile forming after you pause “I love you too” you finally respond.

You turn to see he had passed out already, you could only let out a chuckle before kissing his cheek and snuggling against his arm.

[echoingspectrum]

𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡: 𝑦𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒 ( 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 )

Inviting Dan Feng to a Starskiff cruise around the fleet for a leisure outing was a bold move by yours truly. You just thought he needed some break for working hours tiredly between a High Cloud Quintet and being a High Elder at the same time.

Surely, this would give him the opportunity to relax and unwind from his demanding responsibilities. As a close friend of his, you knew that Dan deserved a chance to escape the pressure of his busy life and enjoy some well-deserved time off.

If it means having your back ache from all dragging him to the designated location, whether he likes it or not...

The Starskiff cruise promised breathtaking views and luxurious amenities, making it the perfect setting to rejuvenate from a hectic schedule. So this opportunity cannot be missed.

Behind you, you heard a sigh as the two of you strolled toward in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, but rather a shared understanding of the need for this getaway.

"Was this necessary?" Dan Feng inquired frankly. "You, out of all people, know how much I value my time on duty rather than these shenanigans of yours."

"If your work is really that important, you wouldn't be here now, would it?" You teased, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, everyone needs a break once in a while, even the most dedicated workaholics like you."

"I'm not a workaholic."

"Your eyebags said otherwise."

The high elder could only grumble in response, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, betraying a hint of amusement.

The tension between them seemed to dissipate as the two of you continued your walk, with the sound of the wind rustling through the atlas providing a calming backdrop to your conversation.

"So..." You paused, glancing over at the high elder. "What's really been bothering you lately?"

The high elder's expression softened slightly at your question, and he let out a weary sigh. He seemed hesitant for a moment, as if he were reluctant to admit the truth.

"I suppose I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed lately," he admitted, his voice tinged with fatigue. "There are numerous responsibilities on my shoulders, and it's beginning to weigh me down a bit."

He took a deep breath, letting the wind and the resonance of the atlas soothe his weary mind. You nodded, understanding his words. Although you never know what the burdening pressure of leadership truly felt like, you could empathize with the toll it was taking on him.

"I can only imagine," you said sympathetically. "But you always seem to handle everything so well. How do you do it?"

The high elder chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I wouldn't say I handle everything well," he said with a wry smile. "I have my moments of doubt and frustration just like everyone else. I just try to stay level-headed and prioritize what needs to be done first."

He paused, looking out at the landscape before continuing, "But it does get lonely at times, having all this responsibility on my shoulders. It can be a heavy burden to carry."

Sighing, his turquoise eyes then glint toward you. Despite the midnight vignette that surrounds you, his eyes often shine under the moonlight's soft glow, conveying a sense of vulnerability hidden beneath his usual stoicism. You could see a flicker of sentiment like nostalgia and yearning flash across his face.

"I often wish..." His voice came out soft and wistful. "Prior to this day, I longed for those days where we often indulged ourselves together, carefree and without a worry in the world. Those memories are what keep me going in the darkest of times."

For a brief moment, it was as if he was lost in thought, his expression uncharacteristically open and vulnerable.

You couldn't help but notice the change in his demeanor. You felt a sudden rush of heat to your face, your heart skipping a beat. The realization that he might be missing your presence made you feel both surprised and a little flustered.

'Get it together! RAHFHWEBNEHFHC⏤'

"I too missed our moments together." You felt your lips twitching upward. Your thoughts whirls like a turbulent hurricane yet you stayed composed.

Tender moments like these, where emotions were raw and unguarded, were rare but cherished.

The unspoken connection between you both was perceptible—a silent understanding that transcended words.

Not before long, the Starskiff ship you had rented for both you and Dan Feng was ready to set sail across the vast expanse of the Xianzhou Luofu. The sail unfurled with a gentle whoosh, carrying you both into the unknown trip that awaited.

Stars illuminated the midnight atlas, adding a touch of romance to the journey ahead. The cool night air wrapped around you like a comforting blanket as you leaned against the railing and let yourself be carried away by the gentle sway of the ship.

You enjoyed the stillness of the night while your companion relished the scene before him. He silently spectated your every move with lingering affection. You look so peaceful, staring upon the expanse of the universe above the both of you.

His heart swelled with endearment as he watched you enjoying this evening rendezvous with a set of merriment⏤ feeling grateful for this moment of tranquility together. The soft glow of the starlight seemed to reflect the warmth of his feelings for you.

He doesn't normally indulge himself in the subject of romance, believing that it would add to his sense of obligation which already brimmed with his responsibilities of his current status.

But alas, you are an exception. Oh, how fortunate you are~ In this very moment, he couldn't help but feel flooded by the depth of his emotions.

As the ship continued its journey through the night, he made a silent vow to cherish these moments with you for as long as he could.

'I wonder if our future aligns with the stars.' He thought to himself, uncertain for the forthcoming events that would inevitably change the very course of your lives.

The gentle hum of the ship's engines seemed to echo his sentiment, creating a sense of harmony between the two of you and the vast universe surrounding you.

"Welcome to the Starskiff Jetty. A port for all Starskiff ships lands and takes off. I'm certain you are aware that this is the official entrance to the Xianzhou Luofu." The tour guide optimistically gestured towards the bustling crowd of travelers.

After the big event that transpired, you and Dan Heng thought to take a stroll through the bustling streets of his home planet. Why not? Take it as a reward for all the assistance that the Astral Express has provided.

You tugged at the ens of his sleeves and suggested, "Dan Heng, let's ride a starskiff!"

Stream of jaded nostalgia seem to caress his mind for a second.

Like a child filled with wonders and curiosity, the said man only sighed at your enthusiasm and replied, "I suppose we could, but let's make sure to be back in time for the departure of the Astral Express."

And with that, you both set off towards the Starskiff rental station, taking a Starskiff cruise around the bustling town.

Oh, the faded memories are soon to resurface. 

[ash3d-darling]

“ANYWAY THE WIND BLOWS...”—

PLATONIC!VENTI / NEUVILLETTE x CHILD!ANEMO SOVEREIGN READER.

GN READER

cw: Brief religious mentions(church, prayer),Brief drinking mentions, slight Fontaine spoilers(?), possibly OOC in some parts. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•Let’s begin properly, with the Anemo man himself: Venti.

•How they met was really in hindsight, not a surprise.

•I can see Sov!reader hearing one of his hymns, and trying to find him.

•Meanwhile Venti gets increasingly confused/worried about the new immense anemo energy that is not his.

•Venti seeking them out and standing there awkwardly with sovereign looking at him silently.

•Eventually he asks why they’re in the woods, where their parents are, and why they have anemo but no vision.

Venti clears his throat,“hello there child! If you don’t mind, Why are you in the forest..? And-” he looks at them carefully, searching for something. “Do you happen to have a vision?” He asks, charming voice getting strained near the end.

“a what?” Those two words were the thing that made him realize.

•With the new knowledge of what exactly anemo sovereign!reader is, he decides after zero thinking to “adopt” them!

•This of course means, “teach them to use anemo & play the lyre” but still!

•I can imagine training with Venti going.. well? If you’ve ever seen that part in ATLA where Katara first tries training waterbending to Aang(the scroll episode), it was pretty much that.

•I can see visiting the church, and praying to Barbatos, which may or may not have made Venti a little smug. Once he remembered who he was💀

•l imagine him not drinking while reader is around, for dignities sake.

•Eventually, Venti does worry how Sov! Reader would react about what happened to the previous dragon sovereigns, but he won’t need to worry for that until long ahead.

•In the end, the two of them end up having a father/older brother & child/younger sibling relationship.

•Now, Neuvillette is certainly happy reader has resurrected, but how did they meet?

•The two met when Venti had decided to take them Fontaine for “a little outing”. Where, they inevitably ran into each other.

•I can imagine that Venti knows dragon-sovereign!reader can fend for themselves, and obviously they’re quite strong, +Fontaine has a record of being reasonably safe, so he left them alone for 5 minutes. Little did he know.. •The Melusines simply had wanted to talk with reader, being interested in their “aura” of sorts, when Neuvillette had come to see them.

•unlike Venti, he knew almost immediately.

As always, Neuvillette had come to see the Melusines. It was practically a daily routine for him, always predictable. But, one thing he would never expect would soon appear.

“[__]? I’ve—…” The man paused when his eyes landed on the child, an unmistakable presence. Eyes widened, he stepped forward; “Greetings, young one. Who exactly may you be?” He asked, vying for more information— had the previous sovereign truly been reborn?

When they responded, Neuvillette knew he was correct.

•I imagine he would care for a.d.s!reader just as much as the Melusines, even more so if reader got along well with them.

•I can see Reader visiting Fontaine every few weeks, listening to his times and interests. •On that topic, I think that If A.d.s!reader ever listens to him talk endlessly about water or law, or even asked/took interest In them, he would be overjoyed!

•if reader ever wonders, Neuvillette would gladly show them his power, and perhaps help them with their own. •slightly jealous of Venti, as reader eventually goes back, but ultimately understanding. •Like Venti and anemo dragon-sovereign!reader, I see Neuvillette and readers relationship as: caring father-figure & slightly weird mystery child.

[virtueking233]

Alright, time for angst before I do a nice silly talk about how Ruby and Weiss brought out the best in each other/grew to be who they are now with the help of the others

So what angst am I talking about today? Simple!

Y’all know how Blake leaving Yang was a breaking point for Yang

Or that Pyrrha’s death was a major breaking point for Jaune

Y’all ever noticed how Weiss misunderstanding Ruby or that Weiss lack of support in V9… was what truly broke Ruby/caused the dam to break for Ruby?

What do I mean by this?

Well

Let’s begin by talking about the possible misunderstanding that happened with Weiss in V9 ep 2

Specifically the moment where Weiss talks to Ruby and both opens up to Ruby about her own doubts and tries to get Ruby to open up to her towards the end

Then two Things happen here

1. Weiss, upon failing to get Ruby to fully open up and talk to her, most likely feels sad/guilty that unlike all the times Ruby has managed to be there for Weiss, Weiss isn’t able to be there for Ruby/get Ruby to open up and provide her comfort

And

Now for the misunderstanding

2. Weiss most likely believes that Ruby is asking/wanting to be left alone right now, given time and space so that she can process and figure out her emotions before she opens up and talks to everyone

Now, how does this lead up to Weiss being the one to cause Ruby’s breaking point/cause Ruby’s dam to finally break open?

Simple, a mix of another misunderstanding and self blame

Throughout the course of Volume 9

Ruby is going through a ton of sorrow and pain… but also, through some interactions/moments with Weiss

A great deal of self blame

Most likely Starting with episode 2 and how Ruby most likely took Weiss words as something to blame herself for

That the loss of atlas… and their “failure” in the finale of V8 is on her… no one else

That since she was supposed to be the Leader and be the one who always puts other before herself/be “perfect”, it’s ultimately her fault everything failed

Even later, as know in episode 5, Ruby takes the words of Weiss, “leaving places in ashes”, as another thing that Ruby takes as her own fault /her failure at Being her fault, since she is supposed to be the leader… and she is the one who has led to this happening (again, “perfect” leader mindset)

Then a little later in episode 6 where Ruby sees Weiss staring at the water mirror vision of atlas falling

She blames herself once Again

For being the leader that caused them to leave a place in ashes

To leave her partner’s home… in ashes

And that now all comes to and is finished off in episode 7

Where the greatest misunderstanding by Ruby and her blaming herself comes to play

With Ruby Weiss with what she says and does in this episode

As something that leads Ruby to believe… that Weiss has broken her promise

Because Ruby is no longer a “great”/“perfect” leader

That Ruby is no longer needed anymore

And this comes from a few factors ranging from how Weiss makes a suggestion about being lead out of the EA or how Weiss went and gave comfort to Jaune but never did it for Ruby

Thus leading to that misunderstanding

But you want to know another thing?

Weiss quickly puts this together and comes to realize (most likely) that She was the one who greatly led to Ruby breakdown

Especially after she realized why Ruby felt like she couldn’t open up to anyone/talk to any of them (realizing Ruby thought she had to be a “perfect” leader)

But overall, why this is important and why this is a major moment For Ruby and Weiss relationship is because this leads/has a major set up to a moment where Ruby and Weiss relationship can greatly change

Set up to a moment where Ruby and Weiss have a major heart to heart moment and greatly reconnect to one another… come back together and Be whole once again

Either way, I hope you all enjoy this little angsty analysis and hope you all have a wonderful day/night

(Also, in the making of this analysis… I’ve made several connections and realized how big brain the writers are)

[itsphoenix0724]

Can I request Azriel and Gardenia please? I’m a sucker for hidden families <3

Gardenia (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood, angsty? kind of maybe, a happy ending though

Word Count: 1.3k

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for requesting and participating in my writing event! I hope you enjoy what I've done with it! This is set when Feyre first comes to the Night Court! Please enjoy and feel free to reach out again! Slots for the series are still open so please request. I'm working through my inbox after being sick so if you did request I promise I see it! As always, constructive criticism is welcome! <3

Following the screaming bouncing off the stone walls in the House of Wind, Feyre finds herself in Azriel’s room. The sight alone is enough to make her want to vomit, let alone the metallic scent of blood staining the air. Madja is knelt beside Azriel on the bed, armed with a needle and thread, trying to stitch the wound he somehow sustained. 

The gash is massive and gaping. The cut starts in his lower stomach and stretches to his sternum. The combination of the stinging of Madja’s healing work and the wound makes even the stoic Spymaster scream like a babe. 

Feyre doesn’t know much about the missions Azriel gets sent on, and after this, she's not sure she wants to. 

“RHYS!” Azriel barely can grit out the words behind his clenched jaw. Rhysand is by his side in an instant, kneeling on the other side of the bed. Azriel turns his sweat-soaked head and grasps a hand with Rhys. 

“What do you need?” Rhys’s voice is grave, eyes darting between hazel eyes and the blood seeping out onto the sheets. 

“Go get her.” This is the most serious Feyre has ever seen Azriel. Rhys’s eyes dart to Feyre and then back to Az and nods once before disappearing into thin air. She doesn’t have any time to consider who “her” might be before Madja snaps at her to get clean water and bandages. 

It takes another hour but she and Madja finally get Azriel stable and asleep. 

Feyre feels like she could sleep for a lifetime as she stumbles out of the room. When she steps into the House’s sitting room she is met with the absolute last sight she was expecting.

Rhys is sitting on one of the armchairs, a small boy with Illyrian wings perched on his lap, and a heavily pregnant female is pacing in front of the roaring fire.

Three pairs of eyes snap to look at her for answers. 

“He’s stable, but he’s asleep.” she sees the female visibly sag with relief as tears well up in her eyes. She smiles at Feyre briefly, before looking at Rhysand who nods in return. She drops a kiss on the boy's head before she’s running down the hall.

Feyre looks to Rhys for answers as he bounces the boy on his knee. 

“Feyre darling, this is Atlas, Az’s son. That was his mate,” he dips his head down the hall as her eyes widen in shock. 

“Hello, Miss Feyre.”  The small boy smiles at her despite the dark atmosphere in the room. Looking at him she can’t mistake the babe for anyone else's, the mop of black hair and the wings make up the perfect picture. The only mismatching piece is the eyes, which she assumes belong to you. 

“Hello,” she gives the boy her sweetest smile and he seems to beam further at her. The boy averts his attention back to Rhys, and she realizes he can’t be any older than five.

“Uncle Rhys, can I go play?” He nods at Atlas who runs over to rifle through a bag and settles on a small mat set up in the corner. 

“I didn’t know Az had a family,” Feyre says settling in the armchair across from Rhys, blue eyes darting to the child playing quietly. 

“Azriel is very private,” he reaches over to pour a glass of whiskey, passing it to her and then pours another one for himself. He takes a long drink from the glass before continuing. “Because of the nature of his work, he keeps his family hidden away from almost everyone but the Inner Circle.” Violet eyes watch Atlas before he looks back at Feyre, expression surprisingly grim. “I can’t say I blame him.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You haven’t let go of Azriel’s hand since you sat in the chair perched beside his bed. It made you sick to your stomach seeing your mate lying there. So still. So pale. Completely at odds with the male you’ve come to know and love. You decided to keep your son out of the room. 

He doesn’t need to see his father like this. 

You had felt the panic drift down the bond, along with a brief electric flash of pain, and then nothing. Az had closed his end of the bond to shield you from his struggle, but you had been pouring concern down the other side. You had been trying to remain calm so Atlas wouldn’t sense your panic when Rhys appeared and brought you here. 

All you could do was watch the rising and falling of his chest to reassure yourself he was alive. He was breathing. He would come back to you like he always promised. You pressed kisses to each one of his knuckles and sent waves of love to your mate. You didn’t know how long it had been, hours most likely when hazel eyes creaked open to meet yours. It feels like you’ve released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You scramble to pour a glass of water and hand it to Az. He chugs it all in one go, and you refill it to pass it back to him. 

“Hello, love.” he manages a small smile, and you let out a wet laugh as you try to stop the tears flowing out of your eyes. He reaches a scarred hand out to wipe your cheek, and you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “I’m sorry,” he mutters out around a dry throat. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You shake your head and squeeze all your love into Azriel’s wrist. You refuse to let his hand leave your cheek, needing the contact. You knew what being mated to the Spymaster would entail, and you swore yourself to him at the alter anyway. 

“I worried you. You should have Madja look over you. It can’t be good when you’re this far along.” You shake your head at him incredulously. Leave it to Azriel to be worried about you when he almost bled out. “Where’s Atlas?” he looks around the room, noting his son’s absence. 

“He’s safe. He’s in the other room with Rhys and Feyre.” You watch something in Azriel calm now that he knows his son is safe, and it warms something deep in your chest. You reach out to Rhy’s mind sending him a message to bring Atlas to his father. A moment later you hear footsteps coming down the hall. Rhys, Feyre, and your son appear in the doorway. Atlas runs into the room at the sight of his father. 

“Daddy!” You catch your son around the waist before he jumps right onto Azriel’s stomach. It’s not his fault, he leaps onto Az like this almost every morning. 

“Atlas,” You press a kiss into the inky crown of hair on your son's head as he squirms to get on the bed with his dad. “We have to be careful with Daddy right now because he’s hurt remember?” His big eyes look at you before returning to Az, now seeming to see the thick layer of bandages that cover his stomach. 

“Oh,” your son mutters, looking as if he’s been chastised. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Azriel gently pulls Atlas to his chest, planting kisses all over his face and head. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Azriel promises, his eyes welling up a little as he looks at his son. He can’t believe he almost lost this, his perfect family, and almost didn’t even get to meet his second child. Rhys clears his throat from the doorway, and Azriel meets his and Feyre’s eyes. He looks at you again and you dip your chin in conformation. 

He takes a deep breath, but Feyre’s basically already family anyway, even if she doesn’t know it yet. 

“Feyre, this is my mate.”

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.

Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Click Me For Part 3!

Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)

(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)

Lumine

To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.

Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.

That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.

So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.

Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.

Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.

"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.

Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!

At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

Once we’re seated and buckled, Lex turns to me to begin her interrogation before I even have a chance to pull out of the parking garage. “Okay, so, first things first, did you sleep with him?”

I glance over at her, surprised by her question. I figured that was implied considering we left the club together last night and I didn’t come home until this afternoon, but good for her for not making assumptions, I guess. “Yeah, I did,” I say, fighting a losing battle with the smile spreading across my face. 

She smacks me in the arm and gasps, “Really? How was it?”

This really isn’t the part of the night that I need to talk through, but I allow myself a moment to think about it anyway. I prop my arm up on the door so I can rest my head against my hand. My hair feels clean and soft, and still smells faintly of his shampoo, sparking a memory of running my hands over his body in the shower. The image makes my stomach flutter, and my voice comes out a little dreamy when I speak, “It was amazing.”

“Amazing? Well, I’m going to have follow-up questions.”

“And I won’t be answering any of those questions.”

“Ugh, fine,” she rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, “So, then what happened? How did things go from ‘amazing’ to you sobbing into my shoulder and getting snot all over my jacket?”

“I don’t know. Like, the whole night was great. It was fun, and he was so sweet, and it really felt like… It wasn't just a hook up, it was more than that. Or at least I thought so. Maybe I was just projecting or seeing what I wanted to see because I… fuck, I’m so embarrassed… whatever, I kinda put myself out there today, really thinking he’d reciprocate, but—”

“He didn’t?”

“No.”

“What did he say?”

“Same thing he always says. He doesn’t want to date me because we work together. He just wants to be friends. I don’t know, maybe I’m the asshole. How many times does he have to tell me he just wants to be friends? And I’m over here like, ‘are you sure? how ‘bout now?’ What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to stop.”

“Babe, c’mon, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I know you. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t really believe he felt the same way. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you’re not imagining it. Sounds to me like he’s saying one thing but acting another and he’s fucking with your head and that’s not okay. If he truly wants to be your friend, then he needs to act like a friend, and he’s not. If you ask me, he’s the asshole, and you deserve a hell of a lot better.”

“I hear you; I do. He’s not an asshole, though. He’s really not. I think maybe it’s more complicated than that. Like, he was so kind, and affectionate… I really felt like he cared. And then today, he just looked so sad when I was leaving. You know how he does sometimes. But I’ve never seen him more down than he looked today, and my heart just, I don’t know, I just want to take that sadness away. I feel like I could make him happy if he’d let me.”

“Careful, Ash. Don’t do that. Don’t fall into that trap of thinking you can rescue him or fix him or something. That’s some toxic co-dependent shit. Pretty sure you get enough of that with your sister.”

“Ow.” Leave it to Lex to stab you in the heart with her honesty. I respect it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“Did you or did you not drop everything to rush out to the Bay to help her the second she asked?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are your parents home?”

“Yes.”

“So, in theory, they could help her with her baby furniture or whatever today?”

I let her words sink in. I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries with Iris, but apparently, I still have some work to do. It didn’t even feel like an option to say no to her today, but now that seems ridiculous. Now, I wish I hadn’t rushed out on Atlas. Maybe we could’ve had a nice day together. Maybe I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself if I wasn’t so frazzled and trying to make everyone happy all at once. Damn. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’m doing that with Atlas though. Like, sure, I want to make him happy when he’s sad, and maybe I overestimate my ability to do so, but I’ve never felt a need to ‘save’ him or whatever. It’s not like that. I just… I like him so much, Lex. I really do. I love spending time with him. And I love the way he makes me feel when we’re together. I could’ve sworn he felt the same way. I mean, just the way he…” my voice trails off as I remember all the ways he looked at me and smiled at me and kissed me and touched me, and then his words “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”, and the tenderness in his voice and in his eyes when he said it. The sweet way he kissed my forehead in the bathroom. The way he held me as we slept.

“The way he what? Hello? Where did you go?”

“You know what? I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not. I know he feels it too. So, maybe he really is just super weird about dating people he works with. I mean, on paper it seems logical, right? To not mix your professional life with your romantic one?”

“I don’t know. I guess? What are you getting at?”

“Well, it’s an easy enough obstacle to remove, don’t you think?”

“You’re gonna quit your job over a guy you’ve only known a few months?”

“Why not? It’s better than giving up on a great guy over some job I've only had a few months. I’m not just gonna quit though, don’t worry. I’ll get something else lined up first. But I have a decent portfolio. I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”

“Okay. Well, what if it doesn’t work? What if he’s full of shit, making excuses? What if you leave for him and he still just wants to be friends.”

“Honestly, at this point, if there’s any chance of me being his friend, I think I’ll need some distance for a while to get over him. And also, if I call his bluff and tell him I’m going to quit, and he still doesn’t want to be with me, then hopefully he’ll at least have the decency to tell me the real reason why. Otherwise, maybe I shouldn’t even try being his friend. Maybe, in that case, I’d have to face that he’s not who I thought he was and move on. But I won’t be able to do that unless I know for sure. So yeah, the more I think about it, this seems like the obvious solution regardless of the outcome.”

She pouts at me, clearly not happy, but she doesn’t have an argument against it, so she concedes, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “Sorry about your jacket.”

She smiles at that, “It’s okay. Do you feel better at least?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Worth it then.”

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AN: Thank you so so much @madebycoffee for creating the perfect poses for this scene!!! This was my very first car scene and I was so nervous about it, but I love how it turned out and I couldn't have done it without you!! 🥹🩵🧡