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sailorrhansol · 5 months ago

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Chat, is that Rizz? | j.ww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.”

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.”

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat.

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.”

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird.

There is a lot of weird.

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?”

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord.

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?”

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo.

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding.

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage of quality time spent with me-”

“Not a benefit.”

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?”

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.”

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single.

“See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?”

“Fine, it’s a date.”

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?”

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?”

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.”

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice.

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.”

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.”

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace.

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.”

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items.

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course.

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.”

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.”

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.”

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.”

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands.

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.”

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false.

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes. “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting.

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.”

“What can you teach me, Angel?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match.

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin.

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.”

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in.

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.”

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur.

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.”

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time.

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on.

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera.

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.”

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents.

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?”

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.”

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts.

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is.

“Are you happy now?”

“Huh?”

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“I wasn’t.”

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.”

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts.

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment.

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?”

“Not like yours.”

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.”

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you.

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss.

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you.

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.”

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up.

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.”

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you.

Fuck you realize he might do this all night.

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.”

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.”

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine.

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him.

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine.

“Why should I?”

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.”

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.”

“Closer…”

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.”

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.”

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again.

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm.

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz.

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?”

You do.

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can.

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep.

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass.

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you.

“Oh shut up.”

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound.

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness.

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest.

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.”

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious.

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving.

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace.

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name.

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts.

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.”

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth.

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky.

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half.

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid.

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him.

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.”

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?”

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@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu

IF YOU DO NOT SEE YOUR TAG HERE AND YOU REQUESTED ONE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG IS NOT WORKING.

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #wonu smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #why is tagging fics lowkey embarrassing

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chelseeebe · 10 days ago

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all outta’ luck

18+. smut. exhusband!eddie, this is set sometime in the early 2000s but it’s mentioned once so who really cares

a/n: thank you anon for inspiring me to write another part to the exhusband!eddie series! this is a just a lil something to show that he doesn’t get his way all the time hehe. i’m so tired, please ignore any mistakes

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

the repetitive clanging sounds of the garage ring through eddie’s ears, murmured profanities and a chorus line of huffs fill the space.

he can hear that fucking britney spears song echoing from the courtyard, his colleagues choice of music made him passively suicidal.

something’s afoot, emmanuel stops tinkering to gaze over the car out into the parking lot, glancing at eddie quietly before the rest of the guys clock on.

“oooooh,” they ring out, “someone’s in trouble,” mocking as they stop working to stare gormless at him.

eddie’s stands, noticing your dinged up old ford straight away, searching for the missing accompaniment of your furious face alongside it.

“yeah, nice one boys,” he hits back, his feet scuffing the gravel as he comes around the car.

there you are, with your hands on your hips, exchanging niceties with robert before latching your eyes onto him.

you were here for one of two reasons, either you needed something, meaning he would get his dick wet, or eddie had done something wrong, he’d probably still get his dick wet.

it’s difficult to hide his excitement when you’ve essentially pavlov’d him into getting hard every time he sees you.

“can we talk?” full of scorn, causing robert to back away, rightfully so too.

“about?” rolling his eyes at his gawking friends before slipping out of the garage, away from their prying eyes.

“what’d you give oscar this for?” retrieving the twenty dollar bill from your bra to hold in his face. wilfully ignoring the perverse whistles in the background.

eddie stares at the twenty, wiping his hands with the oily rag, “he said he wanted some video game so i gave it to him,” shrugging because really, what other answer could he give?

“i already told him he couldn’t have it,” your brows knitted together, “i wish you’d check with me first before just doing shit,” sliding the note back into your bra, another round of whistling begins behind him. not to mention that was his twenty.

eddie’s dumbfounded completely, absolutely certain that you’d only made the drive up here to piss him off, “so? i can’t give my son money anymore?”

you tut, “i didn’t say that,” blinking rapidly, he knows you’re trying to contain yoursel, “i just want you to ask me before you tell him he can have something.”

you’re surely not serious. this must be a ploy to get him pent up so you can drag him away from work, it must be.

“i’m his dad,” getting louder, making sure that anyone eavesdropping could clearly hear this pathetic argument, “you remember that? if he wants the game, he can have the game.”

your eyes trail from his to the gallery of blinking eyes behind him, “can we do this somewhere else?”

there it is.

your plan unfolding right in front of his eyes.

eddie exhales, playing into the little act you so desperately wanted, tossing his rag to the floor, “i’m taking lunch now,” announcing his plans to the entire audience, stomping from the garage to your terribly parked car.

they’d all be talking about you no doubt, hushed whispers about eddie being weak or a pushover, whatever. if they only knew what was really about to go down, they’d have far worse to say.

he gets in without ever looking back at them all, concealing his smirk rather unsuccessfully, “happy now?” he remarks snidely.

you shift the car into drive, looking straight ahead, “very,” wheels crunching over the gravel as you pull off, smug as you drive.

“you don’t have to do all this shit every time, you know? i would’a just gone with you anyway,” tapping his fingers along the leather interior, waiting for his mark to touch you. he’s sure it’d come, just as soon as you were away from the crowd.

“but it’s more fun this way,” turning off to your usual desolate spot, hidden away from passing cars or peeping people.

his hand braces your knee first, watching your face for permission to move upward, which he does with glee, slipping underneath your skirt, “no panties?” hardly surprised by the lack of fabric.

you park, somewhere deep in the bushes, “mhm,” nodding as your legs clamp shut around his wrist, trapping his arm in the most precarious position. “you like it?”

eddie nods, his breaths growing erratic, “fuck yeah i do,” attempting to grab a little fistful of your skin but your hold around his arm only gets tighter.

“thought you would,” humming softly, removing his hand from your thigh to slide over the console and onto his lap, receiving a short grunt of approval.

eddie’s practically salivating, coming to wrap his arms tight around your waist, anticipating the next best three minutes of his life. “holy fuck,” shuddering into the disappearing space between your faces as your cunt moves against his crotch, no doubt darkening the fabric with your slick.

somethings wrong, something must be wrong.

he’d never get off with this so easily, he’s waiting for the bait and switch, for whatever punishment he must endure to come crashing over him.

your hands snake around his neck, taking a strong fistful of his hair to tug backwards, “you wanna fuck me? hmm? d’you wanna cum?” that stupid pornstar voice you put on sometimes, low and raspy, almost making him blow his fucking load right now.

“yes.. please,” his hips thrusting upwards for just a hint of relief, “god- fuck, please,” clawing at your skin, he’s never felt so desperate in all his life.

you grind down against his cock, pulling a filthy mewl from his whiny throat, “what’re you gonna do to me? huh?”

oh god.

he can’t even think, only do. so pathetically desperate to fuck up into you a couple of times before cumming everywhere.

“i’m gonna.. i need to feel you,” eddie mewls, grinding back against your cunt, the only thing separating the two of you were his stained work pants and his boxers that suddenly felt very sticky.

your hips begin to bounce, his clothed cock nudging against your bare pussy with every frantic rut of your hips. “oh my god,” you cry, using his crotch to get yourself off more than anything, the denim brushing your clit just right.

“fuck sweetheart, please fuck me,” rutting frantically upwards, latching onto your bottom lip and the skin around it.

there’s not much longer of this he can take before he inevitably cums in his pants. you were moving too erratically, whining into his mouth in tandem with your clit catching against the tip of his erection.

“mmhm,” barely audible over the creaking of his seat, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“so much.. like, now baby,” grasping at your shirt, kneading the fabric through his fingers in a bid to get you to just move a little.

“too bad,” stilling your movements completely, gazing into his eyes, an gleam of utter villainous intent behind your otherwise glossy eyes.

sick. you must be sick in the head.

“nononono please, baby please what’re you doing?” desperation dripping from his tongue, his grabby hands urgently trying to keep you on his lap.

“nuhuh,” pinching his cheek, cruel and mocking with your smirk, “you don’t get to fuck me today,” climbing back over to the drivers seat, pulling your skirt back to a respectable length and running a quick hand through your wild hair.

“what?” eddie exclaims, hands falling limp against his burning thighs, “what’s wrong with you?” you were psychotic, utterly depraved and sick in the head.

eddie wants to cry, the tears pricking in his eyes at the longing ache still lingering in his cock, a cruel and unusual punishment for a damned video game.

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?” turning to him, mouth hung open in shock, “you don’t listen to me, ever. why the fuck would i let you fuck me?”

you were serious about this. genuinely pissed off over some money he could hardly remember giving.

fuck this.

eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated and ridiculously horny, a terrible combination when he was expected back at work any minute now. “it’s twenty bucks,” he sighs, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you, i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry, can you please get back over here and let me make it up to you?” in complete despair, the man had never had to plead so hard just to touch you.

your tongue peaks out, wetting your bottom lip, as if you were really contemplating this, “no,” before turning the ignition back on, so smug and so sure you were in the right.

hell, maybe you were.

but he’d learned his lesson now, he was ready to repent and make amends.

“oh my god,” eddie huffs, pulling at the bunched up fabric of his pants in an effort to conceal his still very much raging boner. “you’re gonna make me go back in there like this?” they’d never let him live this down, no doubt about it.

you hum with a sickening sense of satisfaction, “yeah, i am actually,” glancing down at his crotch, “maybe when you’ve learnt your lesson i’ll let you make it up to me,” turning down that gut-wrenchingly familiar road to the garage, knowing you were really serious about this, relishing in his pain.

they’re all waiting when you pull back in, a gaggle of beady eyed freaks line the garage, just waiting for their moment to start the attack.

eddie scoffs one final time, “you’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

“goodbye eddie,” shooing him off, your lips twitching in excitement.

they whoop excruciatingly loud when eddie closes the door, the scarlet hue to his cheeks and the unruly nest of hair on his head giving everything away.

“what’s the matter? you can’t get her off anymore?” james screeches, far too old to be hazing him like some teenager.

“tell her if she needs a real man, i’ll be right here for her,” emmanuel pipes up, clutching onto his heart. like you’d ever go for a man who was balding at 28. pfft.

“that’s my fuckin’ wife, you degenerates,” eddie spits, watching intently as you back out of the parking lot, the boys ogling as you go.

“not anymore,” their laughter roars through the echoing garage, reminding him that despite the ring still wrapped around his fourth finger, you weren’t married anymore.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #ex husband!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #if you squint

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nhlclover · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: after luke lets you slip away the first time, he's destined to not let you slip away again.

warnings: cute fluff, awkward dialogue

word count: 2.77k

You were the face of Michigan Athletics.

Michigan wasn’t exactly known for its soccer program, but when you committed there, all eyes were on them. You were set to be their crown jewel athlete, bringing them their first national championship.

And in Luke’s opinion, they couldn’t have picked a better face.

You’d met at a pre-season party the soccer team threw during Luke’s freshman year. As the women's soccer team captain, you took on the hosting duties. Luke spotted you across the room almost immediately. You stood out in the crowd, not just because you were the host, but because you had an undeniable presence. Effortlessly charismatic, you moved through the room with ease, greeting everyone with a warm smile. Every new person you spoke to laughed easily at what you said, drawn in by your charm.

Luke stood by the kitchen counter, nursing his drink, his eyes following your every move. He noticed how you moved from group to group, person to person, finding conversation with every one of them. Luke didn’t even know if you personally knew all of them, but it seemed like you were best friends with everyone.

"Hey, Luke! Are you having a good time?" Brendan, one of the sophomore players, clapped him on the back, pulling him out of his trance.

Luke smiled, though his eyes drifted back to you. "Yeah, man. Great party."

Brendan followed his gaze and grinned knowingly. “Ah, I see you spotted y/n,” he said, sighing. “Not gonna happen, buddy.”

Luke furrowed his brows, turning to look at Brendan. “What? Why not?”

Brendan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s… she’s like the sun. You know, everyone’s drawn to her, but no one gets close. She’s got a lot on her plate—captain of the team, top of her class, always involved in something.”

Luke glanced back at you, captivated by the way you laughed with the group you were with, your laughter ringing above the crowd's conversation. “She seems really nice,” he said, more to himself than to Brendan.

“Oh, she is,” Brendan agreed. “Nicest person you'll ever meet. But no chance in hell is she going for a freshman.”

Luke nodded, still not taking his eyes off you. Brendan patted him on the shoulder again. “Don’t get too hung up on her, bud. Enjoy the party. Plenty of other people to meet.” With that, he wandered off to join a group of his friends.

Maybe Brendan was right. Maybe you don’t go for freshman. But there was something about you that made Luke want to try anyway. He watched as you finally took a break from mingling and headed towards the kitchen. His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, and he decided to take a chance.

“Hey,” he said, mustering up his most confident smile as you reached the counter. “I’m Luke. Great party, by the way.”

You looked up, meeting his eyes with a warm smile that made his heart race even more. “Hey, Luke, I’m y/n. Thanks, I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you said, your voice sweet. “I don’t recognize you… you must be a freshman.”

Luke chuckled slightly, nodding. “Yeah, yeah I am. I’m on the men's hockey team, actually.”

"So, how are you finding Michigan so far? Adjusting okay?"

Luke smiled, grateful for the shift in focus. "It’s been great so far. A bit overwhelming, but in a good way. The guys on the team have been really welcoming."

"That’s good to hear," you said, genuinely pleased. "The first year can be a lot, but it sounds like you’re handling it well."

A sudden chorus of shouts from just outside the kitchen ripped the both of you out of the conversation. You looked over your shoulder, seeing your friends waving you over, before returning your gaze to Luke. “Looks like I’m needed. But it was really nice talking to you, Luke. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.” You shot him a genuine smile before slipping out of the kitchen and into the crowd.

You saw each other a little bit during Luke’s two years there, short little conversations at parties or brief interactions in the athletic facilities at Michigan. But Luke never made his move. He’d think about it every time you interacted, but could never muster up the courage to say ‘Hey, y/n, wanna go out sometime?’. Then before he knew it, New Jersey had signed him, and he’d lost his chance.

That was until you had posted a photo, announcing that you had signed a contract with Gotham FC, the women's soccer team based out of New York and New Jersey. It felt like fate to Luke that the two of you wound up in the same city again. His heart raced as he stared at the photo, and Luke would be damned if he was going to let you slip away again.

A couple of games into the season, the team was informed that you, Gotham FC’s newest signing, would be doing the ceremonial puck drop. It felt as if the world was dropping a fated encounter right in Luke’s lap. Luke had let it slip to the Devil's PR team that he knew you and they pulled some strings to set up him being involved in the puck drop.

When he watched you step onto the ice adorning a Devil's jersey, Luke felt his breath catch in his throat. His crush came soaring back as if no time had passed.

He watched as you graced towards center ice, waving towards the cheering fans. Your lips parted widely, displaying the same genuine and bright smile that he remembered. The moment you reached the end of the red carpet, your eyes met him, and a flicker of recognition passed between you. Luke managed to smile, though his heart was pounding as if he was about to play in the biggest game of his life.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the nerves that ran through his veins. “Welcome to Jersey.”

You smiled back, eyes twinkling. “Thanks, Luke. It’s good to see a familiar face.”

After the puck dropped, Luke lingered on the ice, watching as you were ushered off by Devil's staff and taken behind the bench. He couldn’t shake the interaction you’d had; the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the way your voice sounded when you said his name. It was as if all the feelings he'd buried deep down were rushing back, more intense than ever before.

The feeling didn’t shake even as the game started. Every time he finished a shift, he couldn’t help but glance into the stands, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face. He wondered what you were thinking, if you even remembered those small moments you’d shared back in Michigan, or if you felt the same connection that he did now.

The Devils ended up securing a win, but even as his teammates celebrated around him, Luke found his mind elsewhere. As he finished his post-game routine, towelling off the sweat and changing into his street clothes, Luke spotted the team’s media coordinator stick her head into the room before walking over to him. “Hey Luke, you have a visitor,” she said, a knowing smile tugging on her lips.

Luke’s heart skipped a beat, hoping it was you. He quickly ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to calm his nerves. When he stepped out into the hallway, there you were, leaning against the wall with that same bright smile.

“Hey,” you greeted, pushing off the wall and walking toward him.

“Hey,” Luke responded, a little breathless. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrugged, a playful glint in your eyes. “Figured I’d stop by and congratulate you on the win.”

“Ah, well, thank you,” Luke replied.

“I think it’s only fair that you come to a Gotham game now that I’ve been to a Devils game.”

“Hey, don’t tempt me with a good time.”

As you chatted, his teammates began to trickle out of the locker room, noticing the unfamiliar face. Jack was the first to approach, Dawson and Jesper close behind, throwing a curious glance between the two of you.

“Luke, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Jack teased, already smirking.

Luke rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “Guys, this is y/n. She’s with Gotham FC now. We knew each other back at Michigan.”

Introductions were made, and you were instantly welcomed into the group, the guys bombarding you with questions about soccer and your new team. You handled it with ease, laughing and chatting as if you had known them for years. You had the same effect on them as the rest of the people you met.

Luke tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting to how much he wanted to talk to you alone. The banter with his teammates was fun, but he couldn’t help feeling like this was his chance to finally make a move — something he’d regretted not doing back in Michigan.

As the group talked, Luke started to think about how he could get the guys to back off for a bit. Jack was already trying to dig into their history, jokingly asking, “So, Luke, did you ever tell her how you used to—”

“Hey, Jack,” Luke interrupted, shooting his brother a look that clearly said don’t even think about it. “How about you head on home? I’ll catch up with you guys later, alright?”

Jesper raised a brow, catching on to what Luke was getting at. “Yeah, yeah, we’re off. We’ll see you later. It was nice meeting you, y/n.”

Jack attempted to argue, wanting to bug his little brother a little more, but was ushered away by Jesper and Dawson. Once they were out of earshot, Luke turned back to you, his nerves kicking up a notch. Luke shifted awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his still-damp hair as he tried to steady his nerves. The hallway felt quieter now, the absence of his teammates making the moment between you two more intimate, more charged. He could feel the weight of the opportunity, the chance to say something he’d been holding back for years.

“I uh… I was wondering if you’d uh… want to maybe get a drink with me or something?” Luke stammered out.

A small grin tugged on your lips, Luke’s cheeks heating up and turning a light pink hue. “I’d love to.” you nodded. “But I hope you know a place, I’m still getting used to the area.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know a place,” Luke said.

Luke's mind was racing as you both left the arena together. The cool night air was a welcome relief against the lingering adrenaline from the game. He walked beside you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, trying to play it cool despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. It had been years since he'd last felt this way — the same fluttering nerves and excitement that he used to push aside back at Michigan.

You both arrived at a cozy bar just a few blocks from the arena, a place Luke had frequented with his teammates. The atmosphere was relaxed, the dim lighting and soft chatter creating an intimate vibe that made it easier for Luke to settle his nerves.

As you both slid into a booth, Luke tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t come off as too eager. He knew this was his chance to finally make up for the lost opportunities in Michigan, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“Nice spot,” you commented, glancing around with an approving nod. “It reminds me of that place in Michigan, Paulies?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke agreed, trying to ignore the way his heart sped up every time you looked at him. “Figured it’d be a nice spot to catch up, you know?”

“I’m glad you asked me out tonight,” you said, your eyes meeting his in a way that made his heart skip a beat. “I always wondered if we’d get another chance to hang out.”

The comment caught Luke off guard, and he blinked in surprise. “Really? You wondered that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “I mean, we didn’t really get to know each other that well at Michigan, but there was always this… I don’t know, this connection, I guess. I always thought we’d hang out more, but then things got busy… y’know you with hockey, me with soccer… and well, you know how it goes.”

Luke felt a warmth spread through his chest, your words giving him the confidence he needed. “I thought the same thing,” he confessed, his voice a little steadier now. “I always wanted to ask you out back then, but I just… never did. I don’t know, I guess I was scared or something.”

You tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Scared? Of what?”

“I mean… c’mon y/n…” Luke chuckled but stopped when he met your sincere eyes. “You were always out of my league. I mean you were the captain of the soccer team, you were always on the Dean’s list, you are liked by everyone… I mean you met my teammates for five minutes and they were enthralled by you. Not to mention you’re like drop-dead gorgeous, I just…”

Luke stopped when he realized he was rambling, stopping also to catch his breath. You blinked, genuinely surprised by his admission. “Out of your league?” you echoed, leaning forward slightly. “Luke, what are you talking about?”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but the vulnerability in his eyes was undeniable. He could hardly believe he was admitting this to you after all this time. A small laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head in disbelief.

“Luke,” you started, your voice soft but firm, “You’re tall, handsome, and you were destined to be a hockey player in the NHL. You’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. You were always kind, even in those brief moments we had back in Michigan. And when I moved here, I remembered you played her and I was hoping I’d run into you again because… well, I kind of had a crush on you too.”

Luke felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. He blinked, processing what you just said. “You… you did?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded again, your smile growing a little wider. “Yeah, I did. I mean, how could I not? You were always so genuine and down-to-earth, even when everyone else was trying to act like they were too cool. But I never thought you saw me like that.”

Luke couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. The weight of all the missed opportunities and the years of wondering seemed to lift in that moment. “I guess we were both kind of clueless, huh?” he said with a chuckle.

“Seems like it,” you agreed, laughing softly.

The laughter between you both faded into a comfortable silence as you locked eyes, the reality of your shared feelings settling in.

“Well,” Luke said, his voice a little more confident now, “I’m really glad we’re here now. And, y/n, I don’t want to let this chance slip by again. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and I’d really like to see where this could go.”

Your smile grew, your eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and warmth. “I’d like that too, Luke,” you replied, your voice sincere.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of easy conversation and shared laughter. As you both walked out of the bar, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Luke couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. This was what he had wanted for so long, and now that it was finally happening, it felt even better than he’d imagined.

When you reached the corner where you’d have to part ways, Luke turned to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So, can I take you out again? Maybe a proper date this time?” he asked, his tone light but hopeful.

You grinned, nodding. “I’d love that, Luke. And maybe next time, you can show me around more of the city.”

“It’s a date,” he said, his smile widening.

Luke bade you goodbye, turning on his heels and beginning down the street.

“Hey, Luke!” you called after him. Luke turned, locking eyes with yours that sparkled beneath the street lights. “Please don’t let me slip away again.”

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #fluff

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aliendes · 11 days ago

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SVT Reaction to yelling at you for the first time/saying something hurtful

a/n: *gasp* I'm actually posting something after... checks watch... 4 years?! holyyyyy shit! anyways, this wasn't requested, I've been been brainrotting over SVT and anyone who knows me knows I love the angst. if you want to see more of SVT or have a request, hit up my inbox! i missed writing and tbh this is probably complete shit. I'm just trying to get back into it slowly before I write any behemoths like I used to. anywhooooooooo, here's some angsty AF SVT reactions.

w/c: 5,000~ (this is normal for me, unfortunately)

warnings: angssssst, some name calling (sl*t is used in a derogatory way by one of the boys I'm so sorry), one of the boys gets slapped (he deserves it), and overall just a lot of hurt no comfort. let me know if I missed anything that needs a warning.

let me know if you wanna see a part 2!

Seungcheol (S.coups)

He can be hot-headed and while he can have a sharp tongue sometimes, he doesn’t actually mean the things that he says in the heat of the moment. When he first raised his voice at you to tell you to “Stop acting like a bitch!” he instantly regretted his choice of words. It wasn’t even that big of an argument, you had only asked him to tell you about practice and what was bothering him, but after the long day he had he really didn’t want to rehash the details. When you sighed your third sigh, he just… snapped. The look on your face told him all he needed to know. He’d hurt you with his words and his tone. He watched in real-time as your expression turned from one of annoyance to one of pure hurt. Before the tears started rolling down your cheeks, you turned from him and immediately locked yourself in the bathroom.

“Baby?” He approached the door cautiously like he would an injured animal. And he guessed, you kind of were at this point. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Baby, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that.” His voice was hoarse, he was trying to hold back his emotions so he could fix this. He could hear you sniffling from the other side of the door, but you made no moves to unlock it.

“Go away, Seungcheol.”

He flinched at the use of his full name, he hated when you called him that and you knew it. “Ok, I’ll leave you alone for right now, but please know that I did not mean that. I’m not mad at you, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you, and I’m not going anywhere. Ok, baby?”

He heard a few more sniffles and a soft “ok”, before planting himself against the wall opposite the bathroom door. He’d wait here however long he needed to.

Jeonghan

Now, Jeonghan can be sassy and snippy, you know this. You are used to this and you know he can sometimes be more passive-aggressive than he means to be. You two typically work very well together and you never let his snarky comments get to you. Besides, he always ends up apologizing for his moods and you two move on.

This time, however, Jeonghan knows he fucked up. It started with him being late for dinner, which isn’t an unusual thing. Practice runs late oftentimes, it can’t be avoided. But tonight was date night and he wasn’t just a few minutes late, he was three hours late. By the time he got home, dinner was cold and you were snoozing on the couch already in your pajamas. Practice had been tough, their choreographer running through the chorus what felt like hundreds of times until they were all moving in synch. He was exhausted, so instead of waking you up or carrying you to bed like he normally would, he set his things down and went straight to wash up.

The sound of running water is what woke you. You wandered into the bathroom to find your boyfriend in the shower. You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You didn’t wake me.”

Jeonghan startled a bit, not having heard you enter. “Sorry, lovey. I’m really tired.” You could hear the harshness of his voice and for a moment you felt guilty, but then you remembered he didn’t even text you he would be running late.

“You didn’t call or text. It was date night.”

Jeonghan heaved a long sigh before turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist. “It was a long day, love, please.”

“I know, Jeonghan and I’m sorry, but you know how important these nights are to me. You’re getting ready to leave again and-”

He cut you off, voice rising, “Y/N, just stop. I’m exhausted, and you’re being incredibly clingy right now.”

“What- Jeonghan excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He brushed past you, bumping into your shoulder on his way out of the bathroom.

“Jeonghan! Hey!” You followed after him, not realizing how hot-headed your boyfriend was right now. “You can’t just say shit like that to me!”

“You know what Y/N? I can, now for the love of God, leave me alone!” His voice was louder than you’d ever heard him speak to you before. He was yelling at you. You stood, stunned, in the doorway to your shared bedroom, but Jeonghan wasn’t done. “Either you sleep on the couch or I will, because I don’t want to be around you right now.”

Something inside you snapped, hearing those words from your usually sweet boyfriend. “Don’t bother, Jeonghan. I’ll be at my sister’s.”

You don’t even bother packing a back, just grabbing your purse and phone and leaving, despite only wearing pajamas. Jeonghan followed you out of the bedroom, watching you leave, realizing what he had done as he watched the front door slam behind you. He ran his hands through his still-wet hair, closing his eyes. “Fuck.”

Joshua

Joshua is the biggest sweetheart, so you two don’t fight very often. You have small, petty arguments sometimes, but Joshua is always the first to admit defeat, even if he wasn’t in the wrong, simply because he hates fighting with you that much.

Tonight, though, he was on a different level of mad. Was it justified? Maybe not, but it didn’t stop him from seeing red when he saw you touching your coworker's arm when he pulled up to pick you up from work. One thing Joshua couldn’t stand, was cheaters, having been cheated on in the past. Parking his car, he honked the horn just once to get your attention.

Immediately, you turned and looked at your boyfriend, smiling wide and bright. It almost made him forget why he was upset in the first place. You turned back to your group of coworkers and waved goodbye before jogging over to the passenger door and getting into your boyfriend’s ride.

“How was work?” He asked coldly, not bothering to look at you. “Who was that?”

You looked at Joshua confused, brows furrowing, “Who?”

“That guy you were just all over,” he responded, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the sidewalk, “you know the one you were flirting with?”

You blanched. There’s no way your sweet, loving Joshua was accusing you of something right now. He’s joking, right? “You’re joking, right?”

Joshua finally turned and looked at you, and you could tell by the look in his eye that he was dead serious. “Josh, that’s my coworker, Jihyun. I’ve told you about him before, you know the-”

“Save it, Y/N. I saw the way you were looking at him, and you knew I was coming to pick you up, did you just want to rub it in my face?! Huh?” His voice was louder than you’d ever heard it before. His usually calm, soft demeanor had completely changed and it was starting to scare you, before you could get a word in he continued, “Or do you just act like that with all your coworkers?! Like a slut?”

The dam broke and tears started streaming down your face. “Stop the car.”

“No, you’re going to tell me-”

“STOP the car Josh!” You yelled through tears. It stunned him out of his momentary anger and he blinked at you. “STOP!”

He pulled over to the sidewalk, and before he could even put the car in park you were out the door with your bag, leaving your phone behind in his center console. “Y/N! Wait!”

“Save it, Josh!” You slammed the car door and stalked away, leaving Joshua to stare, too stunned to move, but regretting his words instantly.

Jun

“Please, baby, can we talk about his tomorrow?” Jun sighed into the phone. He was currently laying on his hotel bed, trying to fall asleep but you wouldn’t let him get off the phone. Not that he usually minded, but he was so exhausted from his shoot today that all he wanted was a few hours of sleep before he did it again. “I’m so tired, Y/N.”

“Junhui, this is important!” You whined, trying to go over the schedule for your sister’s wedding next week. He was part of the wedding party, and you were the maid of honor and it really was important that you have the times down for flights and pickups. “I just need to make sure you’re getting in before-”

“Y/N! Please!” Jun yelled into the phone, stunning you into silence. He never yelled, he was usually so calm and collected that his tone shut you up. “Just shut up, please! I can call you tomorrow and we can go over all of this, but right now I need to sleep! You have no idea how long my days are right now and listening you to whine and complain about this stupid wedding is getting on my last nerve!” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He knows how important this is to you and your family, hell, it’s important to him because he loves you and your family so dearly. He has not idea why he said it, but he can’t take it back now.

He could hear you sniffle on the other end of the phone, but before he could even try and make amends, you cut in, “You know what, Junhui. You’re right. Don’t bother showing up.”

The call ended before Jun could say anything and he immediately tried calling you back, only to be sent to voicemail, over and over again.

“Baby, please. I am so, so sorry. Please pick up. I’ll be on a flight tomorrow after the shoot, I swear to you. Please, Y/N.” His voice broke on his last words and he hung up the phone with tears in his eyes.

Soonyoung

Soonyoung was loud on a good day, so arguments between you two tended to get a little bit heated. That said, they were few and far between and your loving boyfriend never raised his voice at you. Despite this, you’ve heard his anger in the practice room, you just weren’t used to it being directed at you.

“I don’t understand why you always have to be on my back about shit, Y/N!” He boomed across the practice room. You two were the only ones in the large room, the others having left about 20 minutes ago after Soonyoung dismissed them. “Why can’t you just chill the fuck out?!”

You stared at your boyfriend in shock. He had never yelled at you like this before. And over what? You telling him he should take a break?

“Soons, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think-”

“You just think, what?! That I can just drop everything to be with you all the time?! Why are you even here right now? You should be at home, not bothering me at work!”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in here. “I just wanted to bring you and the boys some dinner.” Your voice was small, but Soonyoung didn’t seem to pick up on your near tears, because the yelling continued.

“We don’t need your help, Y/N! I don’t need your help! Just go home.” He spat, turning away from you to start packing up his bags. “I’ll be at the dorm.”

Without saying another word, you turned on your heels and ran out of the practice room and into the maze-like halls of the Hybe building, but not before Soonyoung heard your little gasps for air like you were about to have a full-blown panic attack. His anger completely dissipated at the sound, dropping everything he was doing to stand up and follow after you.

He felt like an idiot. Did he really just blow up on you, his favorite person in the whole universe, over something so silly? He was just stressed, he didn’t mean it, but now he’s hurt you, his entire world. He rushed out of the practice room, but it was too late. You were nowhere to be found, even after he searched up and down the halls, the lobby, and even the roof. Running his hands through his hair, he headed back to grab his bag and keys and started heading back towards your shared apartment. He knew he had a lot to make up for, but he wasn’t sure what state he’d find you in.

Wonwoo

“Y/N just shut the fuck up for once!”

You stood, stunned into silence, in the doorway of your boyfriend's gaming room. Wonwoo opted to ignore your figure to continue playing whatever game he was playing on his computer, headphones still snug over his head.

You had approached him asking if he would get off the games to go out to dinner with you. You’d been asking him all week if you two could go out together since he had the next two weeks off before preparing for his group’s next comeback. He pushed off your requests but you’ve finally had enough and pushed him to come out with you tonight, but boy was that a mistake.

You knew you were starting to get on his nerves, but you didn’t understand why. All you wanted was to spend some time with your boyfriend before we got busy again and you weren’t able to. You felt like the two of you were drifting apart and this just confirmed it. He had never yelled at you like that before, and the fact that he wasn’t even turning around to look at you sealed the deal.

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo.” Your words were soft as you turned around, slamming the door behind you.

Wonwoo sighed again into his mic for the billionth time that night, only this time, Seungcheol on the other end had had enough. “You’re a fucking dick, dude.”

Wonwoo blanched at that, “What do you mean?”

“You just yelled at Y/N and she just apologized?” Did you? He couldn’t hear you over his game. Wonwoo pushed one side of his headphones off so we could listen to you out in the apartment. He heard shuffling around and furrowed his brows. “Dude, go fix it, she’s probably pissed at you.” Wonwoo only nodded, not realizing Seungcheol couldn’t see him, and shut his computer off.

As he walked into your shared bedroom, he saw the tail end of you shoving things into a duffle bag. Shocked, he rushed over to you, reaching out to grab your arm, but you flinched away so hard he was paralyzed with shock. “Do not touch me Jeon Wonwoo!”

Shit. You used his full name, you never did that. “Baby, I-”

“Don’t call me that.” You said coldly, before grabbing your bag and heading for the door. “I’ll be at Sunmi’s.” You threw over your shoulder before walking out the front door and out of Wonwoo’s life. He watched you walk away and for a moment, just stood there dumbstruck, before falling to his knees with tears streaming down his face.

Jihoon

Jihoon could easily get into aggravated or ‘mean’ moods and after being together for so long, you’ve learned when to give him space when he needs it. But when he’s been ignoring you for the better half of the whole week, you’ve had enough.

You knocked on his studio door three times and waited for an answer. Only you didn’t get one. You knocked again, but this time you kept knocking until you heard his grumbles from the other side of the door.

“I’m coming! Jesus, Cheol, can you-”

When Jihoon opened the door to find you, his loving girlfriend of 5 years, his words are cut short. You smile slightly at him and push your way through the entrance of his studio, plopping yourself on his black leather couch.

“Since you don’t want to leave the studio, I decided to come to you.”

Jihoon felt his anger rising. So what if he’s been in his studio and the dorms for the last 6 days? He has a job to do and this album’s due date is next week. He has limited time and not enough hours in the day to complete this. You know this, and yet, here you are to bother him.

“Y/N, go home.” He says cooly while taking a seat at his computer.

“No.” You say simply, a smirk on your face. “I’m here to keep you company until you’re ready to come home.”

“Y/N…” he sighed, running a hand down his face.

“Don’t Y/N me, you can’t stay here cooped up like a hibernating bear. It’s not healthy, Ji.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Y/N. You know the deadline is coming up, I have to get this done.”

“I understand Ji, but-”

“Do you?” He yells, turning his chair to face your shocked one. “Do you actually understand the pressure I’m under Y/N?! No, you don’t, because all you do all day is sit at home and answer emails and phone calls. You don’t understand how hard I work when all you ever do is lay on the couch!”

Now that hurt. Jihoon knows you work hard, he does. He has been with you since before you finished your Masters in business and before you started working for this huge tech company. He knows that you work on important projects all day and you get stressed with meeting deadlines just like he does. He knows what he’s saying isn’t fair, but he just wants you out of his hair so he can finish these songs.

His studio was silent for a few minutes as you both just sat there staring at eachother. You swallowed hard and Jihoon could tell you were holding your tears back. “I’m sorry, Jihoon, I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

“Wait-” Jihoon stood up and followed you as you rushed towards his studio door, “I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did.” He could hear the crack in your voice and his heart broke at the dejected look on your face. “Goodbye, Ji.”

You walked out the door, leaving Jihoon standing in the doorway regretting all the choices he’s made this week leading up to this moment. He wants to chase after you, wants to do something, anything, but the guilt keeps him rooted in place.

Seokmin

Your boyfriend is a literal embodiment of sunshine. He’s happy-go-lucky and positive like no one you’ve ever met before and it’s one of the main reasons you fell for Seokmin. He’s so sweet, and kind, and caring, that you are constantly asking yourself how you got so lucky to be his girlfriend, the one he loves most.

So it’s safe to say that when you hear him yelling from the other room in your shared apartment, you’re pretty shocked. You spring up from your spot on the bed and rush out into the living room to see what he’s yelling about, assuming he found a bug, or something. Only, it wasn’t a bug. Seokmin was standing in the middle of your living room holding his phone out for you to see.

“What the hell is this Y/N?!” His face was turning slightly red and you could tell he was angry. You moved closer to him and furrowed your brows as you read the large text at the top of the article. ‘Y/L/N Y/N leader of popular k-pop girl group is in secret relationship with amateur actor Park Seungmin’ was written across his phone screen with a photo of yourself and some small-time actor you didn’t recognize. “Who is he Y/N?!”

You looked back up at your boyfriend, confusion written all over your face. “Seokmin I have no idea, you know these articles come out all the time-” before you could finish, Seokmin was moving past the couch to push the phone in your face. Feeling defensive you shove at your boyfriend’s chest a little, not enough to actually move him but to get your point across, “Seok! Stop it!”

“No, Y/N, did you think I wouldn’t find out you were fucking this guy?” Seokmin shoved his phone back into his pocket but kept pushing into your space. “Think I wouldn’t figure it out? Is this where you’ve been when you’ve said you were at practice late?” His voice was raising and you were honestly a bit scared of him in the moment. You’ve never seen him so worked up about anything.

“Seok, listen to me-”

“No! You can’t just-” “SEOKMIN!” You screamed just to get him to stop, you didn’t even care if your neighbors heard you. “Stop it! Stop, please!” There were tears running down your face and Seokmin looked devastated, whether it was because he truly believed you cheated or because he was regretting his words, you weren’t sure. “Get out. Please!”

“I, Y/N, I’m so-”

“OUT!” You sobbed, putting your face in your hands.

“Oh - okay, I’ll stay at the dorms, but baby-”

“Just leave Seokmin.”

Mingyu

Your huge puppy dog of a boyfriend was the cuddliest, kindest, big-hearted person you had ever met in your life. Mingyu was so kind and caring and he never, ever raised his voice at you, even when he was upset (which happened sometimes, cause you’re human!).

Which is why it was so startling when you came home to find him hunched over his phone, sitting on the couch, looking like his world was ending. You dropped your bag by the door, not bothering to look where you tossed your phone and keys, and ran over to Mingyu and placed your hands on his knees.

“Baby? What’s wrong, what happened?” You peered up into his large brown eyes that were looking back at you with an anger you’d never seen in them before. The look he was giving you shocked you to the point you removed your hands from his knees as if he burned you. “Babe?”

“You have the nerve to ask me what’s wrong, when YOU are what’s wrong?” He glared daggers at you as he suddenly stood up, making you jump backwards slightly, hitting your back into the glass coffee table. You flinched but stayed still as Mingyu towered over you. He pointed his phone at you showing you a string of texts between him and Soonyoung. “This, this is what is wrong, Y/N!”

Your brows furrowed as you read the text messages, but you couldn’t, for the life of you remember sending them. “Mingyu, I think-”

“What the fuck is this Y/N?!” He screamed, making you jump again and wince as you hit your back for the second time. “Are you fucking him behind my back?!” This time your wince came from the sheer volume of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Gyu, he must be pranking you, please calm down lovey.” Your voice was quiet now, you’ve never seen him like this and it was really starting to scare you. Why would he yell at you without asking questions first? It really stung, worse than the pain you were feeling in your spine.

He scoffed, “You have some nerve coming back here.” With that he stalked off to your shared bedroom and slammed the door, locking it behind him and leaving you there on the floor of your living room, shocked and crying.

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and called Joshua, explaining to him what was going on as you ran out of your apartment building to call a cab and head to your brother’s.

Minghao

Your boyfriend, Minghao, didn’t have a short fuse per se, but he definitely didn’t have the patience of a saint either. But that was fine because he never directed his anger at you. You were the light of his life, his only love, and he let you know that on a daily basis. So when the words “You’re acting fucking crazy right now” came out of his mouth, it absolutely shocked you.

“Hao, what do you mean by that?” You asked him quietly, not quite believing he would say such words to you and mean them. You were having a rough day, no MONTH, and when you got home from work all you could think about was how messy the apartment was. You got straight to work scrubbing and cleaning everything you could see and when Minghao arrived home from practice you asked if he could help you with the refrigerator.

It set off a small argument about him being tired after a long day, but you continued cleaning even when he asked you to stop and have dinner with him. He didn’t understand, you needed to get the apartment clean before you could relax. But to tell you you’re acting crazy? You’ve never heard him say those words before.

“You heard me, Y/N. You need to chill the fuck out! Why are you always like this when you get stressed?! You need to learn how to fucking relax because it’s getting on my nerves!” Minghao yelled into the mostly quiet apartment, the only other sound aside from him was the aircon running in the corner.

“I - I do- don’t…” you stuttered, dropping the sponge you were holding, “I’m s-sorry Hao, I-”

“Don’t, Y/N. Just please leave me alone.” Your usually sweet boyfriend stormed past you and into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

You took a few deep breaths like Minghao had taught you previously when you’ve had panic attacks, and sunk to the floor, back against the kitchen cabinets. You couldn’t stop the tears now, so you placed your head between your knees and tried fruitlessly to get your breathing to calm down.

Minghao was in the other room, in a similar state after what he just said to you. But all he could do was sit and listen to your sobs while he figured out what exactly was wrong with him that he would be the cause of your hurt like that.

Seungkwan

Living with Boo Seungkwan, one of the sassiest idols in Korea, was bound to lead to spitfire arguments and fights occasionally. You were used to your little spats, always making up by the end of the evening. Seungkwan had a rule, after all - never go to bed upset.

That is why you were so shocked to receive a phone call from your boyfriend right before you got off work.

“Y/N I need you to stay somewhere else tonight.”

“Wait, what?” You were confused, you and Seungkwan had been living together for almost a year now, and he has never asked this of you before. “Where am I supposed to stay?”

“I don’t know, Y/N and frankly I don’t really care right now. I can’t believe you told Seungcheol about our trip.”

Your heart dropped to your feet at the mention of Seungcheol, because yes, you had accidentally let it slip that you and Seungkwan were planning a weekend trip to Jeju to visit his family and have a little getaway before they went on tour. You didn’t think it was a big deal at the time, as Seungkwan hadn’t asked you to keep it a secret or anything, but the look on Seungcheol’s face after you told him told you that Seungkwan most likely never planned on telling him.

“We have a schedule on Saturday and I was planning on skipping it, and you’ve gone and ruined the whole thing.”

“I- I’m so sorry babe, I didn’t realize-”

“Save it, Y/N. I can’t believe you would go blabbing to Cheol of all people! Do you realize what you’ve done? I got chewed out in front of the whole group during practice today!” His voice was rising and your guilt was too. “Just, find someplace to stay tonight, I don’t want to see your face. And maybe this weekend too.” At that, your boyfriend ended the call, leaving you distraught at your desk.

One of your coworkers noticed the tears running down your face and came over to ask if you were alright, and you nodded but said you needed to head home, as something important came up. She understood and let your boss know as you gathered your things and headed down to the subway.

Back at your shared apartment Seungkwan was pacing back in forth in the living room, unbelieving of what he just said to you. Yes, he was rightfully upset, but that didn’t give him the right to ream you like that. You would come home, right? You had to, you had a rule, after all. You never went to bed upset.

But Seungkwan waited up for you all night, calling your phone dozens of times before it eventually turned off. You never walked through the apartment door and now he has no idea where to find you.

Vernon

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Those were the first words you heard from your boyfriend’s mouth as you walked out of your shared bedroom after getting ready for work.

“What’s the matter, babe?” you asked as you finished tying your hair up.

“Don’t ‘what’s the matter, babe’ me. My fucking lyric sheets!” He held up a stack of papers that looked like they’d been soaking in water all night.

“Oh no, what happened?” You asked, moving towards Vernon with outstretched hands as if you could actually dry the papers for him.

“Oh, I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?! Someone left a glass of water on the table where the cat could knock it over, and guess what?! She did!” He shook at papers in your direction to emphasize his point, splashing you with frigid droplets, and making you flinch. And yes, you did leave your glass of water on the coffee table last night, being too tired to get up and do the dishes, but did he really have the right to blame you?

“Look, Vern, I’m really sorry, but-”

“Don’t even try to say it isn’t your fault because it fucking is!” Your usually quiet and calm boyfriend yelled at you in the middle of your living room. You were honestly so taken aback that you didn’t know what to say to him. Vernon was typically so cool and collected that seeing him red in the face with anger was not something you were prepared for this early in the morning. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“You know what, Vern, I’m sorry but you don’t get to talk to me like that.” You said in a quiet voice, betraying your confident words. You walked over to the front door and grabbed your jacket and bag before turning around to look at your boyfriend again. “I’ll go to Jihyo’s after work. I’m sorry about your papers.”

Vernon watched you with wide eyes as you exited your apartment, slamming the door behind you. You were right, he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, but he was just so angry when he came out of your bedroom this morning to find his lyrics ruined. He huffed a sigh before plopping down onto the couch and placing his head in his hands. How was he going to fix this?

Chan

It wasn’t like you to come home so late, but your annoying boss asked you to calculate some projections for next quarter 15 minutes before your clock out time and you couldn’t just tell him no, especially when you’re up for a promotion this month. So you took on the task and ended up working 3 hours of overtime.

You were so caught up in paperwork that you didn’t even think to text Chan, your boyfriend, and let him know you’d be home late. You didn’t think he would mind, but when you sat down on the bus to head home, you checked your phone to find 9 missed calls and dozens of texts. The last few were especially worrisome.

From Channie: do you have any idea how worried i am?!?

From Channie: i swear to god Y/N if you dont call me back

From Channie: where the fuck are you???

From Channie: are you out with that guy, from work?!

From Channie: you know what? Dont bother coming home

You furrowed your brows. Chan never usually reacted like this. You pressed the little green phone icon next to his name in an attempt to soothe whatever he was feeling, only to be met with his voicemail. Instead you tried texting him a few times, but the texts stayed green, never going through. Confused, you pocketed your phone and continued on your ride home.

When you got to your apartment you keyed in your passcode and walked into an almost completely dark apartment.

“Channie?” You called out, setting your bag down on the console table. “Chan, what’s going on?”

All of the sudden your bedroom door bursts open to reveal a slightly tipsy Chan, stumbling towards you. “Where the fuck were you?!” He yelled, slightly slurred.

“Chan - Chan what - are you ok?” You asked, slipping your shoes off and walking towards him with your arms out to steady him.

“Am I ok!? Am I OK!? You’re out with who the fuck knows doing God knows fucking what and I can’t reach you. And you have the balls to ask if I’M OKAY?!” He roared, making you take a few steps back. You’ve never seen him this angry before, and it confused and scared you.

“Chan, my boss asked me to work on some projections, you know how he-”

“Oh fucking save it, Y/N! Just get the fuck out of my face!”

“Chan!” By now, tears were running down your cheeks, you honestly couldn’t believe your sweet and loving boyfriend was saying such cruel things to you right now. “You know I’m up for promotion and - and…”

“And what, Y/N?! You think you can just sleep your way to the top?!”

You swung your hand back and slapped your boyfriend as hard as you could across the face. It seemed to jar him enough that he snapped out of whatever rage he was in. He blinked a few times, sobering up, before he looked at your tear-streaked face, realizing what he had just said.

“Y/N, wait.”

“No, Chan, fuck you!” You screamed, running into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. He deserved that, he thinks.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he knocked on the door a few times before trying the knob, it was locked, “just let me in, please. I’m so sorry, baby, so, so sorry. Let me in and we can talk, I don’t know what came over me, I was just so worried about you.” He was rambling now, but he wasn’t sure what else to do, he knew if he didn’t fix this he was going to lose you.

He could hear your sobs on the other side of the door and it was breaking his heart. He slid down the wall opposite the door, resolute to wait there the entire night until you finally opened the door.

#svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen #svt angst #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader

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obsessedwithceleste · 8 months ago

Text

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Mattheo Riddle x Slytherin reader

Prompt 4 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s hogmarch challenge🫶🏽 and dedicated to this psychic anon request 💕

Summary: I’d kiss you as the lights went out, Swaying as the room burned down, I’d hold you as the water rushes in, If I could dance with you again.

word count: 4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You watch silently from across the Slytherin common room as yet another girl places her hand flirtatiously on Mattheo’s chest, batting her lashes with that seductive grin you knew all too well from watching all the other girls do it too.

“Go to the dance with me?” Her lips read as she leaned closer to your friend.

You can’t help but smile as Mattheo just rolls his eyes, moving away from the girl, not giving her more than a shake of his head.

The girl’s mouth hangs open in shock of the rejection. Really she should be flattered you thought dryly to yourself. She’d made it significantly further than others you’d witnessed.

Truth was, you’d had a massive crush on Mattheo since you were kids, and watching as he rejected girl after girl was much more entertaining than you cared to admit.

Growing up, you’d always admired his bold brashness, and willingness to say whatever came to mind. The two of you had always gotten into trouble together, bouncing mischievous ideas back and forth. The summer before coming to Hogwarts, your mother had given you a heart shaped locket, and Mattheo had insisted that a photo of the two of you go inside it.

"In case we don't go to the same house." The boy had reasoned.

But of course, he’d never seen you as anything more than a friend, and unfortunately, the cringey, cliche nature of the situation was not lost on you. Even now, as you mindlessly fingered the carefully disillusioned pendant while Mattheo stalked towards your group with an air of agitation.

“Bloody hell I can’t wait for this fucking Yule ball rubbish to be over and done with,” Mattheo states flatly as he sits down lazily on the sofa next to you.

“Just pick a girl to go with then. They’ll leave you alone if they think you have a date. Why do you think I asked Daph so early on?” Theo replies, not bothering to look up from his book.

Daphne whacks him with her textbook.

You watch as Mattheo tilts his head in consideration before his eyes shift over to you, a sly grin forming on his face.

“Don’t even think about,” you say, holding up your hand as if to block out whatever idiocy the boy was about to spew.

Now it’s Mattheo’s turn to open his mouth in shock.

“Wha- you don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“You were going to ask me if I’d go to the dance with you,” you reply dryly. “Honestly Matt, I’m not stupid.”

“Well will you?” He asks, giving you his most charming smile.

“I’m already going with Blaise.” You respond.

Looking back, had it been a bit of a rash decision? Yes. But you had made peace with the fact that Mattheo likely wouldn’t ask you to be his date, and Blaise was one of your best friends. You knew you’d have a good time with him, and all your other friends had been pairing up.

“Tell Blaise to go with Astoria,” Mattheo reasons.

“Toria is already going with Enzo.” Daphne intervenes.

“What about Pansy?”

“She and Millicent got accosted by Crabbe and Goyle last I heard,” Theo replies.

“He can go with Draco then! People already mistake them for gay lovers anyway.”

“Matt, you know Draco is trying to muster up the courage to ask Harry. Don’t be dense.” You reply.

“Oh come on! How do you all have this sorted out already? The ball was only announced yesterday!”

“We organized it at dinner,” Daphne responds, as if the answer was obvious.

“You mean while I was in detention?” Mattheo asks incredulously, only to be met with a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘mhms’.

You look over as your friend slumps into the sofa in defeat, a wave of slight guilt washing over you.

“Lighten up Matt, you’ve already been asked by a handful of girls today, you’ll be able to find someone to go with easy,” you say.

“Not with anyone who matters,” he grumbles, so low that you almost miss it.

A week had gone by and you were about to lose your mind. You thought that after the initial conversation in the common room, Mattheo would relent and just pick one of his many admirers to take to the ball. You really should’ve known better. You’d known the boy long enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, there was really nothing in the world that could stop him. You just never thought that you would be what he set his mind to.

“Matt, I’ve told you a million times, I’m already going to the ball with Blaise,” you groan, collapsing on your bed as the raven haired boy follows you into your dorm.

“Well lucky for you, I have the perfect plan to steal you away from ole Blaisey boy,” Mattheo says, his signature smirk in place.

You roll your eyes, leaning back on your bed as you wait for him to continue.

“It’s easy. You just have to date me,” Mattheo replies, as if his idea was particularly clever.

You let out a rather unattractive snort as your heart clenches. It felt as though it might pound out of your chest.

“Matt, that has to be the worst idea you’ve ever had. And you’ve had a lot of really bad ideas.”

Though asking the girl that’s fancied him for years to pretend to date him, only for him to snatch it all away again a few weeks later probably had to be one of the cruelest, you thought to yourself.

“Oh c’mon. There’s no way Blaise would be offended if you ditched him if we said we were together. He’s a perfectly reasonable bloke. He’d understand!”

You shake your head once more. There was no way you were pretending to date the boy you had been pining after for this long. It was only going to end in one way. Heart break. And not on his end.

“Bloody hell. What if I can get Luna to go in your place. Will you do it then? We both know he’s been eyeing that loon up for months.”

“Don’t call her a loon Matty.” You tilt your head in consideration however.

If he was willing to actually encourage Blaise’s love life, and be willing to get intermixed within the logistics of it all, he must be desperate. And you had been dying to set the two of them up, you supposed.

But you just couldn’t shake the bad feeling this whole situation gave you. It couldn’t be all that bad though, right? You reasoned. You’d gotten this far without Matt realizing your feelings, a few weeks of bliss surely couldn’t hurt.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll tell Blaise we got together and that I want to go to the ball with you, only if Luna agrees to go with him instead.”

Mattheo immediately brightens at your words, a self satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Good. Because I already told Blaise that we were together and that I was taking you to the ball,” he says quickly. “Also- considering Blaise is more of a yapper than people give him credit for, the rest of the group definitely already knows.”

Your mouth drops open as you glare at the boy in front of you.

“Matt. What on earth. Did you tell him?” You grit out, praying to Salazar that Blaise hadn’t embarrassed you too much.

Mattheo shrugs. “Just told him that we had been out by the lake on one of our walks and I kissed you. One thing led to another and I asked you out. He seemed to believe it pretty easily actually.”

The boy looked all too calm about making up a whole scenario in which he made out with his best friend for your liking.

You purse your lips, taking a deep sigh. What did you see in this boy?

“Mattheo.”

“Yes love?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Can’t do that love, you wouldn’t kill your boyfriend.”

You continue to glare at the boy, fingers gripping tightly around your wand.

“Easy there, pretty,” Mattheo laughs nervously, slowly edging closer to you with a bashful grin.

“You better have thought this through Riddle. Because I’m telling you right now, that this is a bad idea.”

It was too easy. You know that much clearly. The two of you, you and Mattheo that is, walk silently along the streets of Hogsmeade, your friends surrounding you, shielding you from the brisk winter air. Mattheo's arm is wrapped securely around you, hand tucked into your jacket pocket, your fingers intertwined. It was so warm. So comfortable. So effortless, as if you had spent forever with his hands in your pockets.

Blaise and Daphne had been the only ones to know of your secret feelings towards your best friend, yet not a single one of the others looked particularly shocked when the both of you showed up in the common room wrapped in each others arms one night.

“Bout bloody time,” you’d heard Theo grunt to Draco from across the fireplace.

Daphne of course had been utterly elated for you, and Blaise had made sure you knew that there were no hard feelings about switching dates for the ball. Especially after he had secured one Miss Luna Lovegood as his date with the surprising help of Mattheo.

A warm squeeze of your hand shakes you from your thoughts as your group comes to stop outside of The Three Broomsticks.

“You sure you don’t want to come down to the shops, y/n?” Daphne asks looking back at you as she forges on with Astoria and Millicent.

“Bloody hell, yes! She’ll be fine with me. You can’t have her to yourself all the time!” Pansy says with exasperation, shooing the other girls away and linking her arm through yours on your free side.

The bell above the door rings lightly as the rest of your group enters the warm tavern, Theo and Enzo racing to secure your usual table.

“Hey Matty!” A voice shouts, stopping your trio in your tracks.

You turn to see another booth filled with familiar looking Hogwarts students and recognize one of the girls you’d watch Mattheo reject just a few days ago.

“Come sit with us,” she continues, attempting to wave him over.

Pansy gives the girl a sneer as you walk past, Mattheo not even sparing a glance in their direction.

“Don’t even know the bloody girl’s name,” he mumbles under his breath, causing you to let out a soft chuckle.

“Ey, what’s the hold up?” Theo shouts as you all hurry over to the table.

“Bloody hell. I thought y/n being my girlfriend would finally get those birds to back off,” Mattheo complains as he takes his seat in the booth.

His arm remains wrapped securely around you the entire time, sending warm tingles through you. It’s all an act, you have to remind yourself, pulling yourself out of your head.

Draco snorts at Mattheo’s grumbling.

“Half the school already thought you two were dating. Didn’t stop em then, so I don’t see why it’d stop them now.” He says matter of factly as the rest of the group nods in agreement.

“You lot are so dramatic. No one thought we were dating,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at your friends.

Their eyes flicker awkwardly back and forth between the lot of them. “Right.” Pansy says finally, bringing an end to the silence.

You glare pointedly at the girl.

“I’m going to the loo. Order me a butter beer Matty?” You say, standing up abruptly.

“I’ll come,” Pansy says quickly, going to rise as well.

“It’s fine Pans. I’m a big girl. Promise not to get attacked by a troll or nothin,” you say with a smile.

Mattheo opens his mouth to protest before closing it again and giving your hand a tight squeeze.

You make your way through the maze of tables, finally making it to the ladies room. Making a beeline to the sink, you take a breath, letting cool water splash against your face.

Salazar, you needed to get a grip. But everything about being with Mattheo felt so real. So natural. Which just meant it would feel all the more real when things ended. You take another moment to gather yourself, dabbing any remaining bits of water from your face. As your hand falls on the door handle to make your way back however, loud voices fill the hall.

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” a voice practically snarls. You can practically feel the malice, dripping from their lips.

“So it’s true then? Mattheo is taking that girl to the ball?” Another voice asks.

“I heard they’re dating.”

“They weren’t already?”

“I wonder if he’s taking her out of pity.”

A chorus of voices all say at once.

You immediately bristle, realizing they were talking about you.

“I hear she was the only one in their group who didn’t have a date and she practically forced him to take her.”

“I thought she was going with Blaise.”

Bloody hell. Where did they get all of this information?

“Whatever. It’s not like it matters either way. There’s no way they last. She’s a mess, and Mattheo has never been able to settle has he? It’s only a matter of time.”

You feel a deep frown form at the harsh words, but before you’re able to react, the bathroom door is pushed open and you’re face to face with the group of girls from before. The girl you had recognized as Mattheo’s reject smirks as she eyes you up and down before simply pushing past you. The rest of the girls follow, leaving you to wander back to your friends.

When you sit down again, Mattheo has a warm drink already waiting, and you let out a small smile as you cozy up next to the boy. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself however, the words of the girl’s echo through your mind.

Later that evening, you lay comfortably in bed with your head resting gently on Mattheo’s chest, hypnotized by the slow rise and fall. You hadn’t seen your roommates all day, and doubted they would be back if they weren’t there by now.

You lived for nights like these when Mattheo would bow out of whatever mischief Theo and Enzo had cooked up, and instead spend the evening holed up with you cuddling, talking, or getting into your own trouble. Your room had become a safe haven. A sacred oasis of sorts for the both of you to unwind, safe from the outside world.

“You were awfully quiet today at The Broomsticks.” Mattheo says, breaking the silence.

You only hum in response.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“How are we going to break up?” You ask, rather abruptly, as you look up at your best friend.

Mattheo looks surprised at the question.

“I don’t know. Didn’t really think I’d get this far in my scheming to be quite honest. I suppose I figured we’d just say that we figured we’d be better off as friends, or something of the sort. You can blame the split on me though if you’d like.” He replies.

You move your head to look down once more, picking at the blankets.

“No, no. The friends thing is fine. When should we do it?”

“Trying to get rid of me already, love?” Mattheo asks with a laugh.

“I just want to know what to expect.” You say quietly, causing Mattheo to grow quiet as well.

“Alright. Then how about a few days after the ball? We say that the dance made us realize we were better off as friends, and everything goes back to the way it was.” He says finally.

You feel your heart crack at his words.

“Yeah. Exactly like how it was.” You repeat.

Smoothing your dress out one final time, you turn around to hear Daphne gasp.

“Oh that’s stunning,” she gushes, her own deep blue gown cascading elegantly around her in waves of silk.

You’d spent the last several hours or so in her and Pansy’s shared dorm getting ready for the ball with the other girls, though where Pansy had wandered off to you had no idea.

All you knew, was that you were bloody nervous. You didn’t think you would be. It was just like any other night you reasoned. You and Mattheo were with each other constantly. What difference did a pretty dress make?

“I think the boys are ready for us whenever we are. Toria, come get these shoes,” Daphne shouts.

Astoria really did look like a princess you think to yourself, her soft yellow gown billowing gently with every movement.

“Ready to go down?” She asks, seeming to float over.

“As I’ll ever be,” you respond with a nervous smile.

Giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Astoria slips on her shoes before making her way down to the common room, you and Daphne following close behind.

The boys are already congregated by the fireplace; their loud chattering could be heard across the room, but as soon as Theo’s eyes meet Daphne’s he freezes and the rest of the boys quiet down, noticing the shift.

Your eyes lock onto Mattheo’s and you slowly make your way over, nervously picking at your skirt with trembling fingers.

“Beautiful as always, y/n,” he says, smiling down at you when you finally reach him. Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, barely grazing over your shaking fingertips before looking back at you with his signature smirk.

“Where’s Draco?” You ask, not quite able to stomachs the intensity of his gaze.

“Had to be there early. Something about the champions and their dates having the first dance or something,” he replies easily, his hand finding its ever familiar place on your waist.

“Oh we are not missing that,” you say, your nerves quickly being replaced with excitement.

Mattheo grins back. “I knew we’d be on the same page,” he responds, tugging you towards the doors.

Together, the both of you rush to the main hall just in time to see Harry and Draco getting herded into a lineup of the champions to be paraded into the Great Hall.

“I certainly hope he took Snape’s dance lessons to heart,” you giggle.

It doesn’t take much longer for the rest of your group to join the both of you and soon enough you find yourselves following the flood of students into the newly decorated Great Hall.

It really was spectacular. The house elves clearly had spared no expense with thick, green trees covered in tinsel and ornaments lining the walls. Floating candles cast a warm glow about the room and the floor had the appearance of being covered in freshly fallen snow.

You watch, hiding a laugh, as Draco and Harry move awkwardly around the dance floor, almost colliding with Cedric and Cho on more than one occasion. Salazar help them.

Slowly, other couples begin to join the champions on the dance floor, swirling together in a sea of shimmering color.

“May I have this dance m’lady?” Mattheo asks with a lopsided grin.

Before you even have the chance to respond however, Mattheo is pulling you onto the dance floor, a look of pure delight across his face. There were very few times you remembered him looking this happy, and it melted your heart.

As the night progressed, Mattheo refused to leave your side, his hand rarely leaving your waist. Really, you hardly left the dance floor either. The few times you were able to escape with Daphne or Pansy to the punch bowl, Mattheo tracked you down shortly after, pulling you right back into his arms.

To say that you were in heaven was an understatement. You had spent hours daydreaming about what it might be like to have Mattheo’s hard-won affection to yourself. And now that you had it, you were practically floating. Which just made it all the more heart wrenching as you anticipated the inevitable. It was as if every move you made, every dance the two of you shared, was done with your hands tied.

People really weren’t going to believe your break up if he continued on like this, you’d thought at some point. But you couldn’t quite bring yourself to tell him to back off, especially as it grew later. Your time with him was fleeting after all.

“Bloody hell, Matt. Give the girl some breathing room,” Pansy exclaims after Mattheo had sought you out for the third time.

Mattheo just gives her a guilty grin before spinning you out onto the dance floor once more.

“I didn’t realize you liked dancing this much Matty,” you tease as the two of you away slowly on the floor.

“Oh I don’t. Just making sure I take full advantage of the night,” he replies, looking intently down at you.

You cock you head to the side.

“With you as my girl, I mean,” he adds. And before you’re able to put together another cohesive thought, his lips are on yours. In the middle of the dance floor.

Immediately it feels as though the lights had gone out, leaving the two of you alone in the room as you let your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the softness of Mattheo’s lips on yours. They move slowly at first. Carefully. Before quickly growing hungrier, more determined.

You barely register Mattheo’s fingers digging into you as he pulls you closer, and find yourself lost in the gentle sway as everything around you burns to the ground, leaving behind a fire growing steadily in your chest.

And just like that, you’re back in Mattheo’s arms as the water comes rushing in, jerking you back to reality. You stand frozen staring up at Mattheo as couples continue to move around you.

Had that really just happened?

“Um- fresh air. I think.” You stutter out, all but dragging the boy from the dance floor, praying no one had seen or noticed.

Mattheo wordlessly allows you to lead him out to the courtyard entrance before you all but collapse on one of the stone benches, still in shock.

“Please don’t avada me! I didn’t think that through entirely.”

“I don’t want to break up.” You say in unison.

“What was that?” Mattheo asks in surprise.

“No- hold on. Why in Salazar’s green bed sheets would I want to avada you?” You ask incredulously.

“More importantly, you don’t want to fake breakup?” Mattheo asks with a grin.

“Of course I don’t want to break up! I’ve fancied you for years!” You blurt out, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as the words escape.

Mattheo looks at you with shock.

“No. I’ve fancied you for years. Why else do you think I refused to take anyone else to the ball?”

“Because you’re a stubborn arse,” you retort, barely processing the boy’s words.

He liked you?

The two of you stare at each other for another moment, still not fully believing the other as your minds race to put the pieces together.

It’s Mattheo who acts first, surging to connect your lips once more in a heated frenzy. It’s addicting really, the feeling of his soft lips against yours. The pull as he brings your bodies closer together. The warmth you can feel radiating off of him.

When you finally pull away this time, Mattheo’s eyes are shining down at you with that familiar intense gaze.

“We’re a pair of oblivious idiots, aren’t we?” You mumble, leaning into the boy.

“Well, you are. I haven’t exactly been subtle.” Mattheo replies with a snort, hugging you to his chest.

“Don’t be a twat. You’ve had girls fawning over you for years. What was I supposed to make of that?”

“I never looked payed them any mind, love. Think of it this way. I’ll just have years to make up for tonight,” he says with a cheeky smile.

You feel a familiar heat begin to rise in you once more as Mattheo takes hold of your arm, leading the way back to the dungeons.

“Oh I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, a mischievous smile making its way to your face.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less of you, love.”

#Spotify #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin #hogmarch challenge #theodore nott #draco malfoy #daphne greengrass #pansy parkinson #yule ball #matteo riddle #lorenzo berkshire moodboard #enzo berkshire #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle fanfiction

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sidekick-hero · 9 days ago

Text

Phoenix

(steddie | explicit | 7.4k | AO3 | tags: porn with fluff, rock star eddie, roadie steve, canon divergence - eddie lives and cc gets famous)

The most talented @firefly-party drew some gorgeous art of Eddie enjoying some cake 😏🍑 and this inspired this fic. Lots of love go out to @hbyrde36 and @pearynice for being amazing cheerleaders and beta readers 💜

Excerpt

A loud throat-clearing cuts through the haze, and Steve opens his eyes to see Gareth, sitting with a wicked grin, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper at Eddie’s back. “Oi, lovebirds,” he says, “save those bedroom eyes for the actual bedroom, Munson.”

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

Jeff leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You two always manage to bring your own kind of encore,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows in a way that’s both exaggerated and somehow fond.

From across the room, their sound tech, Lucy, chuckles as she shoves a bag into her duffel. “Guess the ‘Phoenix’ isn’t the only thing heating up tonight,” she jokes, grinning at Steve’s half-embarrassed, half-amused expression.

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

As the last few crew members file out, tossing in good-natured jabs and rolling their eyes, Jeff gives Steve a pat on the back. “You’ve got him all to yourself now, Harrington,” he says with a smirk. “Don’t wear him out too much. We’ve still got another show tomorrow.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager.

Read the rest on AO3

For everyone who rather reads on here, have the whole fic under the cut.

Phoenix

The arena is almost silent as the lights go out, the applause fading into a hush as everyone around him holds their breath. It’s as if they’ve all merged into one living entity, one organism waiting for the band to return and deliver the encore they’re all craving.

Corroded Coffin’s encores have become legendary among their fans. Mostly because of Eddie.

Of course.

Steve can’t blame them. He’s never been able to take his eyes off him either. In any room, no matter what was happening, the moment Eddie came alive, when that inner light blazed through, Steve was captivated. It’s no surprise he isn’t the only one, but he finds comfort in knowing he was one of the first.

They all fell in love with Eddie Munson, the rock star. Steve fell in love with Eddie Munson, the nerd. The part-time drug dealer, the super senior, the dungeon master. He fell for the brave man who was willing to die for a town that hated him and the man his kids trusted and looked up to.

That very man is now strutting back onto the stage, his silhouette barely visible in the dim twilight of the arena. But Steve would recognize him anywhere. Besides, he knows what’s coming—he’s heard Eddie excitedly ramble about his plans while they lay in bed, Eddie’s head resting in Steve’s lap as his fingers combed through damp curls, untangling them before they dried after his shower.

This is the first time they’re playing this particular song, Phoenix. It’s about someone dying so they can finally live, and only their tight-knit circle knows just how much truth is behind it. The song is Eddie’s way of processing what happened during that fateful week in the spring of '86. But, like most of Eddie’s songs, it’s also a love song.

A love song for Steve.

Eddie sings about a man burning in hell to rise from the ashes, hands lifting him to soar again, flying higher and higher, fueled by love instead of air beneath his wings. It’s classic Eddie—telling Steve he loves him in front of thousands of people, with words that sound like they’re straight out of one of those fantasy novels Eddie and the kids all love so much.

The whole band is on fire—literally—because their show features some wild pyro effects. Steve hadn’t been thrilled when Eddie first floated the idea of setting parts of the stage ablaze. He was even less enthusiastic when Gareth and Eddie began talking about adding flames to their outfits. To Steve, that was practically asking for disaster. But, as usual, he hadn’t been able to resist Eddie’s big brown puppy eyes for long.

Now, watching them perform, Steve has to admit it works. The fire dances across the stage in time with the music, bursts of flame punctuating every explosive guitar riff. Smoke swirls in sync with the pounding drums, and sparks rain down like stars during the climactic solo, making it feel as though the whole arena is caught in the heat of the moment. It’s pure chaos, and yet, somehow, it’s beautiful.

As Phoenix reaches its crescendo, Eddie steps into the heart of the flames, the light catching his silhouette as though he’s rising from the ashes himself. His voice soars above the roaring crowd, each note carrying both the weight of the past and the promise of a future. The audience, already mesmerized, holds its breath as Eddie holds the final note, arms outstretched, as if he’s daring the fire to consume him.

There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then the whole arena erupts into a roaring applause. People are whistling and cheering, Steve among them. Sue him, but even after a year of doing this with Eddie, he’s still in awe of how good Eddie and the other guys are. They’re a garage band from some small town in bumfuck Indiana, but the moment they step on stage, they have the crowd completely under their spell. Steve had read an article about Corroded Coffin that said all guys want to be them and all girls want to be their lovers.

He disagrees. He’s pretty sure some of these girls wouldn’t mind rocking on stage themselves, and Steve knows from experience that some of the guys definitely want to be their boyfriends, too.

The only difference between Steve and those guys? While they all want Eddie, Steve is the one who gets to take him home every night.

How he got so lucky is still beyond him. For months, Steve had been convinced he’d ruined everything between them before they ever got a real chance. And now he’s the one Eddie Munson calls sweetheart, darling, princess. The one he calls Love.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been wonderful tonight. Your high esteem has fed us well, and we’ll repay the favor with another firestorm of a concert very soon. So keep your eyes peeled for the announcement. Until then, remember to be the menaces you’re meant to be, and rock on! We are Corroded Coffin, the devil’s own jesters, and this has been another glorious night of our Rituals tour!”

The lights go out after Eddie’s final words, and with another round of thunderous applause, a single spotlight highlights each band member, giving them their moment to shine before darkness swallows the stage. Steve knows it gives the band time to slip away before the crowd starts to disperse.

Back when Steve first started at their shows as a roadie, a fan had somehow tricked security into believing she was part of the crew. In the general chaos of people leaving, no one questioned her as she followed them all the way to the green room. She’d launched herself at Eddie, knocking him over onto the hard concrete. He’d only ended up with a few bruises, but he hit his head, and the headache lasted well into the next day, making him feel miserable. Worse still, it made his old scars ache in sympathy.

Steve had been livid.

After, Steve had been adamant that the band needed to invest in more security—less access for the public, stricter controls, the whole nine yards. Eddie, Frank, and Jeff didn’t want to hear any of it. To Steve’s surprise, it was Gareth who found a compromise for them. The head start they get now is part of it. Another is the presence of Sam and James, two guys built like tanks, who travel with the band and keep things secure backstage, on the tour bus, and everywhere in between.

Except for Eddie, who’s Steve’s to keep safe—and he takes that job seriously.

Which is why he packs up on stage as fast as humanly possible, only to be shooed away by Anna, the head of stage design. She oversees cleanup and can tell Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin to get to Eddie.

“You’re stressing me the hell out, Harrington. Go check on your man before you have a heart attack or something equally dramatic that’ll keep us here longer than necessary. And take that amp with you—put those guns to use,” she adds, gesturing at his biceps.

It’s a testament to how desperately he wants to see Eddie that he doesn’t protest, just salutes her and grabs the amp. “Thanks, Anna. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving him off. “To be young and in love again.”

“You’re 34, not ancient.”

“I’m not Munson, Harrington—flattery doesn’t work on me. Now shoo, before I change my mind and leave you to clean up the whole stage yourself.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to make a hasty retreat. As fast as he can, he heads backstage to the green room, where the band is no doubt coming down from their post-show high.

As Steve nears the green room, he can already hear laughter and excited chatter. Eddie’s voice rings out the loudest—it always does—but he can also pick out Jeff’s deep rumble and Gareth’s indignant “Oi!” He’s probably been teased again. The happy sounds make Steve pick up his pace, and as he rounds the last corner, he nearly barrels into Sam.

“Careful, Ozzy,” Sam laughs, dodging aside with surprising grace for someone his size. When Steve had first started tagging along, the crew had looked a little skeptical of his preppy outfits, which stuck out among the metalheads and crew members, who dress more for comfort and utility. Eddie, in his usual fashion, had vouched for him, regaling everyone with a heavily edited story about how Steve had once bitten the head off a bat to save them. Steve's scars, which matched Eddie's own, had helped sell the story. It had earned him coolness points and the nickname "Ozzy”.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You probably wouldn’t even feel it if I charged you with a battering ram.”

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend, Ozzy,” comes James’ teasing voice. “I think you’ve got your hands full with your own.” Steve knows James isn’t actually jealous—anyone with eyes can see he’s completely gone on Eddie. Robin’s words, not his. She’d visited them about three months ago during a break in the tour and had teased him mercilessly. Steve plans to return the favor once she finds someone who steals her heart. It’s what best friends do.

“Speaking of—think you could open the door for me?” Steve nods at the amp he’s still carrying. “My hands are full, and this thing’s getting heavy.”

“Sure thing,” Sam says, already moving to open the door as James smirks at Steve.

“Your game’s slipping, Oz. Pretty soon you won’t even be able to toss Munson around.”

“What a sad day that would be,” chimes a familiar voice as the door swings open, revealing Eddie’s grinning face. He winks at Steve. “But that day’ll never come, right, big boy?”

“Never,” Steve promises as he sets the amp down and immediately sweeps Eddie off his feet, pulling him into his arms. Eddie whoops loudly, then breaks into manic laughter, clearly riding high on adrenaline and endorphins.

Steve lets Eddie slide down his body, his hands resting firmly on Eddie’s hips, holding him close as Eddie beams down at him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, voice warm and a bit breathless.

“Hey, baby. You look happy.”

Leaning in until their noses are almost touching, Eddie grins and says, “That’s because I am! Did you see us, Stevie? We rocked! I told you, Phoenix needed fire. They loved it, didn’t they?”

Steve rubs their noses together, his heart swelling at how excited—and just plain adorable—Eddie is after a good show.

“They loved you,” he says proudly, his voice going rough. “But they can’t have you.”

Eddie’s grin turns mischievous. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes,” Steve almost growls. He knows exactly where this is headed, but he can’t resist. Something about the way Eddie commands the stage and the way people respond to him always stirs Steve’s more possessive side.

Good thing Eddie loves it.

“And why is that?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It feels like they’re the only two in the room, though Steve knows everyone else is well-accustomed to their little ritual by now.

Another growl rises in Steve’s chest. “Because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Eddie agrees, and finally leans in to kiss him.

It stays gentle and innocent for all of five seconds before Eddie, ever the troublemaker, lets out a quiet moan against Steve’s lips. It’s a sound that’s practically Pavloved Steve into instant reaction; he bites down on Eddie’s lower lip, slipping his tongue into Eddie’s willing mouth when he gasps in response. The familiar shock of Eddie’s tongue piercing, cool and metallic against his own tongue, is addictive, a reminder of just how intoxicatingly Eddie he is. And as soon as he catches that taste of energy drink Eddie always downs like water before a show, Steve is completely done for.

He couldn’t say exactly why—certainly not in this moment, when he’s all lust and love and instinct, and not even later when his head isn’t so full of EddieEddieEddie. Maybe it’s because that taste, coupled with the playful brush of that piercing, makes everything feel so real. Tangible. No one else knows the slightly off-putting tang of that artificial drink on Eddie’s tongue, or the way the cold steel feels against his lip as Eddie’s tongue brushes past it. It’s not something he could’ve imagined back when he used to daydream about kissing Eddie in Hawkins, when they’d still been circling each other. Watching, waiting, pining.

They let themselves get carried away, hands wandering over sweat-soaked clothes, slipping beneath them and feeling slick skin, neither of them having had a moment to shower or change. Not that they care. They’ve seen, touched, tasted each other like this a hundred times, and to Steve, it’s just one more part of this that feels undeniable. Real.

Eddie’s right hand finds its way into Steve’s hair, gripping just the right amount of tight, while his other hand explores the skin beneath Steve’s tank top. His fingers skim along the waistband of Steve’s pants, light and teasing, and it’s maddening how much Steve wants him to dive deeper, to put those skilled fingers to use. Steve’s own hands are busy, shoved down the back pockets of Eddie’s nearly scandalous leather pants, kneading the flesh beneath as he pulls Eddie even closer.

It’s only when Eddie slips a leg between Steve’s spread ones, his thigh pressing deliciously against him, that Steve feels his knees go weak. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth takes what feels like Herculean strength, and he only just manages to break the kiss, his forehead pressed to his boyfriend’s as they both pant, breaths coming in heavy and warm. The sound is loud enough to almost drown out the creaking of someone shifting in an old chair nearby.

That’s when Steve remembers they’re not alone in the room.

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager. Steve would be more annoyed if it weren’t for the happy flutter in his chest when Eddie says, “our friends.” An image flashes through his mind, unbidden—Dustin, animated and in charge, leading a round of their fantasy game, the same one Eddie used to lead. Steve remembers watching, his heart aching like an open wound, because by then, Eddie had been gone for three months.

Steve had let him go.

Eddie had asked Steve to come with him, his head on Steve’s chest as they lay tangled in Eddie’s bed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go, Stevie. This town is killing me. But I don’t want to go without you. Please, come with me. Let us be free together.”

But Steve had said no. He'd told himself it was for the kids, that they needed someone to stay and look after them. But deep down he knew that wasn't the real reason. At least not the whole reason. He didn't say no because he didn't want to go with Eddie, but because he wanted it too much. Wanting things, wanting people too much had left its mark, and some of those scars still ached some days, worse than his physical ones, the phantom pain of a broken heart and shattered dreams. Eddie had asked him why, his voice trembling, and Steve had lied, making Eddie believe there was nothing between them that warranted uprooting his whole life. It was the only way to set Eddie free, even if it meant breaking both their hearts. His own fears and insecurities were not going to be the thing that stopped Eddie from making his own dreams come true.

“I think I was telling you about the show,” Eddie says, breaking Steve from the painful memory with a grin. “What’d you think, Stevie? Rockstar-worthy?”

The question brings him back, though the ache of the past lingers in his chest. His voice is quieter, more earnest than he intended. “More than that. I always knew you were born for this, Eds. That people should hear your stories, see you, and the wonder you are.”

He knows he’s gone too deep, missed the playful mark by a mile. But Eddie, who’s all brashness and boldness on the surface, can read Steve better than anyone. Sensing the shift, he meets Steve’s gaze with a softness that’s rare and achingly sincere.

“I only ever needed one person to see me, Stevie.”

Now, Steve believes Eddie. It hadn’t always been like that, though. He’d struggled to accept that Eddie truly wanted him—Steve Harrington, the guy who’d peaked in high school, who didn’t have much to show now that the world wasn’t ending and no one needed him to swing his nail-studded bat, or throw himself between monsters and the people he loved.

His doubts had almost cost him the chance to be loved the way he’d always dreamed.

Gazing into Eddie’s warm, dark eyes, filled with so much love and sincerity it almost hurt to look at, Steve decided to push down the strange wave of melancholy that had crept over him. Eddie was here, they were here, and Steve wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about the past and the what-ifs. He’d focus instead on showing Eddie just how rockstar-worthy he truly was.

“Is that so?” Steve asks, his tone coy as he ducks his head just enough to look up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. His fingers trail slowly up Eddie’s stomach and chest, and with his voice dropping to a low, inviting register, he murmurs, “What if he wants to see more of you?”

Eddie searches his face, the shift in mood not lost on him. For a moment, it looks like he’s deciding whether to let Steve get away with it or press him about the strange melancholy that had surfaced just moments ago. But then a slow smile spreads across those full lips, and Steve feels the thrill of Eddie giving in.

“Mmm,” Eddie muses aloud, his gaze mischievous. “I think he’ll have to wait for that. Earn it, really.”

“How?” Steve asks, his voice barely more than a breath, eager and completely captivated.

Eddie leans in, nosing his way along the line of Steve’s jaw until he reaches his ear. “Be a good boy, of course.”

A shiver ripples through Steve’s body, though he couldn’t say if it’s from Eddie’s warm breath on that sensitive patch of skin or from the words themselves.

Steve’s breath hitches, and he fights to keep his composure, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And if I’m not?” he teases, his voice low but challenging, tilting his head to give Eddie even better access to his neck.

Eddie chuckles, his lips ghosting just below Steve’s ear. “Then I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge here,” he murmurs, voice warm and rough, a promise wrapped in mischief.

Steve lets out a shaky laugh, his fingers curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Guess I’ll have to be extra good, then,” he replies, his tone daring but with that undeniable note of surrender only Eddie could pull from him.

The sharp nip of Eddie’s teeth sinking into the tender skin just above Steve’s pulse point quickly gives way to pleasure as his tongue soothes over the bite. “That’s right,” Eddie murmurs against the spit-slick skin, his voice low and warm. “So be a good boy and lay down on that amp you oh-so-helpfully carried in here.”

It takes Steve a beat to process, his brain a little scrambled from the emotional whiplash of the past few moments—pride, love, possessiveness, melancholy, lust, and back to love, all tumbling through him. He blinks up at Eddie, parsing out the command, and Eddie arches an eyebrow, giving the amp a pointed look.

With a playful bite of his lower lip, Steve nods and, after stealing one more quick kiss, saunters over, hips swaying just enough to make Eddie’s gaze darken. The back-and-forth between them is new to Steve, something he never had with the girls he dated before, this easy way they can trade roles, each giving and taking as they like, slipping between comfort and thrill with ease.

Right now, Steve’s perfectly ready to take whatever Eddie has in mind.

The amp’s just high enough that he doesn’t have to contort too much to lie on it, bracing his upper body on his forearms comfortably. Not exactly nap material, but he isn’t here to relax. It lets him tilt his hips, though, and he pushes his ass out in invitation, casting a look over his shoulder to find Eddie watching him with wide, hungry eyes, his hand pressed firmly against himself.

“You wanna take a picture?” Steve teases, wiggling his ass with a grin. “Or are you finally gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

Eddie’s startled laugh echoes in the empty room, and Steve’s grin widens, his heart racing at how fun it is to let loose with Eddie like this.

At last Eddie moves, taking off his leather jacket before closing the distance between them, and his hands settle on Steve's hips, firm and possessive. “Oh, I’m definitely putting my mouth somewhere, princess.”

With a teasing slowness, Eddie’s hands slide from Steve’s hips around to his front, fingers working open the button on his cargo pants. He takes his time, drawing out each motion—the button popping, the zipper sliding down, every small movement building up the anticipation until the air between them practically hums. Bit by bit, Eddie tugs Steve’s pants and underwear down over his hips, savoring every inch of skin he exposes to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Steve’s patience frays fast, and with a breathless whine, he finally mutters, “Eddie, come on.”

Eddie just chuckles, then nips at the small heart-shaped tattoo on Steve's left buttock. While Eddie's body is littered with black ink, this is Steve's only one so far. Eddie had talked Steve into it when he came with him to get the Phoenix tattooed on his left arm. “I’m unwrapping my favorite present here, babe. Gotta savor it.”

Steve barely has time to roll his eyes before Eddie’s mouth descends once again, and this time it’s warm lips and tongue tracing a slow line along the curve of his lower back, licking up the faint sheen of sweat gathered there. The heat of Eddie’s mouth steals the words right from him, and instead a rough “Fuck” slips out, loud and unfiltered.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sounding downright smug. “But first? I’m treating myself to a sweet little appetizer.”

Steve finds out exactly what Eddie means when his tongue dips lower, slipping between his cheeks with a slow, tantalizing precision. His pants are still bunched around his upper thighs, limiting his movement, but as always, Eddie makes the most of the space he has.

The heat of Eddie’s tongue leaves a burning trail down his skin, edging closer to where Steve wants him most, while Eddie’s hands grip his hips and pull up his tank top, his hold firm and anchoring, as if grounding them both in the pleasure building between them. But just as Steve expects Eddie to go further, he pulls back, taking his time sliding Steve’s pants all the way off, leaving him bare from the waist down.

“God, would you look at this? Fuck, I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Eddie mutters, his voice thick with reverence. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson gets to have the most gorgeous guy in the world. Part of me wishes I could show you off to everyone right now, do this to you up on stage, so they’d know exactly how lucky I am.”

The thought sends a thrill through Steve—a fantasy he’s toyed with more than once. It’s one of those ideas they’ll never act on, but one that he loves to imagine just the same.

“But hey, this is the next best thing,” Eddie continues, still kneeling behind him, his hands sliding up Steve’s legs, fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “Right here, where anyone could walk in, could see you with your ass up like this for me. And they’d be so damn jealous. But they don’t get you—you’re mine, just like I’m yours.”

As if sealing his words, Eddie spreads him open and lets a warm trail of saliva slide down, glistening as it slips toward his entrance. Steve can’t see him from this angle, but he can feel Eddie’s gaze, heavy and possessive, just before he leans back in, his tongue pressing deep, the metal of his piercing gracing the sensitive skin of his entrance, sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.

Steve feels like he’s going out of his mind, the way Eddie holds him down, keeping his hips pinned firmly in place, letting Steve have only as much as he’s willing to give. It’s torture—he wants to push back, to make Eddie’s tongue delve deeper, faster. But Eddie’s having none of it. For all his usual impatience and impulsiveness, in moments like this, Eddie becomes a master of restraint, driving Steve up the wall with it.

It’s infuriating. It’s maddening. It’s also the single hottest thing Steve’s ever experienced.

His breathing is rough, coming in shallow pants that mix with the filthy, wet sounds filling the room as he loses himself in the relentless, almost lazy pace Eddie keeps. Eddie’s tongue teases, sliding in with agonizing slowness, while his content, low hums add a pulse of heat through Steve’s body. Eddie pauses now and then to add more spit, until Steve’s slick, almost dripping, every nerve thrumming with need.

“Edd-die,” he gasps, his voice thin with desperation, almost lost beneath the steady, obscene rhythm. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s shamelessly begging now, but doesn’t care. Eddie lives to hear him beg, and maybe, just maybe, Steve can get what he wants, too.

Eddie chuckles low, his tone one of pure satisfaction. “Please what, my love?”

Of course, he’d make Steve say it. Typical. Alright then, two can play this game, Steve thinks and decides to see just how steady Eddie’s self-control really is.

“Please,” he says, his tone turning breathy, edging into desperate pleading. “Please, give me that thick cock. Fill me so deep I can taste it. Make me take it, make me yours. Make me forget everything—everyone—but you, fucking me so good.”

Eddie growls, the sound low and guttural, and Steve smirks, triumphant.

Checkmate.

A finger suddenly presses at his entrance, sliding in easily where he’s already loose and wet from Eddie’s mouth and tongue. Steve arches back, pushing onto the finger, forcing it deeper with a groan that earns him a low chuckle.

“So greedy,” Eddie murmurs, his voice thick with approval as he works his finger in and out with a steady rhythm. Soon, he adds a second finger, stretching him open, sliding in with only the slightest resistance. There’s a slow burn, one he welcomes, letting it remind him how real this all is.

“Look at you,” Eddie muses, voice dark and low. “So needy, taking it so well. I wanted to take my time with you tonight—take you apart, bit by bit, until you were wrecked.” He pauses, letting his fingers curl inside. “But you just wouldn’t let me, huh?”

Steve shudders, Eddie’s words digging deeper than his touch, leaving him desperate and tingling all over. Eddie’s tone is playful, a tease threaded with adoration, and Steve knows he’s on the edge of getting everything he wants, even if Eddie just can’t resist drawing it out. Clenching down on Eddie’s fingers, he says with a challenging grin, “There’s lube in my pocket. Right side.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, his fingers stilling just for a moment before he drops his forehead onto the small of Steve’s back with a heartfelt groan. “You’ll be the death of me, Stevie. God, I love you.”

Steve laughs, even as his voice comes out shaky. “I love you, too. Now, would you please hurry up and fuck me already before I die of old age?”

Eddie’s laugh vibrates against his spine as he reaches down and into Steve’s pocket, retrieving the lube with a triumphant little sound. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. I’m about to make sure every second counts.”

Steve is counting on it.

He watches as Eddie tears open the corner of the small lube satchel with his teeth, his other hand still buried deep inside Steve. Their eyes lock, and Eddie throws him a cheeky wink before drizzling the cool liquid directly over where his fingers are working him open. The sharp contrast of the chill against his heated skin sends a shiver racing up Steve’s spine.

Eddie spreads the lube with practiced ease, his thumb joining in to work it deeper. His movements are confident, deliberate, and Steve can’t help but marvel at how well they’ve come to know each other’s bodies. He thinks back to their first time: the fumbling hands, lube smeared everywhere, hesitant stops and whispered reassurances, mixed with laughter and tender kisses. Now, there’s a rhythm between them, a deep familiarity that doesn’t dull the edge of excitement but makes it sweeter, more profound.

Steve’s awareness narrows to the sensation of Eddie’s fingers stroking inside him, teasing just right. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mouth and tongue explore every inch of skin they can reach, leaving trails of wet heat in their wake. Time becomes meaningless, and Steve lets go completely, unbothered by the sounds spilling from his lips or how desperately he’s moving into Eddie’s touch. He’s pliant, undone, surrendering himself fully to the moment.

And then, suddenly, Eddie’s fingers withdraw. Steve lets out a whine of protest, his body already aching for more.

Placing a soothing kiss over Steve’s heart tattoo, Eddie murmurs, “Shhh, sweetheart, I’m just giving you what you want.”

Anticipation coils tight in Steve’s belly as the emptiness makes him hyper-aware of every nerve ending. Seconds stretch into agonizing hours before he feels the thick head of Eddie’s cock pressing against his slick entrance.

“Ready, love?” Eddie asks, his voice low and warm.

“Please,” Steve breathes, his entire body taut with need.

Eddie doesn’t waste another moment. He pushes in slowly, steadily, until his hips are flush against Steve’s. Even with the careful preparation and Steve’s eagerness, it’s still a lot, and he sucks in a sharp breath, needing a moment to adjust. Sensing this, Eddie stills, his hand sliding forward to find Steve’s. He intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently, a silent reminder that they’re in this together.

A bead of sweat trickles down Steve’s temple as he exhales deliberately, forcing his body to relax. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in return, grounding himself in the connection.

“I’m ready,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You can move.”

Months ago, Eddie might have asked again, just to be sure, but now he trusts Steve’s word implicitly. He responds with a reassuring squeeze to Steve’s hip before pulling out almost entirely and sinking back in just as slowly. The deliberate drag of Eddie’s cock has Steve’s nerves sparking like live wires, every inch of the stretch intense and maddeningly good.

Steve lifts their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. His voice comes out wrecked, raw with need.

“Faster,” he pleads, his breath hitching. “Please.”

As much as Eddie loves to tease, drawing out both their pleasure until Steve feels like he’s teetering on the edge of madness, he loves giving Steve what he wants even more. And tonight, Steve has been a very good boy—just like Eddie had asked. So when Eddie withdraws again only to slam back in without hesitation, setting a relentless pace, Steve knows this is his reward.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” Eddie mutters, his voice hoarse and awestruck.

The question isn’t meant to be answered, and Steve is far too gone to respond anyway. Instead, he pushes back into every thrust, letting the intense, repeated sensation of Eddie filling him wipe away any semblance of coherent thought. His cock hangs heavy and aching, no doubt dripping pre-cum onto the floor beneath them. For a fleeting moment, a hysterical image pops into his head: one of them slipping in it, both crashing down, stark naked.

But then Eddie’s next thrust slams right into his prostate, obliterating the thought entirely. What escapes Steve’s lips isn’t laughter but a long, shameless moan.

“There—fuck, there,” he gasps, his voice raw with need, urging Eddie to do it again.

Eddie doesn’t disappoint. Now that he’s found the perfect angle, his thrusts hit that spot with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure coursing through Steve’s body. Each impact wrings high-pitched, breathless ah, ah, ahs from him as he clings to the amp for stability, every muscle taut and trembling. The pleasure is building fast, a searing heat that coils tight in his belly, but it’s not enough.

Steve’s cock pulses painfully, desperate for attention, but he can’t reach it. His arms are trapped beneath him, and trying to shift even a fraction risks toppling them both. The need is maddening, almost unbearable, and his whimpers grow louder as frustration mixes with the overwhelming stimulation.

When the constant onslaught skirts the edge of too much, his moans turn to pleading whines, raw and vulnerable. He’s close, so close, but he needs just a little more.

“Shhh,” Eddie coos, slowing his thrusts as his hand rubs soothing circles over Steve’s back. “What is it, baby?”

The change in pace gives Steve a reprieve from the relentless pounding against his prostate. He sags forward, caught in the strange limbo of both relief and frustration, his need to come still burning hot and bright in his groin.

“I’m so close, but I need…” he trails off, his voice cracking with emotion. The sound mortifies him, and the tears edging into his tone threaten to spill over. Eddie stills entirely, his concern immediate.

“What do you need? I’ll give you everything, love, anything you want.” Before Steve can manage a response, Eddie drapes himself over his back, the weight of him grounding, the motion pushing him deeper inside. His lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear, and he whispers, “You need my hand? Want me to touch that pretty cock of yours, gorgeous?”

Steve lets out a soft, desperate whine, his body trembling. It’s all the answer Eddie needs.

Eddie’s arm snakes around Steve’s chest, his palm resting gently against his throat—not squeezing, just holding, steadying him. His other hand slides down and wraps around Steve’s aching cock. Steve shudders at the first firm stroke, the slickness of pre-cum making each movement smooth and electric.

“I—I won’t last long,” Steve manages, his voice wrecked as the coil in his belly winds tighter with each pump of Eddie’s hand.

Eddie nips at Steve’s earlobe, his voice rough with lust. “Don’t worry, baby. Me neither. I’ve been on edge since you walked in carrying that stupid amp, wearing that indecent outfit, showing off those arms like some kind of wet dream.”

Despite the intensity of the moment, Steve laughs, the motion jolting Eddie’s cock inside him. He clenches involuntarily, drawing a deep moan from Eddie that vibrates against his skin. “What the hell is indecent about a black tank top and cargo pants?”

“You wearing them.” Eddie’s tone is all duh, and it sends another wave of laughter spilling from Steve’s lips.

“You fucking sap,” Steve teases, the love in his voice unmistakable.

“Oh no, you’re fucking a sap, sweetheart,” Eddie shoots back, his cheekiness undiminished. “Now, how about you take what you need, huh? Fuck yourself on my cock, use my hand while you’re at it.”

Only Eddie could turn cheesy banter into something this hot, and Steve has no intention of arguing.

With Eddie’s arm propping him up, Steve finds just enough leverage to move. He thrusts forward into Eddie’s hand, the tight circle of his boyfriend’s fingers sparking pleasure through him, before shifting back to impale himself again. He angles his hips, seeking that perfect spot, brushing it just enough to send sparks shooting up his spine. Combined with the steady friction of Eddie’s hand, it’s almost too much to bear.

The improvised rhythm of his movements grows frantic as he races toward the edge. Behind him, Eddie’s breaths come hot and fast against his neck, and his grip tightens, keeping Steve grounded even as he comes undone.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” Eddie pants, his voice raw with emotion and lust. “Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy alive. I love you so much.”

Trust Eddie to pour his heart out in the middle of this. And trust Steve to have those words be what finally pushes him over the edge.

Steve’s orgasm tears through him like a wildfire, leaving him shaking and breathless. It feels like it goes on forever, each wave dragging him deeper into a blissful haze until his legs threaten to buckle beneath him. Eddie’s arms tighten around him, steadying him as he continues thrusting, fucking Steve through his release, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

When the high begins to fade, Steve’s nerves flare with overstimulation. Eddie’s movements, once perfect, now teeter on the edge of too much. A shudder ripples through Steve, a mix of cooling sweat and discomfort making him tremble.

Eddie stills immediately, in tune with him as always. “Want me to pull out?” he asks softly. “I can finish in my hand. Two pulls, max.” His voice is gentle, full of love and concern, and it makes Steve’s heart ache in the best way.

“No,” Steve murmurs, voice still shaky. “I want to feel it. Want to know I’m yours—wet and dripping with your cum while we walk to the car.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie groans, his hips twitching involuntarily.

“Come on, baby,” Steve encourages, voice husky and teasing. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

That’s all Eddie needs. He grips Steve tighter, hauling him upright so their bodies are flush. His chest presses against Steve’s back, his arm locks around Steve’s waist, and he moves with renewed intensity. Eddie’s hips snap against him, each thrust urgent, driven by need and love. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, grunting and panting, entirely lost in the moment.

It doesn’t take long. Eddie’s rhythm falters, his breath catching. “Fuck, Steve—fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, voice breaking as he spills inside him, warmth flooding between them.

They collapse together, Steve barely catching himself on trembling arms before he face-plants into the amp. Eddie slumps against him, muttering a soft, “Sorry—can’t feel my legs.”

Steve bursts into laughter, his body shaking with it. Eddie joins in moments later, his laugh raspy and infectious. The movement dislodges Eddie’s softening cock, and Steve grimaces at the inevitable sensation of cum leaking out. It’s a mess, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

After a few beats of shared laughter and steadying breaths, Eddie peels off his own shirt, using it to clean them both.

“You’ll get cold,” Steve says, voice softer now, even as he leans into Eddie’s tender touches.

“I’ve got you to keep me warm, don’t I?” Eddie quips with a grin.

“Only if you cuddle me first,” Steve counters, mock-serious. “You can’t just use me for my body heat. I have standards, you know.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a chuckle, pulling Steve into his arms and leading them toward the worn couch in the corner of the room. They sink down together, Eddie sprawling on his back with Steve sprawled across him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

They continue to lay there, tangled together in the lazy, sated warmth of post-coital bliss. Steve is already half-asleep, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat and the gentle stroke of his fingers through Steve’s hair. Eddie presses a kiss to his temple, a smile tugging at his lips as he breaks the comfortable silence.

“So,” Eddie begins, his voice soft, curious, “you gonna tell me what had you in such a weird mood earlier?”

Steve hums, the sound vibrating through Eddie’s chest. He considers brushing it off, but Eddie’s been patient, and he deserves the truth. “Got an invitation from Dustin and the kids,” Steve says finally. “To their graduation. It’s for both of us, actually.”

Eddie stills, his hand pausing mid-stroke. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice low. “Made me think about stuff, I guess. Like… leaving Hawkins. Leaving them.” He tilts his head to look up at Eddie, his expression thoughtful. “And whether I regret it.”

Eddie’s breath catches, his hand resuming its motion in Steve’s hair as he braces himself for Steve’s answer. “Do you?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “No. Not even for a second.” He shifts so he can meet Eddie’s eyes fully, a soft smile curving his lips. “If anything, I’m grateful Dustin kicked my ass into following you. The little shit was right—they’re fine without me. But I’m not sure I’d have been okay if I stayed.”

Steve sits up slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Eddie’s chest, tracing tattoos and scars alike. “I’ve been thinking about how lucky I am. That I’m here. With you. That it all worked out the way it did.”

Eddie blinks, his throat working as he processes Steve’s words. “You’re not the only one who got lucky, Stevie,” he says, his voice tinged with raw honesty. “Leaving without you broke me. Felt like I’d left my heart in Hawkins while the rest of me moved to LA. The day you showed up? It was like the last puzzle piece finally slid into place. Like the universe had been holding its breath, waiting for us to figure it out.”

Steve’s smile widens, his hand cupping Eddie’s jaw as he leans up to press a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words soft but fierce, carrying every ounce of emotion he feels.

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies, his voice steady and sure, as if he’s been waiting his whole life to say it.

They settle back into each other’s arms, the greenroom quiet save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sounds of the venue being cleaned up. The world outside feels a million miles away, and for now, that’s exactly where it can stay.

Here, with Eddie, Steve is home.

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fic #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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livinginshambles · 1 year ago

Text

I needed to hear you say it | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Unrequited love on both sides, James' side in part two– You're in love with James who, despite knowing about your feelings, ignores it as he doesn't want to lose you by rejecting you. After a rejection, you get over him and leave him strangely enough, conflicted.

Notes: I was not going to post anything until I got back from holidays, but it’s really short, so here it is anyway! Not proofread and typed on a phone ;)

Masterlist Part two

______________

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at his words, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault. After all, you don’t choose who you fall in love with. It just happens. Just like how you don’t choose who you don’t fall in love with.

The words "I don't love you" rang through your head.

“It’s alright,” you tried to offer him a smile, but your eyes avoided his, your face tilted downwards. Despite your heart hurting, you felt slightly lighter, as if a massive weight had been taken off the back of your mind. “I think I knew. Despite your mixed signals which I must admit, gave me a little hope, I knew. So did you.”

James was slouched on the couch in front of the fireplace, taking up the entire space, leaving Peter and Remus to sit on the floor in front of him, both busy studying like dutiful students should. He looked up at you, vision up side down as a result of his head that had lolled off the edge of the couch, a conflicted expression adorned his face while he studied yours.

You watched his glasses that sat uneven on the bridge of his nose, eyes that seemed to bore right through you, though you sure hoped they couldn’t. How humiliating it would be, you thought to yourself, since more often than not, you imagined what it would be like to be loved by him, accidentally zoning out with your eyes trained on James. You shook the thoughts away in a flustered manner as if to hide them away.

Noticing that James was still peering up at you, you stretched out your leg towards him and nudged your foot against his head in a teasing manner, trying to get him to break his gaze. It worked, and James pushed it away with a face of mock disgust.

“Ew! Get your smelly feet away from my face.” He complained.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “No. I don’t think I will,” you taunted and wiggled your foot in front of him a little more. With lightning quick reflexes, James managed to grad your ankle and started to tickle your foot.

You squirmed away with a high pitched shriek, almost kicking James in the face. “James! Bloody hell?” You loudly exclaimed and retracted your leg. James only grinned in response, blowing you a kiss and a wink. It had your heart skip a beat.

“So what were you thinking about,” you decided to ask him, his frown not having gone unnoticed by you.

‘About how I know that you’re in love with me,’ he thought. He had been thinking about that a lot recently, but unfortunately not because he returned your feelings.

James was trying to pass his behaviour off as normal recently, despite having found out about it. He prayed that you would never confess your feelings directly to his face, because he knew that he’d have to reject you, inevitably losing you in the process. Something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He needed you.

But he wanted Lily. She was it for him after all, no matter how close you and James were.

“Lots of things on my mind,” James cleared his throat. “Like do you guys think that McGonagall has ever... involved herself with another cat?” He asked the first thing that popped up in his mind and was successful in diverting the conversation. The immediate response was four groans and a chorus of “That’s bloody disgusting, Prongs, what the hell mate?”

James shoulders relaxed when he saw you laugh along. He didn’t want things to change.

James didn’t know what to say to you. He hadn’t wanted to lose you, so he avoided the confrontation, unintentionally stringing you along on the way, breaking your heart when the news that Lily decided to give James a chance had reached you before he could tell you himself.

But now he knew somewhere in his gut that this was the going to be the end of you two. At least for now, he realised.

“Thank you,” you managed and his head snapped up to yours, searching for your eyes but yours were firmly focused on the brick wall behind him.

You took a deep breath. “I needed to hear you say it,” you exhaled, your eyes glistering in the reflected light when you looked up again.

You reached your hand into the pocket of your sweater, grasping at the ring that James had given you. You had pocketed it after you found out that the only reason you received that wonderful gift, was because Lily had told James that she didn’t like wearing jewellery.

You held your hand out to him. James, somewhat confused, still held his hand out and you let the ring drop in the palm of his hand. “I’m not going to get strung along by you anymore,” you told him. Your voice was barely louder than a whisper, but was firm.

James heart clenched, the pit in his stomach enlarging. ‘This is it,’ he thought.

“No more hurting. No more feelings,” you said out loud, as if you were vowing them to him. “Let’s meet up after the summer vacation, yeah?” James’ eyes searched your face, hope at your words, lighting them up.

“I swear on the marauders, everything will be back to normal next year, and we’ll be okay.” Your words were confident, putting him at ease, knowing you’d keep your promise. You beamed up at him one last time before you stepped back, disappearing through the brick wall of Platform 9¾.

September 1st.

James dearly missed you. You hadn’t visited over the holidays as usual. Nor had you answered the letters that James couldn’t help but send you to keep you up to date on what you were missing out on. James was already on the platform, waiting in front of the Hogwarts express. He was early, but he knew that you were always one of the first to arrive of all the students, ready to secure a compartment for the marauders.

James had spent a few weeks with Lily during the holidays, and the both of them had realised that maybe they weren’t it for each other.

Whereas James slept in and enjoyed late night talks, Lily would wake up as an early bird. He wanted to go out and stroll through the streets, get lost in London or hang out at a bar and Lily would rather go to the park and calmly read a book that she’d treated to herself. James liked trying out new places to eat at, maybe laughing at how disgusting something was, while Lily thoroughly enjoyed making meals herself to match her tastes.

She didn’t feel too comfortable with James’ public affection or physical touch, so he would often find himself walking next to her, arms awkwardly hanging by his sides. He realised that even when walking around with his friends, he’d have his arm thrown across their shoulders.

James was also a little bit of a complainer. He would dramatically gasp for air and wave his hands at himself during the heat wave that hit London while whining about the temperature. He sourly eyed the ridiculously long queue of the movie theatre of a movie that he wasn’t particularly interested in due to different tastes and couldn’t help but complain about it. He cursed out loud when they missed the bus and grumbled about the 30-minute wait until the next.

Lily would roll her eyes at him, albeit amusedly. She would hush him and shake her head at his childishness, sometimes with a slightly embarrassed chuckle which was the final issue; she was often embarrassed at his loud rambunctiousness.

Finally coming to terms with reality, Lily and James amicably split up. He still thought she was a great person, but maybe not for him per se.

He was lost in thoughts until two hands obscured his sight, effectively pulling him back to the present. They were warm to the touch and smelled like you. James’ stomach swirled for just a split second, but he didn’t have time to process the feeling in his gut when you spoke up in a low voice, trying to pass off as someone else, as if James would be fooled by that.

“Guess who?”

A grin broke out on his face and he grabbed one of your wrists, spun around and then made your twirl around as well. “My favourite person?” He cheekily teased. He was taken aback when you threw yourself at him, that same fluttering feeling reappearing, despite the fact that you often hugged others like that, and the action being no different than your usual way of greeting him.

When you felt James’ body stiffen, you quickly released him, kind but apologetic smile on your face. You were looking good, James realised. Not in the sense that you suddenly looked incredibly stunning after the summer holiday or anything, although James had always thought you were quite pretty, but you looked relaxed. A delighted expression on your face. Positivity seemed to pour out of you and your smile was just captivating.

“Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” You asked, concern lacing your voice. Before he could answer you, you continued. “I’m so sorry if I did, but I promise you, I have absolutely no feelings for you anymore, Prongs. Everything’s back to normal,” you sincerely assured him.

James smiled back at you, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you flush to his side while he guided you towards the train. “Everything's back to normal,” he cheerily affirmed, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart had dropped, and the forming pit in his stomach at your words.

“How was your summer,” he asked, before his mind could wander off and imagine what it would be like to be loved by you, instead.

part two

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @moonys0chocolate @grac3aph3lion @someonesuggestmeaname @mel-yldrm @yrseline @apiec @earfquak3 @yourvvenicebitch @venomsvl @leyla-ravenclaw @spacedangel @darrarii @shrekscrustybudassy @unleptwriter @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @georgesgingerpubes @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders era #james potter angst #james potter fic #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders fanfic

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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

Note

jj coming home from work or hanging out with the pogues to see you in the backyard laying on a tanning chair with your tinyyyyyyyy pink string bikini and he just can’t control himself he’s just a man 🤷‍♀️

-🪞

thinking about this but it’s with bsf!jj who you’ve done sexual stuff with maybe one or twice? but you never spoke about it afterwards and he kinda doesn’t know what the two of you are and if you’re ever gonna let him do it again ?? so he’s constantly just on edge w loads of sexual tension and mm !!

⋆˙⟡🥥♡🤍౨ৎ🍥˚˖𓍢ִִ໋

it’s late afternoon when he’s arriving back at the chateau to stay. john b was driving off somewhere following a lead, and pope and kie had gone home for the day so it was just going to be jj. jj and you.

he walks right past you at first, swinging his set of keys round his finger and humming, well — rapping to himself. ice ice baby, you seem to recall? you were in a doze, laying on your front on the lawn on a towel, brain barely picking up on his presence. he’s whistling the chorus as he strolls towards the shack, before noticing you, and doing a full 180 to walk back towards you, the whistling drawing closer.

“w—hey there, pretty lady.” he calls out, pulling his shorts up boyishly as you lift your head, a little sleepy from the amount of time laying out in the sun.

“hi, jayj.” you hum, pushing up onto all fours so you could stretch your back, arching it and letting out a sigh through your nose as you come back to reality. he blinks rapidly like he’s trying to take screenshots of his eyes, gazing over your soft form in your ever so tiny pink bikini.

“what’cha doing out here all alone?” he digs his boot into the grass, differentiating between eyeing you up and looking at the ground like he just couldn’t handle it.

“was just soaking up the sun but i think it’s going behind a cloud now. what time’sit anyway?” your voice is all soft and sleepy and it makes it hard for the blonde to focus, blinking at you a few times before hes realised you’d asked him a question and he jumps into action, pulling up his wrist to theatrically look at his clock.

“it is… just comin’ up on 5– i’m sorry just to… circle back real quick,” he scrunches his nose, drawing a quick circle in the air with his finger pointed up. “i have not seen that bikini before is it — is it new or?” he rests his arm casually against a rogue tree branch standing at the height of his ribs, nearly missing it entirely at first, fingers rubbing below his nose, antsy.

you look down at yourself, taking it upon yourself to adjust the pretty pink triangles on your chest, jostling your tits as you do so, making sure they’re fitted perfectly over you. the act in itself seemed genuinely innocent from your part, but jj’s eyebrows jumped up as he shifted desperately on his feet, clearing his throat — it’s as if his sudden movement were to direct his blood flow to literally anywhere else, diverting it from where it was inevitably headed.

“yeah! it was on sale. d’you like it?” you’re looking up at him with those cutesy doe eyes from where you knelt on your towel and it was taking him everything to control himself. why did he have to be such a guy?

“uh, do i have a working set of eyes? yeah… i love it… takin’ like… mental polaroids here.” he trails off before he says something crazy, swaying on his feet, indulging himself to take another look at the way the two piece clings to your body. you climb to your feet happily, taking your time to pick up your belongings that laid out beside you, your sunglasses, water bottle and phone. once you’d gathered them into your arms, you walk up to jj casually, already smiling.

“so do you wanna help me out of the bikini? or…” your grin grows when you see his jaw drop right there infront of you, holding his gaze for a moment as you walk past him, heading towards the chateau leaving him frozen for a few seconds.

“wh— uh, yes— yes ma’am.” he nods, turning and jogging after you.

⋆˙⟡🥥♡🤍౨ৎ🍥˚˖𓍢ִִ໋

#🪞 anon #jj maybank prompt

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thrillered · 4 months ago

Note

imagine reader and coworker/friend/crush Spencer and you guys are having lunch out of the office and run into your ex who is like a tall shayne basically and spencer gets a bit jealous/insecure and starts avoiding you a bit and you think you did something wrong

idk man I'm not a writer but you know what I mean?

The Ex | Spencer Agnew x Reader

I hope you like it!

“I don’t know what to get.” You sighed, analyzing the menu.

“Honestly I haven't had something I didn’t like.” Courtney, who was sitting across from you, said.

“Well that's reassuring.” You replied, “What are you getting Spence?” You asked, turning your head to look at your friend beside you.

Some of your friends and coworkers decided to go out for lunch today, taking advantage of the cool weather since it’s been so humid and hot the past week. The group had taken Courtneys suggestion and now you were sitting outside on a beautiful patio, surrounded by your friends.

Spencer sat to your left, like always. Amanda and Angela were sitting on the other side of Spencer, Shayne and Courtney mirrored you and Spencer with Chanse next to them.

“I’m not totally sure. Do we wanna both order something and split both?” Spencer asked.

“That’s perfect.” You replied, “Everything sounds good. I don't think I’d be able to choose just one anyway.”

Your waiter had brought out your drinks and a few appetizers that Courtney and Shayne insisted on everyone trying. You and Spencer were currently splitting the last piece of bread from the basket, arguing over which half was bigger.

“Oh my god Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice ask. You turned, realizing you recognized the voice because stood a few yards away was your ex. You froze for a moment. You hadn’t seen him in at least three years. The last time being at a mutual friends going away party when they moved to Europe.

“Shaun.. Hey..” You replied, still confused, standing to face him.

“God it’s been a minute, huh?” Shaun asked, giving you a friendly hug that you reciprocated.

“What, like two? Three? years?” You asked.

“I think so! You look good, new hair? I like it.” He smiled.

“Well thank you. You look good too.” You responded, noticing how much muscle he had gained. He had always been kinda a gym rat but wasn’t into massive muscle growth when you were together.

Your food came while you were talking, giving Shaun the notice to leave. “I don’t want to keep you from your lunch. Is that plate yours?” He asked, pointing to your order. You nodded. “Taste hasn’t changed then.” He remarked before giving you a half hug and walking away.

You sat back down, joining your friends, only to be met with amused stares. “What?” You asked, placing your napkin back in your lap.

“Who was that hunk?” Chanse asked.

“That’s just Shaun.” You replied casually, beginning to half your meal for Spencer.

“Well clearly there was something there.” Spencer huffed under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, it’s just clearly you had history with this Shaun.” He replied, not looking at you as he portioned part of his food to you.

“We used to date.” You admitted, earning a chorus of teases from the table, minus Spencer. “It was like three years ago!”

“Why’d you break up? He’s… whoo!” Amanda asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“We just didn’t work out, the feeling just stopped being there. We only dated for like 10 months.”

Most of the lunch ended up with the group interrogating you about your relationship with Shaun. Your relationship was fine and ended amicably so there wasn’t much to say.

You noticed that Spencer didn’t contribute much to any conversation. You tried to pass it off as him just being tired since he has been working extra hard lately.

You and Spencer had carpooled to lunch, like you do most days. Usually your drives are filled with laughter, discussion, or singing but this time it was almost silent, save for the music playing softly.

Spencer was one of your favorite people. You and him had instantly clicked and had become good friends ever since. So his silence was unnerving. You tried to talk to him about it but he shut the conversation down and beelined it to his desk when you made it back to the office, promptly putting on his headphones.

—

God what a fucking idiot. Spencer thought, feeling insecure about himself. He was literally jacked. Why would she be interested in me?

Spencer has liked you for a long time. He was immediately attracted to you upon meeting, he thought you were stunning and had great style. The more he got to know you the more he fell for you. He thought you had such a beautiful mind. You were so kind and generous. Not to mention you were hilarious and had a very similar humor to him. He genuinely thought you were the perfect woman.

Your friendship had developed even further a few months ago when you spent the night at his place after a long night. While Spencer was aware of his feelings for you it was solidified that night as you were peacefully sleeping in his bed.

He thought that your friendship was moving into more romantic territory recently but seeing your ex made him feel like he was wrong. Shaun was 6 foot 2 and had muscles larger than Shaynes. He could never compare to him.

Deciding he would never have a chance with you he wasn’t sure how to be around you right now. Every time you laughed Spencer swore it was the most beautiful thing ever, how was he supposed to just casually be around you?

He didn’t want to ignore you but he needed to come to terms with only ever being your friend.

—

The work day was wrapping up, almost everyone was packing their things and saying their goodbyes. Spencer still hadn’t said a word to you. He managed to evade you every time you tried to talk to him. You had filmed a video for the pit channel but you could tell your energy was low and off. Spencer had never acted like this with you and it hurt. You didn’t think you said or did anything to offend him. You were running through the day, retracing your steps to figure out what happened.

You had breakfast with Spencer at work, had two meetings, filmed a games video– and everything was normal. Then everyone broke for lunch and you went out with the group, then you saw Shaun, then you– Then you saw Shaun.

Shit.

You knew Spencer was still in the office, he always stays an extra 30-45 minutes everyday. You waited a little longer, allowing most of the office to leave before you made your way to Spencer.

“Hey,” You began, easing into things.

“Uh, hey.” He replied, quickening his packing to leave before any real conversation could begin.

“You’re so much better.” You added, not wanting him to be able to walk away.

“I’m sorry?” He replied, confused.

“You’re so much better than him, than Shaun.” You breathed, ready to bear your heart.

“I- I don’t understand?”

“You make me laugh so much and you’re so caring and- and you’re my best friend. I haven’t even thought about Shaun in years until I saw him today. You know who I do think about? You. You Spencer. I think about you everyday.” You finished, breathless. Spencer didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. “Please say something.”

“I’m such an idiot aren’t I?” He asked finally. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly but Spencer could hear it, he knew you so well.

“The biggest I know.” You laughed, “But I love you for it.”

He pulled you into a hug. This was what you loved, Spencer hugged you like you were the most valuable thing on Earth, he held you like you would disappear, he always did and said everything right.

“Please don’t avoid me like that again.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Never again.” He promised, squeezing you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving his hands resting on your hips. “Come over tonight?”

“I would love that.” You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek.

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew/reader #shayne topp #smosh #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh spencer #smosh cast #smosh fanfiction

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alrtyhoney · 1 year ago

Text

The rundown: You looked like someone Miguel terribly misses– his daughter. (FIRST PART)

Content: Miguel x Daughter!Reader (wc: 1359)

“Have you thought about it already?”

The girl remains focused on her drawings, doodling away. “About what?” She mumbles a reply, without turning her gaze, still engrossed in her drawings. She knew what he was going to say anyway.

Miguel reaches forward and tenderly tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Your quinceanera, Gab.” He remarks warmly.

She only laughs in return, shaking her head. It's silly, she thinks to herself. "I'm not even near being fifteen yet!" she protests in between fits of giggles. It occurred to Gabriella that his father had an ulterior motive from the sudden pique of interest in her hobbies and likes; he wasn’t particularly chatty, so the past few weeks had pushed her to finally ask him what he was trying to do.

She didn’t understand at first. Miguel, very patiently, explained that a quinceanera was a special once-in-a-lifetime event for every girl. It was more than just a birthday celebration, it was an important milestone in her life. But she quickly discouraged the idea, not wanting to think about it so early. They had all of the time in the world, she thought, there was no reason to rush.

“I just want it to be special.” He says, “Your mother would’ve wanted that.”

“No te preocupes, papá.” She reassures her with a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll make it special.”

The clip ended, the screen slowly fading until only his reflection remained in the empty frame. All he could see now was a hollow shell of a man looking back at him; his expression blank and unflinching. Miguel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. That scene had etched itself into his mind, burning– mockingly so.

Nothing could ever fill the hole that his daughter had left in his heart - like when he first held her in his arms so many years ago; her presence still obvious on his chest where her memories had imprinted themselves, a permanent reminder of the loss of a child. He trudged through life with heavy feet and an even heavier heart.

He wonders if things could’ve been different or if he would always be incapable of keeping people in his life, always slipping from his fingers and out of his grasp.

“You’re watching it again,” Lyla appears on his shoulder, sitting there with her legs crossed.

“What about it?”

"That's the fourth time today," She says, her voice laced with a trace of worry that she was quick to try and disguise as part of her normal banter. It had become increasingly clear to her that something was amiss and although she was programmed to know anything, Lyla did not know much about Miguel.

“What do you want?”

“An anomaly is spotted in earth-829, a renaissance-like hawk wreaking havoc in a modern museum– yikes.” Lyla briefs him, “Jessica is already on standby.”

Miguel shakes his head, sighing. “Shouldn’t she be on maternity leave already?” He asks, his suit already appearing and opening a file regarding the mission. A hologram opens in front of him, filling in the details. Vulture. “Tell her to go home. I’ll handle this one.”

“I think you shouldn’t,” Lyla squeaks with a nervous smile on her face. “Think you really shouldn’t.”

Miguel taunts with an arrogant tilt of his head, matter-of-factly declaring, "And who's the one taking orders here?" His mask then slides firmly into place, and a portal opens beneath his feet as he steps through. Lyla knows too well by now that there isn't any room for negotiation.

As he stepped into the unfamiliar environment, a chorus of cries and screams greeted him from the running crowd. They pushed each other to safety, a few staying to watch spider-man in action. Miguel sighs, cracking his neck as he prepares himself to step in.

However, he slightly flinches as the said hero narrowly avoids him, crashing into the wall behind him with a loud thud. She quickly scrambled back to her feet, dusting the bits of rubble from her suit. “Hello? Mascot-man? I’m kinda in the middle of something here–”

“I’ll take it from here, kid.” If it wasn’t for the mask covering his face, his nonchalant tone would betray his expression. It was no surprise to him that someone as young as her had been bitten by a spider like so many others before her, but he knows damn well what awaits for her and that is what troubled him every time.

“And who are you exactly?” She shouts, running towards the anomaly again.

Miguel quickly binds the vulture's wings with his webs, allowing you to throw in a few punches before the bird regains its footing and takes off into flight. “I’m from another dimension.”

You audibly gasp, the eyes on your mask widening as you swing around, “I knew dimensions were real!” Completely unfocused, the anomaly narrows his eyes before charging towards you– before you could react to your senses tingling, you were sent tumbling to the ground, near the broken pile of rocks and other rubble.

Miguel loudly groans, getting a hold of the enemy. “Kid, focus!” He barks out, and you immediately snap back to what you were doing, swinging enthusiastically towards him.

“How did you do it? I mean– I tried to prove it all my life!”

“Aren’t you 12?” He scoffs at your statement, clearly not a fan of exaggeration.

“14 – and that’s not the point, mascot-man!”

The fight went on with you chatting and talking his ear off. Miguel had answered in dismissive grunts and his usual ‘it’s classified.’ remark, but he just couldn’t discourage your eagerness in any way. You had tired him out, more than the anomaly did.

Spider-society, magic watch, many more of you– you’ve basically summed up.

“You should definitely let me join,” You offered cheerfully, cocking your head and wiggling your foot. The battle had finally come to a close, thanks in part to the arrival of a couple more spider-men who lent an extra hand. You had caught up to Miguel, basically begging him to let you in. “We made a great team back there old man!”

“Old man?”

“Okay, sensitive,” You muttered under your breath. “But seriously– I could learn more from you!”

“Kid, listen–”

You had cut him off again, seemingly not taking no as an answer as you tried to persuade him again. You continued to babble, not leaving any room for him to interrupt. Miguel rubbed a hand over his face, hidden beneath the fabric of his mask, as he groaned in frustration for what felt like the hundredth time today. His eyebrows furrowed as he listened to you rambling on and on– patience nipping on itself from your lack of understanding with regards to the matter at hand.

“First off, I did most of the work back there. If it weren’t for me calling for back-up, you could’ve been injured badly. This society isn’t some school club you can just sign yourself in,” He explained, already itching to return and leaving you in the dust. A liability is the last thing he needed. “You don’t have what it takes.”

You throw your head back, groaning. You take your mask off, revealing a busted lip and a frown. “Whatever, your club sounds stupid anyway.” You mumble under your breath, suddenly feeling worn out yourself. Of course what he said had stung– it had taken so much effort to learn how to control your powers over the past two months since you were bitten by that spider. It wasn’t like there was a manual or a book written for freaks that happened to have superhero powers under such circumstances. You had to learn on your own.

Turning your back on him, you had fully expected him to disappear as well– but, to your surprise, he was totally motionless; a statue in solidarity unable to shift an inch. His stillness made the atmosphere unbearably tense and although you could not bring yourself to look back at him (well, you did call his club stupid.), you sensed his gaze upon you like a heavy weight pushing down on your shoulders.

“Gabriella?”

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x daughter!reader #miguel o'hara angst

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into-the-grey · 4 months ago

Text

~Once I’ve Sunk My Teeth In~

Noah Sebastian x F!Reader 18+ Fic

Warnings: mild argument, choking, choke chain, p in v, dirty talk, light bratting, a single smack on dat ass, edging a lil bit.

Fic Masterlist

This is the first time I’ve ever published my own work on tumblr, and definitely the first time I’ve ever published anything Bad Omens related or with smut in it… for some reason I’m a little scared? Anyway, enjoy.

'Just go!' She yelled, turning away from where Noah stood in the hall.

'What, we're not even going to talk about this!?' Noah yelled after her as she stormed up the hallway and into the bedroom.

'What's there to talk about?' Her harsh voice called. 'You're not listening to me!'

'I am listening! You're just yelling!'

'Then what are we arguing about, Noah!?' She cried, appearing in the doorway.

'I don't know!'

'Which is exactly my point! You're not listening! You're not hearing me!'

'You're not making sense!'

Y/N groaned, turning on her heel and slamming the door.

Noah closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what had upset her, but he didn't have time to find out. His ride was outside, and he had to go.

He approached the bedroom door, trying the handle. The door was unlocked, which surprised him. Poking his head into the room, he saw Y/N sitting on the chair in the corner, her head in her hands.

'Look,' he said, 'I have to go, but can we talk about this tonight?'

'Forget it,' she grumbled, not even looking up. 'Just go, leave me alone.'

Noah sighed, watching her for a second. A car horn honked outside, urging him to hurry up.

'I love you,' he said lowly. 'We'll talk tonight, alright?'

'Yeah, whatever,' she said defeatedly. 'I love you, now go.'

That was a good sign. At least she said she loved him; that meant she wasn't too mad. Noah closed the door, leaving her to cool off and heading to the venue.

***

Adrenaline coursed through his body. The beat of the drums thumped in his chest, and the crowd screamed in the pit.

The show was getting close to the end, but his mind was stuck in his argument with Y/N. He felt awful for leaving things the way he had.

Noah had already planned to pick up some kind of treat for Y/N on his way home. A coffee and some roses, given his options were limited at that time of night.

For the moment, he needed to try to focus. As he marched back and forth on the stage, he started a call-and-response game with the audience.

'I know you know the words. Come on!' He called. The crowd cheered, and some sang the words he was looking for.

'You can do better than that!' He said, crouching down on the platform. 'If you're throwing...' he started them off.

The audience finished the line, singing loudly back at him. He gestured for them to keep going, singing the beginning of the following line.

'You should know I'm...' he sang, watching the people. He grinned, continuing through the song. As he reached the last line of the chorus, the lights around the theatre glowed dimly.

The crowd took over, and the lights illuminated everyone in a warm red glow. As he grinned, he looked around at all the people before his eyes settled on one.

He could see her standing in the corner, not quite at the barrier. As soon as his eyes locked on hers, he saw the wicked grin on her face.

She was dressed in the tightest, curve-hugging leggings he'd ever seen. The wet look of the fabric added to her allure. Under her studded vest, her halter top plunged between her breasts, the moth tattoo on her sternum on full display, and a choke chain around her neck. Her dark hair hung down her back in a long, straight ponytail, and her lips were painted with deep red lipstick.

He knew precisely what Y/N was doing. She was trying to torture him. She had said he wasn't listening, and now she was making him pay attention. Noah's mouth fell open, stammering as he stared at her.

The lights went down, and the guitar wailed in his ear, demanding him to continue the set. In the crowd, Y/N winked at him.

'I'm gonna kill her,' he muttered as he turned away. He could almost hear her laughing evilly as he willed the blood back to his brain.

The rest of the show was agony as he imagined what he was going to do to her. He knew he was going to get her backstage; he wasn't going to wait until they got home. He found himself counting down the songs, constantly watching her.

He could feel her eyes on him, staring into his soul. Whatever he had done, she was still mad, but god, what a punishment.

Just before they left the stage, Noah lost sight of Y/N. He closed out the song while searching the crowd for her but to no avail. As the lights went down, the band ran off the stage, taking their few minutes before the encore.

Jolly and the Nicks grabbed water, taking their chances to drink and go to the bathroom. Noah, however, knew exactly where he needed to go.

Around the corner, the second dressing room's door was ajar, a sliver of light peeking through into the dim corridor. Noah barged into the room, seeing her perched against the vanity.

He threw the door closed behind him, crossing the room in two quick strides, and grabbed the end of the choke chain, pulling it so it tightened around her neck and dragging her face to his. His lips crashed to hers ferociously, her hands staying behind her back.

'You—' he growled between kisses, 'are the most—' kiss, 'Infuriating—' kiss, 'blood boiling—' kiss, 'cock teasing—' kiss, 'brat—' kiss, 'I have ever met. And you are going to wait right here until I'm done, and then I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel me for a week.'

'Don't threaten me with a good time,' Y/N purred, nipping at his lip while his hand snaked its way into her top, twisting her nipple and earning a moan from her.

'You're not walking out of this room,' he told her, grinning as she leaned into him, 'that's a promise.' Noah forced her knees apart and shoved his hips against her, grinding his cock between her legs.

'Two minutes!' A voice called outside the room, rounding up the band for the encore.

'Just enough time,' he breathed. Removing his hand from her top, he slid his fingers into her pants. Her pussy was slick, eager for him. With a grin, he bit down on her bottom lip, tugging on the chain around her neck and slipping his fingers inside of her.

Her gasp sent a chill down his spine, his body desperate for more of her.

'You thought you could be a brat at my show and wouldn't see consequences?' He growled lowly, twisting the chain around his finger as her breath stuttered.

'Maybe I wanted to see what you would do,' she told him, grinning proudly as her head fell back and her eyes closed. A dick-twitching sigh fell from her smug lips while he fingered her fast and deep.

'And did you get what you wanted?'

'Not yet,' she breathed.

'One minute!' The voice called again.

'Moan, baby,' Noah commanded, 'I want to hear it.'

Y/N happily obliged, her breathy moan lingering in the room and his cock aching at the sound. The moans came one after another, her pussy clenching around his fingers.

'Noah, fuck,' she gasped, her orgasm building quickly.

'Are you gonna come, baby?' He asked, biting her neck.

'Yes, oh god, yes,' she moaned.

'Not til I say so.'

In a fluid movement, his hand retreated from her pussy, lifting his fingers to her lips.

'Taste,' he ordered, watching her take his fingers into her mouth, running her tongue along his knuckles and leaving smears of her cherry red lipstick. 'Good.'

Noah stepped away from her, leaving her wanting more. He quickly adjusted his cock, trying to hide his obvious erection by tucking it into his waistband.

'Thirty seconds!' The voice yelled.

'Wait, come here,' Y/N panted, reaching for Noah's face. She kissed him once more before grabbing a tissue from the vanity and wiping as much of her smeared lipstick from his face as she could.

'How bad is it?' He asked with a smirk.

'Bad,' she giggled, kissing him quickly before shoving him at the door. 'Go, I love you.'

'I love you, and I mean it,' he told her, opening the door, 'do not move. That's an order.'

She nodded once as he rushed back to the stage just before the encore started. The crowd's cheering filled the venue. Noah grabbed the microphone from the stand on the stage, listening to the music around him for a second, trying to be in the moment.

‘Alright, if you don't know what to do, you will soon,' he grinned. This was one of his favourite parts of the show. 'When I say concrete, you say?'

He chuckled at thousands of people screaming 'Jungle' back at him.

'Again! When I say concrete, you say?'

'Jungle!'

Knowing Y/N was backstage listening, he smirked. He knew she got hot for his screams...

'I wanna hear you! Louder!' He screamed, the sound reverberating around the theatre and making people scream back. 'Concrete!'

The screams grew louder and more feral, and the crowd got worked up bit by bit. He began to march back and forth across the stage as the chant grew louder and faster.

Finally, he let loose a guttural scream, knowing she would be losing her mind waiting in that dressing room. He could picture her squirming in her seat, her thighs squeezing together as she fought back the urge to sneakily slip her fingers into her panties…

Focus.

'This is Dethrone, you fucks!'

***

They left the stage with the crowd applauding behind them. Jolly and the Nicks returned to the dressing room they had been in before the show, while Noah returned to the dressing room Y/N waited in.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him and locking it. She had done as he asked, staying exactly where he left her. Her lipstick was still smeared around her lips, and a red bite mark bloomed on her neck.

Wasting no time, he reached for her, his hands grabbing her hips as he stepped between her legs, grinding himself against her.

'Are you still going to be a brat?' He asked, his lips hovering just above hers.

'Maybe,' she purred, slipping her hand between them and palming him through his pants. Noah groaned, leaning against her and biting down on her lower lip.

He grabbed her chain again, using it to drag her off the vanity. She tilted her chin up, letting him pull her towards him. She followed as he turned her around.

'Bend over, hands on the table,' he told her. She grinned at him, her eyelids low as he kissed her again.

Y/N obliged, turning around and pressing her palms into the vanity table. Noah dragged the tail of her chain around her neck so it hung down her back, pushing her ponytail over her shoulder.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, he slid them down, exposing her ass and pussy to him. Y/N could see him in the mirror, grinning as his palm ran over her bare skin.

‘Are you going to behave?' He asked, locking eyes with her in the mirror.

'I might...'

His palm struck her ass in a solid upward stroke. A warm sting bloomed on the skin, making her gasp and her pussy clench.

'You might?' He said lowly, dragging her thong down. He freed his erection from his pants, positioning his tip at her entrance and grabbing for the chain again.

'What do I get if I do?' She asked sweetly, keeping her eyes on his.

'You get to come.'

His cock plunged deep into her pussy, sinking in to the hilt. Y/N gasped as Noah let out a moan, feeling how tight he had left her, her anticipation squeezing him.

‘Oh god,' she breathed, her head lowering to look at the table.

'Eyes on me,' he commanded, tugging at the chain. 'You look at me, no matter what. I want to watch you.'

She nodded, swallowing as he leaned over her, his hand slipping into the front of her pants and finding her clitoris.

'Oh shit,' she breathed, 'Noah.'

'Hold it back, baby.'

Y/N bit her lip, her muscles flexing on him. Her pussy dripped with need, dribbling onto the waistband of his pants.

Finally, Noah began to thrust. He started with small, tight movements, building up to a quick pace.

'Noah, I can't,' she whimpered, 'I need to...'

'Don't you dare,' he warned, running his finger in circles around her clit, 'if you come now, I'll edge you for a week.'

'Fuck,' she breathed. Noah grinned, watching her in the mirror. Her breasts were starting to fall out of her shirt, her nipples peeking past the fabric. Her skin flushed, and her mouth hung open while she panted, and the chain bit into her neck while he held it firm.

Noah took his hand away from her clitoris, reaching for her chest and twisting her nipple again, moaning as her muscles contracted on his cock.

His orgasm was starting to build, his gut coiling tight with pleasure. Y/N shifted forward onto her toes, resting her elbows on the table, allowing him to plunge deeper into her. His tip slammed into her cervix, making her gasp.

'Too much?' He asked breathlessly.

'No, please,' she whined, 'don't stop.'

Noah released his grip on the chain, grabbing her hips instead and thrusting deeply into her.

'Fuck, baby, you're so tight right now,' he moaned.

‘Noah, please,' she begged, trying to keep her eyes on him in the mirror. Her knees trembled as waves of pleasure rocked her body.

'Please, what?' Noah goaded her, 'I thought you wanted to be a brat; beg for it.'

Y/N bit her lip hard, fighting back a loud cry. 'Fuck, Noah, please.'

'Please, what? Tell me what you want.'

‘Please, let me come, baby. It's right there. I need to come,' she begged, locking eyes with him in the mirror. Her mascara was starting to smudge, leaving black streaks around her eyes.

'Good girl,' he said, 'you really want it?'

She nodded eagerly, her lower lip clamped between her teeth.

'Come for me. Show me how bad you need it.'

Her pussy began to spasm, her back arching with the orgasm. Noah grunted, reaching back into her pants and rubbing her clitoris, intensifying her climax and grinning as she bit back a squeal.

'Oh fuck, Noah!' She cried, giving up on controlling her volume. There was no way anyone in the surrounding rooms hadn't figured out what they were up to anyway.

'Oh god, Y/N, I'm gonna come,' Noah told her, his thrusts deepening. Y/N cried out again as Noah's cock struck just the right place, sending a wave of fireworks through her body.

'Don't stop,' she gasped. 'Oh god, please don't stop.'

'Fuck,' Noah groaned, 'fuck, there, I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy up, you want that?.'

Y/N bit her lip, holding back a shriek as her body convulsed under him. She could barely stand the feeling crashing over her.

Noah’s orgasm shook him, his knees threatening to buckle as he drove his cock deep inside of her and gripping her hips tightly while waves of ecstasy wracked their bodies.

'Holy... fuck...' Y/N panted as he finally stilled.

Noah slipped his hand out of her panties, rubbing gentle circles on her back as he slid his cock out of her.

'So... what were you mad about earlier?' He asked, kissing the back of her shoulder lightly.

She laughed breathlessly, standing up and adjusting her bottoms, dressing herself. With a flushed grin, she turned to face him, her hand running up his chest.

'Honestly? I don't even remember.'

‘Good,’ Noah grinned, ‘I hate when we fight.’

‘I’m not a big fan either, but god, make up sex is fun,’ Y/N breathed, leaning into his warm embrace.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, baby.’

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens smut

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aquaquadrant · 11 months ago

Text

from eden, part IX (act II)

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

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

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

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

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

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

(Here we go…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

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

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

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

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

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a brief silence.

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

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

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

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

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

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

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

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

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

“They put you in a farm?!”

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

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

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

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.”

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned.

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango’s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed.

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.”

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs.

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil.

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look.

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.”

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!”

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door.

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #hermitcraft #double life smp

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