#now this is a security measure i support
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Amazon:
Me:
Seriously thought for a sec that they were asking for my otp and was like: ...which one?
#now this is a security measure i support#just one problem#my otp changes with the seasons#damn otps#one true pairing#otp#otp isn't a pairing#otp is a tier#shipping#the mindy project#tmp#mindy lahiri#mindy kaling#gee lemme think bezosland#msr#eo#the doctor x donna#galex#lavenderbudd#louisa x spiros#callian#kibbs#caskett#sam x diane#mindy x danny#jack x liz#tim x daisy#peter x assumpta#the list goes on...#(and that's just the tv shows!!)
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The Venus Drug
jason todd x afab!reader
aka the side effects of a run-in with poison ivy
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation
A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back.
Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you.
You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.
Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.
You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”
He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.
You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.
You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”
You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”
Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.
“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.
He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.
You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”
His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”
“Why not?”
He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”
Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”
“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”
He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”
He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.
You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”
He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea.
Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”
“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”
You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.
You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”
Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”
He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”
You nod adamantly, “I will.”
You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission.
He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”
You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.
You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”
You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.
His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”
You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.
It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”
He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.
“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”
Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.
His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.
“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.
You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.
He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips.
“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”
You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.
You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”
He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”
It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.
You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.
But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead.
He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.
He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.
He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.
This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.
His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.
“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you.
Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.
It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.
You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long.
You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.
He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”
You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”
You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs.
He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides.
He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.
You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.
He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.
A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.
“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.
His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him.
He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.
This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.
He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”
His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before.
“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.
His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”
He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.
Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.
He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.
You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.
He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.
You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now.
But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.
So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.
You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.
You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.
“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.
“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.
The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.
His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.
You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.
“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.
He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.
“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”
The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless.
Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.
He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.
You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.
“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.
You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.
He sighs, “Baby…”
His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.
“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.
He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.
In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.
By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.
There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst.
the morning after epilogue
✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨
#jason todd loves his gf#if you’re not reblogging what are you doing here#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd/you#jason todd imagine#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd smut#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood smut#jason todd x reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#sex pollen#dc smut#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc/you#red hood/you#red hood/reader
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under pressure.
getting strapped up to a lie detector as part of a bet wasn’t exactly in your plans, nor was exposing your deepest secret to spencer reid.
pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader
warnings :: fluff! confessions, coworkers to lovers, cheesiness overload
word count :: 1.6k
author’s note :: three weeks since i last posted a fic?? absolutely unacceptable *presses post button*
accompanying song :: more than friends by aidan bissett
“there’s a reason why that thing’s admissible in court,” you murmur to derek, watching as the officer packs the polygraph back into a cabinet.
derek chuckles.
“you think you can beat it?”
“i know i can beat it.”
you cross your arms and look up with a challenging smirk.
“there’s actually a lot of skepticism surrounding the validity and accuracy of polygraph testing, especially since it’s only an instrument that measures physiological changes like heart activity and perspiration. people often mistakenly assume they’re trying to deceive a machine, when really it’s all about the polygrapher, who oversees and administers the examination.”
you don’t even have to turn your head to know it’s spencer who’s just made his way into the room, derek’s lifted brow a confirmation of his presence.
“ah, look who’s finally found us. i was starting to miss you a little, kid.”
“what are you guys up to?” spencer asks in return, his gaze shifting from you to derek, before slowly making way back to you.
“l/n thinks she’ll pass the test with flying colors.” derek points at the cabinet and looks at you with a winsome grin.
“i won’t even have to try.” you shrug, placing your hands on your hips confidently.
“wanna bet on it?”
“loser pays for dinner. reid, you in?”
“i uh, i think i’ll just watch,” spencer politely declines, his hands nervously burrowing deep into his pockets.
derek bursts into laughter. “oh come on, kid, it’s free dinner for the both of us.”
spencer chuckles quietly. “we’ll see.”
you make your way over to the cabinet, kneeling to retrieve the bulky device, and set it down on the table behind you.
taking a seat, you lift your arms to secure the straps above and below your chest, and attach the blood pressure cuffs to your right arm.
“nuh-uh.”
you hear derek tut a sequence of disapproving clicks.
“hey kid, check to see if it’s around her securely.” derek tilts his head at spencer before nodding in your direction, adding, “don’t want you deceiving us in other ways.”
you roll your eyes before raising your arms in surrender. “go ahead, i’ve got nothing to hide.”
spencer slowly approaches you, hesitant steps overtaking his stride as he moves to stand in front of you. positioning a hand on your back for support, spencer sticks a finger between the gaps of the sides of your chest and the straps.
the straps tighten ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. almost like an unconscious reflex, you release a breathy exhale.
“is that too tight?”
it’s barely a whisper, and he’s close, so close — his lips hover practically right beside your ear that you can feel his breath tickle the hairs on your neck.
“no,” you let out, “it’s good.”
your heart’s pounding now, and you’re thankful that you’re not hooked up to the monitor rate, at least not yet.
“just slide your finger into the clamp,” spencer instructs, his hand guiding yours into the plate where the electrodes lightly pinch your fingertips.
“is that comfortable?” spencer asks once again, his furrowed brows an indicator of marked concern as he searches for any signs of discomfort.
“yup.”
you bite your bottom lip as spencer hooks the cords to the monitor. his attentive eyes gloss over your strapped arm and flick downwards, stopping once they take note of your bouncing legs. you still your legs almost immediately.
“alright l/n, here’s a tester.” derek approaches you and lays his hands on the table, leaning forward. “have you ever lied to get out of trouble?”
you don’t even need to think twice. with a daring grin, you respond, “yes.”
“it’s stable,” spencer nods.
a mischievous smirk plays on derek’s lips.
“have you ever lied to hotch before?”
you huff an amused chuckle, one laced with throaty disbelief. “no.”
derek rolls his eyes, but spencer nods in your direction. “steady.”
“oh come on, not even once?”
you raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “why… have you?”
“this is about you, remember?” derek wiggles a finger disapprovingly. “next one… have you ever had any romantic feelings for anyone on our team?”
it's a question you were most definitely not expecting.
it’s only a brief pause, but it’s long enough to have you doubting – are your eyes widening? are your parting lips betraying you? is it actual sweat that’s starting to coat the tips of your fingers or are you imagining it?
“no, i have not.”
you feel heat start to creep into your cheeks, but try your best to remain unfazed as you await spencer’s judgment.
“give me… one second.”
the air suddenly feels ten times heavier.
a nervous chuckle escapes from your lips as you glance around.
“try not to bounce your leg up and down,” spencer finally calls back, and you have to physically restrain yourself from sighing in relief.
“alright, let’s try again,” derek announces as he finally takes a seat across from you. “have you ever had feelings for… doctor spencer reid?”
your instantaneous scoff overlaps with spencer’s. before you can respond, however, spencer chirps up first.
“y/n, don’t – don’t answer that.”
you, too, try to dodge the question with a dismissive wave. “come on, derek.”
thankfully, he rests the question aside. “fine. have you ever passed your files to someone else without them knowing?”
“yes.”
“to who?”
“to you, actually,” you boldly assert, leaning back into your chair.
“oh, she’s a rebel,” derek slyly retorts back, his gaze unflinching as spencer affirms your claim.
“did you, at any point, lie during this test?”
“no.”
“alright,” derek continues, “last question.”
“bring it.”
“do you currently have any romantic feelings for spencer reid?”
“seriously?” you swivel your head back and forth between derek and spencer, your eyes widening in disbelief at the fact that he’s repeating a previous question, merely adjusting a couple words.
it’s a question that you can’t answer. no, that you shouldn’t answer.
but this time, spencer’s quiet.
“you’re kidding me,” you laugh, “we are not being for real right now.”
“oh i’m being very real right now.”
your heart thumps like a wild drumbeat, your pulse echoing through the veins marking the side of your neck.
you start to lace your fingers together nervously as a thin layer of sweat covers your palms. the more you think about your moist hands, though, the more you start to sweat. it’s a constant feedback loop, feeding off of your deeply-buried secret.
slowly, you take off the straps and set the electrode in front of you, on the table.
radio silence falls over the air disturbingly, like the entire room’s tuned to the wrong frequency.
then, “reid, did you get that?”
it takes another five seconds for sound to fill the room once again, but the gravity of the silence is almost too heavy for you to register – your wordless confession strikes the back of your mind like an unpleasant storm, raining down on your thoughts with regret and humiliation.
“y/n, um, there’s a lot of environmental factors that can impact physiological response-”
there’s no going back anymore.
if you don't say it now, it'll linger in the depths of your mind forever.
“i do like you.”
when there’s no response, you decide to fully commit to your confession. “you said so yourself, this isn’t about fooling the device, it’s all about the polygrapher. so, spencer, what’s your judgment?”
you swear you can hear your own pulse drumming against you and shaking your body. with the faintest whisper, spencer utters, “i think you’re telling the truth.”
after hearing his response, you shove your hands into your pockets and prepare to leave, but not without throwing a glance at derek, who’s guiltily tracing the edges of his beard.
as you approach the door, however, a hand hooks around your elbow, stopping you dead in your tracks.
spencer’s hand.
“that’s it? you’re not going to hear my response?”
you don’t look up. “no, i… fine, tell me.”
if only you knew about the collective swarm of thoughts swimming in his brain, the thoughts that are denaturing all his senses of rationality and self-control. he has so much to tell you, words that he’d spill almost instantly if he’d been better prepared.
his hand moves down to envelop your own.
you do nothing to stop him.
slowly, he drags your hand upwards, until it rests against his chest.
against his speeding heart.
“spencer?”
the glow in his eyes is unmistakable – his dewy orbs gaze into yours lovingly, the exchange almost a confession in itself.
“i don’t think that either of us can beat the test,” spencer softly murmurs, his breathy chuckle sounding like music to your ears.
you don’t know how to describe it – it’s a bittersweet concoction of emotions that continues to spread throughout your body the more spencer nuzzles up against you.
“no,” you voice after a pause, “i don’t think we can.”
“very cute guys, but i’m waiting on my victory dinner, so if you two can-”
“oh shush, derek, you’re ruining the moment,” you say as you break into laughter, and bury your head against spencer’s chest when you fail to recover your composure.
“and you’re gonna have to pay me extra if you want me to keep my mouth shut in front of all the others,” derek retaliates, his smug grin causing you to roll your eyes.
“i think i can wrap the straps around his mouth if you hold him against the door,” you start while looking up into spencer’s eyes, speaking loud enough to draw derek’s attention.
spencer returns with a wide smile, one that tugs at your throat to release another hearty laugh.
“yeah, i’ll grab his arms first.”
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x you
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.Daddy & Baby ༄
.summary ༄ an overly self indulgent pwp fic on what it's like being in a polyship with Choji (Choso x Toji x Reader) based on my incredibly unhinged discord msg:
.tags ༄ canon au. bdsm, sadomasochism, voyeurism, cuckolding, spanking (kewchie & ass), creampies, pussy talk, sub!choso, dom!toji, sub!reader, bondage, overstim, pup play, taunting, squirting, edging, orgasm denial, pet names: daddy, mommy, pup/puppy, slut. Toji being a meanie pants in general to our sweet baby Choso and the tiniest bit of fluff and domestically at the end. slightly black fem coded but no descriptors .shoutouts ༄ @littlemochabunni & @ryomens-vixen for feeding into my sickness when I shared this in discord. .wc ༄ 3.9k
“T-Tojiii! Fah-Fahh-Fahhhhck~!”
Unable to contain your moans, you grasp fists full of sheets that do little to brace you from the backshots Toji is currently pounding into you. Each thrust gets progressively sloppier against the slick of your bodies drenched in shared fluids. Evidence of this being your second …no, third round. Toji’s calloused hands are imprinted into the soft chub of your waist in order to keep you from slipping away from him.
Fuck. Stretched out around his girth Toji can’t deny how good your cunt squeezes him.
So good, so fucking messy for him all over his cock.
A sinful symphony of flesh echos throughout the room everytime Toji’s loins snap forward slapping your skin together violently as he fucks his previous loads that much deeper into your squelching pussy. Giving your ass an open-handed smack for good measure, Toji smirks at how the sting makes your little pussy squeeze that much tighter around his cock.
Too much, too much! Pleasure filled moans continue to spill from your lips as fresh tears roll down your cheeks.
Your muscles are reduced to goo, trembling under your own weight as you begin to slump forward face first into the mattress. Yet Toji, unrelenting on his mission to bully all 10 of his thick inches into your womb, is not cutting you any slack.
“Uh-uh, mamas, none of that shit now–”
A firm grip on your hip, Toji yanks you up by your hair, forcibly returning the arch to your back. If not for Toji securing you upright, his burly fingers tangling around your locks, you surely would have collapsed.
“–ya know puppy likes seeing the look on y’er face while I’m breaking this tight lil’ cunt.”
With Toji now doing the work of supporting your weight, even by your hair, you’re able to spare just enough energy to blink away the moisture flooding your eyes and focus your sights on the puppy in question.
Your puppy– Choso, is kneeling on the wooden floor tied to the bed frame by his black leather studded leash and collar. Seeing you getting worked over so beautifully by Toji has Choso’s black jeans feeling increasingly tight and sticky from the large amounts pre leaking out of his tip. Rutting into the side of the bed, Choso is desperate to relieve any of the throbbing he feels straining between his thighs.
Yet Choso couldn’t cum, he’s not allowed to. His dick is bound in a silicone cockring that keeps him in a suspended state of titillation, unable to find any release.
Toji’s bullying is why Choso has it in the first place to be honest. Ridiculing Choso that he busts far too easily and would have to learn to hold it in longer like a ‘real man’ if he ever wanted to fully satisfy you.
You’d overheard their convo earlier from the next room over. You scoffed, Toji was just being an ass per usual. Truthfully, Choso satisfied you plenty, even if he was a quick nut he would still fuck you through his tears and overstimulation. But shamefully you had been silent at the suggestion. You resisted entering the room and coming to Choso’s rescue in hopes Choso would comply, just so you could see him all cute and frustrated. You loved how flushed his pouty face would get when he was inside you, begging you to let him cum (even though he often did so without permission anyway) and a cockring would only intensify the experience.
“Just look at him being such a good lil’ pup f’er ya, Y/N. Wouldn’t deny him that lil bit, would ya?”
You shake your head.
“N-No, I-I won’t Daddy… mMM fuck!
Delivering another smack to your ass cheeks Toji’s evil smirk widens causing Choso to squirm more against the bed as he can only wantonly watch from the sidelines.
Choso didn’t care about Toji’s taunts if he also got to have you. He would willingly bark if you asked. However in this situation, fully bound, Choso finds himself laboriously panting. The open mouth gag he dons forces his jaw wide, his tongue hanging out akin to an actual dog’s. Drool pours freely down his chin and drips onto his bare chest. When the need to touch you becomes near unbearable, Choso struggles more but he is immobilized as his arms are also secured behind him in matching leather cuffs.
Defeated, choso whimpers and curls deeper into the bed, his hypersensitive pierced nipples chafing against the mattress leaving them swollen and red. Wishing he was the one balls deep in your core, your pliable cunt becoming mushy and sloshing around his cock instead.
Choso whines are loud even with the gag.
Your heart pulls at the sounds of his choked cries and seeing his eyes water as they beg for you. The urge to reach out and console him is almost as strong as the depraved part of you that gets a surge of dopamine from witnessing such a ‘good, sweet boy’ suffer pitfully in want of you.
“G-Good boy baby, s-so good for me. C-Can y-you wait a bit more C-Cho?”
You managed to sweetly squeak out encouragement in between Toji’s thrusts, knowing Choso could easily break the restraints if he wanted. They’re not even cursed tools so they wouldn’t hold him if he really wanted out of them.
However, Choso was your faithful good boy to a fault. He would endure for you, bricked in his jeans to the point of gnawing agony until you told him it was time.
Choso slowly nods his head, keeping his tears from falling, for now.
Shit, it’s so fucking hot.
The spectacle of Choso in all his aroused anguish has you clenching impossibly tighter around Toji who releases a string of curses as he jerks your back flush to his chest. One hand roughly palms your tit and the other rolls your clit between the pads of his fingers. Your head falls limp to the slide allowing Toji to dip his tongue into your clavicle and nip at you with no regard to how sore you would be tomorrow even if he didn’t leave a mark.
“Y-Ya close mamas?”
Toji's voice slightly falters as his heavy breath grunts across your neck. The way you are pulsing around him is doing him in quickly and he needs to make you cum first or in his eyes he'd be just as pathetic as the sad little cuck at the end of the bed. Landing a jarring spank directly on your clit, your own tongue lolls out of your mouth mirroring Choso.
“A’course ya fuckin’ are nasty slut, yer lovin’ this. Can’t get enough of being slutted out in front of y’er lil’ cuck puppy huh?”
Toji has your body jolting sharply at the sensation and your limbs buckle as you pull forward away from him. Any attempts to escape from him are in vain and frankly, there is no real conviction behind your movements. Your speech diminished to nonsensical prattling, your brain has already short circuited. Utterly drunk on Toji’s fat cock, the shockwaves from his wild thrusts have you spiraling towards release.
The chains on Choso’s leash clank more fervently as he erratically tugs on them, agitated by Toji’s particularly rough use of you.
It was pretty much a given, but Choso was far more gentle in comparison to Toji. Treating your body with the utmost reverence, Choso would bathe you in tender kisses, gently lapping up your sweat and mixed fluids from your cunt, thighs, breast and body as a form of aftercare following a rough session with Toji.
This would typically lead to Choso slow fucking himself deep in your guts while he cooed into your tiddies with a soft sigh, repeatedly murmuring ‘Mommy’ and sucking on your pebbled nipples. Choso had mentioned to Toji plenty of times before to be more gentle with his mommy.
Toji on the other hand couldn’t give a fuck what the lil’ pussy whipped emo boy wanted. Choso couldn’t beat his ass and besides Toji knew how much you liked it when he was wrecking your shit. Also whether Choso wanted to own up to it or not Toji knew despite his protests how hard the lil’ freak would get from watching the two of you. The sight of you looking so messy, so perfectly fucked out, while getting pounded drove Choso crazy.
“Fuckin’ shut it n’ wait y’er fuckin’ turn or ya won’t get one. Don’t think I can’t stay in this sweet lil’ cunt all damn day. Shiu can find someone else to do that shitty ass job n’ ya can stay tied up just– like– that–”
Toji grunts out the last of his words in sync with his hips slamming into you.
Choso would pout if his mouth wasn’t gagged open yet he obeys– anything to be able to eventually touch you, sooner rather than later preferably and he knew Toji would follow through on his threats just to spite him.
Choso’s chains still strained taunt though, in an effort to be as close to you as possible but he is no longer pulling. However, you could still make out the soft gurgles of him calling out for you even with his gag on.
Choso’s whining and Toji’s manhandling of you has you on the very edge. All you need is a nudge which you get in the form of Toji rolling your overstimmed bud between the pads of his rough fingers and swirling his wet heavy tongue along with his filthy words into your ear.
“S-Shit, that’s it, such a good lil’ pussy for Daddy. Gon’ on n’ fuckin’ cum on this cock already mamas, eh? I know ya wanna.”
And you do.
A shaky mewl is ripped from you as your vision blacks dissolving into pleasure, spasming around Toji’s cock as electricity spreads, tingling through your entire body.
You look so lovely with your eyes crinkled and face twisted in ecstasy that Choso surely would have busted for the umpteenth time that night if not for the torturous cockring still on his length. His humid jeans were officially soaked through with pre and his dick twitched against the large stain on the crotch of his pants.
Groaning into your flesh, Toji bites down on your shoulder as he finishes in your pussy shortly after, his girthy mushroom tip blowing his third load, just as hefty as the first two, straight into your guts.
You’d surely be pregnant after all this if you weren’t on the pill.
Pulling out of your sore pussy with a pop, a mix of your cum leaks down his finally emptied balls. Seeing what state he’s left you in, Toji isn’t cruel enough to let your completely spent body fall face first onto the bed. Securing you in his hold, Toji brings you back down rather gently onto the pillows at the top of the bed.
Your chest heaves as you watch Toji smirk down at you.
He brushes away some of the hair stuck to your forehead, a surprisingly tender gesture which you would have smiled at had it not been immediately followed up by a slap directly on your tiddies. Just so he could see the sweat running down them jiggle off, Toji reasons when you yell at him for it.
“A-Assholeee…”
You breathe out weakly while resting your eyes, which has Toji smirking at the extent of your fucked out state.
“Yeah mamas, I am.. So let’s show the puppy here how much this asshole filled y’er slutty cunt up then, eh?”
Parting your shaky legs open with ease, Toji gives Choso a full view of your battered cunt. Globs of Toji’s cum are steadily dribbling out of your pretty pussy and dirting the already filthy bedsheets further.
“Heh, Y/N just look at all that. Didn’t know this tiny pussy could carry all that now, did ya mamas?”
Toji goes to spread your pussy lips open wider but you swat his hand away with a smack, your voice returning to an almost even tone as your breathing calmed.
“S-Stop playing around and go do that job Toji! I don’t need Shiu blowing up my phone asking me where the hell you are again… That is, unless you’re trying to get me to be your mommy too?”
Your head continues to buzz, dizzy from your pleasure filled high, but you’re still able to check Toji’s ass if needed. If he wanted to be ‘Daddy’ then he had to get his ass up and go make some ‘Daddy’ money too.
Tsk. You sassing him like this was just begging Toji to give you round four, fucking the attitude right out of you again.
Nevertheless, Toji gets up from bed. He had spent his last few thousand yen at the boat races yesterday and unless he wanted you nagging him about bills next week and threatening to withhold pussy again, he knew needed to do this dammed job.
“Alriiight, relax Y/N, damn. I’mma go fuck...”
Not bothering with a shower, Toji throws on his sweats, sparing a glance at Choso who was absolutely foaming at the chance to get his turn. He couldn’t resist taunting him a bit more though before he leaves.
“But eh, mamas ya look like shit. Ya should rest, not enough energy to play with puppy right now. We can untie him once I get back, won't be too long...maybe.”
The pained wide-eyed look Choso gave you in the moment was truly gut wrenching. Having to wait three full rounds before he could even touch you was a new feat for Choso and combined with the cockring, there wasn’t much he wouldn't do in the moment to break free. His lust was beginning to cloud rational thought and threatened to send him into a frenzy.
Choso might even go kill Toji’s target himself if that's what it took.
“And whose fuckin’ fault is that Toji? Urgh, I know, I’m tired… but my sweet baby has been waiting too long already!”
Gathering your energy, you weakly sit up and longingly reach your arms out for Choso who is back to pulling on his restraints again, nearly cracking the bed frame this time.
Toji reluctantly unhooks the leash from Choso’s collar which had also been connected to the gag, unshackling him from both simultaneously and pushing him towards you on the bed with a sneer.
“Go clean ‘er up then pup.”
Faster than lightning, Choso’s face is slotting between your thighs, his arms still chained behind him. Choso is on his knees hovering upright over your puffy cunt, abs pulling taunt straining his core so doesn’t fall forward onto you and stress your already sore body further.
The smell of sex in the room was already strong but the intoxicating way the musk was wafting off your cunt made Choso feral. He wanted nothing more than to dive his face between your folds and slurp you dry, ridding you completely of Toji’s cum before replacing it and filling you with his own.
Unfortunately, his jaw is locking badly. Clenching up as an after effect of being forced open for over two hours using the gag Choso had been previously unfamiliar with. Now Choso is powerless to do anything more than dribble a continuous string of thick spittle down onto your pussy, connecting his pitiful slack jawed pout to your already messed up cunt. Choso sniffles, whimpering as his lip quivers in frustration of not being able to eat your sloppy pussy out like he wanted to, his frustrated tears finally falling.
Giving him a comforting smile you don’t hesitate to pull Choso down by his shoulders. Allowing his head to nuzzle his favorite spot, your plush tits. You hushed him gently with a kiss to the crown of his head between his buns and wiping the sweat off his damp brow before you held him tightly to you.
“Shhh– s’okay Cho, you did so good waiting for me baby. I love you so, so much, so proud of you.”
Toji huffs, rolling his eyes at your coddling of a fully grown ass man. His eyes scan the room in a hurry to figure out where the hell he put his holster with his glock so he could gtfo before he hurled at the nauseating scene.
“Mmm, Toji do me a favor and hand me the key to unlock his cuffs, pretty please Daddy?”
Grumbling Toji does what you ask, knowing you’re well aware calling him ‘daddy’ was his weak spot. Only referring to him as such when you or your greedy little cunt wanted him to do or pay for something for you. He wasn’t a fuckin’ simp like Choso though, or at least he thinks so.
Toji grabbed the key off the night stand and tossed it to you. You caught them with a wink mouthing ‘love you’ as he just shook his head with a small smirk and made to leave the bedroom still in search of his gun.
“Toji Daddy, your .44 is on the kitchen table by the way!”
You yell after him as you reach down to unfasten Choso’s cuffs. Toji’s gruff grunt from the hallway is the only response you receive.
“You’re welcome... dickhead.”
You mumble the last part under your breath before returning your attention to Choso. You felt guilty over letting him go neglected for this long. He’d been fitfully humping his cock against your leg and tounging at your nipples since you brought him into your chest.
“Just let me undo these cuffs, then I’ll take such good care of you Cho, m’kay?”
Yet once you unlocked his cuffs and cupped his hot cheeks to lift his head your eyes were met with Choso’s own searing into you. The aggression edging on the corner of his eyes contrasted with the tears running down his face and it unnerved you as Choso sits up.
“C-Cho… you okay baby?”
Choso’s answer to you was in the form of abruptly grasping your ankles and throwing them next to your ears. An icy shiver travels up your spine as you quickly realized how bad you fucked up teasing Choso to this extent when you see red lines forming over Choso’s face.
With Flowing Red Scale activated, controlling and redirecting the blood flow in his body revitalizes Choso’s muscles with adrenaline. Movement returning to his stiff jaw and limbs that had been previously incapacitated.
Choso wastes no time plunging his pulsing cock into your sore cunt. The sensations of the metal prince albert piercing on the tip of his cock scraping against your g spot before ramming into your cervix, combining with the silicone cockring pluging you up full every time he bottoms out, leaves you breathless. Your voice becomes hoarse from strangled screams of both pleasure and pain with every sloppy buck of his hips.
Not being able to eat you out like he wanted to after waiting so long was the breaking point for Choso that snapped the little sanity he had left in the moment. He loved you so much and wanted you so badly. If he couldn’t suck Toji’s cum out of you he would fuck it out and give you even more.
Then they could compare who actually filled your pretty pussy up the most.
Choso’s intensity renders your sights spotty. The only beacon of focus being the silver dog tag that dangled off the studded collar still fitted around Choso’s neck. His Adam's apple bobbed fiercely as warm sweat trickled down his face and onto yours further obscuring your vision.
All thoughts of aftercare had long dissipated. The treatment of your cunt now was more akin to a horny college kid’s favorite pocket pussy. You felt so fucking good for Choso who couldn’t get enough of the way your cunt was drowning his cock. Your pussy greedily swallowed all of him gripping onto him tightly even with the amount of slick spilling out of you.
“N-Need to cum in you so bad Mommy, p-please let me cum in you!”
Finding his voice again, your heart flutters hearing Choso’s whines. Choso is forever your good boy despite him downright dominating you in the moment.
“Y-You can cum b-baby, but you gotta s-stop Cho– Shiiiiiiit– Let’ssss take off your c-cock ring firs–Fuhhhhck!”
You’d never seen Choso this worked up. On any other occasion he would already have spurt his hot load into your cunt by now. However, with the cockring on and his blood manipulation technique flowing through him, he showed no signs of slowing down even if he did desperately want to cum. The way Choso was pistoning his cock into you was like he wanted to stab it past your cervix and into your womb.
“AHHHH shiiit not yet, s-so warm, s-so wet Y/N wanna be inside you longer. Don’t wanna leave you yet Mommy.”
Pressing his palms into the backs of your knees Choso keeps you spread open for him as he continues to drill his cock into you. Reaching up you intertwine your hands into his buns bringing his face lower and sticking out your tongue to welcome him into a messy kiss as you feel your next orgasm approaching. You were losing yourself quickly to his bruising pace, feeling yourself begin to slip away into your high.
“Y/N, the gun ain’t in the– Woah.”
Entering the room, still in search of his gun, Toji is taken aback at the scene. He expected to come back into the bedroom to see Choso crying into your pussy, not destroying it.
Howling with laughter, Toji is very amused at the scene to say the least.
“HA! I thought it was gettin’ noisy in ‘ere, I see why.”
Toji had to admit he was a bit impressed, didn’t know the little cuck had it in ‘em. Although, upon close inspection Toji winds up shaking his head.
Of course the lil emo boy was still crying, even when murdering pussy.
Any respect Toji had gained for Choso in the moment is gone again just as quickly.
“Looks like the puppy has a bit of dog in ‘em after all.”
You eventually notice Toji after your orgasm hits. The repeated g spot stimulation from Choso’s piercing and cockring has you squirting hard. You break your kiss with Choso and turn your head to the side directing Choso to attack your neck rather than lips so you could breathe again.
Toji is still chuckling, an amused smirk plastered on his face as he saunters back towards you not missing the pleading look you’re giving him.
Choso was clearly out of control.
However, spotting his gun and holster from under the bed, Toji shifts his attention. Snatching it up before sparring you another smug smirk and making his way out again.
You call after him but are immediately rebuffed.
“Nuh-uh Y/N. Ya wanted to let him loose, he’s ‘your baby’, remember? Y’er capable of handling it from here, right ‘mommy’?”
You would flip Toji off as he left but your hand is jerked back as Choso flips you over onto your belly, still inside you. Only thinking with his cock you aren’t sure if Choso even registered Toji had even been in the room.
Now in the prone bone position, cockring still on his dick, Choso resumes clapping your cheeks while slobbering confessions of love and adoration for ‘his Mommy’ into your neck.
Not showing any signs of slowing down, at all.
Fuck Toji, you’d never let him goad you into teasing Choso like this again, that was for damn sure.
.a/n ༄ idk if anyone was calling them Choji before but was on a discord call and meant to say 'Toji' and 'Choji' came out and so now it's what I'm rollin' with idc idc lol.
.reblog ༄ but likes and comments are also appreciated ty!
#✎ᝰ𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉¢σσкє∂тнαт#✎ᝰ𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉¢σσкѕ#choso kamo#toji fushiguro#choso kamo smut#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#toji smut#jjk x reader smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#choso x reader#jujutsu kaisen#choso x you#choso x black!reader#jjk choso#choso smut#choso x female reader#choso x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk x black reader#kamo choso#choso x black reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#choso#jujutsu kaisen choso
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🚨🚨🚨RED ALERT🚨🚨🚨
if you care about trans folks please take a few minutes to read through this post and share.
They are not even trying to hide their true intentions with KOSA...
"Top of the agenda is to go after providers of gender affirming care, including for adults. The FTC could also go after online platforms for displaying LGBTQ content which would be supercharged under KOSA."
This is catastrophically bad.
There is a HUGE push to pass KOSA rn at the end of the year.
Real quick summary: Blumenthal and Blackburn "rewrote" KOSA to appeal to the right more. They worked with ELON MUSK 🤦♀️🤦♂️ to push this bill "protecting kids". Tomorrow, many orgs are bringing groups of parents to speak to congress. This is coming at a time when FTC commissioner admitted their agenda is straight transphobia:
There are two ways KOSA can be passed right now. Either from the House or attaching it to an end of year spending bill. They will try both.
Republican leadership (Scalise and Johnson) are surprisingly what is stopping thia from going through. They wont admit it out loud but they dont like the bill.
WE NEED TO PUSH BACK NOW!! Tomorrow those phones need to be ringing OFF THE HOOK while they meet with parents.
PLEASE SPREAD THIS EVERYWHERE!! ADD THESE LINKS TO TWITTER, REDDIT, INSTA, TIKTOK!!
USE THESE CALLING TOOLS AND SCRIPTS TODAY AND TOMORROW ALL DAY!!!
SCRIPTS:
🔴 If your rep is GOP:
"I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA, the Kid’s Online Safety Act. This is a dangerous bill that will harm children.
Many news organizations have reported that this bill actively harms kids by exposing their private data to strangers under the guise of protecting them.
We need to hold Big Tech accountable, but KOSA is not the solution.
The bill let any state attorney general and the FTC to sue any website for “harmful” content. Do we really want blue state lawyers deciding what can and can’t be allowed online?
Big Tech is already censoring us. That’s why they support KOSA. This is massive government overreach. We need a bill that actually protects children by creating better security measures instead of bringing about more censorship.
Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language.
KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies, which would put them in further danger. How is this protecting children’s privacy?
What parent would want their child’s private data in the hands of strangers like this? KOSA is actively putting kids in danger.
Do NOT support this bill. Thank you."
Also,to note, Biden supports KOSA: You could try asking your GOP rep why they would support a bill that has Biden's support,and that he could use it to his advantage somehow (we know GOP does not like Biden,so it should be utilized somehow). We need to ensure the bill doesnt pass at all.
🔵 if your rep is DEM:
"I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA. Nearly 200 human rights and LGBT organizations total came out in an open letter opposing it. The ACLU is against it. Hundreds of thousands of Gen Z, who actually live online, are against it.
We know the harms of social media, and we know this is not the solution. The new language does NOT meet any concerns brought up, in fact many organizations were ignored.
Major news have reported that this bill actively harms kids. We do not want this. The rewritten bill would still allow any state attorney general, and now the FTC, to sue any website for “harmful” content. When you have Republicans calling anything LGBT “sexual exploitation” or anything about race “CRT” to successfully ban books and teachers, then they will use any justification to censor the internet.
The Missouri attorney general used “mental health” successfully to ban gender-affirming care with backed up research. Suicide rates will skyrocket for marginalized youth with this bill restricting content. Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language.
KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies. Furthermore, updated language threatens encryption the same way the Earn It Act does.
How is this protecting children’s privacy? KOSA actively harms kids. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you."
Tell them you'll vote for your reps if they vote no on KOSA, anything goes. But most importantly it's crucial that KOSA is not being brought at all for any vote.
Thank you, remember to stay calm and stay strong. We've got this!! ♡
#kosa#stop kosa#kosa bill#fuck kosa#cats of tumblr#dan and phil#brian thompson#lana del rey#art#aesthetic#vocaloid#kaito#kaito shion#luka megurine#supernatural#catgirl
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Rays of hope
Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist
Tim Bradford x wife!reader
Fandom: The Rookie
Summary: Your son is kidnapped and you and your husband, Tim, do everything you can to get him back.
ANGST | Hurt to comfort
Requested: Yes - here
Warnings: Kidnapping, kid being held hostage, description of being shot, injuries, losing consciousness.
A/N: I LOVE WRITING ANGST. I've worked so hard on this one and I absolutely love how it turned out. I won't say anything else, I'll let you enjoy it. I have so many ideas and I seriously make it a full time job writing everything.
Words: 6.1k
GIF not mine, credits to the owner.
As the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, the Bradford household stirred with the promise of a new day. The aroma of brewing coffee mingled with the gentle sounds of morning chatter as you and Tim bustled around the kitchen, preparing for the day ahead.
Evan, your bright-eyed three-year-old, bounced around the room with infectious energy, his laughter filling the air. Tim knelt down, scooping his son up into his strong arms, showering him with tickles and kisses.
"Hey there, little man," he chuckled, his voice infused with affection. "What adventures are you up today?"
Evan giggled gleefully, wrapping his tiny arms around his father's neck. His response was a jumble of words, excitement evident despite his struggles with forming coherent sentences. "Catch the bad guys like mommy and daddy!"
Tim chuckled, planting a gentle kiss on Evan's cheek. "That's right, buddy. Just like Mommy and Daddy" he said, his voice gentle as he tousled Evan's hair affectionately. "But first, how about some superhero breakfast?"
Tim's presence seemed to illuminate the room even more. He approached you with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love as he enveloped you in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you securely, a comforting shield against any worries or doubts.
"Morning, baby," his voice, like a soothing melody, whispered into your ear, sending shivers of warmth down your spine. "How are my two favorite girls this morning?"
In that moment, as his hand brushed over your bump with such tender care, you felt an overwhelming rush of love and gratitude for the man standing before you. Tim's gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise of unwavering support and devotion.
"We're doing great," you replied, leaning into his embrace, savoring the feeling of being held so close.
Tim pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to convey all the love he felt. "You look absolutely radiant," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "I swear, every day you glow even more."
As Tim settled Evan into his chair, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you. Tim embodied strength and tenderness in equal measure. Dressed casually, his rugged charm shone through effortlessly. With every movement, his love for you and your son was evident, his hands deftly helped Evan eat breakfast while his eyes sparkled with warmth. Watching him with Evan, you couldn't help but feel a wave of adoration for the man who filled your home with love and security.
"Uh-oh. We have a problem," you announced, your voice tinged with concern as you glanced down at your phone. "Nanny just texted me. She can't make it today."
Tim's brow furrowed slightly as he considered the situation, his mind already working on a solution. "What about your mom?" he suggested. "Can't she babysit Evan today?"
You shook your head regretfully, a sigh escaping your lips. "I don't think so. She's outside LA now," you explained, your thoughts racing to find an alternative. "Maybe your sister?"
At the mention of Genny, Tim's expression darkened slightly, "No, custody battle today," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. "We'll figure something out, baby. Don't worry."
As you and Tim exchanged worried glances, Evan piped up from his seat, his innocent voice breaking the tension in the room. "Mommy, Daddy, no worry," he declared, his eyes wide with determination. "Evan help!"
You stepped into the familiar hustle and bustle of the station and Evan's eyes widened in wonder at the sight of officers in their crisp uniforms bustling about their duties. With a gleeful tug on Tim's hand, he eagerly dashed around, taking in every detail with unbridled enthusiasm.
"Daddy, look! Cops!" Evan exclaimed, his words a jumble of excitement as he pointed at the officers. "Lots and lots!"
Tim chuckled softly, his heart swelling with pride at his son's eagerness. "That's right, buddy," he affirmed, his voice warm with affection. "This is where mommy and daddy work, with all their friends."
Your son darted around, his boundless energy matched only by his excitement, he greeted each familiar face with enthusiasm, his words a mixture of gibberish and genuine attempts at conversation.
"Hi, Lulu!" Evan exclaimed, flashing Lucy a toothy grin as he reached up to give her a high-five.
Lucy laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Hi there, little buddy! If it isn't our favourite visitor!" she replied, returning the high-five with a gentle pat on the head. "You've grown so much since the last time we saw you!"
Evan beamed at the attention, his chest swelling with pride. "I big boy!" he declared proudly, his words punctuated by a triumphant grin.
Next, Evan turned his attention to Angela, his eyes alight with recognition. "Hi, Auntie Angie!" he chirped, reaching out to tug on her sleeve.
Angela's heart melted at the endearing nickname, her smile softening as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey, champ," she said, ruffling his hair affectionately. "He's the spitting image of his mother." she said to Lucy, shooting you a playful wink.
Evan beamed at the praise, his chest puffing out with pride. "I grow big like Daddy!" he declared, his words filled with confidence.
Nyla and Nolan watched the exchange with fond amusement, their own smiles widening as Evan made his rounds. You watched your son with amusement, glad he's terrorising your friends and gave you and your husband a moment to catch your breath.
"Don't forget Nyla and John." Evan eagerly nodded at your words, making his way to Nyla first.
She joined in, her face breaking into a wide smile as she crouched down to Evan's level. "Hey there, buddy! You remember my name?" she extended her hand for a handshake.
Evan shook her hand vigorously, his eyes shining with excitement. "You Nyla! I Evan, I help mommy and daddy catch bad guys!" he announced proudly, his words punctuated by a giggle.
Nolan chuckled, ruffling Evan's hair affectionately. "Looks like you've got quite the little helper there, Tim," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Evan saw the opportunity for more attention and he grabbed Nolan's pants, "John, look!" he exclaimed, pointing at something only he could see.
Nolan chuckled, crouching down to Evan's level. "What am I looking at, buddy?" he asked with a grin.
Evan giggled mischievously, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You funny!" he declared, wrapping his tiny arms around the officer's neck in a spontaneous hug.
Then, in a burst of excitement, Evan's face lit up with a newfound revelation. "I meet baby sister soon!" he announced, his words tumbling out in a rush.
The officers exchanged surprised glances, their expressions shifting from amusement to shock at the unexpected news. "Baby sister?" Angela echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Congratulations!"
Nolan grinned, clapping Tim on the back in hearty congratulations. "Well, Bradford. Looks like you're in for double trouble," he teased, his tone affectionate yet teasing.
Amidst the chorus of well wishes and congratulations, both you and Tim couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude for the supportive community they had found within the station.
"So, what's the little guy doing here?" Angela inquired, her brow furrowed in concern.
Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair as he explained the morning's events. "Well, nanny bailed on us last minute," he admitted, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "We didn't have enough time to find someone else to watch him."
Nyla nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic. "I can call James," she offered, already reaching for her phone. "He can take Evan with him for the day."
Meanwhile, Lucy's eyes lit up with an idea. "And Tamara's here for a school project," she added eagerly, gesturing towards the young woman across the room. "She can watch Evan in the meantime."
Tim's shoulders visibly relaxed at the offers of help, gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, both of you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with relief.
You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, touched by the kindness and support of your colleagues. Despite the unexpected hiccup in their morning routine, you couldn't help but feel reassured knowing that you had such caring friends to rely on.
As Evan bounced around the room, his excitement palpable, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son surrounded by so much love and warmth.
Tamara returned from the restroom and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty break room. Evan's toys lay abandoned on the table, but there was no sign of the energetic three-year-old. She left only for a moment, assigning Smitty to keep an eye on Evan but she couldn't find any of them.
"Evan?" she called out, her voice tinged with concern as she scanned the room frantically. "Where are you?"
Panic began to bubble up inside her as she rushed out into the hallway, calling out for Evan at the top of her lungs. "Evan!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls of the station. "Come on, kid! This isn't funny. We didn't agree to play hide and seek!"
Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the corridors, her eyes darting from room to room in search of any sign of the missing child. The fear gnawed at her insides, threatening to overwhelm her with its intensity.
"Y/N's gonna kill me," she murmured under her breath, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She couldn't bear the thought of facing you and Tim with the news that your son was missing on her watch.
With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders, driving her to search even more desperately for Evan. She prayed with all her might that he was safe and sound, waiting to be found somewhere within the station.
Tamara's heart raced as she rushed to Angela's desk, her hands trembling with fear. Her eyes widened at the sight of Tamara's panicked expression, immediately sensing that something was terribly wrong.
"What happened?" Angela asked, her voice filled with concern as she reached out to steady Tamara.
"It's Evan," Tamara blurted out, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know what happened. He—uh, he's not in the break room. I can't find him."
Panic surged through Tamara's veins, threatening to overwhelm her as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her heart, knowing that Evan was missing and she was responsible for his safety.
Angela's eyes widened in alarm as she grasped the gravity of the situation. "Okay, okay, let's stay calm," she reassured, though her own heart raced with fear. "Let's go to talk to Grey."
Together, they hurried to Sergeant Grey's office, their steps quickening with each passing moment. Angela explained the situation to the sergeant, her voice urgent as she described Evan's disappearance. He wasted no time in springing into action, dispatching officers to search the station up and down and the surrounding area for any sign of Evan.
Returning to Angela's desk, they accessed the security cameras from the station, their hands shaking as they scrolled through the footage. With bated breath, they watched as a figure dressed in black approached Evan in the break room, his face obscured from view.
As they watched in horror, the figure took Evan's hand and led him out of the station through the front door, disappearing into the bustling city beyond.
Angela's stomach churned with dread as she exchanged a horrified glance with Tamara. "We have to find him," she said, her voice trembling with urgency.
You and your rookie arrived as backup for Tim and the day seemed like any other—filled with the usual hustle and bustle of police work and the consuming thoughts about your son now more than ever. It wasn't about that you didn't trust Tamara or James, it was more the fact that your son was in a not so familiar place.
When Sergeant Grey's voice cut through the radio, your maternal instincts kicked in, suddenly feeling something was not right.
"7-Adam-19, 7-Adam-100, please return to the station," he commanded, his voice terse and filled with an unspoken sense of dread.
Immediately, you and your husband exchanged a look of concern, your hearts pounding in your chests as you hastily wrapped up the call. Questions swirled in your minds, but you could sense the urgency in Wade's voice, driving you to act without hesitation.
Rushing towards the station, your thoughts were racing with a million terrifying possibilities. The atmosphere was charged with tension, officers scurrying about with grim expressions etched upon their faces. You and Tim shared a look of mutual fear, your hearts pounding in your chests as you braced yourselves for the worst.
"What happened? Where's Evan?" your voice trembled with fear as you approached Sergeant Grey, your eyes searching desperately for any sign of reassurance.
Grey's expression was grave as he met your gaze, his own eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. "Please sit down," he urged gently.
But Tim couldn't bring himself to comply, his chest tight with anxiety and dread. "Don't do that," he interjected. "Just tell us what happened."
Sergeant Grey sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the news he had to deliver. "Fine," he relented. "Evan's been kidnapped. We're waiting for the security footage of all cameras around the station, but Detective Lopez might have a lead."
The words hit you and Tim like a sledgehammer, leaving you reeling with disbelief and anguish. Your sweet, innocent son had been taken from you, and you both were powerless.
The weight of the situation settles over you like a suffocating blanket, "Thompson" the name escapes your lips in a whisper, heavy with the burden of past encounters with the man.
Memories flood your mind—the chilling threats, the sinister promises of retribution, the menacing glint in his eyes as he swore vengeance upon you and your loved ones.
Tim's expression darkens with a mix of anger and concern, his mind racing as he processes the implications of Thompson's involvement. "I didn't know he got out," he admits, his voice tight with frustration and worry.
Your eyes fill with tears, heart aching with the unbearable fear of the unknown as you grasp your husband's hand tightly. "We gotta find him, Tim. We need to find Evan," you plead, voice trembling with desperation.
Tim's jaw clenches with resolve as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms a comforting anchor amidst the storm of emotions raging within you. "We will, baby," he vows, his voice a steady reassurance in the face of uncertainty.
He holds you even tighter, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the chaos that surrounds you. With gentle strokes of his hand along your back, he tries to soothe the trembling of your body, his touch conveying more comfort than words ever could.
A wave of despair washed over you both as you sank into nearby chairs, minds racing with a whirlwind of emotions. In that moment, your world shattered into a million jagged pieces, leaving behind only a gaping void where your son's laughter once filled the air. Both of you were consumed by a sense of helplessness and grief, your hearts heavy with the unbearable weight of uncertainty.
Tim feels your trembling body in his arms, he knows that mere words can never be enough to ease the crushing weight of your fear. With gentle fingers, he brushes away the tears that stain your cheeks, his touch tender and comforting. Each stroke is a promise—a promise that he will do everything in his power to bring your son home safe and sound.
In the depths of his heart, Tim feels a surge of pain and helplessness, knowing that you, his wife, are bearing the weight of your son's disappearance with every fiber of your being. His own worries and fears are pushed aside as he focuses solely on providing comfort and strength to the one he loves most in the world.
Tamara rushes to your side, her usually composed attitude shattered by panic and guilt. Her face is pale, her hands shaking as she struggles to find the words to express her guilt.
"Y/N, Tim... I'm so sorry," she stammers, her voice quivering with emotion. "I was only gone for a minute, I left Smitty with him. I... I don't know what happened. When I got back, he—uh, he was gone. I'm so sorry."
Your heart breaks for Tamara, knowing the weight of guilt she must be carrying on her shoulders. Despite your own anguish, you reach out to embrace her, offering comfort and solace in the midst of the chaos.
"It's not your fault, Tamara," you reassure her, voice filled with compassion and understanding. "It's okay. We'll find him."
The tension in the room reaches a fever pitch, Angela breaks the heavy silence with a sense of urgency in her voice. "Guys, I think I've found something," she announces, her eyes darting between Tim and you.
Tim's heart leaps with hope as he strides over to Angela's desk, you close behind. "Show us," Tim demanded, his voice tight with barely contained emotion.
Angela quickly pulled up several surveillance footage clips on her computer screen, the images grainy but unmistakable. "Look here," she pointed, her finger tracing the path of a rusty van leaving the surroundings of the station.
Tim's jaw tightened with determination as he surveyed the footage, his mind already racing with plans and strategies to track down the van and bring Evan home. "It's worth a shot," he declared.
Your heart swelled with gratitude and relief, eyes shining with tears as you leaned in closer to the screen. "We have to go after it," you insisted, voice trembling with desperation and determination.
Tim nodded in agreement, his resolve unwavering. "Alright. Let's get airship support and all the surveillance footage we can find. We need to know every move that van makes," he commanded, already reaching for his radio to issue the orders.
Before you could finalize the plans, Tim's hand shot out to stop you in your tracks, his expression wrought with concern. "You should stay behind," he insisted, his voice soft but firm, his eyes pleading for you to consider your safety.
Your heart sank at the thought of being left behind, your fear for Evan overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. "Not a chance," you declared, your voice trembling with determination. "I'm coming with you. We need all the help we can get."
Tim's gaze softened as he looked into the your eyes, his heart swelling with love and admiration, "Y/N, please. I need to know you're safe. I need you and the baby girl safe," he confessed.
Your resolve only hardened at Tim's words, determination unyielding in the face of adversity. "And what about our boy? What about Evan? I need to find him," you insisted, voice filled with desperation.
In that moment, Tim knew that there was no arguing with your determination. With a heavy sigh, he relented, his heart heavy with worry but his resolve unshaken. "Alright," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. "But promise me you'll stay close. I can't lose you too."
You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude for Tim's understanding and support. "I promise," you vowed.
With a sense of urgency driving forward, you quickly arrived at the last location where the van was seen. The air crackled with tension as you surveyed the surroundings, the weight of the mission pressing down on you.
Tim's voice cut through the silence as he commanded the team to split up and patrol on foot, his words echoing with authority. "We need to cover every inch of this area," he instructed. "Lucy, Nolan, take east side. Nyla, Angela, cover west. We'll take north."
You nodded in silent agreement, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. With each step you took, your hearts hammered in your chests, minds racing with a thousand terrifying possibilities.
Together, you moved cautiously towards the building, the footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the abandoned street. Tim's hand brushed against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance as you approached the looming structure.
Around the corner, you caught sight of the van parked haphazardly in the alleyway, its doors hanging open as if inviting you inside. Tim's grip tightened on his radio, the other one squeezing your hand even tighter, as he relayed your location, his voice steady and controlled despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"7-Adam-19, we've located the van. Requesting immediate backup at the north entrance," he spoke into the radio, his words precise and urgent.
With bated breath, you entered the building, hearts pounding in your chests as you navigated through the dimly lit corridors hand in hand. Every creak of the floorboards, every flutter of movement in the shadows, sent shivers down your spines as you pressed forward, determination unwavering in the face of danger.
Your hearts stopped as you took in the sight before you— your precious son, bound and gagged, his eyes wide with fear, and the kidnapper, a sinister glint in his eyes as he held the gun to Evan's head.
Evan's small body trembling in fear as he stared up at both you and Tim with tear-filled eyes. The sight of him, helpless and vulnerable, struck a deep chord within you, igniting a firestorm of emotions that threatened to consume you whole.
The knots that bound Evan's wrists and ankles were tight and unforgiving, cutting into his delicate skin and leaving angry red marks in their wake. The sight of your son restrained like a prisoner sent a wave of nausea crashing over, your stomach churning with a mixture of anger and helplessness.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you took in the sight of your son, heart breaking with every whimper and cry that escaped his lips. It was a sight you had only imagined in your worst nightmares—a sight that would haunt you both for the rest of your days.
You attempted to approach Evan, heart pounding with desperation and fear as Thompson responded with a chilling gesture, taking off the safety of the gun and pressing it even more firmly against Evan's trembling head. You froze in your tracks as you watched in horror, helpless to do anything but stand by and pray for a miracle.
Tim maintained a facade of indifference and purpose despite the pain and anger that consumed both of you. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he faced down the kidnapper. Inside, however, his heart was a tornado of fear and worry, his mind racing with a million worst-case scenarios.
Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice grip, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled against the overwhelming urge to protect your child.
Evan's whimpering pierced through the tense silence, his small voice tinged with confusion and fear as he struggled to understand the gravity of the situation unfolding before him.
Tears streamed down your face as you reached out a trembling hand towards your son, desperate to comfort him, but Tim's firm grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks.
"We can't risk it," Tim whispered urgently as he pulled you back to his side, his eyes never leaving Evan.
Your heart felt like it was being torn apart as you watched Evan's innocent whimpering, your own fear for your son threatening to consume you whole.
"Please," Tim pleaded as he addressed Thompson, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "Let him go. We can talk about this. Just let him go."
But Thompson's face twisted with anger and resentment, his grip on the gun tightening as he protested vehemently. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did to me?" he spat. "You think I'm just gonna let you go back to your perfect little life while I rot in prison?"
Your heart sank as Thompson's words echoed in your mind, "What do you want?" you asked, your heart breaking at the thought of what Thompson might demand. "I'll give you anything. I'll do anything, just please let him go."
His eyes narrowed with hatred as he glared at you, "I want you to suffer," he snarled, his words like daggers in the silence. "Just like I did."
You and Tim tried to talk Thompson down, your hearts pounded in your chests, every second feeling like an eternity as you desperately sought to keep the kidnapper occupied. With Lucy and Nolan slowly approaching from behind, you prayed that they would be able to disarm him before it was too late.
Nolan positioned himself strategically behind Evan, ready to act as a shield if needed, while Lucy positioned herself behind Thompson, her muscles tensed and prepared for action.
"You're making a mistake," Tim stated firmly, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the kidnapper. "You don't want to do this. Let my son go, and we can figure this out."
Thompson's eyes narrowed, his grip on the gun tightening as he glared at Tim with undisguised hostility. "You think I'm just gonna let you walk away after what you did?" he growled.
Tim's jaw clenched with determination as he met his gaze head-on. "We made a mistake," he admitted, "But that doesn't mean you have to make things worse. Let's talk about this like rational adults."
The kidnapper's expression remained cold and unforgiving, his finger twitching on the trigger as he glared at Tim and you with a mixture of anger and resentment. "You ruined my life," he spat, his voice filled with bitterness. "Now it's time for you to pay."
Tim's heart sank as he watched Thompson's finger inch closer to the trigger, every fiber of his being screaming to protect Evan at all costs. "Listen to me," Tim urged, "This isn't the answer. Let Evan go, and we can work this through."
But Thompson's eyes burned with a fierce determination, his grip on the gun unyielding as he leveled it at Evan's head. "It's too late for that," he snarled, his voice filled with rage. "You took everything from me. Now it's time for you to suffer."
Your heart sank at his words, the weight of his hatred crushing you beneath its suffocating grip. "We're sorry," you whispered, "We didn't know..."
Thompson cut you off with a bitter laugh, his laughter echoing off the walls of the empty room. "You didn't know?" he scoffed, "You didn't know that because of you, my wife and daughter are dead?"
Tears stung your eyes as Thompson's words hit you like a punch to the gut, the guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "We're sorry," you repeated, "We didn't mean for any of this to happen."
His expression remained cold and unforgiving, his gaze fixed on Evan with a mixture of rage and sorrow. "You think your apologies can bring them back?" he growled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You think your words mean anything to me?"
"Even if you take our son away, it won't bring your wife and daughter back," Tim interjected, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Don't make things worse for yourself. If you let him go, we won't say a word. You won't go back to prison."
His words hung heavy in the air, a plea for reason in the midst of chaos.
But Thompson's patience wore thin, his grip on the gun tightening as he grew increasingly agitated. His eyes gleamed with malice as he surveyed the scene before him, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.
"Maybe you're right," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Maybe your little bastard isn't the solution. Your whore of a wife is. And pregnant with your daughter. She's perfect."
The words struck like a dagger to the heart, sending a wave of agony crashing over you. Tim's jaw clenched with barely contained fury, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain his composure.
When the kidnapper's attention shifted towards you, pointing the gun in your direction with a menacing glare, it created a window of opportunity for Lucy and Nolan to intervene. In that harrowing moment, your heart skipped a beat as the barrel of the gun leveled towards you, but amidst the terror, a glimmer of hope flickered to life.
Lucy lunged forward, her eyes focused solely on disarming the kidnapper before he could harm Evan any further. She reached for the gun, her muscles tensing as she prepared to wrestle it from Thompson's grasp.
But in the chaos of the moment, his finger tightened on the trigger, the deafening sound of gunfire shattering the tense silence like a thunderclap. Your heart stopped as you watched in horror, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as the bullet struck its mark. Pain erupted through your body, but in the heat of the moment, the adrenaline dulled the sensation, allowing you to push through.
Every second felt like an eternity as you and Tim rushed to your son's side, the adrenaline coursing through your veins driving you forward. With trembling hands, you helped Nolan loosen the knots, your fingers fumbling in your haste to free Evan from his restraints.
As the last knot came undone, Evan let out a whimper, his tear-streaked face turning towards you and Tim with a look of desperation.
"Mommy!" he cried, his voice trembling.
Your heart shattered into a million pieces at the sound of Evan's voice, tears streaming down your face as you gathered him into your arms. "I'm here, baby," you murmured, your voice shaking with emotion. "Mommy and daddy are here. You're safe now."
Lucy pressed on, pinning the kidnapper to the ground and she swiftly secured him in handcuffs, effectively neutralizing the threat he posed.
Tim knelt down beside you and Evan, his movements were a blur of frantic yet tender gestures. With trembling hands, he pulled you both into his embrace, holding you close as if his mere touch could ward off the looming threat.
"I've got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he pressed kisses to your foreheads. "I've got both of you. Everything's going to be okay." His words were a fervent mantra, repeated like a prayer as he desperately tried to reassure himself as much as you and Evan.
You found solace in Tim's embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. Despite the pain coursing through your body, his presence offered a sense of calm amidst the storm, grounding you in the midst of chaos. With each tender touch and whispered word,exhaustion began to overtake you, the weight of the ordeal bearing down on your weary body, sleep beckoned like a siren's call.
Your eyelids grew heavy with weariness, the pain fading into the background as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, trusting Tim to keep you safe.
Tim's heart clenched with fear as he felt you grow limp in his arms, panic surging through him like a tidal wave. "No, no, stay with me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare leave me, Y/N."
But despite his desperate pleas, unconsciousness claimed you, your body going slack against him. Evan's worried voice pierced through the fog of Tim's panic, the little boy shaking your hand with his tiny fingers. "Mommy?" he called out.
Tim's heart shattered at the sight of you lying unconscious on the ground, your face pale and peaceful in sleep. With trembling hands, he scooped Evan into his arms, shielding him from the sight of his mother's still form.
"It's okay, buddy. Mommy's just resting, that's all." Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held Evan close. But inside, Tim's heart was gripped by fear, his mind racing with worry for you and your unborn baby.
Tim's shouts for help pierced through the chaos, his voice trembled with desperation, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked as he held Evan tightly in his arms. Each cry for assistance was a desperate plea, a fervent prayer for the help that he so desperately needed.
As the paramedics rushed to your side, Tim watched in horror as they whisked you away on a stretcher. Fear gnawed at his insides, a cold dread settling over him like a suffocating blanket, his chest tightened with every step they took, each moment stretching out into an eternity of agonizing uncertainty.
Angela rushed at Tim's side, and with trembling hands, he handed over Evan into her care, his voice shaking with emotion as he tried to reassure his son in the midst of his own storm.
"It's okay, champ," Tim murmured, his voice choked with tears. "Go with Aunt Angela. Daddy's going with mommy to make sure she's okay." Despite the weight of his own fears bearing down on him, Tim forced a small smile for Evan's sake.
Tim sat at your bedside, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your hand as he watched over you. Evan was nestled against his chest, his soft snores filling the room with a comforting rhythm.
"How are you holding up, Tim?" Lucy asked, placing a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulders.
"Hanging in there." he whispered, caressing his son's hair like it was an anchor that kept his sanity at peace.
They took turns checking on you, their concern palpable in the air as Tim greeted them with a weary but grateful smile. With each visit, Tim's heart warmed by the unwavering support of his fellow officers and friends.
"Thanks for being here," he offered, his voice tinged with exhaustion but filled with appreciation. "It means a lot."
Angela's gaze softened as she placed a reassuring hand on Tim's shoulder. "We're here for you, Tim," she reassured him. "Whatever you need, just say the word."
As you began to stir, Tim's heart skipped a beat, his gaze never wavering from your face as you slowly blinked awake. "Hey there," he whispered softly, a tender smile gracing his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "How are you feeling?"
You returned his smile weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Better, now that you're here." The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily upon you, but the sight of Tim's presence beside you brought a sense of calm that you desperately needed.
Tim's heart swelled with relief at the sound of your voice, his fingers intertwining with yours as he leaned in to press another gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm never leaving your side again," he vowed, his voice filled with conviction as he gazed into your eyes.
Evan stirred against Tim's chest, his sleepy voice calling out for you. "Mommy" he mumbled, his little arms reaching out in search of you.
Tim's heart melted at the sight of his son, his love for both you and Evan swelling within him like a tidal wave. "Shh, buddy," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he gently lifted Evan into his arms. "Mommy's right here."
Evan's sleepy eyes widened with delight as he caught sight of you, his face lighting up with joy. With a sleepy grin, he reached out towards you, his tiny fingers curling around your hand as Tim helped him to gently crawl onto the bed beside you.
You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your son, his presence bringing a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over you like a gentle wave. With Tim's steady hand guiding him, Evan nestled against your side, his sleepy gaze meeting yours with an expression of pure adoration.
"Love you, Mommy," Evan murmured, his voice filled with sleepy affection as he snuggled closer to you.
"I love you more, sweetheart," you whispered in reply as you pressed a tender kiss to Evan's forehead.
Tim's eyes glistened as he looked down at the two of you. With a tender smile, he leaned in to press a kiss to both your foreheads, his touch a silent affirmation of his love for you both.
"I love you both," Tim whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you and Evan close, "More than anything in this world."
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Tied 2 You - Spencer Reid
tiny part two of tied up!
(however this can be read as a stand-alone)
Summary: Spencer frees (Y/N), and comforts her, finding solace in each other’s presence... and Henry's.
Masterlist!
Post Prison!Spencer x Female Reader
Genre: Fluff 💌
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: none!
The room was heavy with a silence that felt eternal, broken only by the faint sound of (Y/N)’s labored breathing. She hung limply from the ceiling cuffs, her bare skin shimmering faintly under the dim red light. Every muscle ached, her exhaustion so profound it seeped into her very bones. Time had blurred; minutes felt like hours and hours like days. She blinked slowly, her dry eyes burning, too tired to even flinch when she heard the unmistakable click of the doorknob turning.
Her head turned sluggishly toward the sound, her heart fluttering with a faint, desperate hope. Please, let it be him. The door creaked open, and relief flooded her veins as Spencer stepped inside. But the sight of his face struck her in a way she hadn’t expected. His chocolate button eyes, usually so bright with intelligence, were dark with worry and guilt. He froze for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled, vulnerable form, and his lips parted in a silent expression of regret.
“Oh, (Y/N),” he murmured under his breath, his voice heavy with emotion. Carefully, he shut the door behind him and turned the lock with a quiet click. He needed no interruptions, not from Henry, not from anyone. This moment belonged to them, raw and aching.
Spencer crossed the room with quiet urgency, his steps deliberate but tender, as if afraid that even the vibrations of his movements might add to her suffering. When he reached her, he hesitated for the briefest moment, his fingers trembling as they hovered near her wrists bound in the cold metal cuffs. His eyes met hers, glassy with unshed tears.
“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the sting of her pain. His hands worked quickly but carefully to release her, the soft click of the unlocking cuffs a stark contrast to the heavy silence.
As the metal restraints fell away, (Y/N) let out a shuddering exhale, her arms collapsing uselessly to her sides. The relief of freedom was overwhelming, but her body betrayed her, too weak to support itself after hours of suspension. Spencer reacted instantly, his hands darting to her waist to steady her. His touch was gentle, and firm, the only anchor keeping her from crumpling to the floor.
“You were such a good girl for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he held her close. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the depth of his remorse. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should’ve been here.”
Her legs trembled as her feet found the ground, the weight of her body foreign and unsteady after so long. Spencer shifted his hold, one arm wrapping securely around her waist while the other gently cradled the back of her head. He pulled her against his chest, allowing her to lean into him fully, to feel his warmth, his stability.
“I’ve got you now,” he promised, his voice a low, comforting hum. “I’ll take care of you.”
His words melted into her skin like a promise etched into eternity, his hands tenderly rubbing circles into her back to ease the ache in her muscles. Slowly, as her breaths steadied and her body relaxed in his embrace, she felt the faint stirrings of peace. Spencer’s presence, his touch, was a salve for her wounds, both seen and unseen.
Spencer shifted slightly, carefully adjusting his grip on (Y/N) as he bent down and scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She was weightless in his embrace, her body pliant from exhaustion, but he held her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. His heart ached at the sight of her drooping eyelids and the faint wince she gave when her muscles protested the movement.
With deliberate, measured steps, he carried her across the room toward the plush red velvet chair that sat like a throne in the dim lighting. Lowering her gently, he let her settle into its softness, ensuring she was comfortable before releasing her from his protective hold. Even as he pulled away, his hand lingered at her shoulder, unwilling to lose contact.
Spencer’s gaze swept the room briefly before spotting the oversized t-shirt she’d discarded earlier. He retrieved it swiftly, the worn fabric crumpled in his hands as he knelt before her. Looking up, he met her tired eyes, his own filled with an unspoken promise of care.
“Let’s get this back on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing as he unfolded the shirt.
(Y/N) nodded faintly, lifting her arms weakly to help him guide the shirt over her head. The fabric slid over her skin like a comforting shield, the soft cotton a small reprieve from the vulnerability she had felt moments ago. Spencer’s fingers brushed against her arms as he straightened the hem, his touch featherlight, almost reverent. He didn’t bother with her bra—it was unnecessary now. She deserved comfort, and he was determined to give it to her.
As he adjusted the shirt, Spencer’s hands paused briefly to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her jawline, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back just enough to speak.
“Is Henry still here?” (Y/N) asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She hated how fragile she sounded, how the experience had reduced her to this state. Her pride wrestled with the reality of her exhaustion, but Spencer’s presence soothed the worst of her inner turmoil.
“Yes, Darling,” Spencer replied, his tone as gentle as his touch. “He’s just watching a movie.” Another kiss found its way to her temple, then to her cheek. His lips moved as though pulled by an invisible force, unable to resist showering her with affection.
“I told him I was going to the bathroom and to behave,” he continued, his voice laced with a soft chuckle as he kissed her again, this time at the corner of her lips. His affection was relentless, each kiss a silent apology, a reassurance that he was there, fully present and devoted to her comfort.
(Y/N) leaned into him, her eyes fluttering closed as his warmth and care enveloped her. For the first time since she’d been cuffed, she felt a flicker of security, a sense of being grounded again. Spencer’s presence, his touch, and his words were her safe haven, and she let herself surrender to the comfort he offered so freely.
"I'm alright, Spence," (Y/N) reassured him, her voice gentle and soothing, knowing all too well that he was silently berating himself for being away from her for so long. She cradled his face with one hand, her thumb brushing his cheek in a tender motion. "I know you came as soon as you could. Henry can be a handful sometimes, and you did what you had to do." Her words were soft, meant to calm the storm she could see swirling in his eyes.
Spencer responded not with words but with a trail of feather-light kisses along her jawline and neck, his lips warm and lingering as if he could convey all his unspoken apologies through touch. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, exhaling deeply as though her scent alone could ease the guilt he felt.
"I'm still sorry, my love," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms wrapped around her tighter, drawing her as close as possible, as though proximity alone could make up for the hours they had been apart.
(Y/N) stroked the back of his head, fingers tangling in his unruly curls. They sat like that for a while, wrapped in each other's warmth and comfort, letting the silence speak for them. It was only when (Y/N) shifted slightly that a realization hit her.
Her eyes widened, and she leaned back just enough to look at Spencer. "Wait—Henry," she said, the name tumbling out in an urgent whisper. Her gaze darted toward the hallway, and she bit back a laugh. "He’s still here... we’re supposed to be watching him, not leaving him to fend for himself!"
Spencer’s head shot up, his lips parting in mild alarm. "Oh no," he said quickly, already beginning to stand. "Do you think he—"
"Relax, Spence," (Y/N) interrupted with a small smile, tugging him back down before he could spiral. "He’s probably just building a fort or raiding the snack cabinet. But we should check... before he turns the kitchen into a war zone."
With a shared laugh, the couple reluctantly untangled from each other, their brief moment of solace giving way to the delightful chaos that awaited them.
Walking out of the Red Room, Spencer’s arm rested protectively around (Y/N)’s waist, his movements careful and deliberate. He glanced at her every few steps, silently checking on her as they made their way toward the door. Pausing, he locked the Red Room behind them, testing the handle twice to ensure it was secure before turning his attention back to her.
"Alright, let’s take it slow," he murmured softly, guiding her down the hallway. His grip on her waist tightened slightly as they approached the living room.
The sound of laughter and the faint noise of Transformers blaring from the big TV greeted them as they entered. Spencer’s lips curved into a faint smile at the sight ahead—a massive blanket fort sprawling across the room, complete with pillows stacked high like castle walls. Henry’s giggles filled the space, a joyful symphony of innocence.
From her spot beside Spencer, (Y/N) spotted a tuft of blonde hair peeking out from behind the couch. The giggles grew louder, and before she could react, there was the rapid thud of small feet against the wooden floorboards.
“(Y/N)!” Henry’s voice rang out, growing closer by the second. He darted toward her, his arms outstretched with childlike enthusiasm, his face lighting up as he reached her.
The impact was gentle but sudden as Henry wrapped himself around her legs in a big hug. (Y/N) laughed softly, the warmth of his affection momentarily distracting her from the ache in her body.
Spencer, however, stiffened beside her. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, and his hand moved to steady her. "Careful, Henry," he said, his tone a mix of caution and tenderness as he held (Y/N) a little closer against his chest. "Her legs might be a little tired right now."
“It’s okay, Spence,” (Y/N) reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Her smile widened as she looked down at Henry, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I missed you too, buddy."
Henry pulled back just enough to look up at her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I made a fort! You have to come see it! It’s the best one ever!” he exclaimed, pointing toward his masterpiece with pride.
(Y/N) chuckled softly, glancing at Spencer. “What do you think? Do we check out the fort?”
Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile as he relaxed, nodding. “Only if you promise to sit and not move around too much.”
“Deal,” she teased, letting Henry take her hand and lead her forward while Spencer stayed close by, ready to catch her if needed.
The living room buzzed with warmth, the blanket fort and Henry’s laughter creating a cocoon of comfort that seemed to soothe them all.As Henry eagerly guided (Y/N) toward the blanket fort, Spencer stayed close, his hand hovering near her waist in case she needed support.
The boy’s excitement was contagious, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm despite the fatigue still lingering in her body.
“Look! I even made a secret entrance!” Henry declared proudly, dropping to his knees and crawling through a small opening in the fort’s fabric walls. His muffled giggles came from inside as he waited for them to follow.
(Y/N) lowered herself carefully onto the floor with Spencer’s help, stifling a wince as she got into position. She glanced up at him with a playful smile. “Don’t worry, Doctor Reid, I’ve got this.”
Spencer sighed, his brow furrowing. “Just... be careful,” he murmured, crouching beside her as she crawled through the entrance. He followed close behind, ready to catch her at a moment’s notice.
Inside, the fort was cozy and warm, lit by a string of fairy lights that cast a soft glow over the carefully arranged pillows and blankets. Henry was already sprawled out in the center, holding up a bowl of popcorn with a triumphant grin.
“Tada! Isn’t it cool?” he asked, looking between the two adults for their reactions.
“It’s amazing, Henry,” (Y/N) said with genuine admiration, settling into a pile of pillows. She reached for a handful of popcorn and winked. “You might just have a future in architecture.”
Spencer chuckled as he sat beside her, his long legs folding awkwardly in the small space. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he added, his tone warm.
Henry beamed, his pride shining brighter than the fairy lights. “Okay, now we watch Transformers! But you have to sit here and stay forever,” he said, pointing firmly at (Y/N).
“Forever, huh?” (Y/N) teased, leaning back against Spencer, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her. “Well, with a fort like this, how could I say no?”
Henry grinned and hit play on the remote, the familiar sounds of explosions and robot voices filling the small space. As the movie started, (Y/N) relaxed into Spencer’s embrace, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns along her arm.
Spencer leaned down, his voice soft against her ear. “You okay?”
(Y/N) tilted her head to look up at him, her smile tired but content. “More than okay.”
As Henry giggled at the screen, oblivious to the quiet moment between the two adults, (Y/N) let herself savor the warmth of the fort, the closeness of Spencer, and the pure joy of being surrounded by love and laughter.
For the first time in what felt like ages, everything felt just right.
(the gif is how I picture them in Henry’s fort)
Thank you so much for reading!
Please like & reblog if you enjoyed!
Masterlist!
taglist: @topgunslut @donttrustlove @kakamixoxo
(let me know if you would like to be added)
#criminal minds x you#mgg x reader#mgg x you#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds fluff#fluff fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#anhedonia writes
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LAST SHOT - first meet
synopsis : interning at a random ship in space sounds like a great idea for your paper. don't you think? part -> 1 | other chapters -> 2 3 ?
characters : anya, swansea, daisuke, curly, jimmy, gn!reader (daisuke x reader if u squint)
content : filler. lots of filler. lots of people being people. the series is sort of a fix it fic (?) only warning is mention of.. jimmy... eugh
wc : 3.4k+
before you read, reader is : cold, non expressive, and a psychology major...
close to an oc.. but also not an oc? features of the reader is never described, and i wrote it as gender neutral as possible
- you were an intern in the pink pony express.
- .. more specifically, a university student with honours in their bachelor's degree in psychology. you did plan on going back to get a masters once you're done with this internship. the pay wasn't much, but since it covered your living expenses for a year, and since the internship being valid enough to put into a research paper (after confirming there's psychological tests in the ship) you say this wouldn't be so bad.
- ..or so you thought.
- the first day you boarded the ship, you were baffled by the lack of security measures of what, or what you can't bring to the spaceship. sure there were manuals, but the actual boarding of the ship? no security, at all.
- you knew the conditions that the company puts their employees in from online forums.. so you tried to prepare beforehand with a backpack. woo! (it took you hours to recount your basic needs)
- you managed to sneak on board your little backpack (it was huge) and thankfully, you managed to stash it away in your room before anyone else noticed.
- .. and thankfully the directions were easy to read as well, otherwise you'd be lost.
- you don't want to bring all that around the tour of the ship either, so this would be the most efficient solution.
- pretending to be waiting in front of the ship unnoticed was also easy. however, imagine the surprise when another intern trips into the spaceship, last second.
- the captain - you find his name to be curly, only managed to give you a brief welcome, before asking the nurse of the ship - she introduced herself as anya - to show you around.
- whilst going around, the other intern tried to start conversations with you. which briefly went as follows:
"hey! my name's daisuke, yours?"
"y/n."
"woah! cool name!"
"..."
"..not much of a talker...it seems... hehe.."
- you only nod in response.
- anya seems to have read the room, and immediately guided you away to introduce you to two other people instead. swansea the mechanic, and jimmy, the copilot.
- however the atmosphere persisted. you stayed in silence most of the time. daisuke was close to starting another conversation with you, but seemed to back out last second.
- you feel rather bad for being cold towards him. but your body is way too exhausted to respond. maybe you should’ve brought some painkillers as well..
- ... or perhaps you could pay off your sleep debt on this trip as well. ahh… a faithful wish..
- that aside, you also found out you would be interning under anya. she was soft spoken, and overall, you have a feeling that you wouldn't mind sticking by her side for the next.. year.. or so.
- having a singular nurse for a 6-man crew isn't too bad. but now with her teaching you the basics, you think that you’re capable of taking some of her responsibilities. (you're glad to take some weight off her back)
- you agreed on weekly psych checks with the crew (much to swansea’s and jimmy’s dismay) so you’re ready to keep your journal very, very filled.
- the routine was simple. you'd wake up, check your stash of items which included - airtight sealed snacks which consisted of a lot of sweets, your journal, a lot of thrifted power banks for your ds to charge on, your ds of course, a taser, a gun, and a personal emotional support voicemail on one of your mp3 player - then go into the lounge for breakfast, and finally, follow anya around for the rest of your day.
- sometimes you would bump into swansea and daisuke while you're passing by the utility room. and sometimes daisuke stops you for a small talk
- you eventually warm up to him. he's awfully smiley for someone close to your age, then you find out he doesn't go to college, and your question was quickly answered.
- after a bit more small talk, you realise that you both were from the same town (what a small world)
- he mentions that he missed eating a specific candy - it’s called sunshines, silly name, you know - which you could only get from the bakery near your town, and you look away, fully knowing that you had the same candy in your bag.
- .. oh well. maybe another time.
- your interactions with swansea was rather limited.
- you both see each other and simply choose to ignore each other's existence.
- perhaps it's a part of you that sees through him. and he sees through you too.
- silent understanding is a better word, perhaps.
- you both only talked on the few occasions where you were there to take your psychology evaluation tests. he keeps complaining about daisuke and whatnot - but you know that look in his eyes. that’s not hate.
- after a while, he stops complaining - resorting to grunts and short answers. perhaps tired of attempting to trick you.
- quick yet blunt. the way you prefer things to be.
- you sometimes offer to read out daisuke’s psych test to him. only the parts where you deem as okay to say, though. mostly parts where you ask how his internships are, and him answering with praises towards swansea.
- swansea refuses each time, but you read some of them anyway. when daisuke complains about swansea though, you read out his response to "how was your day". which mainly consisted of his joys of the day.
- swansea pretends he doesn't like it. once again, you know that look in his eyes.
- you thought he would be done with acting around you, but you suppose, ego can't be beaten sometimes
- you really like their father-son-like dynamic. you just hope daisuke doesn't let the old man's words get to him.
- after doing curly's and jimmy's psych test (jimmy needed a lot of convincing in order for him to take these seriously) you find that they were friends that go way, way back.
- you're unsure if curly could see it, but you could tell that jimmy admires him. that man admires curly a bit too much. you're familiar with situations like these. you just hope it won't tip towards envy. oh who you were kidding - it's almost too late now.
- you finally realise why you felt uncomfortable around jimmy after the first month.
- the envy and self depreciation is overwhelming, and you truly applaud anyone who holds a conversation for longer than five minutes. (maybe you should applaud yourself as well)
- self destruction is the only path he’s going towards, and you would help him if he wasn’t so.. stubborn. for a lack of a better word.
- but overall, this trip isn't too bad so far. right?
- its been a month and a half.
- you and anya had formed some sort of sibling relationship..?
- it started with her seeing one of your stickers you had placed on one of your items, and her nostalgia of having them on her cup as well.
- you both began to talk more from there. continuous stories about your daily life (which isn’t the most pleasant) but you got to know each other better from there.
- you were immediately stunned at her determination and passion for nursing. - and perhaps, after this all, you could plausibly send a recommendation in for her.
- you didn’t tell her that, of course. you weren’t able to guarantee it, and you wouldn’t want to give false hope.
- you find that she was incredibly good at games after you lent her your ds. and all of sudden, her competitiveness on game board nights didn’t look so out of place after all.
- she had encouraged you to get out of your shell.. despite many protests from you. (it.. sort of works…?)
- curly, after more interactions, seems to be a great guy. great leader, optimistic despite.. well. everything else, really. you’d be miserable if you had to live outside of earth half your life.
- the very brief interactions you have with him were pleasant.
- a bit concerning to think he’s carrying all this responsibility for all these years though. perhaps a little rest could do - is what you said.
- he only responded with a chuckle, and a ‘it is what it is’.
- there isn’t any other response you would’ve expected from him, anyway.
- you just hope that once he does find the end of this career, he’ll find something more.. lighter.
- maybe a baker. maybe a craftsman. maybe something else entirely, all you know that this whole leadership thing might end up causing him more harm than good.
- which is what jimmy turned out to be.
- whenever it’s your turn to do jimmy’s evaluations, you always groan a bit.
- you show a bit of interest, and he goes the mile to talk about himself. not quite boasting - but very much putting others beneath his shoes to seem… “relatable” to you.
- you only nod. you give him a small phrase from time to time, but otherwise - it’s all nods.
- the issue with jimmy is not his current state itself. sure, it’s annoying and insufferable - but what’s dangerous is next stage of what people like him become.
- envious. greedy - dangerous. you wouldn’t trust him even if it kills you.
- and so you don’t. you try to keep a wary gaze on him.
- another thing you find that swansea is quite similar to .. other people in your neighbourhood.
- he talks about how he’s been struggling with alcohol, on a particularly hard night.
- you listen. he keeps talking. you add on his statements a little bit from time to time, to show that you’re listening. otherwise, you’re dead quiet, eyes staring at him, and his eyes towards the false sky by the medical bed.
- he complains to you more than anything though. about.. nearly everything. about how daisuke won’t do this properly, about the food for dinner, about him being unable to see his wife at home, how he won’t be able to see his kids grow up, and you, in exchange, tell a bit about yourself.
- he understands you; and you understand him too. you were both trapped under the same situation at the start of your lives, and you, by chance, managed to escape.
- he makes a joke about it. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth.
- …although.. this meant that you were a bit privileged in the way swansea treated you.
- this showed in the way that he allows you to mess with his toolbox (maybe you were the only other person who was interested in his toolbox, aside from daisuke..)
- he teaches you the basics, and daisuke often chimes in from what he had studied before from swansea as well.
- you often thank the two for the lesson, and swansea seems a bit more smug after, whilst daisuke seems more proud of himself.. and due to that, you are more than welcome in the utility room.. from time to time.
- ah, speaking of daisuke..
- he’s incredibly sweet. you wonder if he particularly needs the sweets anymore from how overly sweet he is. you do end up sharing your snacks either way, and thankfully, he’s obedient enough to only request one sunshine every one to two days. (at this rate, you might have just enough to last you the entire.. 9 months? close to 8 now..)
- he also plays games, and showed you his own ds, stickers of pokemon, doodles, and small little things indicating his other interests were plastered all over it - which you end up telling anya.
- this is where anya’s willingness to help you connect with others come in.
- not before long, you, anya, and daisuke managed to make a post-game night activity.. which included playing the ds until you all reach the specific curfew anya had set (thankfully, she did set one, otherwise daisuke would’ve tried to beat you until his fingers fell off.)
- there was one time that he was too tired, and you had to drag him back into his room. with an arm slinged around your shoulder, and anya following behind in your footsteps, he stayed asleep the entire time.
- he wasn’t drunk. hell, do you even have alcohol in the ship? the answer was no. unless you were to drink cleaning alcohol.. but point is. he didn’t get drunk, and he was just that tired. you wonder what kind of new training he’s been trying to do.
- you tried your best to drag him, but once you were beside his bed, you had only one choice.
- you slowly placed him back into his bed, lifting his leg up to remove his shoes - before placing him properly on the bed.
- anya had already excused herself back to her room, and with the silence (and occasional snores from daisuke), you find yourself observing daisuke’s room.
- pink weights, a very, very patterned backpack, and a charger. those were the main things that caught your eyes.
- .. and you had his ds in your hand. so out of kindness, you went over to plug in his ds for him.
- before you left him alone, you checked up on him for the last time. he’s sleeping soundly. you try to close the door as silently as possible.
- you hope he continues to dream tonight.
- so far the worst thing you had to witness from the male was the absolute mess that was his laundry pile.
- it started when you - whose room was beside daisuke’s - smelt something akin to the concentrated scent of the (sun) detergent.
- you knocked at his door, and only a muffled wait echoes inside, before you could hear him tripping over his own feet to open the door.
his eyes meet yours - looking quite frazzled. He’s heaving slightly, perhaps a side effect of rushing to get the door.
“h..hi!”
the detergent smell only got stronger, and it became very much obvious that he.. had a little accident with the laundry. your focus flickers between the mess he is, and the mess behind him.
“...did anything happen?”
he chuckles nervously, avoiding eye contact.
“oooff course not! and i almost forgot that i had to- uhm- change my sheets! so see ya soo-”
right as he was about to shut the door, you had kept it wedged open with your shoes. his eyes actually meet yours, again, and you tilt your head slightly, arms folding.
“i can smell it from the hallway. let me help you.”
“no- i can do it!”
you send him a particular stare. it seems to make him falter, and you sigh once more.
“let me help you.”
he looks hesitant, his grip on the handle weakening. a moment passes, and then he closes hie eyes, and smiles at you - defeated.
“alright then... but don't be angry!”
- as you step in the room, you’re met with the sight of.. very, very many bubbles on a stack of clothes.
- and when you look back at daisuke, he only offers you a guilty grin, and a look that said i told you so
- that’s the story of how your fingers managed to smell like detergent for a whole week, and the event that hallmarked your almost instant closeness with daisuke.
- ever since the laundry accident, you two have been together quite often.
- every lunch break was simply just sitting alone, until anya or daisuke approaches you. If anya approached first, then daisuke followed. if anya couldn’t join you in the lounge, then you’d go to the medical bay, and if you’re allowed in - daisuke would follow right after.
- everytime you manage to get spare time to lounge on the extended sofa, daisuke immediately joins you. the only difference from before was the way he joins you on the couch. sometimes by closing your eyes from behind and asking you to guess (even when it’s apparent), sometimes by jumping or launching himself to the spot beside you.
- every now and then, he scares the living soul out of you. he laughs until you start chasing him with a cup in your hand.
- he tries his best to make you laugh. the best he got so far was an amused stare from you.
- apparently, it’s good enough for him. he cheered the entire night you made that expression.
- on his psych tests, he talks a lot.
- there’s.. not much time to talk to you. you only realise once he starts to talk about his week, instead of his day.
- nowadays, you focus on getting your analysis done. how each person’s behaviour have changed - in general, of course. you’re not going to mention their every detail, and rather, you ask them to fill out little questionnaires (which is the only detail you’re submitting)
- usually, before you got close, he mainly talks about his day, and only his day.
- sure you spent a lot of time together, but since this was the only chance to be truly alone, it’s usually the time that he opens up.
- he barely does so. but it’s much easier to see his emotions on his face, with far more vulnerability.
- it starts from little things, like how he really thinks swansea might get tired of teaching him. or maybe the way jimmy got mad at him because he accidentally spilled oil on his shirt.
- then it turns to things in his house. how he missed his mother, how he missed seeing his cat, how he felt like he had to take this internship because he felt like he had to prove something.
- you offer him hugs from time to time. he accepts them.
- sometimes you feel tears soak into your shirt. you try your best to comfort him after. whether it would be rubbing circles into his back, or offering him an extra piece of sunshine - you tried your best.
- you know you aren’t the best at that. but if this is all you can do, then what else should you do?
- sometimes you wonder if this ship really does need to be human automated.
- what costs do they cut by hiring human workers instead? innovation? investment in machinery? why keep people on barely minimum wages in a random ship being sent out to space, with minimum facilities and minimum safety and security? isn’t it a safer bet to go all out with machinery, then turn a profit later down the line - rather than close to losing this hunk of metal nearly every other day?
- then you look into the lounge in what is assumed to be “six in the morning” - you don’t trust the clocks. everything feels fake - and get hit by literal beams of sunshines in your way ( read : curly, anya, and daisuke laughing together )
- maybe you can keep those thoughts for another day. you ate.. pretty okay pancakes that morning.
- perhaps the only thing you wished you could change, in definite terms, was the way jimmy lingered around anya’s room.
- so stop it you did. or at the very least, attempted to stop it, you did.
- that’s the main reason you ended up sleeping on the front of anya’s room. (with her permission, of course)
- the reason you proposed to her was, and you quote,
“i keep on having dreams of cockroaches.”
- anya looked at you half asleep. the other half concerned, worried, and confused. you shuffled in front of her room, your hand hauling a mattress and your blankets awkwardly.
- .. she finally allowed you after a small while. maybe its because you looked pathetic. maybe its something else. you do not know, and you don't want to know.
- you eventually placed your mattress back into your room (due to the lack of space, you should’ve expected that - your only reason was that you did this on a whim), and slept on the floor, facing the walls with your blanket covering you like a silkworm.
- it’s not comfortable. thank god the tulpar has - at best - subpar air conditioning, otherwise you’d freeze to death in this huge metal hunk in space.
- it successfully warded off jimmy though. or so you’ve observed. so you really don’t mind the way your back aches every morning.
- maybe you should bring more pillows…
the door behind you croaks slowly, and slowly- your eyes peek open, looking up at a dimmed figure. an anya-looking dimmed figure. you immediately relax back in your blanket.
“..nightmares again?” she looks concerned about your sleeping position. for a moment, you feel bad for lying.
you purse your lips, and nod at her.
“.. yeah.”
she watches from the door, and nods at you.
you think she finally figured out that you knew about jimmy’s recent lingering. she spares you a thankful glance, and sends you a soft nod.
“..goodnight. thank you.”
you nod back, and once the door shuts back, you slump further. as much as these metal walls allow you, anyway.
you hope you dream this night. maybe of home, or of something sweet. maybe of something better.
you aren't sure what that something is. but you hope you find it soon.
but, oh, who were you kidding.
you never got the chance to dream. this night isn't any different.
you slip into a void; your body awaiting tomorrow.
i hope u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it .. !
initially started off as a daisuke x reader insert but i went too far and suddenly i have this.. this...... series.... will get more into the romance after i world build a bit more.. if you have any specific requests for the reader in this au, don't be afraid to shoot something in my ask box!
extra notes: in order of youngest to oldest, i hc daisuke to be youngest, then reader, then anya, curly/jimmy and swansea !
sun & moon dividers by : @/saradika daytime screen & medical bay from mouthwashing
#mouthwashing#tw jimmy#daisuke x reader#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing x gn reader#swansea mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#fanfic#i love anya and daisuke
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Now You're Safe With Me | C.Sc
Pairing: Seungcheol x reader
Genre: Fluff, angst, established relationship
Words count: ±400
Summary: Seungcheol received several missed calls from you, and he knew they weren't just regular phone calls.
Seungcheol had just finished his meeting with a business partner when his secretary informed him of multiple missed calls from you. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was still an hour after your scheduled lunch. He knew you wouldn't call unless it was urgent, and a sense of foreboding settled in. Hurriedly, he strode to his office, his fingers swiftly dialing your number.
"Seungcheol..." Your voice trembled, the wail of sirens and the clamor of a crowd audible in the background.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Alarm surged through him at the distress in your voice. His heart raced as he heard someone shout about bleeding on the other end.
"There was an accident, just a block away from my office. Another car collided with mine," you explained, your words slow and measured. "I'm okay, just a small fracture and some bleeding."
Seungcheol exhaled heavily, his heart aching as he heard your sobs through the phone. He stepped out of his office, motioning for his secretary to follow him.
"It's alright, love. I'll be there in ten minutes. Can you update me on your condition?"
"Yeah..." You replied, your voice a whisper. "I'm out of the car now. The medic has tended to my wound. They think my left hand might be fractured. I need to get it checked."
"We'll see the doctor together. I'll be right there with you," Seungcheol assured, but there was a prolonged silence before you finally responded.
"Sorry for bothering you, I was just so scared I might lose myself earlier."
His steps halted just meters from the company entrance, the security team bowing respectfully as he passed. Your words held him in place, vivid memories of your previous car accident 5 months ago flooding back. He had been overseas when it happened, rushing back on a thirteen-hour flight to be by your side. The trauma had lingered you, making driving a source of anxiety for months. It was only recently that you'd finally regained the confidence to drive again.
Seungcheol understood the terror you must be feeling now, and earlier.
"It's completely fine, my love. Take a moment to catch your breath, okay? We'll get your arm checked, and then how about some ice cream and that series you wanted to watch together?"
Seungcheol's heart ached at the thought of you alone in the aftermath of a car accident. Your fear of losing yourself resonated deeply with him.
"Hmm... I'll wait for you here. Some people were rushed to the hospital. They were bleeding so much. I'm grateful it's just a fracture and minor bleeding. Take your time... No need to rush."
He hummed in response, assuring you he was on his way even though his hand gestured urgently for his secretary to expedite their journey. While you insisted it was fine to wait, Seungcheol couldn't bear the thought of you alone after what had just transpired.
As he caught sight of you sitting on the ambulance, phone pressed to your ear, Seungcheol swiftly ended the call. He closed the distance between you, gathering you into his arms.
Seungcheol's breath caught at the sight of your blood-stained blouse and bandaged head. He turned to the nearest medic, urgency in his eyes.
"She lost a lot of blood. She was stuck in the car. We've stitched the wound, but please get her to the hospital for further checks. Her left arm might be fractured," the medic explained, and Seungcheol nodded, gratitude in his gaze.
Gently cupping your cheeks, he wiped away your tears. Leading you to the car, he whispered, "It's okay, baby. I'm here with you. You're safe."
As you settled into the car, Seungcheol's heart broke again when you apologized to him and his secretary for being a burden. Myungho, his secretary, asserted that your well-being was the top priority, a sentiment Seungcheol wholeheartedly agreed with. He supported your weakened body, acutely aware of how drained you must be. He remembered the medic had said how close you came to losing consciousness when the emergency responders worked to free you from the car.
"Stay with me, okay?" Seungcheol murmured, and you nodded, your movements sluggish.
After ensuring you received proper treatment, Seungcheol's tension eased. You had a blood transfusion and your arm was tended to. You were moved to a patient room, and Seungcheol ensured you had the best accommodations available.
"You're not driving anymore," Seungcheol stated firmly when you were in better condition, seated on your hospital bed.
You began to protest, but exhaustion had settled in, leaving you weak and unable to summon the energy.
Seungcheol's voice held a determined reassurance. "I'll drive you everywhere. And if I'm tied up, I'll have Chan take over. He might be chatty, but you were safer with him."
You lowered your gaze, a quiet "I'm sorry" escaping your lips, barely audible amidst the sterile hum of the hospital room.
Seungcheol's gaze softened as he approached, enfolding you in his embrace.
"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I just hate the thought of not being there to keep you safe. When you said you were afraid of losing yourself earlier... it broke my heart. I want you to always feel secure, to know you're safe with me."
You mumbled an apology, and he shook his head. His fingers gently lifting your chin so you met his gaze. " "It's okay... Just remember, you're safe with me now."
#densworld🌼#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#seventeen angst#seventeen scenarios#seventeen series#seventeen imagine#seventeen fic#seventeen drabbles#seventeen#choi seungcheol#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol fluff#seventeen seungcheol#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#scoups imagine#scoups imagines#scoups
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THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR STAR’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)(masterlist) (taglist)
❤️🔥 pairing: husband!seonghwa x gn!afab!reader ❤️🔥 genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established long-term relationship ❤️🔥 summary: all work and no play makes seonghwa a needy boy; your husband wants you. now. and he will use any means necessary to get you where he wants you. being in the office is not a problem when you are one message away... ❤️🔥 wordcount: 8.6k total ❤️🔥 warnings/tags: semi-edited, hwa duality, businessperson!reader, mention of offices/presentations/corporate culture, nonidol!hwa, married but permanently in honeymoon phase, two people very in love, petnames, mutual respect, trust and adoration, seonghwa is smitten, reader wears heels, words crazy+drunk used ❤️🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic ❤️🔥 a/n: spiralled into ponderings with @byuntrash101 (ily), and my fingers slipped. oops. any notes, asks, reblogs appreciated <3 much love!
❤️🔥 taglist: sexting, praise, petnames (love, darling, my love, pretty, gorgeous...), consent is king, unprotected sex (consider before you deliver), mating press/missionary (vanilla but make it spicy), 69 (blowjob+eating out), creampie, cumeating, slight spit kink, sprinklings of body worship, possessive terms (my/mine), light overstimulation, implied aftercare
“How do I look?” you called out to your husband, who was sitting behind you on your shared bed, feline in the way he was leaning back on his arms, regarding you through half-shut, curious eyes.
Unlike you, he had the day free, but even so decided to go through the motions of a morning routine with you, though finalising it with a considerably less formal outfit. Dressed in a black sweater and matching black trousers, Seonghwa had stated that he was going to go out to get some fresh produce from the market while it was still early, and the rush of crowds did not plague the city just yet. Patiently, he was waiting for you to be ready to head out to work, and he, to comfortably support the home front for today.
“Hm, you look like me having to come to work with you and me having a blast telling waves of potential suitors that you are off limits.” He responded as a matter of factly. Nevertheless, you caught a cheeky grin in the mirror as he scanned you up and down with the intensity of a burning sun.
“Oh … Hwa, what if I want the attention? And what are you going to do about the stakeholders I’ll be speaking to, hm?” You asked him coyly, finally managing to get your second earring on and tapping it with your manicured finger for good measure.
“Something tells me that I’ll have to step in and act like security.”
You chuckled, taken aback, pleasantly lightheaded because of Seonghwa’s early morning flirtations. With one final once over, he smoothed the bed sheets on either side of him and rose up to step right behind you, placing both hands under your suit jacket and on your waist, leaning closer and closer until he could place a soft kiss on the side of your neck which, thanks to your hairstyle, was exposed to the attention.
The sleek, deep navy suit was an elegant number, peaked lapels on the single-breasted jacket perfectly pressed, the wide-legged trousers perfectly guiding towards the heels - pumps in a nude beige, and the white asymmetrical short-sleeved shirt underneath all combining to create perfect harmony. You had chosen elegance over daring energetic appeal today, picking pearl-based jewellery which, upon inspection, was exactly how you had imagined it would be with the outfit. A delicate balance was struck, and was reminiscent of how your husband was gingerly manoeuvring over and around you, until he appeared to have had enough with stalling.
Seonghwa’s arms lazily slid forwards, wrapping a little tighter around you, while his head moved to nudge you towards himself with his chin, until he could rest his head on your shoulder comfortably. Initially wishing to pry yourself away given how little time you had left if you were to make it to the office at a reasonable time, your hands rushed to his own, but as your husband began to sway side to side, blissfully taking in the image in the mirror, you left them there, admiring the priceless scene, and the way in which his hands fit perfectly over yours, the rings matching, another sign of your union completing the masterpiece in the reflection.
"Come on, Hwa, I’ll be late at this rate."
"What's it got to do with me, ma'am? I finished getting dressed fifteen minutes ago, was sitting here, all good and ready for you-" ignoring the word choice, you persisted:
"Because a certain someone was hogging the shower-"
"I told you, you could join." heat flushed to your cheeks as you caught Seonghwa’s less than innocent expression, making you remember exactly why you were not planning to get into any intimate shared space with this alluring schemer before work. Planting a feather-light kiss on your sensitive skin, he was threatening to make you lose track of time entirely. Attempting to wipe the action from immediate perception, you focused on the sensation of tugging on one of your earrings, anything to ground you and to return you into the headspace of the meetings you had scheduled and been booked into for the day, along with the details and key takeaways for each one.
You had always been a fighter in the professional world, and this was one of the many things that Seonghwa adored about you. Having met at a networking event, that was the side of you he had come to be acquainted with first, and had fallen head over heels for. A sublime intensity that came with the passion you had for your work, a fire that ignited when you planned ahead, led teams and managed international ventures were so beautifully contained within you and formulated the intricate maze of your psyche that Seonghwa could not help but want to drown in it, and spend eternity observing you in action. He himself had stepped away from the strict and rigorous structures of the corporate world, instead preferring to offer independent consultation services, but to see you flourish, and to be there for your journey and to have you unconditionally support his decisions and experiments too was nothing short of a blessing. Perhaps the one side effect, a tiny challenge that came with having you as his life partner, his love and his spouse is mornings like this, when you were in the process of escaping for work, driven and ready for battle, your armour being one of the stylish suits of impeccable quality that you took great pains to keep pristine. And the more you did so, the stronger was his desire to see if he could ruin just one, at least one, perhaps the one you were wearing right now. Despite the fact that he had seen you in such garments more times than either of you could possibly count or remember, it made him more drawn to you and involuntarily seduced than he would ever dare admit. Seonghwa’s grip on your hips inadvertently tightened as gaze flashed upwards, settling on the reflection of your perfectly plump, tinted lips in the mirror.
“Besides… As you know, I was making sure that the adjustments were all fine and the overall outfit would be fine for the quarterly review meeting,” you recalled your last-minute concerns over whether the selection was reasonable for meeting persons from the executive office, even though you were not sure if you even had outfits in your job-related arsenal that would not be appropriate, “You could have helped by the way.”
"I did! I gave the fit the Seonghwa seal of approval, but now... honestly am regretting it because you look illegal..."
He turned his attention back to the delicate skin around your neck, planting a couple more kisses with mischief glowing in his eyes. You giggled as his breath left a ticklish sensation and you nearly knocked your head with his in an attempt to shy away.
"And how do you think I feel, leaving you at home like this?”, you let your gaze settle on your husband, a ghost of a smirk revealing itself on your lips, “I need to brush up on my cat fighting techniques, mister handsome, and maybe learn how to teleport" Put him in a rag and he would still look spectacular. Like this, in a relaxed, casual outfit that ideally matched his dark locks, highlighted the broadness of his shoulders and the jawline models would be jealous of, he was heavenly - something which you never failed to remind him of no matter what he was wearing. It was almost a shame that you had to leave for work instead of admiring this beauty for the entire day and an eternity more. You bit the inside of your cheek, banishing less than safe for work ponderings from your mind.
"Woah, Y/N, fighting for me? That's kind of - I do not think I should say what I am thinking."
"You’re being awfully cheeky this morning!" You lightly slapped the back of his hand and spun around, coming closer until only a mere couple of centimetres separated you. "What else can a kitty do with her claws?"
"I mean... my back has no complaints." He speedily responded, tightening his hold on your waist and attempting to capture your lips with his. But at this point, you had gotten good enough at reading Seonghwa to move away at the last second, resulting in a loud smooch right against your jawbone, followed by a purposefully childish whine, "Oh darling you are being a tease."
"Naugh- ty- Seonghwa, no kisses. I took too long to line my cupid's bow. I'm not about to let you ruin it."
You tried to wiggle away, wondering if your suit was actually creaseproof as the assistant at the boutique had advertised, but he was having none of it, now grabbing your hands and swinging them side to side. With his prior seductive aura having subsided after your decisive, playful rejection, Seonghwa’s glances were in many ways boyish, permission-seeking. The most miniscule hint of a pout made its way to his lips as he peered what had to be directly into your heart and intertwined your fingers together, stopping the motion.
“Y/N…”
“Keep this thought in mind, lovely, will you be able to?” you purred, amused at your husband’s slow blinking, reminiscent of an affectionate cat.
“Of course,” you dodged another attempt by him to nuzzle into your neck with a soft, melodic laugh, and pulled Seonghwa to follow you out of the bedroom, “Ah, careful,” he rushed to block the door frame, chuckling at your eagerness to get to the hustle and bustle of your day, even though just a little while ago you still were retaining that light nervousness, likely overthinking every interaction that was not even likely to happen. After all, this was a job only you could do, and it was something that you did better than anyone else. You owned what you did, and everyone knew it.
As you grabbed your keys, and were about to bid farewell to your husband before starting your commute, you sensed his energy shifting to that of scheming.
Seonghwa had a trial to face, and it presented itself with how stunning you looked in the glimmering golden light of the early morning, and how your every step almost sent a shiver up his spine. Wherever you were, he always managed to find you in one sweeping gaze, whether you were on the other side of a room or a few steps away. One of a kind, captivating, the world turned around you whether you would agree with Seonghwa or not. It was a simple fact. And here, in your apartment, where it was just you and him, it was impossible to ignore how his vision was occupied by you, and only you. He was consumed by the effortless charm you radiated, and when you caught him staring, how you lifted one shoulder and responded with a cheeky grin - a gesture of faux coyness. He clenched a hand hidden behind his back into a tight fist until his knuckles turned white, mutely regarding your final preparations before you would disappear behind the door. His thoughts were far away from what he had planned to do today, cursing how you had teased him and blaming routines - your husband would have preferred to take you and himself apart right here right now, unravel the tension that was so obvious he could almost taste it. He bit his lower lip as you leaned down to shift your footing in one of your heels, and barely suppressed a hiss as you glided back up, the pace of the motion highlighting how your curves were complemented by the suit. You were enticing, and watching your back Seonghwa could not help but remember the sensation of running his hand across it, caressing your body, guiding it as you turned into a goddess in the dimmed lights of your shared bedroom, connected with him in every way possible. You smiled at him as though you were not aware of the lustful darkness that began to consume his mind, lips tantalising, dangerous, his favourite heavenly nectar. This was unbearable.
It was impossible to ignore the searing gaze that seemed to have never left you since you had first returned it in the mirror, and was the last thing you experienced as you shut the front door. You kept the radio in your car silent, afraid that your thoughts would be louder than the music either way. Your husband was up to something, determined, and focused on you. And it was beyond exciting. This undercurrent of energy that was eternal, and ran through anything and everything he did was one of the multitude of reasons why you loved him. He was enigmatic, and yet so easy for you to explore. He had opened himself up to you so readily, revealing the edges of his vibrant soul that was so unparalleled and high octane that you swore that after meeting him, you ceased to breathe oxygen and could only ever inhale the adoration he provided. He was a dreamer, an ideator, a man devoted to the search for happiness, and that balanced you out so perfectly - it had only been a month when you had decided for yourself that Seonghwa was the one for you, and you would never let go. He was an eternal surprise, an enigma that was as soft and lovely as a cat, but wrapping itself around you like a serpent, slow and sensual. You wondered, as the day commenced and you were pulled into your first meeting, then another, just what your husband had crafted in his beautiful mind palace.
It did not take too long for the plan to reveal itself. Fortunately, because you did not enjoy facing unknowns. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a meeting with some rather senior people. On the brighter side, you had proposed a five minute break before continuing the session so you had at least a couple of breaths to re-compose yourself, but other than that… it was only you, the phone that you were squeezing so hard in your hand that it could break, and the daring photograph blaring on the screen, setting you on fire. You had exchanged a couple of messages with Seonghwa prior to the meeting, his responses being cryptic and dizzyingly abstract, but nothing could have prepared you for the surprise.
Your other hand quickly found your thigh, gripping onto it so that you would not break your stoic disposition with a shaking leg, and you glanced side to side to make sure that the colleagues next to you had not returned to the room yet, and the others were preoccupied with their own devices or were deep in mundane conversation. So, this was what he was so enthusiastic about down following the morning antics. Clearly, you had not been passive enough for him to dismiss your glances in his direction - if you were to be honest, you had been eyeing him up and down from the moment he intentionally walked into you while changing, making you wonder how it was possible for you to want him more and more with each passing day, rather than feelings of attraction and enamourment subsiding with marriage and with sharing all the ups and downs. Instead, both of you were each other’s paradise, and that presented itself in all forms of desire. As you regarded Seonghwa’s form in the picture, lightly biting your lower lip as you tried to think of how you could respond to it, you could only be amused by how he knew exactly what buttons to press, and how to reignite what you had tried to pause earlier this morning - simply as an attempt to retain your sanity for handling paperwork and handshakes.
Resting on the chair that was in your bedroom, he made sure to accentuate his impeccable form, and how his long hair suited him so spectacularly. He had changed outfits - just for you, and that made you want to devour him all the more. Your precious husband who looked like sin. The vibrant beige jacket, which appeared almost brown in the sensually dimmed lamplight, hung freely over his upper body, revealing a tastefully bare abdomen, and consequently, the lovebites you had managed to leave above his heart and towards his collarbones after a particularly intense night a couple of days ago - they had only now begun to show signs of fading. Towards the very bottom of the picture you could spot the edge of a matching pair of trousers, black belt intentionally loosened to make your imagination run wild. A centrepiece, his black silver necklace and a perfectly paired earring, were the icing on top of the cake, their shimmer beckoning you. It was impossible to choose what to focus on; the head tilt, the elegant hand on which he was practically resting his head, how one leg had been thrown over the other - confident, in his element, so very Seonghwa that it made you hurt; and want him. Desperately. You shut your eyes and rolled them as you imagined the smirk on his face as he sent the image, knowing exactly what state he would pause you in, and hurl you into. When your husband was in the mood, it gave him an additional thrill to either catch you off-guard completely with bold advances and compliments, or fluster you until you were melting in his arms. And you did not mind one bit; that was your time to let go, to give up your stresses and iron grip and let all strains snap and become threads with which Seonghwa could pull at your very essence, praising you for how well you could follow his guidance, and just how perfect you were for him. You did not notice how your thumb was merely hovering over the keyboard until another message slid into view, and you barely suppressed a gasp, again looking up to make sure no one was watching you.
“Missing you, your taste, your everything, darling,”
This was the last straw, as you almost forgot what meeting you were in, where you were, how you were supposed to behave. You jolted upright, standing straight and excused yourself with a bow of the head, pointing at your phone - with the screen turned towards you. It was easy enough to get out, and storming down the corridor until you were out of everybody’s earshot, you pressed onto the call button, only to be met with a deep chuckle after a single ring. You could envision him still sitting on the chair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling as he toyed with your passions, beckoning you to race home to him. He knew you couldn’t until the day was officially done, and that was part of the fun. It only meant that when you were to finally open that front door, you would be more than ready to give yourself up to his tender love and care.
“Park Seonghwa, what do you think you are doing?” you hissed, pressing the phone right against the side of your face as your foot tapped an abstract rhythm on the carpeted floor.
“What do I think? I think I am talking to you right now, what about you?” he replied, purposefully feigning obliviousness.
“Hwa, the photo… the damn message....”
“Oh! That… yeah, it’s nothing special, really, I just did not send you any in quite some time, so thought I could spark… something,” he paused, indulging in your shallow breathing before finishing the sentence.
“Well you sparked something alright. Seonghwa. Or should I say, my demon of a husband?” you raised an eyebrow as you were met with a silence on the end of the line, but not long after, a sweet, resonant hum of agreement.
“Mm, what a title. Is that how I am making you feel, precious? Are you missing a certain something too?”
Missing. What exactly did both of you imply the other was missing? The word was laden with ambiguity and promise, imagination running wild from the emphasis that Seonghwa had placed on it, lifting it onto a pedestal, above rationality and stability. Inhale, exhale - you counted your breaths, knowing that in a minute you had to be heading back to talk numbers, strategies, even though only your husband would be on your mind.
“I-... yes, damn it,” you mumbled, lashes fluttering as a shiver ran up your spine.
“Mhm, I see… Now, don’t be shy, tell me, what is it that you are missing, what do you feel?” if there had been any hope of you remaining focused on work for the rest of the day, it was most certainly wiped now. You were mesmerised, clinging onto Seonghwa’s voice as though it was your only salvation in the midst of a storm. Quickly, you were losing all sense of your surroundings, too focused on his breaths, his sigh when he was obviously displeased with having to wait for your answer, and finally, his subtle command:
“Don’t be shy, tell me what’s on your mind,” you could not bring yourself to even part your lips, eyes darting to what you could see through the blinds into the meeting room. Your senior colleagues were still lethargic, unfocused, scrolling away or engaging in idle chatter. Maybe it could be advantageous, but judging by the heat that began to rise over your body you would definitely struggle stringing words together with eloquent cohesiveness. Seonghwa. The devious man. Your favourite drug. Your worst and best addiction.
“Perhaps you might need a little… inspiration… yes?”
“I…”
“...wouldn’t mind having you right on my tongue, writhing, falling apart…”
“Park Seonghwa-”
“I want to taste you. Want to keep you close for a long…” he paused, indulging in your electric silence, “long time, warm my cock while keeping you in a tight embrace, kissing you until we cannot breathe… how does that sound?”
“G-good…” you struggled to mumble out, wondering why your knees were transforming into jelly. The coolness of the wall against which you decided to lean provided some illusion of support.
“Your turn,” his tone turned more commanding and that did not go unnoticed. You bit your lower lip, not caring if that was going to smudge your lipstick. Nothing mattered, “I didn’t spare any details,” he waited. You remained frozen in your own thoughts, thousands of desires darting around your mind, but none being brave enough to escape and reveal itself to your husband. Perhaps for the better:
“Please don’t make me beg,” he must have heard you stifle a sound that was far too inappropriate to ever be heard in the workplace - the airy laugh that you were met with over the line was downright sinful, and made you curse your job. You needed him. Needed the release he was so readily offering.
“Or do you want me to pry your dirty little secrets out of you until you are the one begging?”
A shaky inhale, an equally shaky exhale. You uttered his name, in a low voice only he had ever heard. Simultaneously hostile and tantalising. He now knew that he had you hooked.
“Mm… fine. Please, my darling. Please, tell me all those precious filthy musings swimming around in that delightful brain of yours,” you clenched the phone tighter in your hand and crossed your legs. You knew you had no time, despite easily imagining the position that Seonghwa was in, where he was and how lost he was in a lascivious dreamland. Eyes glossed over, lips wetted with his own spit, tension building in his core which he refused to unwind. Without you, at least. With a sharp intake of cold air, you steadied yourself. You were not about to reward demands with treasures.
“Now, what would be the fun in that?”
“Come on… Y/N, I-”
“Be good, and you might just find out.” you cut him off, offering a fake smile to a colleague who walked past you. You needed to come back. Immediately.
“So you will be heading back on time today, right?” he was daring you, but at the same time it was easy to notice the notes of desperation. Untouched, riled up, overwhelmed. Needy. Just how you loved him.
“Hm… I do have a couple of things I could do…” who were you kidding? You had already gone through the fastest route home in your mind.
“Is that refusal I am hearing?” you heard him shift in his seat, the image of him leaning forwards to put an elbow on his knee so vivid that it was as if he was before you.
“Not at all, love, not… at all…” giving up due to your growing distraction, you let your husband have at least a little bit of hope. Clearly, the words worked wonders as with newfound vigour, Seonghwa bid you farewell.
“Then see you soon, Y/N darling.”
Soon could not come soon enough. You were glad no one could see your leg shaking under the table, and that you were well-practised in discreetly checking the time. Teasing, tugging you along to follow his game, striking you out of the blue and opening the door to the world that only you two shared. You would be lying if you said that you were thinking about anyone else while debating with an executive, or when you were brave enough to point out a blatant assumption that was used to support a projection earning yourself a few pointed questions. But nothing compared to the blaze that caressed your skin, spurred you on and made you feel alive. Your favourite deviant, seductive god, king of your heart and keeper of your soul, he gave you control just as much as he could take it away. Wiping away anxiety, he left anticipation. Erasing doubt, he left a blooming confidence.
And with that feeling and darkened gaze, you were racing against the clock, accompanied by the sound of your soles clicking against concrete, accelerating away from the skyscrapers that housed your professional victories and into winding tunnels. You mutely cursed at every delay and every pause in your commute, but nonetheless made it home in record time, astonished by the vista of the setting sun which you normally could not catch in the winter months.
---
The jingling of the keys alerted Seonghwa of your presence, and he set his phone screen down onto the kitchen table, turning to perch himself on the doorframe. He crossed his arms, a ghostly smile on his lips. Aside from going through the regular domestic chores he had planned for himself - a feat in his far from concentrated state, he had decided to be a little more forward with his demands, much to your shared excitement. This, of course, began with his appearance, or rather, a casual exposure of himself in a way you had always encouraged him to do, loving his body so genuinely that it translated into an unparalleled self-appreciation for him. At the same time, that meant that in moments just like this one, he could use your infatuation with his mind and his physique against you. All for a little bit of harmless fun.
He was right, as always. The moment you lifted your head and were about to announce your arrival, a breath hitched in your throat and words died on the tip of your tongue. Hair loose, bangs neatly falling to frame his face, and that damn jacket with a leopard print inner lining, casually thrown over his bare upper body, befitting him so well that you needed to give yourself some time before choking out a quick, feeble ‘I’m home’ and kicking off your heels. He grinned, outwardly innocent, pretending to ‘just be happy to see you, when in fact his imagination was already beginning to forgo every article of clothing you had on. Scanning your form, Seonghwa could not help but bite back a groan. Since the moment you had left this morning, he wanted you back because he wanted you. On the bed, on the table, on the counter, he did not care about the mess. In fact, if there was to be a mess, he would be all the more satisfied. His skin was burning worse than if he were to have a fever, and every moment that passed while you were going through the regular after work motions was pure torture.
As you finished washing your hands, and were about to tiptoe past him, likely to set your bag aside in your home office, he stopped you with one, quiet utterance.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day…”
Your heart was pumping an unsteady, deafening rhythm, and your hands were on the verge of shaking. Nothing was stopping you from simply giving in… except maybe an inkling of rebellion that clung onto you. He already had you in his hold, mouldable to whatever form he wished for, but if he was to play the long game, so were you.
“Mmm… don’t know about that. Missed the memo,” you huffed, wasting a little too much strength on forcing the phrases. Rushing past your husband, you headed to your office and pretended to be taken by both your bag and the miscellaneous stationery left on the desk.
You heard Seonghwa stalking behind you loud and clear, hyperfocused on his catlike steps, but remained rooted to your spot. Taking every item out of your bag, painfully slow, you were rapidly succumbing to the vision of your husband taking you apart. Gorgeous tanned skin, which you knew he was purposefully flaunting to you, intoxicating plush lips which were so vivid in your mind you could almost taste them, and his skillful hands… which just so happened to now be hovering over your waist. You clenched your jaw when they found purchase on your hips, and almost guided you to stand up and be pressed right against him.
Heat was rolling off your stunning lover in waves, and it was downright unbearable to have your back be connected to his toned chest. Seonghwa had no plans of letting you go. He pulled you closer, until you could practically trace his half-hard cock with your ass. He sighed at the contact, air softly passing over your skin, and let his lips trace a broken line upwards to your ear.
“That won’t do at all…” he flexed his arms as his hands roamed your body, “Fortunately, I know exactly how to show you,” you completely blanked, “what a good husband you have.”
As he was about to toy with the buttons at the top of your shirt, the one on your jacket having been long undone, you sprung into action and stopped him, barely suppressing a smirk as you turned your head and spotted a dash of confusion in his glossy eyes.
“I do have a wonderful husband, indeed. Too bad he does not know how to behave properly,” using the moment you slipped out of his embrace, and sauntered towards the door. Seonghwa was left in shock, starved and needy, having been thinking about you, you and only you all day. But his composition returned just as rapidly as it had faltered. You slowed down before reaching the door, as if being pulled back.
Seonghwa was, indeed, magnetic. Lithe, agile, he reminded you of a panther, slinking across the couple of metres that separated you. You were aching to rip off the beige two piece right where he stood, and involuntarily darted your tongue between your lips, much to your husband’s amusement. He was not quite as gentle this time, grabbing a hold of you until you were chest to chest and securing your position by pressing on your lower back. His breath tickled your face; your hands snaked under his jacket, running over exposed skin, worshipping every part you could both see and visualise.
“Really, Hwa. So eager,” you mumbled, brushing your lips over his, testing the waters and seeing a lustful, desperate storm clouding his dilated pupils.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered against your cheek, leaving a tentative peck. You dared to glance at him, poking his nose with your own.
“You’re acting out… disrupting me at work… sending such dirty things to me… calling me to tell me how you want me… is this to be rewarded, my love?” a shudder rolled over Seonghwa’s body, resulting in him planting more feverish kisses over your face, moving towards your jawline and finally across to your ear, nipping it.
“How could I ever behave when I need you, and you are looking like this…” his fingers caressed the collar of your shirt, scalding hot, “and are wearing my favourite perfume…” he inhaled, as though he was drunk off your scent - it was nothing more than what had come to be your signature, a bouquet of notes that defined you, but soon enough turned to being another way in which you occupied Seonghwa’s senses.
Both of you subconsciously moved towards the door, getting impatient. Fingertips mapped the hickeys with violently cautious touches, and Seonghwa swore that if he did not act now, he would go mad. It was ridiculous. You were his life partner, a person to whom he had committed with his entire being, and yet with every passing day his desire for you kept on growing and he was falling deeper and deeper in both love and lust. With you in his arms he was a man lost at sea, blanking out, spiralling and devoted to passion. A big difference between your time dating and your married life, however, was that he did not have to hold back on his own wishes anymore, being as explicit as he was comfortable with, knowing that you would do the same, and no matter what, pleasure would be mutual and adoring. And, he needed it. Seonghwa needed you now. His hand moved on its own accord to cup your face and guide it towards his own. Millimetres apart, he set you ablaze along with him.
“...please…” spilled out, a feeble plea. Seonghwa’s eyes were darting all around you, trying to get some kind of answer, permission, anything. You nodded. And the thread holding you two back snapped.
The kiss was messy, animalistic, far from the calm lover with whom you shared your daily life. Seonghwa did not give you a chance to breathe, instead pushing his lips against yours with the ferocity of a starved man. Unparalleled sweetness graced you as his tongue slipped inside, and he eagerly revisited the movements he found most entrancing, his occasional rough and low growls sending you into a frenzy. Your muted whine spurred him on, and he pushed your entangled forms out of the office, and into the bedroom, the door to which had been left open.
One nip, another, it was as if he wanted to mark you as his everywhere, teeth leaving a pleasant blend of satisfaction and a dull pain to spread from your lips and shoot straight to your core. You began to push off his jacket, a request which he readily accepted, leaving him constrained only by his bottoms. Seonghwa would not give you any false advantages, speedily tugging your jacket off you. His erection was pressing into your thigh, and you could not resist grinding against him, eliciting a delicious groan.
Soon enough, your shirt and bra hastily joined your jacket on the floor, while Seonghwa spared no time in kneading one of your breasts, while feeling the air with the other in an attempt to reach the switch on the floor lamp, growling into the kiss when he missed the first couple of times and hand to open his eyes. You broke away from your husband, resting your palms on his abdomen and admiring just how pretty he looked in the warm, dimmed light that washed over the room in a flash. So it was that kind of night.
“...Want to see you…” he mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours and locked your lips together once more, guiding you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit its edge, he hooked his strong arm around you, a quick “careful,” escaping him.
“Let’s get this off, shall we?” gliding a finger on the inner side of the trouser waistband, he waited for you to comply. It did not take much time for you to get rid of the remaining clothes, and be left only with the full awareness of just how wet you really were.
You pressed your legs together, only for Seonghwa to inch his knee and push it in between, forcing them back apart. It was times like this when you realised that he really could read you better than you could read yourself, and any gesture, thought or fantasy, was his as much as your own.
“You’re so beautiful, no need to hide from me,” he scanned over your body, and you felt like you were on fire, melting into him. While your husband’s eyes were glazed over with lust, within them they still held so much love that your heart could burst. “Ah, wait a minute,” you watched as he removed his bottoms, and with a hiss, let his hard and leaking cock spring free. His low chuckle was music to your ears, “now we’re good.”
“Mhm… oh Hwa… I really did make you wait…” you lowered your gaze to his cock, finger tracing a line down his stomach and stopping right before its base. He sucked in a shallow breath, nuzzling his face against yours to hide how close he was to being pushed completely over the edge. Patience was a virtue, and he barely had any left. “Let me take care of you, hm?” you suggested, trying to move to the side to gesture for Seonghwa to sit down on the bed. He remained still, and whispered against your cheek:
“No… I wanted to do that- ah-” your leg brushed against Seonghwa’s sensitive cockhead, pulling a gasp out of him.
“Then I have an idea, if you’re with me on this. Lie down for me?” pulling away, you switched where you were standing, and tilted your chin to gesture at the bed that was now in front of you. Seonghwa peered around his shoulder, and back at you, a soft, tiny smile, albeit a meek one, dancing on his lips.
“Baby you’re doing too-”
“Shush, we can make each other feel good,” promptly following Seonghwa, you were now hovering above him, playing with his necklace.
“I love you,” he said breathlessly, making the side of your mouth curl into a half smile.
“I love you too.”
“Now I’m craving something sweet,” you lightly slapped his chest and shook your head in an attempt to hide your amusement.
“Oh stop it…”
“I think I’ll go crazy if I don't have you sitting on my face in the next few seconds.”
“Can’t have that happening.”
You adjusted positions, and once you had your back facing Seonghwa, he pulled your hips towards him to lower your pussy over his face. Carefully, you leaned forward, relishing in the sight of your husband’s impossibly stunning body, every muscle a work of art. After finding a comfortable balance, and waiting for the initial shock of Seonghwa tasting you to turn into a continuous thrum of pleasure, you spat into your palm, and wrapped the hand around his cock. His thighs tensed in response and his grasp became tighter as he rolled his tongue over your clit.
Mirroring him, you teased his cockhead, and only then proceeded to take his length into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and moving slowly to ensure that he would not reflexively buck into you. You flattened your tongue, dragging it along the shaft and spreading spit and precum. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. With hollowed cheeks you began to bob your head at a leisurely pace and not caring for the mess you were making at the base of his cock, clear liquid running down past the corners of your swollen lips.
Seonghwa produced a muffled noise, unable to stay completely focused while you were driving him towards his high, but not breaking contact. He sucked on your clit, making you whine while deepthroating him. Your eyes were starting to water as you wanted more, always more, and you reached to fondle his balls, pausing to get some air. Strings of saliva and precum momentarily connected you still, and the lewdness of the scene was downright pornographic. You were relentless, addicted to this man whom you had the exclusive ability to call your husband. You were the one who knew how to take him apart and put him back together.
The wanton sounds of Seonghwa devouring your pussy stimulated you further, and the coil which had been growing tighter with every pass of his skillful tongue was ready to snap and release. A hint of a trembling sensation passed through your legs, and you sped up your own motions, your hand jerking off the base while you swirled over his tip in preparation to take him fully again.
Seonghwa dipping his tongue between, in and out, and through your wet folds had you seeing stars, and you grinded against him. He gripped you tighter so that you would not be able to instinctively squirm and lift yourself upwards, and circled around your aroused clit, sucking it in between his lips and returning to fucking you with his tongue. His vision was clouded, he was in a daze, unable to process anything anymore, except the static fuzziness in his brain and how delicious you were.
He used up what little attention he had left on your clit, and repeated ministrations had you tipping over the edge and shuddering in his hold. Seonghwa remained buried between your legs as your climax hit you, and held you to prevent your hips from leaving him, and continued to lap at your sopping heat, catching your release. You moaned against his cock, freezing in place and letting your husband chase his high by bucking his hips upwards and using you. In no time, he was painting your mouth and your throat with thick strings of white, falling back onto the bed while you followed to try and swallow as much of his release as you could. Cum and spit was dribbling down your chin and his shaft when you were finished, and once you, with Seonghwa’s help, were laying on your side and face to face with him the unmistakable glistening fluid on his face made you love him all the more. One kiss, another, you tasted yourselves on each other’s lips, choosing to make your lungs scream rather than let go.
He was so beautiful. His loving, electric gaze - a permanent feature of his expression when it came to you. Everything about him was a reason to adore him. You brushed away a strand of hair, one which had stubbornly stuck to his forehead, only for Seonghwa to take your hand in his and plant a soft kiss on its back. You giggled, enjoying the contrast of this intimate, but lighthearted moment as opposed to the passionate exchange earlier. This was how he was, and you would not want him any different.
You took your time regarding him, and he did the same to you. Blissful, overflowing with a want for more. His lips were on yours again, and you deepened the kiss by bunching his long inky hair in your hand. Every reaction, every gasp was your favourite music. Seonghwa rolled over and positioned himself between your legs, arms on either side. Hair perfectly framed his elegant features, and the shadows cast shapes akin to a painting you would see at a gallery. He was a masterpiece.
“Lift your hips for me,” you followed his request, wriggling into position while he lifted himself up to take your legs and bend them towards your torso, “thank you, my love… such a pretty pussy, all mine,” the dirty talk came naturally to him, and it was not your first time hearing it, but nonetheless had you biting the inside of your cheek.
Still sensitive, you whispered his name when he glided his hardened cock between your wet folds. Coated in slick and cream, Seonghwa met no resistance and bottomed out in one stroke. Your loud moan prompted words of praise and adoration, and he was certain that nothing could ever be better than this.
“Ah- just perfect-” you watched his face contort , eyes threatening to roll back as he started to thrust into you.
You could barely form words, sinking into the pillows and peeking at Seonghwa through half-lidded eyes - the most you could muster. All your senses were filled with him, and you swore you were going to fall apart at any moment. Grateful for his arms supporting your legs, you physically couldn’t resist the drowning pleasure, instead trying your best to keep up with his cock drilling into you, failing whenever it brushed over your sweet spot.
“H-hwa-”
“Mm?”
“Kiss me,” you pleaded, making him push your legs further apart and crawl a little ways over you until his orbs, near black in the dimly lit room, were boring into you.
You intertwined, overlapped, transposed into something greater than yourselves. Sharing the same air, you panted in time with your lover and captured his lips with yours over, and over again. His body was so close to yours, that you could feel his necklace brushing over your chest, occasionally touching your neck. Seonghwa filled you to the hilt, the slight stretch turning your moans into barely audible mewls.
“Please- h-harder- I l-love your cock so mu-uch-”
Seonghwa cursed under his breath, drunk from your choice of words, and with one final kiss curled over you and quickened the rocking of his hips to a brutal euphoria. You were on the verge of melting, bodies turning agonisingly hot with each passing second. Your hands searched for his wrists, weakly wrapping around them for some form of support. Carnal; you were infinitely turned on by how instinctive his reactions were. You could not care for anything in the world, words turning to a garbled mess and moans loudly echoing in your husband’s ears.
“F-fuck, you feel so good I’m-” he was fisting the bedsheets, ruthlessly pounding into you, the slapping of skin against skin and your sounds making him fall apart.
His pace faltered as he came, legs shuddering, voice breaking as he unleashed an airy and high-pitched moan, but he still continued to thrust while he filled you with his warm load. He pushed his release deeper inside you, breathing heavily and pressing you more and more into the bedsheets. The squelching was downright filthy, but you wanted to capture every drop and threw your arms around Seonghwa as much as you could given your position, simply so he could be flush against you. He hissed through gritted teeth as your walls began to clench around his aching length, prompting aftershocks from his orgasm.
“Hwa-a, I’m coming, I- don’t stop please-”
“Come for me, love,” his gentleness, even in such a feverish moment, was your undoing. The thread you had been clinging onto snapped.
Your head fell back against the pillows, and if it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s form securing you from above, you knew you would be arching off the bed, uncontrollable. You called out his name like a mantra, and in your ecstatic haze could sense him slowing down, helping both of you ride out your intense climaxes. Vision spinning, you did not dare move, instead transforming into a pliable doll for Seonghwa to rearrange. Shakily, he let go of the bed sheets and sat upright, tapping your legs to relax. Lazily, you stretched out, heart still racing, and barely registered the dip of the mattress next to you.
When you turned, your husband was there, head resting on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He was studying you with a small smile, and when he noticed you were more present, leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Hello,” it was almost unbelievable, just how honey sweet he could be in a matter of seconds, making you more shy than during sex. This made you all too aware and critical of your current state, and you turned your head to search for something to cover yourself with, until you heard a sigh escape your husband, “It’s like I’m dreaming. You’re so enchanting.”
He fell fully by your side, draping an arm over your upper body and gingerly massaging your hip. It was rare for him to not rush to clean both of you off, but you were not complaining about this kind of moment of closeness. It felt raw. It felt real. You got to fall in love for the nth time. Seonghwa’s face was rosy, blushed, and he was just barely steadying himself, but even then, was not letting go of you, choosing to retain all physical proximity in favour of going about routines. HIs cum is smeared over your folds, was dripping onto the covers and had smeared across your inner thighs, you had remnants of spit and release on your face, and yet he was still looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. His one and only.
“Not too sore? Shall I run a bath?” He poked your nose with his own, grinning when you ran a hand over the side of his face.
“Mm… I’m fine. But a bath would be nice. Can we…”
“Want me to join?”
“Mhm. Want you to give me a head massage.”
“Ah, of course, at your service-”
“Come on…” you chuckled at his joke and trailed off, pausing to stare deep into his eyes, musing everything and nothing all at once.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
“Just thinking how you should send me pictures more often,” a hint of darkness flashed in his eyes; mischief, future schemes formulating themselves. You traced past love bites, ran a finger over his plump lips which were equally as red and swollen as yours, you bet.
“Mm, you changed your mind I see. None of that ‘I am at work’ anymore, then?”
“Maybe you should be the one who is worried now,” you shot back with a smirk.
Seonghwa sat up, swinging his legs over to the edge of the bed, but turning back to give you one last adoring look before launching into a routine long-familiar to you. In no time, you would be taking careful sips of water while waiting for the bath to fill, and your husband would be telling you to stay put, having returned from the clouds and back to finding it unbearable to have clothes on the floor and creasing. Your heart swelled. He was everything at once, flipping switches, changing from one second to the next while still being his gorgeous self. Before, it had made you confused, flustered. Now, you just loved him. There was no other way to put it. You got to see every curve and edge, and always discovered something new.
“I’ll be impatiently waiting.”
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from eden, part XI (act I)
Word count: 19,894 Warnings: Language, blood/injury, temporary suicide, imprisonment, experimentation, dehumanization, kissing, mentioned gore/eye horror, emotional abuse, fictional racism, discussion of starvation/vomiting, drowning Summary: Tango is forced to finally confront his past at Hels Tek, this time with Jimmy and friends behind him. But he soon finds that there are some battles he must fight alone, the outcome of which will change his life- and the universe- forever.
A/N: Well, here we are. The final chapter of ‘from eden.’ Now ofc, I still have lots more for the HTP au planned, but this is where the ranchers’ main plotline will conclude. Thanks for all the support along the way, it’s been an absolute pleasure to write. For the finale, I wanted to go big, so I did something I haven’t done in this fic before: I switch back and forth between different POVs, and different times via flashbacks. Hopefully it all makes sense.
Also, due to Tumblr’s paragraph limit, I had to split this into two acts again. Link to the second one at the bottom. Hope you enjoy please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua
~*~
from eden, part XI (act I) - honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago
~*~
Somewhere in Hels, a player kneels on the ground with his hands chained behind his back.
He’s instantly recognizable, of course. A blaze hybrid, with pointed black-tipped ears poking out from messy blond hair, dull blaze rods hovering around his temples. His red eyes are downcast, sharp teeth bared in a slight grimace. His face, from what’s visible, is discolored by bloodstains and fresh bruises. An iron collar is still locked around his throat, red light shining out like a solitary eye.
Atlas is gratified to see that they were unable to dismantle his handiwork. He had a feeling they wouldn’t; not if they actually cared about not causing Tango harm.
“Well, well, well.” Atlas grins as he approaches. “Hello, Mr. Tango.”
“That’s close enough.”
Bravo’s voice rings out across the valley. He’s standing beside Tango, sword at the ready. Despite being the one to have extended this invitation in the first place, he’s evidently not taking any chances.
Atlas stops, raising a hand for his convoy to do the same. Separated by a distance of ten or so blocks, he can see just how poorly Bravo seems to be doing; haggard and blood-stained, yet still rife with tension, his wary eyes ringed with dark circles. Clearly, the last couple weeks haven’t been kind to him.
(Of course, Atlas had a hand in that.)
He’s alone, as promised- though Atlas knew that already from the unseen scout he sent ahead ten minutes ago. The place Bravo’s arranged their meeting isn’t where his base lies, that much is certain. It’s a large nether waste biome, lifeless and smoldering, surrounded by steep blackstone cliffs on either side. Probably at least an hour from where Bravo’s been hiding, and where the portal must’ve spawned when Tango arrived.
(Of course Bravo wouldn’t lead Atlas to his front door. He’s too cautious for that. Especially if he’s still protecting that ragged black-winged avian that some of Alisker’s men have reported seeing with him. Atlas is mildly disappointed by his absence. But it’s just as well; he doubts those feathers were in good condition, anyways. Would’ve made for shoddy arrows.)
Bravo’s keen gaze sweeps over Atlas’s assembled company. The two dozen armed thugs would’ve been enough to make anyone hesitate, but the effect is much greater with their small fleet of flying machines hovering overhead. Each ship has a dedicated gunner; a player with a crossbow positioned at the front. Their supply of slowness arrows would efficiently incapacitate anyone attacking from the ground or sky. Just one of the extra security measures Atlas prepared for this trip, to say nothing of what he’s set up back home.
Another such measure was the addition of weighted nets to their arsenal, woven from thick chains and studded with wither rose thorns, to ensnare any mob hybrids or monster players they might encounter. It’s not often that Atlas sees a player so much bigger and stronger than the average, like the massive zombie or the wolf, but he won’t be caught off-guard again. That plus respawn anchors on the ships and chests stocked with potions has left him fairly confident in their chances, should this turn out to be an ambush.
Almost a shame that doesn’t seem to be the case. But as always, he’d rather have such defenses and not need them than need them and not have them.
“Mr. Bravo,” Atlas greets him politely. “I must admit, I was rather surprised that you reached out to me, considering we left on… shall we say, less than friendly terms.”
(A generous way of putting it, to be certain. Their last encounter ended with Bravo killing himself to escape to spawn after Atlas was forced to finally show his hand. He does regret that the circumstances had required him to go against Bravo’s wishes; it would’ve been preferable to keep him as an ally. But when he refused to let them take the avian back to Hels Tek, well, Atlas hadn’t been left with much of a choice. Nor had he when Bravo insisted he wouldn’t help them open another portal. Such is life.)
“Oh, shut up,” Bravo snaps. “I- I’m not in the mood for the fuckin’ small talk, alright? You want Tango, you’ve got him. Now take him and leave me the hell alone.”
“Ah, short-tempered as ever,” Atlas hums. “Very well. However, forgive my prying, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind regaling me with the details of how exactly you came by our friend, here?”
(He can infer certain things well enough from chat, of course. He assumes Tango and that other player, SolidarityGaming, came through the portal first and attempted to make contact with Bravo before the rest of the server showed up. It appears that Bravo killed them all in order to capture Tango, but Atlas would rather hear it from him firsthand.)
Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah so, he opened a portal from his end, and tried to… I dunno, reason with me? I guess? He gave me this whole sob story about how he didn’t mean to send me here, apologizing, all that nonsense, but I uh, I don’t buy it.” He scowls down at Tango. “I think he was just tryin’ to win me over, so I’d help him get the key to that collar thingie from you.”
Tango tenses at his words but says nothing, gaze still fixed on the ground before him.
“Anyway,” Bravo continues, looking up at Atlas again, “it wasn’t hard to beat his ass. And his avian buddy who came through after him, I beat his ass, too. They’re shit PVPers.”
Atlas nods sagely.
(He’d noted a wide variation of skill level amongst the players of Tango’s world, but even the most skilled of them would likely have trouble taking on the average Hels player in one-on-one combat. A group ambush with a large pack of wolves is a rather different thing.)
“Got all the others in a lava trap after the fact,” Bravo says, “but uh, then the avian broke free and tried to stop me, so uh, you know, push came to shove and…”
Atlas gives him a knowing look. “You lost your temper again?”
“None of your damn business,” Bravo hisses, but he looks away as he says it.
“Mmm.” Atlas folds his arms behind his back. “You’re rather fortunate that the bond they shared didn’t transfer to this world, or you would’ve lost Tango as well.” He’d never seen or heard of players sharing health, but then again, he’d never been to worlds outside of Hels before. Whether or not the connection existed off-world was anyone’s guess.
Bravo rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, thanks, I- I figured that out while I was fightin’ them. Give me a little credit, jeeze.”
“Of course.” Atlas inclines his head. “Well, I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Bravo. I suspect you’ll be taking your leave, then?”
“Yeah, I’m leavin’ through their portal,” Bravo says, lifting his chin. “But uh, once I’m gone, I’m gonna break it so- so you shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else from that world showin’ up again.”
(A small part of Atlas wonders if the overworld players might’ve done that themselves already. It’d be the smart thing to do, to prevent any unwanted visitors. But he’s also aware that overworld players seem far too sentimental for their own good. If they cared enough to come here after Tango, then they would be loath to eliminate their best chance at finding him again.
No, they would leave that portal open at any cost. Bravo ought to be prepared to fight them in order to break it. But no matter- if he is unsuccessful, and the overworlders come through again, Atlas will find out via chat long before they arrive at his doorstep. He has nothing to worry about in that regard. He would even welcome the addition of a few more hybrid-powered farms. After all, with Tango back, he can once again set his sights on plans for the Phase Two expansion.)
“Excellent,” Atlas says. “Then I suppose that concludes our business.”
“Sure does.” Bravo picks up a foot and plants it squarely against Tango’s back, sending him face-first into the ground. Tango grunts in pain, but remains where he is. “Now, you can have your guys come grab him, okay, but don’t- don’t try anything shifty, alright? I’m not in the mood for another fucking backstab.”
Atlas idly waves a hand, permitting the two guards at his side to move forward. “Oh, no need to concern yourself with that, Mr. Bravo,” he says. “Your usefulness to me has always started and ended with leading me to Tango.”
Bravo’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing as the guards drag Tango away. He simply watches, grip tight around his sword; he’ll likely wait until they’re out of sight before returning to his base, just to be safe.
(His continued caution, while generally wise to have in Hels, is unfounded. Atlas has no further need of him, and there’s no reason to waste any more time or energy going after him. Some of the pettier, more short-sighted residents of Hels would try to get a kill in, just out of spite. But Atlas is quite satisfied to have won in the end, and has no desire for payback. Not when Bravo could so easily become a problem again. No, best to let it end here.)
Tango, for his part, remains silent as well. It’s evident that he took quite a beating; he’s limp in their grasp, head hanging forward, making no movement as he’s brought before Atlas. It’s oddly reminiscent of the last time they were face-to-face back in the overworld. He’d been just as resigned then, and that was before they even put the collar on him.
“Not going to fight, Mr. Tango?” Atlas asks, mock surprise dripping from his voice.
Tango finally lifts his head, glaring weakly up at Atlas. “What’s the point?”
Atlas’s grin sharpens.
(And here lies the beauty of his trap. His real trap, not the one they set for Tango back in the overworld. The trap of the mind. Decades in the making, represented by the still-present cuffs on his wrists, the collar locked around his throat. A broken spirit is a far more effective prison than anything Atlas can build in a lab.)
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he hums, turning towards the ships. “Now, let’s get you home. Farewell, Mr. Bravo,” he adds over his shoulder.
Bravo doesn’t reply, but Atlas can feel his eyes burning into his skull the entire walk back.
~*~
Tango scans his comm with wide eyes, his heart starting to pound.
All the Double Lifers are here. In Hels. Once again, despite his best efforts, his friends have insisted on putting themselves in danger for his sake. He really shouldn’t be surprised. And sure, it’s touching, but it’s also scary as hell. While he might’ve warmed up to the idea of actually letting the people who care about him help solve his problems, that doesn’t mean he wants them traipsing around Hels on their own.
“What is this?” Bravo demands. His gaze darts around the cavern, as if the others are going to appear out of thin air around him. “What’s goin’ on?”
Jimmy inhales through his teeth. “The others must’ve seen that we left and came through the portal after us.”
Tango nods. “Yeah, I- I didn’t get a chance to break it, so-”
“Wait,” Bravo says, “you were gonna break the portal?”
Tango gives him an incredulous look. “Uh, yeah, of course I was gonna break the portal!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I- I wanted to avoid this exact situation, them comin’ here after me, or- or any Hels players goin’ through to Double Life! Breakin’ the portal was the only way.”
Bravo’s eyes narrow. “Are you- that would’ve trapped us here, are you insane?” he hisses. “If you’re here, I can’t open a portal to you. I mean, I- Timmy could’ve done it, instead, but- but you didn’t know he was with me!” He takes a step forward, placing himself between them and Timmy. “Did you even think about that? What did- how were you plannin’ on getting us outta here, huh?”
The sudden suspicion in his voice takes Tango aback. It’s a borderline accusation, almost implying that he came here under false pretenses. As if he could hate Bravo enough to willingly strand himself in Hels forever, just to screw Bravo over.
It’s a very Hels kind of thought.
“Hey, back off!” Jimmy warns, his wings puffing up defensively.
Tango holds his hands up. “Woah, woah, take it easy! I knew the risks, yeah, but I- I figured between the two of us, we could reconstruct a portal and- and then find some random Hels player to use? We’d escape Hels to some random world, wherever their counterpart was, and at that point, our comms would be able to open portals again.” He clears his throat. “I uh, I wasn’t about to let you back into Double Life after everything, okay, but I- I wasn’t gonna let you stay here, either.”
“Oh.” Bravo looks away. The tension leaves him as quickly as it came. “Right, right, sorry.”
Tango exhales slowly. “It’s fine.”
He knows better than to take it as a personal insult; after all, he keenly recalls a time when he used to be paranoid like that, too. When he’d first joined Hermitcraft, he’d second-guessed everything, even though the Hermits had given him absolutely no reason to do so. It was just something ingrained in him from growing up in a world where everyone was out to get him.
Evidently, Bravo’s learned that lesson during his time in Hels, too.
“Uh, guys,” Jimmy interjects, “we should go get ‘em before they get hurt, or- or stray too far from the portal.”
“Right, right.” Tango glances at Bravo. “Uh, can you trigger that dropchute skadoodler from down here? To open the top?”
Bravo nods. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, hang on…” He turns and hits a well-camouflaged deepslate button on the wall. Pistons churn, and the wall opens up into his hidden entrance, a dimly-lit hallway stretching beyond it.
Tango’s abruptly reminded of how he used to hide his own Hels base. “Nice,” he says, before he can help himself. “The uh, secret button thing. Very smart.”
Bravo squints at him for a moment, as if debating whether the compliment was genuine. “Sure,” he finally settles on, before looking over his shoulder at Timmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.” Then he disappears around the corner.
“I’ll send Impulse a message,” Tango says, pulling up his chat. “Jimmy, can you fly up there and get ‘em? They can just drop down through the chute, we’ll put some water down or somethin’ in case they land where the cobwebs have been cleared.”
“Right, good call.” Jimmy presses a quick kiss to Tango’s forehead before turning away. “Back in a flash.”
Wings flaring, he takes off up the dropchute. Tango quickly drafts a whisper to Impulse- just a quick ‘stay put, jimmy otw’- before turning to the pit. He normally doesn’t care much for water, but he’d made sure to bring a bucket with him. Even though he’s not good at the whole MLG bucket clutch thing, he knew it could help in a pinch, and water-containing biomes in Hels are few and far between.
“Oh!” Timmy pipes up. “I have water, too!”
Tango looks over in surprise. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, here, just… fill in where the gaps are, okay?”
Timmy nods, shuffling over to stand beside Tango as he pulls a water bucket from his inventory.
It really is strange. They have the exact same voice, only Timmy’s is slightly fainter. Like he’s afraid to speak at full volume. He’s also got this nervous, hesitant way of moving- as if Tango’s going to reprimand him for getting too close. Even though he’s not Jimmy, it pulls at Tango’s heartstrings to see someone so similar to the man he loves in such a desperate state.
It’s a stark reminder of what Tango already knows. Hels has plenty of violent, cruel players that like to throw their weight around, but there are plenty of victims, too.
“There.” Tango puts his empty bucket away, surveying their handiwork. “That should do it.”
Timmy eyes the dropchute apprehensively. “Are they... all comin’ down here? All at once?”
Tango softens. “Hey, it’s alright. These are good friends of mine, okay, you- they aren’t gonna cause trouble.”
“Yeah.” Bravo pokes back out from the hallway, crossing over to them. “I wouldn’t let ‘em hurt you, anyways.”
Tango snorts. Distrust notwithstanding, the protectiveness is kind of cute to see. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bravo asks, immediately on-guard again.
“Nothing!” Tango insists, exasperated. “Gosh, would you- can you maybe chill out a bit? There’s no sneaky double-cross here, alright, I- I’m not like Atlas.”
Bravo blinks. “I know that,” he says uncertainly.
Tango wisely chooses not to point out his tone. “Okay, then.”
Timmy looks anxiously between them. “Are we… is everythin’ alright?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands. “There’s not gonna be anymore fightin’, is there?”
Bravo grimaces. “No, no, sorry. We’re good.” He glances sidelong at Tango. “I uh, I think some of these other guys might have… mixed feelings, seein’ me again, but I’m not gonna start anything.”
Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Don’t worry, I- I’m sure Jimmy will give them the low-down. None of them would just attack on sight, anyways.”
Bravo tenses, like he’s taken it as another slight against him, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Right.”
Before an awkward silence can descend, Jimmy’s voice echoes down the dropchute.
“Incoming!”
Tango puts an arm out, prompting Bravo and Timmy to back up from the edge of the pit. Jimmy swoops out from the chute a second later, followed closely by Grian and Pearl, wings fanning out to glide. The rest of the Double Lifers plunge behind them, landing amongst the cobwebs and water streams in a cacophony of shouts.
From there, it’s a chaotic few minutes as they work to help everyone else out of the pit. Swords make quick work of the cobwebs, hastily-placed blocks serving as a makeshift stairwell. There are lots of overlapping questions and exclamations, of course, as Tango reunites with his friends- demands to know what he was thinking and why he decided to tackle Hels by himself, which he expected.
But there are lots of tight hugs, too. Their anger is short-lived, fueled only by the fear that they’d lost him for good. It’s a mix of emotions. He’s humbled and relieved, sheepish but reassured by his friends’ care for him. All the while, though, he’s keeping an eye on Bravo and Timmy out of the corner of his eye, part of his mind keenly aware that they’re working with limited time.
“Hey, so,” he says eventually, clapping his hands, “uh- I hate to cut the reunion short, guys, but we gotta get goin’ here.”
Jimmy slips into place beside him, draping a wing over his shoulders. “Right,” he says, lifting his voice to address the room. “Um, so you guys already know Bravo. And uh, this is Timmy, my- my doppelgänger I was tellin’ you about.”
Bravo merely offers a nod, Timmy shyly peeking out from behind him- which is almost impressive, considering their height difference. The chorus of greetings that resounds from the Lifers makes him shrink back even further, so the room quickly hushes again. Tango can tell that everyone is incredibly curious about Timmy, but they’re kindly holding back for his sake.
Jimmy gives a half-hearted smile. “He’s, uh- he’s a bit shy, you see.”
“So.” Impulse steps out from the group, walking right up to Bravo- who steps forward to meet him. “Jimmy uh, he told us that you and Tango came to an understanding,” he says, staring Bravo down, “that you’re gonna help us out.”
Bravo lifts his chin. “That’s right.”
“Well, I wanna hear it from you,” Impulse says evenly. His golden eyes are hard in a way that Tango rarely sees. “I wanna actually hear that uh… you’re sorry for everything you did.”
Tango puts a hand out. “Impulse, now’s really not the time-”
“No,” Bravo says, unexpectedly. “No, I- I suppose that’s fair.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flitting over the group. “I mean, I don’t blame you for not trustin’ me, it was your home that I helped invade.”
“And our friend you hurt!” Scar adds indignantly. He’s got an arrow notched in his bow, though he has yet to draw it.
Bravo winces. “Right. Well, I was wrong, okay? I was wrong to help Atlas attack you, and to say all that stuff about Tango, and blame him for this whole Hels situation.” He exhales heavily. “I’m sorry.”
Impulse studies Bravo for a moment, his forked tail lashing back and forth, before he eases back. “Alright, then.” He folds his arms, evidently satisfied, and turns to Tango. “So, what’s the plan?”
Tango lets out a breath, grateful for the change of topic. “Well, we know Atlas has the key to this stupid collar thing. But I mean, I’m not sure how we’re gonna get it from him.”
Grian raises his brows, eyes wide behind his tinted shades. “Um, hang on a second… so- so you dipped through the portal on a mission to Hels, by yourself, in the middle of the night… and you didn’t even have a plan?”
Tango feels himself flush. “Hey, I- I was under a lotta stress, okay!” he defends. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that far ahead!”
Luckily Impulse cuts back in. “Do we know where Atlas is now?”
Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Hels Tek is a few days away on foot, but they’ve got flying machines. They can make the trip in a fraction of the time. They’re probably already out there looking for Tango- or, at least, they’re gonna be real soon.”
Impulse rubs his chin. “Why don’t we just lure him here, then, and jump him?”
“Oh hey, yeah,” Jimmy chimes in, “we could have Bravo send him a message askin’ him to meet, like he’s sellin’ Tango out?”
Bravo frowns. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Jimmy asks, rounding on Bravo. “We made quick work of ‘em last time.”
Bravo holds his hands up. “Look uh, no offense,” he starts, immediately making everyone tense, “but you guys only won last time ‘cause Atlas didn’t expect much of a fight. He brought all those guys just for Tango. Didn’t help that they were some of the dumbest grunts I’ve ever seen. Plus, you uh, you had about a gazillion wolves to act as cannon fodder, so.”
Ren pins his ears back in obvious offense. “Uh, really?”
“Excuse me?” Pearl demands, crossing her arms. “I dunno ‘bout cannon fodder, now…”
“Yeah,” Joel jumps in, “uh, I’m pretty sure we destroyed those guys.”
“Yeah!” Bdubs echoes, puffing out his chest. “We- we ain’t scared’a no punks!”
Bravo scowls. “You guys are missing the point-”
“And you’re not helpin’!” Jimmy retorts.
“No,” Tango says, “Bravo’s right.”
The sudden surprise that falls over the room is palpable. Even Bravo seems taken aback by Tango agreeing with him. But despite the combined attention from each pair of eyes in the room, Tango doesn’t shy away.
He normally hates being in any sort of leadership role. Taking charge over a large group of people? No thanks. It’s tempting to just go with what his friends want to do, to let them help the way they want. But the stakes here are too high to let self-consciousness interfere. While he trusts his friends, he also knows that he and Bravo are the only ones who actually know Atlas, and know what Hels Tek can really do.
It’s up to him to make sure they don’t go with a bad plan, just because it’s the easier route.
“Listen,” Tango says, spreading his hands, “Atlas knows you guys are here, okay, he would’ve seen you join in chat. He- he’s not gonna- even if we lure him here under the guise of handin’ me over, alright, he’s gonna be on guard and much better prepared than last time. That fight ain’t goin’ our way, trust me.”
Jimmy gives him a searching look. “Are you sure?” he asks softly, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Y’know, we- we aren’t afraid to fight.”
“I know,” Tango assures him. He reaches up to squeeze Jimmy’s hand, offering a faint smile. “And I appreciate it. But I- I’m not gonna just let you guys walk into certain death. We gotta be careful about this, okay? ‘Cause this,” he gestures at his collar, “is what Atlas came up with the last time he was able to plan ahead, and uh, that’s barely scratching the surface of what he’s capable of.”
Jimmy sobers at the reminder. Thankfully, the sentiment appears to sink in for the other Lifers as well, reflected in their expressions and dissipating tension.
Bravo gives Tango an acknowledging look- probably the closest thing he can muster to a ‘thank you.’ “Yeah, Atlas is a crafty bastard,” he says. “He’s- the only time he’s really vulnerable is when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. That’s when he slips up, when his hubris gets the better of him.”
Tango nods. “Atlas isn’t gonna relax ‘til I’m locked back in that farm.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, it hits him. Tango inhales sharply, and he can tell from the way Bravo’s eyes widen that they’ve both had the exact same thought.
“... oh.”
~*~
Relief floods through Bravo as the netherrack hill finally comes into view.
Before he and Tango left to meet Atlas, they’d decided to hide the portal in case anyone happened upon it. Neither of them had much skill in the way of terraforming, but they’d managed to scrape together a crude mound of netherrack that could pass as naturally-generated terrain, sloped to meet the surrounding landscape. He’d even lit a few pieces on fire with flint and steel as a final touch to help it blend in. It was probably overkill, considering he’d chosen to hide in this area for its seclusion in the first place, but better safe than sorry.
His feet are starting to ache from all the walking he’s done today, but he breaks into a jog as he closes the final distance. “You there, Timmy?” he calls, as loudly as he dares.
A block of netherrack pops out from the side of the hill, Timmy’s pale face appearing in the gap. “Bravo! You’re back!” Despite the faintness of his voice, he sounds overjoyed to see Bravo- like he always does, every time Bravo is apart from him.
Like he’s never certain if Bravo will come back.
“Hey.” Switching to his pickaxe, Bravo mines another block away to make an entrance. “You uh, you didn’t see anyone snoopin’ around here, right?”
Timmy backs up to let him inside. “No, all quiet.”
“Good.” Bravo quickly puts the blocks back into place behind him. Stashing his pickaxe in his inventory, he leans against the wall, blinking as he adjusts to the green-yellow-red light from the portal.
“Did it- did it go okay?” Timmy asks, wringing his hands together. Colored light swirls in the hollows of his cheeks.
Bravo nods. “Yeah, he bought it. They’re on their way back to Hels Tek now, should be there in a couple more hours.” He checks his clock and sets a timer on his comm; the day-night cycle is world-dependent, so they need to make sure they come back at the right time.
“Oh, that’s good.” Timmy’s wings ruffle behind him; even after Bravo trimmed the lower feathers, they still drag on the ground. “So… it’s all goin’ to plan so far?”
“Yep. Don’t worry.“ Bravo puts his comm away and pushes off from the wall, clearing his throat. “So uh, are- are you ready to leave?”
“Yeah.” Timmy lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I… I think so. It’s… hard to believe it’s finally happenin’, you know?”
A bittersweet smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. He’ll be returning to Hels within the day, but at least Timmy can get out. “Yeah, I know.”
“You promised me we would,” Timmy murmurs, his eyes soft. “Remember? You promised me we’d leave Hels, and now… now we are. I’d never- if it weren’t for you, I never would’a had the courage to leave, I- I’d still be at spawn.”
Bravo glances away, shrugging. “Maybe.”
“No, I know I would be.” Timmy dares to take a step forward. Even with his shoulders hunched and wings curled around him, he towers over Bravo in the cramped space. “Thank you.”
Bravo looks up at him, his throat tightening. “I don’t… you know I- I didn’t help you for the right reason,” he makes himself say. “Right?”
Timmy makes a noncommittal noise. “Maybe. Does it… does it really matter, now?”
Bravo’s eyes trace the sharp edges of Timmy’s hair; hair he’d cut in the misguided pursuit of a projected ideal. “It does to me.”
Of course Timmy wouldn’t hold it against him. Half a lifetime spent alone has left him desperate for any kind of love, just as starved for it as he is for food. He would probably tolerate far worse than Bravo’s done if it meant not being lonely again. But that doesn’t make it okay. Just because Timmy might be willing to forgive him doesn’t mean he deserves it.
Timmy’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, okay…”
Bravo pushes down his guilt. He doesn’t have time to hash out this kind of personal business, not when the whole Hels Tek mess still needs to be resolved. “Now let’s get goin’, the others are waiting.”
“Right.” Timmy backs away, gaze downcast to hide his disappointment. “After you, then.”
Squaring his shoulders, Bravo turns and walks into the light.
~*~
As soon as the words leave Tango’s mouth, Jimmy immediately realizes what they’re thinking.
“No,” he says. “No, no, no, no, no, no way.”
Tango turns to him, beseeching. “Jimmy-”
“No!” Jimmy insists, sweeping an arm out. “We aren’t- there’s no way we’re gonna let him put you back in that farm, Tango, it’s absolutely not happening!”
It’s insane to even consider it. After all the time Tango spent withering away in that farm, chained up like an animal, Jimmy would rather pull his feathers out than let Tango step back in there for even a second. He still has nightmares about that place a decade later; Jimmy fears this would completely break him.
(Come on, where’s your sense of drama?)
(What, do you have a better plan?)
(You can’t protect him forever.)
Bravo takes a step towards them. “Just hear us out-”
“You stay out of it!” Jimmy snaps, wings bristling. “I didn’t ask-”
“We’re on the same side, here!” Bravo protests.
“Don’t you start with that-”
“Hey.” Tango puts a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I know it’s not ideal, alright, but think about it. If we try to jump Atlas when he gets here, things are gonna turn out badly. He’ll be expecting it. But if we make him think he’s won, he’ll let his guard down. That’s the best chance we’ll have at pullin’ this off.”
Unfortunately, it makes sense. Jimmy hasn’t spent that much time around Atlas, while Tango and Bravo both worked with him for years. He has to trust their judgement.
(Ooh, this should be interesting.)
Jimmy swallows. “I… you’re probably right, but does it have to be that?” He cups Tango’s face, gently brushing his thumb over a darkening bruise. “I don’t- you’ve been through enough already, I- I don’t want you to suffer.”
Affection glimmers in Tango’s eyes. “I know,” he says, covering Jimmy’s hand with his own. “But I uh, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought I couldn’t handle it, alright? It won’t be for that long, I’ll be okay.” He glances at the rest of the group. “I promise.”
(Famous last words…)
Some of the Lifers exchange worried looks or uncertain murmurs, but ultimately, they seem to come to the same realization as Jimmy.
“If you’re absolutely sure…” Impulse relents.
Bravo clears his throat. “Good, that’s settled.” He doesn’t sound very sympathetic. “Now we just gotta make Atlas think you guys are out of the picture.”
Jimmy crosses his arms with a huff. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“Simple,” Bravo says. “You all jump in a lava pit, and I tell Atlas I got you in a trap.”
The reaction is instantaneous, several voices protesting at once.
“Absolutely not!”
“We aren’t gonna just leave you in Hels-”
“This is outrageous!”
“- can’t be serious?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Tango lifts his voice to quiet them, holding his hands up. “It’s the only way, alright? If Atlas sees your deaths in chat, he’ll know you respawned back home, so- so he won’t have any reason to suspect an attack when Bravo offers me up on a silver platter. If you guys don’t die, he might not even agree to meet.”
Jimmy fights to keep his voice steady. “So what, you just get thrown to the wolves? No backup at all?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Tango shrugs. “I don’t like it either, but making Atlas think he’s won is the best way to get one up on him.”
Jimmy frowns at his tone. He’s once again slipped into feigned nonchalance, acting as though he isn’t bothered at all by the prospect of being locked in the farm- the inhumane, painful, extremely traumatizing farm. Whether he’s pretending for their sake or his, Jimmy isn’t sure. The thought sits poorly with him either way.
But they don’t have a lot of options. If they don’t do this, the alternative would mean giving up and returning home, resigned to having that collar stuck on Tango forever- just like his cuffs. And he’s actually letting them help him this time, instead of trying to deal with it alone. Jimmy knows they can’t pass up this chance.
“Alright,” Jimmy sighs, running a hand through his hair, “so then… how are we gonna save you once you’re in Hels Tek?”
(Oh, go on then.)
(This should be good…)
(They just don’t know when to quit.)
Tango gives him a grateful look. “You’ll come back in the middle of the night, attack when he’s least expecting it.”
“Okay… sure,” Jimmy says hesitantly, “but once we come back through the portal, won’t our names show up in chat again, givin’ us away? I mean, even during the night, surely he’s got someone lookin’ out for that sorta thing?”
“Yeah, we’d be right back at square one,” Impulse points out, “except it’d be even worse ‘cause you’ll be locked inside Hels Tek.”
Grian knits his brows together. “Without flyin’ machines, it’s days away, right? They’ll have plenty’a time to mount a defense before we get there.”
“You won’t be coming back through that portal,” Tango says, jerking his head at the ceiling. “After the hand-off, Bravo’s gonna leave through it, and you’ll use him to open a new portal to me once I’m in the farm.”
Bravo folds his arms, nodding. “We’re gonna attack Hels Tek from the inside.”
~*~
It’s a long flight to Hels Tek.
Tango knew it would be, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. His body aches from the cramped position he’s in, stowed in one of the minecart seats with his hands still chained behind his back. The jostling of the pistons rattles his bones, ringing in his ears and pounding against his skull.
Worst of all is the constant gleeful malice he’s subjected to from Atlas. The doctor chatters almost constantly throughout the entire trip, pausing only to type the occasional message on his comm. He goes on and on about how Hels Tek will finally return to its former glory, how they’ve proved all those doubters wrong, how this just goes to show what hard work and determination can accomplish, yada-yada-yada.
Tango tries his best to tune him out. Just listening to that voice makes chills break across his skin.
(Whenever he has nightmares about Hels Tek, Atlas is always the face of it. There were plenty of other scientists that tortured him, of course. Honestly, Atlas had very little to do with the hands-on side of things. But he was always there to oversee it. Always looming in the background with that sickly grin, observing every test, every new cruelty with his sharp gaze.
But more than that, he was the one who brought Tango to Hels Tek in the first place. Under the guise of offered allegiance, of guidance, of belonging. He was the one who first made Tango believe that he could be capable of more than he ever dreamed of. The one who told him there was another way, a better way, than the chaos and violence of Hels. He’d promised Tango a home, then turned around and betrayed him.)
It won’t be for very long, he reminds himself. He just needs to hang on for a few hours.
Eventually, Hels Tek emerges from the red mist. The facility has expanded in Tango’s absence. There’s a new addition built onto one side, and another floor added to the central structure- if the extra height is anything to go by. It towers before him imposingly, like a great, toothed maw ready to consume him.
The convoy of flying machines steers around the side of the building, over the surrounding lake of lava, and into the garage. There’s another team of players waiting for them inside, the cavernous room quickly filling with noise as they begin to unload. Tango keeps his head down as he’s man-handled from the flying machine, two guards taking up position on either side of him. Their thick hands nearly encircle the entire width of his arms, rendering any hope of escape null and void.
It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to escape, he just needs to wait.
Atlas nods at them. “Off we go, gentlemen.”
Hels Tek is a maze of hallways and doors, as always. Tango’s eyes track the polished quartz floor as they make turn after turn, mapping out the route in his mind. It’s gotten a few detours here and there, presumably to accommodate all the new expansions, but he recognizes their path as soon as they turn towards the south wing.
Despite himself, his heart starts to pound. He forces a slow breath through his nose.
He can do this. It won’t be for long. They have a plan- his friends will come for him soon. It’s not for forever.
Atlas opens the final door for them with a grand sweep of his arm. “Here we are!” he announces, ushering them inside. “I’m sure you’ll recognize it, Mr. Tango.”
The farm hasn’t changed that much since the last time Tango saw it- but with the way it’s burned into his memory, he’d notice any change, no matter how small. The glass in the front has been replaced- or maybe just cleaned- and there are quite a few more chains attached to the back wall than he remembers, including a short one that looks about neck height.
For the collar, he assumes. So he can’t repeat his last escape act.
He hadn’t intended to fight. He wanted Atlas to think he was resigned to his fate, completely and utterly defeated. That’d be the safer move, for sure. But then one of the guards equips a shimmering pickaxe, mining up the glass blocks to open the farm. And suddenly he’s being dragged towards it, towards the beckoning wither roses within, and every other thought and intention flies clean out of his mind.
Tango screams.
“No! No, no, no, don’t-” He writhes in the grip of his captors, mindless and desperate. “Don’t put me back in there! No, please!”
It’s futile, of course. His pleas go unanswered, his feeble escape attempts easily overcome as the guards shove him into place. The first pricks of wither rose break skin. Panic threatens to overwhelm him. He screams with a voice that’s foreign to him, shrill and harsh in his ears, vision blurring with tears that are already starting to run cold and black.
“Oh dear,” Atlas tuts, somewhere behind him, “you know you’re simply delaying the inevitable, don’t you?”
Tango fights with all the remaining strength in his tired body, twisting and thrashing to the point of rubbing his own skin raw, trying in vain to lash out, to claw or strike or bite. But the guards are bigger, and stronger, and seem to have been expecting this. They pull one of his hands to the respawn anchor, forcing his spawn to reset. Then they wrestle the chains around him, overlapping the old cuffs around his wrists and locking new ones into place around his ankles, arms, and legs, and clipping onto his collar. Altogether, it renders even the slightest movement impossible.
“Honestly, I thought we trained you better than this. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Tango doesn’t think he’s even screaming words anymore. It’s almost animalistic, a wail of pure terror and desperation, his inner fire trying but failing to respond.
“You may have fooled your new ‘friends,’ but I know what you really are. What you’ve always been.”
As a final touch, they wind the wither rose vines tightly around his body, their thorns digging into his skin. The wither effect is in full force now- that choking blackness consuming him from the inside out. There was a time he’d gotten so used to being withered that he’d scarcely noticed it, not unless it went unchecked and overpowered his health enough to kill him. But after going so long without it, it’s far worse than he remembers; like being plunged into an icy lake.
“And we can’t have you living a lie anymore, can we? Now you’re finally back where you belong.”
Satisfied with their handiwork, the guards step back and replace the glass wall of the enclosure, sealing Tango inside. His reflection stares back at him helplessly, a distorted sense of self.
Atlas steps forward, grinning broadly, and hits a button on the wall.
The hoppers above Tango unlock, immediately siphoning away the blaze rods hovering around his skull. The dispenser beside him spits out a potion of regeneration, particles fluttering around him as his health begins to even out.
Tango dissolves into broken sobs. The dread that envelops him is almost suffocating, all-consuming, stealing his breath as completely as the wither rose flooding his veins. Distantly, he tries to hold on to a shred of hope, the reminder that his friends will be coming to save him. But it’s hard to believe it, amidst the haze of crushing, freezing agony.
Atlas leers at him from behind the glass.
“Welcome home, Tango Tek.”
~*~
Jimmy chews his lip, his wings shuffling uncertainly behind him.
Invading Hels Tek in the middle of the night is a solid plan, he supposes- if a bit vague. But it’ll certainly put them in a much better position than meeting Atlas on an even playing field. If they open a portal to Tango, they can just show up in the heart of the facility, with no warning whatsoever. Then it’d just be a matter of finding Tango to break him out, finding Atlas to kick his ass, and then returning home through the portal without getting caught.
Simple.
“... I still don’t like it,” Jimmy says, “but if you think that’s the best way to get the drop on Atlas, then I’m with you.”
(Oh, I was hoping they’d go this route.)
(Hels Tek vs Double Life, round two? Yes, please!)
(Can’t wait to see this…)
Tango gives him an appreciative- though slightly apprehensive- smile. “Good. Good, that’s… the best chance I can see us havin’, yeah.”
“There’s one problem,” Bravo says, frowning. “I’m sure once Atlas has you back in the farm, he’s gonna assign a guard to watch you. And as soon as that guard sees a portal spawn in the room, he’s gonna alert Atlas or- or set off an alarm or somethin’, and by the time everyone’s through, our presence will already be known.”
Tango tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he amends. “But it’ll give us a hell of a better head start. It’s still our best shot.” He crosses his arms. “Unless there’s anyone else here who’s got a doppelgänger in Hels Tek?”
He sounds like he’d meant it as a joke, but Bravo scans the group before shaking his head. “No, I- I only recognize a couple of you from your doppelgängers, and uh, they aren’t at Hels Tek.”
Jimmy only has a second to feel confused before Etho chimes in. “Oh, yeah, you mentioned that last time,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That you’ve met my doppelgänger before?”
Bravo huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Your Hels is probably somewhere on the other side of the world right now, and he’s an asshole.” He nods at Impulse. “Your Hels might help us if we show up at his place, but uh, I- I don’t fully trust him. Think he’s got ulterior motives. And his place is still days from Hels Tek, we’d lose the surprise advantage, anyway.”
Impulse looks stunned. “Oh. Okay, then…”
“Hey!” Bdubs barks suddenly. “That’s- what’re you- hyaugh, you- what’s the big idea? Callin’ people- other people’s counterparts bad?” He puts his hands on his hips. “Like- like you’re a barrel a’roses, yourself?”
Bravo shrugs. “Well, sorry, but it’s true.”
An abrupt thought grabs Jimmy. The way Bravo’s acting right now- everything from his terse posture to his bored expression to his flippant tone- is exactly how Tango acts when he’s trying to pretend that he’s unaffected. It’s so obvious, now that Jimmy’s actually looking.
Clearly, his friends’ counterparts have made a greater impression on Bravo than he wants to let on. Must’ve been some pretty… intense experiences, to have left such an impact.
That’s… an uncomfortable thought for another time. Not that it would reflect at all on Etho or Impulse, of course- Jimmy knows better than anyone that all doppelgängers are their own people. It’s just… he hasn’t really given much thought to what his friends’ counterparts might be like, whether any of them would be as nasty and cruel as the players who invaded from Hels Tek.
Tango seems just as uneasy about this topic. “Okay, so- so what are you sayin’?” he asks shortly.
Bravo spreads his hands. “Hey, openin’ a portal to you once you’re inside is still our best option, okay, I mean- I’m just sayin’ we’ll just have to be ready to move, quick.”
“Um yeah, we got that,” Jimmy says, managing not to roll his eyes. “I- I wouldn’t expect any of us to be lollygaggin’ anyways-”
“Hey,” Bravo snaps, “we’ve only got one shot at this, alright? I’m just-”
“Actually,” Grian speaks up unexpectedly, stepping forward. “I… might know a better way. But uh, not unless everyone gets real cool about a bunch’a stuff really quickly.”
Jimmy exchanges a look with Tango, seeing his surprise mirrored in his expression. The room’s attention shifts to Grian, equal parts curiosity and confusion.
(No, surely he’s not gonna…)
(Oh wow, did not see that coming!)
(It’s about time, huh?)
Scott folds his arms. “Go on,” he says cooly, his eyes narrowing. For some reason, it almost seems like he knows what Grian’s about to say.
Grian swallows. “So, I... have this ability to uhh… kinda, sorta... see between worlds? Like, if I know what I’m lookin’ for, I can uh... project myself, in a sense, and view players without them knowin’.”
Whatever Jimmy might’ve been expecting to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. “Are you jokin’, mate?” he asks, knitting his brows together.
“No, no,” Grian says carefully, “I… I’m bein’ serious.”
Scar gasps. “Wha- Grian, you never told me you were a hacker!” he says indignantly. “You know how good spectator mode would be for pranks?”
Grian presses his mouth into a thin line. “It’s not spectator mode, Scar… though, I- I guess the idea’s similar.”
Jimmy’s mind races. He knows there are quite a few things in the universe that he doesn’t understand- mainly those in the game-breaking and modding communities- so he supposes this wouldn’t be completely out of the question. He’s just shocked that Grian’s never brought it up before now.
Though most of the group seems to share his surprise, there are a couple odd reactions among them. Scott merely nods, expression stony, while Martyn looks bewildered- except, not in the expected way. It’s less like he’s surprised to hear this ability exists, and more that he’s surprised to hear Grian has it.
But whatever’s going on with those two can wait. One thing at a time.
“Oh,” Bravo says, sounding somewhere between confusion and annoyance. “You, uh- is there a particular reason you didn’t mention this earlier, or…?”
Jimmy shoots him a look. “That’d be well helpful, then,” he tells Grian. “If you don’t mind?”
Grian looks away. “I uh, I don’t like to do it,” he says, by way of an explanation. “For- for a few reasons. And I can’t do it for very long. But um… if there’s a chance I’ll find someone else we can open a portal to, that would let us sneak in undetected… yeah, I don’t mind.”
Tango blinks, his eyes wide. “Um. Okay, wow, I- I mean- sure? That’s…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve never even heard of that before, how did- do you know how or- or why you’re able to-”
“Uh, Tango,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “maybe now’s not the time?”
He can tell from the way Grian’s wings are drawing up, feathers ruffled, that he’s uneasy with this line of questioning. Even though Tango has no ill intent, just the excitement of puzzling out a new discovery, there obviously must be reasons Grian’s kept this to himself for so long. It’s his right to decide when and how to share that information.
(Ah, gonna make that mistake again?)
“You’re right,” Tango says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right, sorry.”
Jimmy offers Grian a smile. “Thank you, for tellin’ us. We could use all the help we can get, so, I- I’d welcome some recon. Don’t really see how that could be a bad thing.”
Grian cracks a wry grin, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.
(You sure about that, Tim?)
The sudden echo of Grian’s voice in his head makes Jimmy jump. Realization crashes into him shortly after; he did hear Grian in his thoughts that one time! Well, that’s… kind of creepy, he’ll admit, but it’s a relief he’s not completely cracking under the stress. Not yet, anyways.
Grian falls silent and completely still- save for his breathing. He doesn’t even blink. It almost feels like he’s staring through Jimmy, rather than at him, and his eyes have definitely changed color- though, from behind the tinted lenses, Jimmy can’t tell which one. Maybe that’s the point.
A chill runs down his spine. Seems like Tango wasn’t the only one here living with a secret. But if this whole journey with Tango has taught Jimmy anything, that doesn’t mean Grian’s any less trustworthy. His past is his own business; Jimmy’s sure he’ll explain more when he’s ready.
After a few moments, Grian pushes his glasses up and grins. “I think I know a guy who can help us out.”
~*~
“Right,” Mumbo says. “Okay, uh- lemme see if I understand this.”
(The Double Lifers have settled in what he’s been told is Tango and Jimmy’s house- or, rather, their ranch? It’s charming, in a rustic sort of way, but also a bit cramped, if he’s honest. Especially in the basement, where they’re all gathered around a glowing red portal. A hacked nether portal, apparently. Goodness, what shenanigans they’ve gotten up to…
He’s familiar enough with the Double Life roster. Save for Lizzie and Skizz, it’s everyone else from Last Life- many of them Hermits he’s known for ages. The only one missing is Tango. Despite the fact that they joined Hermitcraft within a short timespan of each other, he regrets that he hasn’t actually gotten to know the other redstoner all that well. They’re friendly, of course- just as much as any of the other Hermits.
But Mumbo certainly didn’t know about any of… this.
So when Grian turned up on Hermitcraft out of the blue- after none of the Double Lifers had been seen ‘round in the last two weeks or so- and insisted Mumbo needed to join Double Life immediately to help Tango, he hadn’t known what to think. He’d agreed, of course, but the rapid-fire explanation Grian provided at the time is still… struggling, a bit, to sink in.)
Grian nods. He’s perched on top of the portal, his upper set of wings just barely brushing the ceiling. “Go on, then.”
Mumbo runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. We-” he gestures to the gathered players, “all have these... alternate-world doppelgänger versions of ourselves called Hels? Like- like Helsknight and Welsknight?”
“Yup.” Grian discretely wipes a purple-stained tear from behind his glasses. He must’ve done something his eyes didn’t like; Mumbo will privately check in later, make sure they don’t need any repairing while he’s here.
“And Tango is one of these Hels,” Mumbo continues, “for- for some guy named Bravo?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy, leaned against one side of the portal, has got an uncharacteristic glower on his face. His wings are drawn-up and ruffled in a way that Mumbo recognizes as unhappy. Seems he isn’t fond of this Bravo character, though Mumbo isn’t sure why he’s so personally invested- “He had this ridiculous notion that Tango ‘stole’ what should’ve been his life,” Jimmy scowls, “even thought we would’a been soulmates.”
(Oh, that’s right. He’s Tango’s soulmate, at the moment. That was the gimmick of this world, Grian explained, but for some of them it’s turned into something more. Yet another surprise; from what little time Mumbo spent around Jimmy in previous seasons, he hadn’t noted any feelings of that nature towards Tango. But then again, they don’t often have time to focus on feelings amidst the throes of a death game.)
“But he’s come around, now, right?” Impulse prompts from back of the room. He’s stood beside a sugar cane farm shoved in the corner, golden eyes shining in the dim light.
Jimmy glances away. “Right, yeah.”
“Right,” Mumbo says haltingly. “Which is… well, it’s a bit- it’s a bit strange, isn’t it? This whole idea of doppelgängers, and a just absolutely wild prison world, and…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway. Right now, Tango is trapped on his home world, in an evil redstone lab that’s… usin’ him for a blaze farm?”
(The thought turns his stomach. Having spent much of his life living and working among all manner of mob hybrids, he can’t imagine ever doing such a horrible thing. Mobs- true, naturally spawned, full-coded mobs- are completely different entities from players. Anyone with even a basic understanding of data analysis knows that.
If these are redstone scientists of a supposedly high caliber, then either the state of technology in this Hels world is far behind that of the rest of the universe, and they truly believe Tango to be more mob than player… or they do understand, and just don’t care.)
Jimmy’s eyes darken. “Yeah. They’re evil, alright.”
Guess it’s the second thing, then.
Mumbo’s eyes trace the redstone circuitry surrounding the portal. “And you need my data in order to open a portal to my uh, my- my Hels guy, doppelgänger fella, who’s a scientist at said lab, so you can rescue Tango?”
“That’s right.” It’s Etho who confirms this time, his mismatched gaze staring down from atop the sugar cane farm. “The explanation’s kinda involved, but there’s like, a weird connection between counterparts that can be used to lock onto coords and open a portal, ‘cause uh, normal comm portals don’t work goin’ in or out of Hels.”
“Right.” Mumbo exhales slowly. He starts tugging at his mustache before he can remind himself to stop, snatching his hand back down again. “Um, well- well that explains a lot, actually, about Tango, and why we’ve gotten radio silence from Double Life for the last couple’a weeks.”
Grian winces. “Yeah, sorry, it’s uh... a bit of a long story. I’ll fill you in later, but right now, we gotta work out a proper plan to rescue Tango.”
“Oh, right.” Mumbo blinks, taken aback. He fusses with his tie. “Alright, um, I- I- I’m not sure how much help I’d be with PVP, but…”
Grian shakes his head. “No, you’re gonna stay here,” he says, to Mumbo’s immense relief. “Y’know, to make sure the portal stays up and runnin’. And if we’re not back by tomorrow, we’ll… need you to go get X.”
“Hang on,” Jimmy cuts in, craning his head up to look at Grian. “I- I thought Tango specifically didn’t want to involve-”
“If we all get stranded in Hels, or worse, then we’ve got no other choice,” Grian says plainly.
Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “I… guess not.”
(Mumbo’s still catching up on all the dynamics at play, here. But from what he’s seen and been told, it wasn’t Tango’s choice to share his Hels heritage with the Double Lifers. He’d kept it secret all these years for good reason, apparently. Though, whether it was genuinely a good reason or it was something that Tango felt like was a good reason… Mumbo isn’t sure.
Everyone’s entitled to their own past. It’s not as if they often host group sharing circles on Hermitcraft. But spend enough time with someone, and certain things are bound to come up eventually. Mumbo’s gotten the sense before that Grian was far from the only Hermit keeping secrets. And he’s seen that squirrely, backed-into-a-corner look in Tango’s eyes enough to know he likely came from… less than ideal circumstances.
But that’s never been his business. After all, when Grian turned up on his redstone world one day with empty, bleeding eye sockets, Mumbo had helped him with no questions asked. The rest of the story came gradually, piece by piece.)
“Now,” Grian says, gaze flicking back to Mumbo, “Bravo and Timmy should be comin’ back through in a bit. We’ll close the portal behind ‘em, and then when the time is right, we’ll have you open another.”
“Right, okay…” Mumbo hesitates, scratching the back of his head. “Um, who’s Timmy?”
Grian groans. “I knew I forgot to mention somethin’.”
~*~
“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Tango cries, smacking his forehead. “Mumbo’s Hels was workin’ at Hels Tek this whole time? I- I- I can’t believe I never realized- oh wow, that’s- the powers of observation are just…”
He’s never recognized any of his friends as the counterpart to a player he knew in Hels. But how could he? It was so long ago- back then, he didn’t even know that Hels had overworld counterparts. He wouldn’t have assumed anything based on random similarities. And it wasn’t like he ever had a close, personal relationship with any of the people at Hels Tek…
Still, though. He feels incredibly foolish for never making the connection.
“Wow.” Bravo raises his eyebrows. Evidently, he became well-acquainted with Clear during his own time at Hels Tek. “Small universe, huh?”
Grian coughs into his fist. “Yeah, I uh, I don’t blame you for not recognizing him,” he tells Tango. “He’s… quite a bit different from Mumbo.”
That’s an understatement. Everything he remembers about Clear Cut is so different from Mumbo Jumbo- they’re almost opposites, right down to their names. Even their voices are different; Clear always had a thick, slurred way of speaking, his voice lower and rougher than he’s ever heard Mumbo’s. But maybe that’s less an inherent trait and more a reflection of the poor care he took of himself.
It makes Tango wonder what dictates how different a Hels will be from their counterpart. How much of it is based on codes and data, and how much is a result of the world they grow up in?
“Right. No, that- that makes sense.” Tango runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “And uh, that’ll actually work out pretty well. Clear has always been uh… out of the loop, we’ll say, for as long as I’ve known him. He’ll probably have no idea what’s goin’ on, so portaling in front of him shouldn’t raise any alarms.”
Bravo nods. “Yeah, plus he usually spends his time alone, ‘cause no one else can stand to work with him. Sounds like as good a plan as any.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” Grian says. He casts a look over the rest of the group. “After we respawn back on Double Life, I’ll hop over to Hermitcraft real quick and grab Mumbo. And while I’m at it, maybe I’ll see if any other Hermits wanna-”
“No,” Tango interrupts quickly. He can already see where this is going. “Look, I don’t- it’s bad enough that you all got mixed up in this, okay, I- I don’t wanna drag anyone else into Hels if I can help it.”
Okay, so maybe he hasn’t completely warmed up to the whole ‘asking people for help’ thing yet. But it’s different. Everyone on Double Life sort of became a part of this the moment Hels Tek invaded their world. They’re already at risk just by proxy, so of course they want to do all they can- despite the danger it puts them in.
He knows Atlas has already been eyeing other hybrids for his farms, and Hermitcraft is full of those. As of right now, there’s no feasible chance that he’d ever encounter them on his own. But if Tango rallies the rest of Hermitcraft to his aid, then he’s putting a target on their backs. That’s the last thing he wants to do to the place and the people that were his sanctuary for so long.
Jimmy frowns. “Tango, you know they’d all feel the same-”
“I mean it,” Tango says firmly. “I’m fine if you guys wanna help, alright, but don’t- no calling in the other Hermits.”
Grian purses his lips. “Fine. I’ll grab Mumbo and come straight back.”
Bravo looks between them before clearing his throat. “Okay, are we- I think we’re ready to get goin’ here, right?”
“What, now?” Jimmy asks, turning to him in surprise. “Hang on, we haven’t worked out the full plan yet-”
“The longer it takes for you guys to die, the more suspicious Atlas will be when I reach out to him,” Bravo explains impatiently. “We can hash out the rest of the details once we’re back in your world, alright, but it’s gonna take time for Atlas to get here. We should get the ball rollin’ now.”
Jimmy looks like he wants to argue, but Tango steps in. “Yeah, you guys should have plenty of time to work somethin’ out. You’ll have to wait ‘til night time to portal back, remember?”
“Right,” Jimmy says uncertainly, “but you won’t know the plan-”
“That’s okay.” Tango shrugs. “I trust you guys.”
It’s a scary proposition, sure. He’ll be completely at the mercy of his friends, simply having to just wait and hope their plan works. But they’ve more than proven their capability and commitment over the last couple weeks. If he can’t trust them with this, then he can never trust anyone else in the universe ever again.
Jimmy softens at that. “Alright, then,” he says, sounding touched.
“Good,” Bravo says, sounding decidedly less so. “Let’s draw your lava bath, then.”
“Does it have to be lava?” Joel complains, screwing his face up.
Bravo gives him an annoyed look. “It’s the most believable method for traps like this.”
“We’re gonna lose all our stuff,” Scott chimes in, arms folded. “We’re still kinda in th’ early game back on Double Life, so it’s not like we’ve got plenty’a resources ta’ spare.”
Bravo rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, just- you can give whatever you wanna keep to me and Timmy, we’ll be comin’ back through the portal, alright?” Crossing the room to the pile of chests, he rummages around in one for a second and then pops a couple of yellow shulker boxes down. “Here.”
Tango whistles. “Shulkers, huh? I uh, I didn’t even know shulkers existed ‘til I got out, how… where did you get shulkers in Hels?”
“Like I said, I’ve got a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs, but there’s an underlying tension in his voice telling Tango to drop it. “You guys get your stuff sorted. I’ve got lava buckets in here, we can just fill the pit… so uh, you all can go for a nice little dip.”
A quiet murmur fills the air while the Lifers set to their task, shuffling around the cavern as they load up the shulker boxes and pour lava into the pit from the buckets Bravo provides. Tango gives his own inventory a quick look-over, but none of the supplies he brought are really worth sending home.
Apprehension gnaws at Tango’s stomach. It’s all starting to feel real, now, the weight of the task set before him finally sinking in. However this ends, he’s going to have to face his past head-on. Back to where this nightmare started. No more running, no more hiding, no more lies.
He’s not sure if he’s ready for it. Even after ten years. But this life he’s built for himself- with his friends, with Jimmy- means enough for him to try.
“Alright,” Bravo says, studying the new lava pit with an approving nod, “I think we’re about ready-”
“Um, hang on,” Jimmy interjects, holding a hand up. “I arrived here well before the others, wouldn’t it be strange for me to get caught in the same trap as them? I mean, if we want him to think Bravo trapped near the portal- it’d be too convenient.”
“Oh, good point,” Tango says, dismayed. His and Jimmy’s join messages will have shown up earlier than the others’ in chat. “Atlas will definitely pick up on that.”
Bravo makes a noncommittal noise. “Well… maybe I could, uh…” He makes a stabbing motion. “You know.”
“What, kill him?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. Oh, he doesn’t like the thought of that at all. “Nuh uh. Not happening. We’ll figure somethin’ else out-”
“It would help convince him I’m not workin’ with you guys,” Bravo points out. “Just sayin’...”
“He’s right.” Jimmy puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder, resolve glimmering in his deep brown eyes. “If this plan is gonna work, we need Atlas to fully believe the story Bravo gives him. There can’t be any doubts or questions that would put him on edge, you know that.”
Tango does know that. But it doesn’t make him like the idea any more.
“I… I guess so,” he relents. “If you’re okay with it. I- I feel bad-”
“Tango, one quick death is nothin’ compared to what you’re takin’ on,” Jimmy tells him.
Tango jerks his shoulder in a shrug. “I guess.”
Jimmy studies him for a moment. Then he puts a wing up to shield them from the rest of the room, taking Tango aside. “Are you… sure you wanna do this?” he asks quietly. “We can just go back home, take some more time. Long as Bravo’s out of Hels, we know Atlas can’t come after us, so we can wait ‘til we’re good and ready.”
Once again, Tango is taken aback at how seriously Jimmy treats his feelings. It’s the sort of consideration he’d never expected to receive before he left Hels. This entire mess is solely his fault, and yet here Jimmy is, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable.
“No, I’m sure,” Tango says, giving him a reassuring smile. “I wanna finally be done with this- this whole thing. Like we said, it’s- the more time Atlas has to prepare, the less likely we’ll be to come out on top. I’d rather do this now, on our terms.”
“Alright, then.” Jimmy lowers his wing and looks over at Bravo. “We’re doin’ it.”
Bravo merely nods, but Tango catches the flash of surprise in his eyes. He probably expected Jimmy to be a lot more resistant to the idea, considering the tension between them. Just goes to show the lengths Jimmy’s willing to go for Tango.
(Whether or not he deserves it remains to be seen.)
Grian claps his hands together, drawing the attention of the room. “Okay, everyone ready?” he asks, surveying the group gathered around the pit. Seeing no objections, he continues, “Good. We’ll go all at once, now, so it looks like a trap.” He glances at Bravo. “You’ll message Atlas after you kill Tim- I mean, Jimmy, right, and then head back through the portal after the hand-off?”
Bravo pulls out his communicator. “Yep.”
Tango clears his throat. “Uh, real quick…” He steps forward, his gaze slowly traveling over the group. “Thanks, you guys, for doing this for me. I swear, I’m gonna make it up to you-”
“Just stop it,” Cleo huffs, looking down at him with a bemused expression. “It’s- it’s- it’s fine, we’re all fine. This is- it’s what friends do, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, we’ve got your back, buddy,” Impulse says warmly.
“Yes!” Ren pumps a fist in the air, lips drawn back into a fanged smile. “We shall show those heathenous scoundrels who they’re freaking messin’ with!”
A chorus of cheers and similar sentiments rises up from the group, and Tango feels his heart swell. He really can’t fathom how lucky he was to find such amazing friends. Even though they’re staring down a painful death and about to embark on an insanely dangerous mission, just for his sake, they harbor nothing but well wishes and high spirits.
Is it really any wonder he learned how to be a good person just by knowing them?
“Right, then.” Grian meets Tango’s gaze, offering a grin. “Good luck.”
Tango manages to smile back. “You too.”
“Okay, guys…” Grian turns to the pit, the lava below glinting in his lenses. “Here goes. Three, two, one… go!”
Tango doesn’t let himself look away as his friends jump into the lava, despite how upsetting it is- the screams of pain, the scent of burning. These deaths are on him. However this goes, he needs to make sure that all the strife he’s brought them is worth it. That, after today, none of them will have to worry about trouble from Hels ever again.
Their deaths are quick, thankfully, leaving the room in abrupt, unsettling silence.
“Okay, looks good,” Bravo says, glancing up from his comm.
Timmy, standing back against the far wall, peeks out from behind his hands, his ragged wings drawn around him like a blanket. “Is it over?” he asks meekly.
“Yeah, almost.” Bravo’s expression is unreadable, but it seems to Tango that his tone might have softened- just ever so slightly. “You can uh, head on up through the portal if you want.”
Timmy hesitates. “Um, I… think I’ll wait ‘til you come back from the hand-off,” he says, ducking his head. “If that’s alright.”
“Oh.” Bravo rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sure.”
Jimmy knits his brows together. “You sure you’re gonna be alright here by yourself, mate?”
Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, I’m... used to being alone.”
It doesn’t quite have the reassuring effect he might’ve been hoping for, as Jimmy exchanges a pained look with Tango. The guilt in his eyes is startling; it’s almost like Jimmy’s blaming himself for all the misfortune his doppelgänger suffered. As if it’s his fault Timmy was spawned into a prison world.
Yeah, Tango’s gonna have some words with him later…
“Well, that’s settled,” Bravo decides. He swaps out his comm for his sword, giving Jimmy a searching look. “Okay, uh… you ready to do this, then?”
Jimmy eyes the sword. “Yeah, just gimme a second,” he says, turning to Tango.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Tango beats him to it. He surges forward to wrap Jimmy in a fierce hug. “I love you,” he breathes, “so much.”
Jimmy responds instantly, wrapping his arms and wings around Tango just as tightly, sheltering them. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “And I promise you, we’re gonna get you outta there, alright, and- and we’re gonna take those jerks down. I’m not gonna let you get trapped there again, I promise.”
“I know,” Tango murmurs, tilting his head up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “And I- I’m so sorry that you got caught up in all this, all this- this craziness and all the pain it’s caused-”
“Ey, none of that, now,” Jimmy says lightly. “It’s okay. We’re soulmates, remember?”
Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “That was just random chance-”
“But I’d choose you again, you know.” Jimmy takes Tango’s face in his hands, somehow steadying yet impossibly gentle. “Even knowin’ what would happen, I’d choose you a million times over.”
Tango’s throat tightens.
(God, what he wouldn’t give right now to feel this love through their soulbond instead of that constant, underlying static. It’s not that he doubts Jimmy’s love for him, not at all. Jimmy has made it abundantly clear through everything he’s said and done, even through the hardship of these last couple weeks.
But when Tango was able to feel it, the actual physical sensation of that emotion being sent through their bond, it had given him something more tangible to ground himself with. Something he could cling to in the face of his worst fears and insecurities. Something he could almost point to and reassure himself, ‘Yes, this is real.’
It’s yet another thing Hels Tek has stolen from him- and at the same time, it’s a reminder of what he’s fighting to get back. Not just safety and peace of mind, not revenge for the pain he’s suffered, but the gift of pure, unfiltered love that Jimmy’s given him.)
There’s so much more he wants to say, but he knows they’re out of time. So he simply closes his eyes and leans up to meet Jimmy’s lips. He lifts a hand to cover Jimmy’s, letting the claws that he was once so ashamed of curl around Jimmy’s fingers, pouring all the emotion he’s left unsaid into the kiss.
He’s pretty sure Jimmy gets the message.
All too soon, Jimmy’s pulling back to face Bravo- though he doesn’t let go of Tango’s hand. He lets out a shaky breath. “Alright, I’m ready.”
Bravo, to his credit, doesn’t seem overly keen to murder Jimmy. “I’ll uh, I’ll make it quick,” he says, drawing his sword back. “Here goes.”
Tango squeezes Jimmy’s hand. He holds Jimmy’s gaze even as the glint of metal flashes in his periphery, and he doesn’t flinch when the blood sprays his face.
~*~
Bravo sits back, studying his handiwork with a discerning eye.
“Now this is rough, okay,” he starts, “but it’s- it’s a general idea of the layout.”
‘Rough’ is putting it nicely. The diagram he’s scrawled across several blank maps is hardly recognizable as a floorplan, and there are certainly parts of it that are lacking detail. But there are just some areas he never became that familiar with during his time at Hels Tek, for one reason or another, so it can’t be helped.
It’s better than nothing, anyways.
“This is Hels Tek?” Jimmy asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “It’s massive!”
He’s standing on the other side of the table across from Bravo- where he can keep an eye on Bravo without being too close. Though, space is a bit of a luxury at the moment. The living room they’ve gathered in isn’t all that much bigger than the basement where the portal was. Bravo thinks it’s the same ranch house where he confronted Jimmy and Tango for the first time; clearly, they rebuilt it after Tango burned it down.
Or, after it burned down in a fire that Tango accidentally started, while defending himself from Hels Tek. He’s not the one to blame for that, Bravo reminds himself.
It’s a quaint little home. Even though the room is packed full of players, Bravo can still make out all sorts of personal touches. Framed embroidery pieces hanging on the wall. Discarded golden feathers collected in a glass jar. A well-crafted rocking chair sitting in the corner, with ashen claw marks carved into its arm.
The Bravo of a few hours ago would’ve been tempted to attribute all the warmth in this place to Jimmy. All these sentimental, human touches… it’s beyond what should be capable for a blaze hybrid like Tango- at least, for the blaze hybrid Atlas portrayed him as. But looking around, Bravo can see his doppelgänger’s mark on this place clear as day, and he knows Tango had just as much a role in making this house a home as Jimmy did.
“Yep.” The avian with the quadruple set of wings and freaky spectating abilities, Grian, has perched atop his broad-shouldered companion, Scar- the one with the itchy trigger finger. “I- I didn’t see much of it when I was uh… havin’ a cheeky look, but I got that impression.”
Guess ‘a cheeky look’ is his way of saying ‘astral-projecting my consciousness through time and space to invisibly spy on unaware players.’ Whatever. Why not? This whole situation is already so goddamn weird…
“It’s a bit of a maze, yeah,” Bravo says. “Which is why we’ve gotta have a game plan worked out before we just go runnin’ in there all willy-nilly.”
Jimmy’s wings are hitching up around his shoulders, which Bravo only notices because he’s seen Timmy do the exact same thing when he’s uncertain. “Okay, then… so where do we start?”
“Well,” Bravo says, “if we open a portal to Clear, I- I bet we’ll spawn in the garage. He’s always in there workin’ on the flying machines, and I’m sure he’ll wanna tune ‘em up after Atlas gets back with Tango. I mean, there’s a chance he’ll actually go to sleep at a decent hour and we’ll spawn in his room, instead, but uh. It’s a small chance.”
“Ah.” Clear’s more sightly and hygienic doppelgänger, Mumbo, is standing beside Scar and fidgeting with his tie. There’s a knowing, sympathetic look in his reddish eyes. “Hard worker, is he?”
Bravo snorts. “Bit of an understatement, yeah.” He points at the map. “So let’s assume we spawn in the garage, here.”
“That’s a nice, big space,” Grian says approvingly. “Should let us get our bearings.”
“Yeah, for sure.” Bravo traces his finger along the lines. “The back wall here opens up to the lava lake that surrounds the whole place, and the entry to the rest of the facility is here. I think once we all spawn in, we should leave a couple people to guard the portal, make sure no one else stumbles across it.”
“I dunno,” Jimmy says, frowning. “Is splittin’ up really the smartest thing to do?”
Bravo shrugs. “I mean, we might be able to spawn another portal if we had to, but it’ll be our fastest way out of there and I’d like to keep it that way.” He gives Jimmy a sidelong look. “You really wanna risk someone breakin’ it before we can get back through?”
He knows exactly how hard it is to build a portal in Hels with the combined forces of Atlas and Alisker in pursuit. If it weren’t for an unexpected sponsorship agreement, it would’ve taken god only knows how long for him to gather all the necessary resources.
“I guess not,” Jimmy sighs. “Um, who should stay, then?”
Bravo’s mildly surprised at Jimmy’s willingness to defer to his judgement. He isn’t foolish enough to think Jimmy’s forgiven him, of course. But it seems like pulling off this mission matters more than holding a grudge.
He looks around the room, slowly examining the gathered players. Proper introductions were a rushed affair after he and Timmy came back through the portal. In an ideal situation, he would be better informed of each player’s strengths and weaknesses in order to determine what role they should play. But he remembers seeing at least some of them in action during Hels Tek’s invasion, and he can infer a couple things fairly well.
For example; the giant zombie player and the dog hybrid are too tall to even stand inside this average-sized room. That’ll definitely cause a few problems.
“My vote is on you two,” Bravo says, nodding at them in turn.
The blond guy with the eyepatch- Marty, was it?- squints at Bravo suspiciously. “Uh, Ren and Cleo are some of our heaviest hitters, what’re you playin’ at?”
Bravo spreads his hands. “Hels Tek isn’t exactly built with players like you in mind,” he explains. “The hallways are only three high. It’s gonna be pretty cramped and hard to navigate for you, so I think you’d be the most help standing guard in the garage.”
“Uh, seriously?” Ren asks flatly, his ears drawn back. “Sorry, my dude, but I’m not the kinda person who lets his friends go out on the frontlines alone.”
Cleo seems similarly displeased. “Yeah, I- I- I don’t- I mean, I- I’ve never particularly claimed to be good at PVP before, but surely I can do more than just… just stand guard?”
“Hey,” Jimmy cuts in gently, “I don’t like it either, alright, but Bravo knows Hels Tek the best outta all of us. We should do what he says.”
Cleo huffs, blowing her bangs out of their face. “Fine.”
Bravo blinks at Jimmy. “Uh- okay, good.” He clears his throat, turning back to the map. “The farm they’ll be keeping Tango in is here. So we’ve got a little bit of a trek, but we’ll be able to avoid the residential district where most of the staff will be sleeping. As we make our way through, stealth should be our number one priority- at least on the way there.” He glances up. “So uh, needless to say, this will be a dog-free mission.”
He directs it towards the red-hooded moth lady, who’s got a dog seated at her side. It’s only one, but Bravo recalls her having an entire pack; he can hear them outside, even now.
“What?” Red objects, her fuzzy wings puffing up indignantly. “But they’re so helpful!”
Bravo doesn’t budge. “Dogs are loud, and they wander,” he says plainly. “You wanna come, you leave the puppers at home.”
“Oh, alright,” Red pouts.
“Now,” Bravo continues, “most of the staff should be asleep. But if we encounter anyone, we need to neutralize without killing, or they’ll just respawn in their room and raise the alarm.”
Marty raises his hand. “I can brew up some splash potions of slowness.”
“Oh, that’d help, yeah.” Bravo tilts his head. “Uh, can you craft some slowness arrows, too? We can have the archers in the group take point, so they’ll get first shot at anyone we come across.”
Scar’s eyes light up. “Oh! That’s a wonderful-”
“Not with your crazy bows of one-shot-kill ridiculousness, though,” Bravo warns. “We’re just tryin’ to get the jump on ‘em, remember? So- so bring somethin’ a little less lethal.”
The blue-haired man standing beside Cleo clicks his tongue. “Boo, you’re no fun.”
There doesn’t seem to be any real objection behind the complaint, though, so Bravo continues. “If we hit ‘em with slowness and knock ‘em out, some basic chains would probably be enough to restrain them. Far as I know, it’s just plain ol’ humans workin’ there.” He scratches the back of his head. “For uh, for obvious reasons. So we should all have a bunch of chains on us, just in case.”
Impulse nods. “We’ve got an iron farm, shouldn’t be a problem.” The less-demonic counterpart of Bravo’s new sponsor seems to have cooled down, but his presence is still a bit unnerving.
“Great.” Bravo turns back to the map. “So we’ll proceed to the south wing, and then-”
“Uh, hey, I got a question.” The speaker is a short man with green antennae and sharp teeth. Jeeze, what was his name- something with J? “Why are we even bothering with sneaking along all these corridors when we can just mine our way through?”
“Hels Tek has a built-in security system,” Bravo says, trying to be patient. “The walls are four blocks thick, and the middle two layers are fed by an instant cobble generator. Soon as a block is mined away, it’ll be replaced- and not only that, but the update will be read by their security system. Same for breaking down any of the locked iron doors.”
“Oh.” Mr. J crosses his arms. “Well, you could’a bloody started with that…”
“So wait,” Etho cuts in, “how are we gonna get past the doors, then?”
Bravo fights back his annoyance; of all the people to look and sound so similar to their counterpart, why did it have to be Patho’s? It’s incredibly grating. “Each Hels Tek employee has an ID card that grants them access through the doors, so we’ll just snag Clear’s. Should get us where we need to go.”
Etho quirks a brow. “Should, huh?”
Irritation flickers through Bravo. It was said in a light and teasing tone, but in that voice, and with those mismatched eyes peeking over his mask, it just rubs Bravo the wrong way. He opens his mouth to retort-
“So we get to the farm,” Jimmy says quickly, redirecting the conversation. “Once we get Tango out, then what?”
Bravo lets out a breath, willing the tension from his body. He’s not in Hels anymore, he reminds himself; devolving into bickering won’t help anyone. “Then our target will change. We’ll have to find Atlas, preferably before he even knows we’re there.” He points at the map. “This is his room, here.”
Jimmy knits his brows together. “So we just… kill him, then?”
As enticing as that sounds, Bravo shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. My gut says he’ll have the key in his ender chest, not his inventory. So we’ll have to overpower him, make him open it.”
“Then we can kill him?” Shorty McShouty asks in that impossibly loud voice of his, big eyes sparkling with equal parts excitement and bloodlust. It’s not very intimidating.
Bravo sighs. “Sure, whatever. But once we have Tango and the key, everyone’s priority should be gettin’ the heck outta dodge. We need to get back through the portal and close it behind us as soon as humanly possible, or else this whole thing is gonna backfire spectacularly.”
“I think it’s a solid plan,” Jimmy says appraisingly. “Is there anythin’ else?”
“Yeah, actually.” Bravo folds his arms. “We should get a couple chests of backup gear to leave by the portal in case anyone’s killed and respawns back here. And I want one more person to stay here, on this side of the portal. Y’know, to keep an eye on things.”
Jimmy looks confused for a moment before he follows Bravo’s gaze to Timmy, who’s currently doing a very good job of trying to blend into the wall.
Realization settles in Jimmy’s eyes. It’d been an unspoken agreement between him and Bravo that Timmy would stay here. He’s obviously not a fighter, and even if he were, he’s in no condition for this sort of thing. But Bravo doesn’t want to leave Timmy alone with no one but Mumbo. Even though he seems more sensible and capable than his disaster of a doppelgänger, Bravo would rather be sure they have at least some backup, in the unlikely event any Hels players manage to get through the portal before the rest of them return.
“Yeah, good call,” Jimmy says. “Who d’you think?”
Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “Your choice.”
He’d noticed the immediate sense of protectiveness Jimmy felt towards his doppelgänger, and he knows these players far better than Bravo does. He’s the best judge to decide who should stay and look after Timmy.
Jimmy gives him an appreciative look. “Alright. Hey, Bigb,” he says, turning to the dark-skinned man standing beside Ren, “would ya mind keepin’ these two company?”
Bigb breaks into an easy grin. “Sure, no problem.”
Bravo nods his approval. Bigb is a goat hybrid- if the curved horns and floppy ears are anything to go off of. A fellow prey animal will definitely put Timmy more at ease, especially one as un-intimidating and approachable as Bigb. Plus, he seems fairly reserved; Bravo hasn’t heard the man speak once before now. If Timmy’s going to feel safe with anyone here, it’s him.
“Alright.” Bravo pulls out his communicator, checking the timer. “Sunset in Hels is in T-minus three hours, so make whatever preparations you need and meet back here then. I wanna run over the plan again, make sure everyone’s got a good sense of things before we go through.”
Jimmy exhales slowly, determination settling over his features. “Right. Sound good, everyone?”
General murmurs of assent ring out around the table. Bravo rises to his feet.
“Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.”
~*~
Tango swallows the lump in his throat. “So, that’s done.”
It was strange, watching Jimmy die. Despite knowing better, Tango had half expected to die with him, seized by a sort of anticipatory phantom pain. Though he knows it’s only temporary, the loss is immediate and severe- a yawning chasm of ice in his chest. He can almost feel Jimmy’s hand still squeezing his own. And he can feel still-warm blood on his face, but he doesn’t bother wiping it off; it’ll help sell his ‘beaten and defeated’ look to Atlas later.
“Yeah.” Bravo stashes his sword in his inventory, pulling his comm back up. “Right, okay, sending the message now…”
Tango takes a few breaths to steady himself. Unfortunately, that was the easy part. The hard part still lies ahead of him.
The cavern seems a lot bigger with just the three of them, the air filled with nothing but the low bubbling of lava. Tango feels unnervingly exposed, just like he did when he and Jimmy first fell down here. God, was that really only a few minutes ago? Ten, fifteen at the most? After the physically draining fight and emotionally draining conversation, it feels like days. He’s really regretting not getting a full night’s sleep before coming here, but sneaking off in the middle of the night had seemed like his best bet at the time.
A lot of good that did.
“He bought it,” Bravo announces suddenly. “He’s agreed to come get you. I know a spot between here and Hels Tek, ‘bout an hour’s walk away. Should give us plenty of time before he arrives.”
Tango’s heart jolts. While he’s relieved their plan seems to be working, it’s hard not to feel dread. “Oh. Oh, great, yeah. Set it up,” he says, like he hasn’t just signed off on his own arrest warrant.
If Bravo’s picked up on his tone, he graciously doesn’t mention it. He merely nods and resumes typing.
Looking around the cavern, Tango casts about for a new topic before an uneasy silence can settle. His gaze falls on the empty portal frame, and a thought occurs to him. “Hey, uh, if the portal’s gonna be open for a few more hours, we should cover it up before we go. Just in case.”
“Sure,” Bravo says, green eyes still fixed on his comm, “I’ve got plenty’a netherrack just lyin’ around, we can- we can do something.”
Tango glances sideways at Timmy, who’s doing that anxious little weight-shifting dance of his, like he’s torn between moving closer or staying put. “So uh, I guess you’ll just hang out by the portal ‘til Bravo gets back, then?”
“Oh!” Timmy jumps a bit under Tango’s gaze, sending a couple wayward feathers to the ground. He offers a shy, slightly apologetic smile- and god, if that isn’t Jimmy’s expression on his face. “Um, yeah,” he says quietly, “I… I think that’d be best. Lemme just get my inventory sorted…”
He shuffles over to the side of the room with piles of chests and shulker boxes, wings dragging behind him. Tango’s heart tightens; he isn’t the most well-versed on wing care, but even he can tell Timmy’s are in rough shape.
The only reason he hasn’t brought it up yet is because he’s certain Jimmy noticed, too, and is already planning on doing something about it once this is all over. Taking Timmy under his wing, so to speak. The immediate sense of responsibility that Jimmy felt upon seeing his doppelgänger was plain as day.
All that remains to be seen is whether or not Bravo will agree with that sentiment. Things are still… complicated, to say the least. While Tango’s pretty sure Bravo doesn’t hate them anymore, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d want to stay with them- or leave Timmy with them.
And Timmy’s feelings on the subject are another matter, too. He might not realize just how much help he needs- and not just in the physical sense, either- but they can’t force it on him. After they get back to Double Life, they’re gonna have to have a pretty frank discussion about what to do next-
“You know, you’re takin’ a pretty big risk, here.”
Bravo’s sudden voice jolts Tango from his thoughts. He gives Bravo a sidelong glance as he comes to stand next to him; he’s still looking down at the communicator in his hands, brows pinched in an uneasy expression. He looks as tired as Tango feels- but still tense. Always tense.
Tango makes a noncommittal noise as he taps his collar. “Well, I know Jimmy won’t be happy if I just leave this thing on, so.”
Bravo’s frown deepens. “No, not that. It’s just- for all you know, I could hand you off to Atlas and then be on my merry way. Like, once I’m through the portal, I can make a new one with my comm and just bail, leavin’ your friends high and dry, or I could even rat out your plan to Atlas.” He finally looks up at Tango. “And you’d have absolutely no way of knowing.”
The sincerity in his voice is striking. Tango tilts his head. “Huh. Guess that’s true.”
Bravo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wh- you didn’t- it didn’t occur to you that I might pull a double-cross?”
“Not really,” Tango answers honestly.
Bravo runs a hand through his hair. “Jeeze. You would’a thought I was the one spawned here…”
Surprise flickers through Tango. He’s spent the last ten years constantly feeling more ‘Hels’ than all his overworld friends- more monstrous, more violent, more untrustworthy. Rage and sadism, deceit and paranoia. Yet somehow it hasn’t occurred to him that by all accounts, he’s probably more ‘overworld’ than the vast majority of Hels players.
And apparently, more than his actual overworld counterpart.
“Yeah,” Tango laughs, “yeah, maybe I’m a bit lacking in the uh, healthy Hels skepticism department. Or maybe I’m just tired of makin’ decisions based on what I’m afraid other people might do. There’s only so much you can control, you know? We’ve all gotta make our own choices. And as long as I can live with mine, I’m good.”
“Really?” Bravo asks, sounding doubtful. “If you agreed to walk into a trap only for me to betray you, you’d be good with that?”
Tango shrugs. “Sure. But uh, just ‘cause I don’t think you would be.” He clears his throat. “Now, if we’re done with waxing hypotheticals, how ‘bout we get goin’?”
“Yeah, alright,” Bravo says, putting his comm away. “Hey uh, you ready to head up, Timmy?”
“Just about,” Timmy calls back, gathering up the last of the shulkers holding the Double Lifer’s gear.
Tango follows Bravo over to the passageway in the wall. “Yeah, this netherrack hut ain’t gonna build itself.”
Bravo huffs a dry laugh, hitting the button to open the passage. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Timmy can help us out with that.”
“Who, me?” Timmy asks in surprise as he comes up behind them. He has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the way up the stairs. “Um… I’m not good with building at all, Bravo.”
“What?” Bravo’s head whips around, his mouth falling open. “I- I just assumed- you’re not the builder?”
Timmy shakes his head. “No, no, I- wait, are you not the builder?”
Tango barely manages to hold back his laughter. Oh, he can wonder all he likes about the fate and random chance behind doppelgängers and soulmates, but at least some things stay the same.
“No!” Bravo groans. “No, I’m not- I mean, barely, okay. I can do like, the bare minimum, and- and certainly not terraforming or anything- and what are you smirkin’ at, skippy?” he demands, rounding on Tango.
“Nothing,” Tango hums, feeling surprisingly lighthearted despite the fact that he’s literally marching to his own doom. “Don’t worry about it.”
~*~
Jimmy flattens his wings out as the ranch comes into view, slowly gliding towards the ground.
He’s been all over the world in the last few hours, checking on the other players and helping them with preparations. Not that any of them really need his help to craft gear or stock up on food. It’s more for his benefit, honestly, to speak to them one-on-one.
Overall, everyone’s feeling pretty good about their plan. Some of them are rather keen to go on the attack, while others have their reservations. Jimmy’s relayed his and Tango’s encounter with Bravo quite a few times, now- though he knows even he doesn’t have the full story, having been stuck down in that damned pit.
It’s led to more than a couple questions regarding Bravo’s trustworthiness. Jimmy’s done his best to dispel their fears- but in all honesty, he isn’t even sure they should be trusting Bravo like this. Tango’s insistence is the only reason he’s agreed to this insane plan in the first place. He seemed to believe, with every fiber of his being, that they were capable of pulling this off.
And Jimmy will be damned if he lets Tango down.
He takes in the scene as he descends upon the ranch. Bravo’s on the porch with Bigb, leaned against the front railing as they chat. He acknowledges Jimmy with a nod, which Jimmy returns with a raised hand. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he steers off towards Timmy, landing a couple yards away from the other avian.
Timmy’s standing in the field, gazing out over rows of wheat and the distant pastures. His arms hang limply at his side, wings drooping behind him, his face upturned slightly into the late morning sun. There’s a fragile stillness to him. Like a glass bottle on the edge of a table.
Jimmy clears his throat as he approaches, so as not to startle him. “Takin’ in the view?” he asks softly.
Despite his forewarning, Timmy shrinks back a little. “Y- yeah. I’ve… never seen the sun before, you know?” He wraps his arms around himself. “It’s so… warm, and bright…”
Jimmy’s heart aches. “Right.” It hurts to think of how his counterpart- how every Hels player- was deprived of something as simple as sunlight. Living under a bedrock ceiling twenty-four-seven would drive him insane. “Well, I- I’m glad you get to see it now.”
Timmy smiles faintly. “Yeah, me too. I- I can’t believe you guys have… so many passive mobs…”
“Oh yeah,” Jimmy realizes, “Tango mentioned those were uh, pretty scarce in Hels.” He jerks his chin at the pasture down the hill. “Um, d’you wanna meet our cows?”
Timmy follows his gaze and cringes. “Sorry, I… don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jimmy says quickly, “they won’t hurt you! They’re really friendly-”
“No,” Timmy murmurs, licking his lips, “no, I- I’m not worried about that.” The hungry look in his eyes is suddenly unnerving.
Jimmy hesitates. Back in Hels, Timmy had assured him that Bravo was looking after him. Jimmy had assumed that meant Bravo was feeding him, working to slowly repair the damage that years of starvation had done. But looking at him now, Jimmy’s not so sure that’s the case.
He pushes down a flare of anger; that won’t help right now. “Oh, uh- hey,” he says, as casually as he can muster, “I’ve got food, if you’re interested. Got some steak with me, actually, and-”
“Food?” Timmy’s head snaps around, eyes going impossibly wider. “Can- can I have some?”
Jimmy startles at his sudden intensity, managing a laugh as he pulls some steak from his inventory. “Uh yeah, yeah. Here-”
“No!”
Bravo’s voice, somewhere behind him. In the second it takes Jimmy to glance over his shoulder, Timmy lunges for his hand.
But Bravo’s already there- pushing past Jimmy, he grabs Timmy and yanks him back, out of reach. “Don’t give him that!” he snaps at Jimmy. “Put it away!”
“No, please!” Timmy cries, wings flailing as he struggles against Bravo. His eyes are wild and desperate. “I- I’ll be careful this time-”
“Hey, hey!” Jimmy shouts, putting the steak back in his inventory only to free his hands and pull Bravo off Timmy. He shoves Bravo away, flaring a wing out to block him from Timmy. “What is your problem?”
Bravo holds his ground, getting right in Jimmy’s face. “He still can’t handle solid food, he’s on a strict refeeding regimen! You’re gonna fuck him up-”
“Refeeding?” Jimmy jerks his head back. “What d’you mean?”
Bravo has the audacity to look annoyed, his green eyes narrowed. “Uh, hello? He’s been starving to death for years, any substantial food comes right back up and puts him off the rest of the day- learned that the hard way.”
“Bravo, c’mon…” Timmy seems to have calmed down, now that the food is no longer within reach. “It- it isn’t that bad,” he tries, voice sullen.
Bravo steps back from Jimmy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Timmy, you know the rules.”
Jimmy folds his arms, letting his wings settle. “So what are you feedin’ him, then?” he demands.
Bravo bristles under his accusation. “Suspicious stew, saturation. But he can only have it a couple times a day, ‘cause his stomach’s not used to like, actually being full yet. Next meal isn’t for a few more hours, I- I’ve already explained all this to your goat buddy.”
“Huh.” Jimmy frowns. “Wait, where’d you get stew from? You need flowers for that, right? Poppies, or… daisies, right? Not a lotta those in Hels.”
“I told you,” Bravo huffs, “I found a new sponsor.”
The last of Jimmy’s anger falls away, leaving him a bit sheepish. He shouldn’t have assumed Bravo was just letting Timmy starve. They might still have their differences, but everything Bravo’s done has been out of a sense of justice- albeit twisted and horribly misinformed. And despite it all, Timmy still seems to care about him. That ought to count for something.
(Way to go, idiot.)
(Getting all worked up over nothing…)
(Man, you really can’t do anything right.)
Jimmy rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Right.” He turns to Timmy, who’s giving him a hopeful look. “Sorry, Timmy,” he winces, “I don’t wanna make you sick.”
“Just a bite?” Timmy pleads.
“No,” Bravo says firmly. Then he softens. “Sorry. We can try solid food in a few days, alright?”
Timmy sighs, glancing away. His wings droop even further, defeated. “Okay…”
“Hey, Timmy!” Bigb’s suddenly calling from the porch, beckoning Timmy over with that soothing voice and dazzling smile of his. “You mind helping me out with something inside?”
(Thank the universe for Bigb.)
Timmy hesitates and looks at Bravo, who waves him off. Giving them a final apologetic half-smile, Timmy shuffles back to the porch, following Bigb inside.
The front door closes behind them, leaving the ranch in relative calm and silence; a warm breeze rifling through the wheat fields, animals calling from the pastures and barn. Clouds float lazily across the blue sky. It’s peaceful, the way the ranch always is- except Jimmy can recall another time, not very long ago, when they stood in this very spot on a day much like this one, and he choked on smoke as the ranch burned behind them and his world fell apart.
He wonders if Bravo is thinking about that day, too.
“Sorry,” Bravo says after a moment. “I should’a said somethin’ before, there just… wasn’t a good time.”
Jimmy coughs into his fist. “Yeah, no, it’s fine. Sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Speaking of… he debates with himself for a second before deciding to bring up something Timmy told him when they met. “So… you uh, you trimmed those feathers of his?”
Bravo gives him a sidelong look. “Yeah?”
Jimmy pauses. “Well, did you know you made it so he can’t fly ‘til they grow back?”
“What?” Bravo’s eyes widen. “I- I only trimmed the lowest ones, to keep ‘em from draggin’ on the ground!”
He sounds genuine, at least. “You took his flight feathers, mate,” Jimmy says as gently as he can, stretching his own wing to point them out. “These ones.”
Bravo stares at the feathers, stricken. “I- I didn’t know- I was just tryin’ to clean him up a bit!”
“To make him look more like me, right?” Jimmy asks.
(Oh, shit!)
Bravo closes his mouth with a click and glances away. “Look, I- I already… I know I messed up with him, alright?” he grits out. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I’m not- I mean, I’m not tryin’ to,” Jimmy sighs. “Just… what, exactly, are your intentions with him?”
Bravo’s head whips around to look at him, bewildered. “Are you- are you seriously givin’ me the shovel talk right now?”
The absolute disbelief in his voice inexplicably makes Jimmy flush; he’d sounded smack like Tango just then. “Well- I- I mean,” he stammers, “in a way, I guess? You- you can’t blame me, alright? He’s my counterpart, I just-”
“You wanna protect him,” Bravo finishes, realization settling in his eyes. “You look at him, all frail and stuff with those big sad eyes, and you wanna protect him. I get it.”
Jimmy blinks. “Um, yeah. Is… that why you brought him with you?”
Bravo works his jaw for a moment, evidently rejecting the first thing he’d tried to say. “... not really,” he admits. “Not at first, anyway. I mean- I- I don’t fully understand it, myself, I was just… I don’t know. Trying to claim… some amount of the happiness that you two found? I- I thought I was owed it, I guess. But it was stupid, you can’t- you can’t force these things.”
Jimmy’s surprised that Bravo’s actually confiding all this in him. And even more surprised at the sincerity in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it. Seems like he’s gotten over the righteous fury that had its hooks in him. Whatever Tango said to him, back in Hels… it must’ve really hit him.
(Wow, plot twist of the century!)
(You know what that is? Growth.)
(Aw, my problematic fave…)
“Anyway,” Bravo continues, “when this is over… I want him to stay with you. I mean, not necessarily you, specifically, just… here. In this world.”
Jimmy raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. “Isn’t that up to him?”
Bravo shrugs a shoulder. “I mean sure, yeah, he doesn’t have to stay but… you got a good group here. This world isn’t crazy full, it’s not super dangerous or overwhelming… you’ve got some infrastructure set up, a good supply of food and resources. I think it’ll be a nice introduction to normal life for him.”
Jimmy nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I uh, I was actually plannin’ to offer, once this Hels business is over.” He studies Bravo. “What about you?”
A dry smile tugs at Bravo’s mouth. “I… think I’m gonna go my own way, at least for a little while. I’ve got some uh, you know, some thinkin’ to do… about stuff. After all this craziness, I think I just need to go hang in a solo world for a bit, you know? Figure my shit out.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Yeah.”
They fall silent for a minute. Jimmy knows it won’t be long before the other Lifers begin to gather back at the ranch, ready to start the final preparations ahead of their mission to Hels. It’s a daunting task that lies before them, so strangely enough, he’s glad to have had this time with Bravo. If nothing else, he’s at least more certain of Bravo’s intentions.
“You know,” he starts, “you didn’t have to do all this. Soon as you came through the portal, you could’a gone wherever you wanted. So I guess… I’m tryin’ to say thank you. For helpin’ us.”
Bravo snorts. “I uh, I figured I owe you guys one. And y’know, it doesn’t hurt that we’ll be sticking it to Atlas. Fucking guy could stand to be taken down a peg.”
Despite himself, Jimmy grins. “That’s somethin’ we can agree on.”
~*~
Tango hangs limply in his chains, still and silent.
He’s long spent all his tears. Atlas left hours ago, but two guards remain posted outside the iron door. Every now and then, one of them will poke his head back in- just to briefly monitor- before leaving Tango in darkness again. Everything seems to be running like clockwork; the blaze rods floating above his head are snatched away right as the wither effect shudders through his body, triggering more to spawn. Regeneration potions smash at his feet on a regular interval, combating the damage just enough to keep him alive.
Just another day at Hels Tek.
The physical pain is intense- the prick of thorns in his skin, the sting of ice in his veins, the burn of wither rose in his lungs. Every passing minute seems to stack more weight onto his iron chains and shackles, setting a deep ache into his stiff joints and muscles. But his prison allows him no respite, not even the slightest movement to seek a more comfortable position, to ease the pain, so he retreats from his body altogether and withdraws into his mind.
That’s no escape, either.
Inside his mind is a storm. Tall, black waves of terror crash against each other- a churning, roiling froth, swallowing up the horizon of his mind’s eye. Despair howls on the wind. Any attempt at rational thought is consumed by it, panic shrieking across the sky like lightning.
There’s no way out.
Tango is a small light on a vast, dark ocean. He fights to stay afloat in the storm’s wake. It is entirely without sense or mercy, tossing him violently, head over heels. Weightless. Insignificant. Worthless.
You were made to suffer.
He opens his mouth to scream, but he has no voice, no breath. There’s only water, bitter and freezing- it rushes to sink him from inside, seeping into the hollows of his bones. Drowning him in his own blood, his own tears.
Everything you did was for nothing.
No! He tries to cling to hope; his friends are coming for him. They’re coming for him, they won’t leave him here, he just needs to hang on-
They’ve abandoned you.
The storm rages, smashing his hope to splinters. He kicks desperately for the surface. They wouldn’t abandon him. Jimmy-
He deserves better.
No, he loves him! He does-
Like a fish loves a hook? You will only cut him.
He can’t breathe. Where’s the surface-
Like a moth loves a flame? You will only burn him.
God, it’s so heavy. So cold-
Like a canary loves a coal mine? You will only choke him.
He’s sinking, slipping ever deeper below the waves. Engulfed in the inky void. There are no stars to guide him here, no sun or moon- the storm has blotted them out. Without them he has no direction; he can’t tell up from down, left from right, right from wrong-
This is all there is.
He’s so tired…
All you will ever have.
Maybe he could…
Give in.
He stops fighting. The relief is immediate; the water cradles him, extinguishing all his light. There’s no more struggle, no more pain- everything is still and cold and dark. He can hear the storm but it’s far away, thunderclaps mere echoes in his ears…
Give in.
Nothing can hurt him here…
Give in.
It’s so familiar…
Give in.
… he knows this darkness. It-
Give in.
It was so long ago-
Give in.
So long ago yet-
Give in.
He remembers it. He’s lived with this darkness before, he still carries the scars it left in him. And it never left him, not completely. It stalked him from every shadow, lurked around every corner-
Give-
No. He escaped it before. How did he do it? What did he have back then besides darkness-
You have nothing-
A light. That was all that changed, one small light in the face of the storm-
There’s no way out-
He chose the light. Again and again, against every downpour, every flood-
It’s pointless to-
He remembers. Nerves alight with electricity, breaking through the haze. His limbs become his own again, striking out through the dark, thrashing among the stillness, burning against the cold-
You can’t-
He breaks the surface. Chaos roars around him- the sting of wind and salt in his eyes, water grabbing him up and rolling him, thunder rattling through his bones. Half-blind and gasping, the shock and pain of it all almost sends him under again but he persists, fighting to keep his head above water.
Back then, all it had taken was a single light. The light of his respawn anchor blinking out. It hadn’t been easy; he’d needed the strength to seize his chance to free himself, to free his body as well as his mind. He doesn’t have that same chance right now. His body remains imprisoned, and the only strength he needs is his faith.
So he’ll have to bring his own light.
He reaches out into the black ocean for a fragment of hope- and he finds one. It nudges into his side, hard and small. It might be a short piece of wood, splintered from the whole by the storm. But as he blindly reaches for it, numb fingers scraping against its surface, he recognizes it instantly.
A memory; Jimmy next to him in bed, smiling beneath a curtain of golden feathers.
No, let go-
He curls his claws into it. His memories. That’s something he didn’t have back then, to help him face the darkness. Ten years of a better life, a better way. Ten years of sun and happiness. All the light he created, all the love he found, all the good he did- that’s something they can never take away from him, even if they chain his body forever.
More memories brush up against him. He gathers them up in his arms, stacking each damp board on top of each other, willing the structure to take shape against the crashing waves-
All you know is rage-
His creations; netherbrick towers looming from the mountain, higher than he ever thought he could build- a block of TNT hissing in the water streams of Boombox- the sizzle of golems in the Iron Titan- rooting through the spaghetti redstone underneath Decked Out- anvils launching through the air at Toon Towers- nether stars glittering against a black sky- darting past falling lava in Dare to Flare- hordes of drowned shuffling through tinted glass corridors- the leering silhouette of his cyclops under the Big Eye mountain- gazing up at the ranch with pride in his heart- clever farms- creative games- cozy homes-
Good things aren’t made for you-
His experiences; the softness of his first bed- twisting through the air at breakneck speed with an elytra- the hoofbeats of his horse trotting around their eighth world- sweetness of a golden carrot on his tongue- the big moon glimpsed through the window of his spaceship- redstone torches gripped in blackened claws- the thrill of dodging ravagers- infinite horizons stretching before him- the scent of freshly tilled dirt- fireworks lighting up the night sky- the warmth of sunlight on his skin- freefalling without fear- the comfort of a full belly- music blaring from a jukebox- the deafening shrieks of a dying dragon- boundless freedom- endless fun- ceaseless friendship-
You are alone-
His friends; Xisuma waving from across the ravine they’d just exploded- proudly handing Zedaph a piece of renamed string- Skizz cheering and clapping him on the back- whooping as he and Impulse run beside a ghast in a minecart- Mumbo grinning at him from atop a witch farm- sneaking between quartz pillars with Grian- Impulse and him collapsing in laughter as Bdubs fumes at them from the shipwreck- scrambling to build a TNT launcher shoulder to shoulder with Etho- Cleo- Scar- Pearl- Joe- Bigb- Keralis- Gem- Scott- Iskall- xB- Stress- Doc- Joel- Cub- False- Wels- Lizzie- Ren- Hypno- Jevin- Beef- Martyn- TFC-
You’re a monster-
His love; staring down at Jimmy through the branches of a tree, a creeper explosion ringing in his ears- soft feathers tickling his cheek- Jimmy’s hand squeezing his own- a wing draped around his shoulder- humming as Jimmy spins him around in their kitchen- strong hands that are impossibly gentle- sunlight catching in Jimmy’s brown eyes- whispers in his ear- Jimmy holding him as he cries- a smile against his lips- the sound of Jimmy’s laughter, light and joyful- patience- kindness- love-
There’s nothing-
A portal filled with ever-changing light.
Give-
No. This won’t break him.
He clings to his memories, letting them carry him. A glowing ship riding the dark storm. The ground beneath his feet becomes solid again, walls rising up to shelter him from the waves as sails unfurl to catch the wind. The ship rocks and groans, surging up to crash back down again and again, but it doesn’t falter.
The storm howls, terrible and hungry, but it can’t reach him anymore. He turns his face into the wind and screams his defiance.
And back in the farm, Tango opens his eyes again.
The room beyond the glass wall of his enclosure looks the same as it always does. Everything is dark and still, lit only by the flickering glow of blaze rods above him and the sole light of his respawn anchor. Regeneration particles dance across his vision, competing with the encroaching blackness of the wither effect. Nothing has changed on the outside, of course- he hasn’t suddenly become freed from his prison, hasn’t miraculously escaped the constant pain that gnaws at him.
But he can see the change in his eyes, mirrored in the glass before him, and he bares his sharp teeth in a fierce, triumphant smile.
~*~
CONTINUED IN PART XI, ACT II
#hermitcraft#hermitshipping#life series smp#trafficshipping#traffic smp#hels to pay au#HTP fic#my writing
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Two - The Blackwood Bitch | Series Masterlist
Summary: In the midst of growing unrest amongst the Realm and his Council, Aemond finally meets his betrothed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings: mention of war, canon-divergent, post-Dance Aemond, trauma, arranged marriage
They did not have the confidence to place the crown atop his head, and yet expected him to sit here, in the stuffy Small Council Chambers, and listen to their endless streams of complaints and judgements.
He was only allowed to grace the seat where Aegon had once been because he'd at least agreed to marry the Blackwood girl.
It did not seem fair, to Aemond, as he sat pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to stay off the migraine. The voice of Tyland Lannister barely bleeding through the haze of utter boredom and contempt.
“And what of Corlys Velaryon?” Tyland pressed, his tone clipped yet cautious.
Aemond’s eye flicked open. “What of him?” he drawled.
“His imprisonment in the dungeons has not gone unnoticed,” Tyland continued, carefully. “There are murmurs among his supporters that holding the Lord of the Tides in chains is a…questionable decision. His family’s influence, though diminished, is still considerable. Perhaps the situation warrants—”
“Release?” Aemond interjected, his tone icy. “Do you imagine me a fool, Lannister? The Sea Snake is not a man to be trusted. He knelt to Rhaenyra, swore his allegiance to her black banner. And when she fell, his silence was a weapon he wielded deftly, even as her cause crumbled to dust. No. Corlys Velaryon shall remain exactly where he is, for now.”
“And Lady Baela and Rhaena? Surely we can use them as leverage, to barter more alliances?”
“They shall remain as they are on Dragonstone, under heavy guard. I will not allow them into my court to scheme with their grandfather. Their existence in the future may prove useful, but I have no patience for deciding now and will not be pressured so.”
Tyland opened his mouth as if to argue but faltered under Aemond’s penetrating gaze. Instead, he offered a curt nod. “As you command, Your Grace.”
Aemond exhaled, as if one touch could spiral him once more to madness. “The North. Is there much news?”
“Cregan Stark is no fool. He remembers where Winterfell first pledged its loyalty, and he knows how to inspire those loyal to Rhaenyra, even after her death. Rumours suggest he may rally support again if provoked, especially given the state of the realm.”
Aemond hummed, but understood deeply the severity of what this could mean for his rule. It was not so long ago that the North had first taken its stand for the Blacks. He’d once held some measure of respect for Stark, if only for the man’s stubborn resolve.
But respect did not soften threats, and Aemond would not allow another rebellion to fester, especially one from the cold, unyielding expanse of the North, where his control was not as fierce.
“And what of Stark’s movements?”
Tyland hesitated. “There has been little activity, yet enough to suggest he is watching and waiting. But the recent unrest, especially with the harvests diminished from war, has left the North in a precarious state. Winter is settling in sooner than expected, so it may keep them in place for now…though we must tread carefully.
Aemond leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded Tyland with a calculating gaze. But Tyland’s hesitation had not gone unnoticed, and the faint unease it carried twisted like a knife in Aemond’s gut.
“Stark is waiting,” Aemond repeated softly, his tone laced with disdain. “And watching, you say. That means he is weighing his options, biding his time. A dangerous thing to leave unchecked.”
He glanced at the map to his side, his eye tracing the lines of the Neck and the expanse beyond. “The North’s strength lies in its distance and loyalty to its own. A rebellion from Winterfell could inspire others if we do not act swiftly to secure the Riverlands and the Vale.”
Tyland inclined his head. “Precisely why the matter of your marriage must be addressed with utmost care. A match with House Blackwood has the potential to stabilise our hold on the Riverlands, drawing the house firmly to our cause. Their influence and history may serve as a counterweight to any…discontent from the North.”
Aemond’s lips thinned at the mention of his impending marriage. The arrangement had been presented as a political necessity, a means to cement his rule over the fractured realm. He understood its purpose, of course, the Blackwoods were an ancient house with deep ties to the Riverlands, and their animosity toward the Brackens ensured their loyalty could be leveraged. But the prospect of wedding a stranger, no matter her lineage, still perturbed him.
“Lady Rosaleen,” Aemond said, testing the name as though it might reveal something of its bearer. He turned his gaze to Tyland. “What do we know of her specifically? Beyond her house and the council’s assurances of her suitability.”
“She is young, but not without wit or will. A daughter of Raventree Hall, with blood of the First Men and an unbroken line stretching back to the Age of Heroes. Her mother, a Piper, ensured she carries a touch of Riverlander diplomacy, though it is said Lady Rosaleen herself is more pragmatic than demure.” He hesitated. “She is…untested, but there are no whispers of scandal or unsuitability.”
Aemond hummed again, his mind already piecing together the shape of the woman he would soon wed. Untested, perhaps, but pragmatic could mean cunning, something he might find more tolerable than blind obedience.
“She is to arrive today, Your Grace. Queen Alicent and Lord Wylde will welcome her personally, and arrangements have been made for you to meet in the gardens this afternoon.”
Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his discomfort masked beneath a calm exterior. So soon. He had expected more time to prepare himself for this charade.
Larys, who had remained silent until now, shifted in his seat. “A marriage such as this will not go unnoticed by the realm. The great houses will watch closely to see how this union strengthens your hold. And should it falter–”
“It will not falter,” Aemond insisted, his tone clear that he’d had enough of what little Lord Larys had said.
A tense silence followed. No man daring to fire back. As if testing him.
When would these men tire of poking the dragon.
Aemond rose from his seat, the scrape of his chair echoing in the nearly empty chamber. “Dismissed,” he said curtly, his gaze sweeping over the two remaining men. They would conspire in whispers the moment he left, as they always did, but Aemond had no patience for it today.
The doors clamped shut behind him, the Kingsguard flanking his sides as he strolled with unknown purpose through the Keep’s winding halls.
Would his intended be pragmatic as Tyland had claimed? Would she understand the weight of the crown he bore, the cost of the realm they had shattered and now sought to piece together?
Would she see only the scarred dragon who had laid waste to the Riverlands, her homeland, and the monster the realm whispered of in secret?
Or would she have foreseen how much of a farce this union was before it had even been done?
One could mistake Aemond for a cat, the way he stopped in his tracks and widened his stance when his eye clocked upon a retinue he did not recognise. If he had been one, his ears would have been pricked back, fur stood high.
His brow lowered at the black banners decorated with red, not unlike his own native sigil, but this one adorned with the sigil of House Blackwood. A pair of guards lingered near the great doors leading to the guest chambers, their armour bearing the same emblem.
She has arrived.
Rosaleen’s retinue, no doubt. He felt a flicker of something he could not name, curiosity, perhaps, or irritation at being caught unprepared. But there was no sign of her, no glimpse of the woman who would soon bear his name.
His thoughts were interrupted by a burst of feminine laughter echoing down a nearby corridor. Aemond’s steps stilled, his sharp hearing picking up the unmistakable lilt of idle gossip.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the taller figure could be Rosaleen. She bore the Blackwood colours, her hair as dark as the raven of their sigil, her bearing sharp enough to suggest wit even from a distance. But something about the way she carried herself, unguarded and unapologetic, gave him pause.
The clink of metal broke his thoughts as Ser Willis stepped to his side, his voice low and measured. “Lady Alysanne Blackwood, Your Grace,” he murmured, as if sensing his prince’s unspoken question.
Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line. So, not Rosaleen. But her cousin, a Blackwood nonetheless, and one who seemed to embody every tale he’d ever heard of their infamous fire and sharp tongues.
“And your betrothed’s cousin, Arianne Piper.”
He gave one nod in appreciation to Ser Willis as the man stepped back, one hand laid on his sword at his hip, always.
Alysanne’s voice carried as she spoke, her tone biting and laced with amusement. “Well, he is certainly not wasting any time. Do you think he has the gall to actually meet her without sneering?”
Arianne’s gentler voice followed, tinged with unease. “You oughtn’t speak so boldly, Aly. He is a prince, your future cousin by marriage.”
“And that entitles him to what? My silence? My admiration?” Alysanne scoffed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I’ll grant him none of it. Not after what’s happened to our home.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened as he listened. He stepped forward into their line of sight, his tall figure casting a shadow down the corridor.
Both women froze, Alysanne’s expression shifting to one of defiance while Arianne’s cheeks flushed in alarm. Aemond’s eye fixed on them, cold.
“Lady Alysanne,” he said smoothly, his voice low and controlled. “Your honesty is refreshing, though perhaps misplaced.”
Alysanne did not flinch, though her chin lifted ever so slightly. “Honesty is all I have to offer, Your Grace. I assumed your court would value that over flattery.”
Arianne stepped forward hastily, her voice trembling slightly as she dipped into a curtsy. “Forgive us, Your Grace. We meant no offence.”
We.
He wondered how often this flame-haired beauty felt the need to apologise for her fierce cousin’s behaviour.
Aemond’s sharp gaze flicked between the two women. Alysanne’s defiance was palpable, but it was Arianne who sought to smooth the air, her curtsy deep, her clear eyes cast downward in a show of humility. Yet it was neither of them that truly occupied his thoughts.
Rosaleen.
She was the reason these women were here, the reason he would soon be tied to the Riverlands by bonds thicker than blood or steel. The woman he had not yet met but who would soon bear his name, his burdens, and perhaps one day, his heirs.
“Offence is not so easily forgiven,” Aemond said coolly, tilting his head toward Alysanne. “Though I suspect you care little for forgiveness, Lady Alysanne. Do you presume to speak for your cousin as well?”
“Rosaleen speaks for herself, Your Grace, when she deems it necessary. You’ll find her no less honest, though perhaps less direct than I.”
Ser Willis cleared his throat, the sound deliberate and firm, cutting through the lingering tension. It was not quite an order, but it carried the weight of one, the subtle assertion of a man who knew when a conversation had run its course.
“Lady Alysanne, Lady Arianne, it was...enlightening to make your acquaintance.”
Alicent could think of few moments in the Keep as of late that she was truly, truly at rest. Even her baths were monitored closely by maidservants. That is until she flicked her wrist, and ordered that they leave her be, which they would begrudgingly.
Even in the confines of her chambers, she never truly felt calm. Hadn't, since the day Helaena flung herself from Maegor’s Holdfast. The same day she assumed her second son had also perished.
It was one of the darkest days of her young life. Thinking she had outlived all her children.
The Dowager Queen had barely seen Lady Rosaleen off at her chambers before a knock came at hers. Three knocks, the first two close together, to let her know without words who it was.
She sighed internally, hearing it click open, pulled by some imaginary thread towards pouring herself a cup of wine.
“Not now, Lord Larys. I am weary after greeting our guest.”
The door clung shut behind him, and she heard the familiar step and drag of his two mismatched feet. “I would not disturb you without cause, Your Grace. Yet there are matters that cannot wait.”
Alicent turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, the wine momentarily forgotten. “Matters of the council, I presume.”
“Indeed, Your Grace. The realm demands much of us still. The prince remains...steadfast in his temper.”
"Steadfast, is it? A polite way of saying unruly, no doubt.”
He was neither stupid nor brave enough to respond. Offering an opinion such as that would no doubt place a target on his back, as if there were not already one.
“Rosaleen Blackwood,” he started, “her retinue are...spirited. Particularly her cousin, Lady Alysanne. The young lady has a tongue as sharp as a blade and little hesitation in wielding it.”
Alicent closed her eyes briefly, rubbing at her temple. “Yes, I noticed that myself. And the other cousin? Lady Arianne?”
“Pleasant. Unassuming. Hardly a threat,” Larys replied with a dismissive nod. “But Lady Alysanne, she may prove disruptive, particularly to Prince Aemond’s already volatile disposition. Forgive my saying so, but a prince who scorched their homeland does not yet need the bite of those who hang such crimes over his head.”
Alicent exhaled slowly. “How best do we keep an eye on them? I doubt Alysanne will respond to subtlety.”
“No, Your Grace,” Larys agreed, his tone almost amused. “But the Lady Rosaleen...she is practical, I have heard so. Influencing her may, in turn, temper her cousin’s brazenness. The girl has loyalty to her kin, yes, but she is not blind to the realities of the court.”
“I will not have her or her kin stoking his fire.. Keep watch over them, all of them.”
His crooked form bowed slightly. Alicent had not forgotten the loyalties of a man who kept Aegon and Jaehaera safe, if only for a short time. And men such as this, expected to be praised and repaid for such acts of simple kindness.
Lord Larys nodded. “You may leave such matters to me.”
The Red Keep was as much a maze simply following a person as she imagined it would be by herself. In future, she would have to explore it with companions, she thought with distaste. If there was anything Rosaleen Blackwood hated more, it was feeling out of place, stuck seemingly perpetually in a state of not having her bearings.
She did not know how to feel when the Dowager Queen told her that she would be occupying the former Queen Helaena’s chambers. Though the Keep in general was cold, it felt much more so in those rooms than it did anywhere else, she half expected her sweet, ghostly whisper at any second. How would she be able to sleep? The thought had just occurred to her.
Everything in that space had smelled faintly of cloves, as if someone had been there trying to mask the stench of distress. To erase the tragedy of what had happened.
But she as well as anyone in the realm could not escape the tragedy that had somehow squeezed itself into a mere quick war. It felt so intense and unending at the time. But now, when she casts her mind back to those moments, she realises that a mere half year felt like a lifetime, and was faster for others than some.
She wonders. Did it feel hasty to Prince Aemond? Or did he feel as if it were over in a heartbeat?
Such questions were not suitable for someone who was merely betrothed to him. She would save such conversations once she assumed the title of his wife.
If she would ever reach those heights.
It was not lost on her how quickly Alysanne had voiced her apparent displeasure. Arianne had been quick to tell Rosaleen of their cousin’s quick tongue in the very presence of Aemond himself. She found herself rolling her eyes and wanting to cast it aside, but knew, realistically, that there was a conversation to be had with her fearsome Blackwood cousin, and how quickly her wit would have to cut ties with her mouth, especially in the presence of the future Prince Regent no less.
Such thoughts did not plague her mind yet. As she stared at the back of Lord Jasper Wylde’s head, following him aimlessly to meet her betrothed, she could not find it in herself to think of anything else but the Targaryen prince she would come to meet.
Of course, Arianne, Alysanne and a distant Piper cousin, Sarra, who was very much known even to Arianne herself, followed behind. Heads bowed, as if they felt they had already done a disservice to their future Queen Consort.
Titles, titles, titles. Rosaleen grimaced at the mere thought.
Just as she overheard Alysanne giggle when Arianne asked her in a luckily hushed manner why Jasper Wylde was nicknamed ‘ironrod’, the much rumoured Lord turned and inclined his head.
“Prince Aemond awaits, my Lady.”
She inhaled deeply, measured. As if to fill herself with courage. Rosaleen straightened, her hands smoothing the dark fabric of her gown. She had never been one for nerves, but there was something about the idea of facing him, finally, that set her pulse quickening, despite herself.
As she stepped forward, she almost questioned herself. Lord Wylde had not referred to him as ‘prince regent’. Several times now. The deep, mysterious mist that shrouded Aemond began to become clear, if not entirely by how one member of his council had referred to him.
Beyond the threshold, where stone became grass and flowers, Aemond stood near the edge of a small courtyard, the gardens stretching behind him in a cascade of greens and blooms that stood in stark contrast to his dark, brooding presence.
So the stories were true, she thought with intrigue. Moonlight hair, tall, hands tucked behind his back as if keeping some great secret in his stance.
The air seemed to thicken with each step she took toward him, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest.
Aemond turned at her approach, his violet eye fixating on her with an intensity that made her heart skip. His face was a map of old battles, his gaze unyielding but not unkind. Perhaps merely distant. She schooled her mannerisms well, trying to not flicker between his seeing eye and the leather eyepatch. Attempting to appear as if it was quite normal, and that she was not at all fascinated.
His features were chiselled, sharp as a blade, and though his expression remained unreadable, there was something in the set of his jaw that told her he was measuring her, much like she was doing to him.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, inclining her head just slightly in a respectful, if not overly formal, manner.
“Lady Rosaleen,” Aemond replied, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of authority. The way he said her name sent an odd shiver down her spine, though it wasn’t unpleasant. She couldn’t quite place why, but there was something both unsettling and strangely comforting about him. Perhaps it was the contrast of the man, so feared, so full of war, with the gentleness that lingered in his voice.
She couldn’t imagine him riding a dragon, barking out orders, with a voice like that.
His eye did one sweep of her body, before returning to her dark eyes once more.
“Shall we,” he uttered plainly, glancing at Lord Wylde, who promptly took the hint, bowed his head and turned on his heel.
His tone made it clear it was not a suggestion, so Rosaleen turned to her ladies and nodded, watching as Arianne gave her a nervous look, pulling Alysanne and Sarra back with her without words. Following twenty paces behind as the Blackwood Lady settled into step beside her betrothed.
“I thank you for welcoming me into your home, Your Grace. My greeting has been much appreciated,” she uttered, hands clasped, crimson skirts brushing the grass she glided across the blades. She could not read his expression at all, and very rarely did she see his gaze ever meet hers.
“Of course,” Aemond replied, his tone formal but distant. “It is only fitting that we should meet in person before…”
“It is,” she agreed simply, offering no more than was required. Silence stretched between them for a moment before he, perhaps foolishly, broke it.
“And your journey?” he asked, his voice low, but the question felt oddly out of place. She saw the faint flicker of realisation in his eye as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back.
Rosaleen allowed herself a small, wry smile, though her tone remained courteous. “Uneventful, Your Grace,” she responded, “my ladies–my cousins, Alysanne and Arianne are good companions.”
Aemond’s expression did not change, though a flicker of memory stirred in his mind. Aegon had once dubbed the Blackwood daughters ‘the Blackwood bitches,’ a crude remark he’d made with a sneer while recounting the Blackwoods’ initial allegiance to Rhaenyra. Aegon’s words, though meant to be dismissive, had a venom that lingered, a reflection of his disdain for those who had dared oppose him. Aemond had said nothing at the time, but now, the memory returned with a faint, bitter taste.
“Good companions are a blessing on such a journey,” he added. “Though I imagine the roads you travelled were less than welcoming.”
Rosaleen nodded slightly, her smile never faltering. “The scars of war are hard to miss, even from a carriage window, Your Grace. But they remind us of what has been endured, and what must be rebuilt.”
Aemond’s gaze darkened slightly at her response, though whether it was irritation, guilt, or something else entirely, she could not say. He did not speak for a moment, as if weighing her words, or perhaps his own.
Finally, he replied, “Rebuilding is no easy task. Nor one without cost.”
“No,” Rosaleen agreed. “But it is necessary all the same.”
Their conversation lingered in a strange, tense balance, both polite and edged with something unspoken. Whatever judgments they had drawn of one another, neither was willing to reveal just yet. For now, they walked on, their words measured, each step drawing them closer to a union neither had chosen but both were forced to navigate.
“It is a kindness to meet the man I am to wed, rather than relying solely on tales spun by courtiers and whisperers.”
“And what tales have you heard?” Aemond asked, his voice dipping lower, almost testing.
Rosaleen met his gaze at last, her own expression unreadable. “Stories travel, Your Grace. They tend to grow in the telling. Some speak of a swordsman without equal, a man with fire in his veins and the blood of dragons.” Her tone remained even, but her words carried a weight that suggested she had heard much more than she was willing to say.
“And others?” Aemond prompted.
“Others speak of a man who has faced more trials than most could endure. A man shaped by loss, fire, and war.”
There was a pause, her words lingering in the air between them, before she added, “but I prefer to form my own opinions, Your Grace.”
Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, and for the first time, she thought she caught a glimpse of something behind the mask he wore, a flicker of intrigue, perhaps even approval.
“Wise,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It is better not to trust tales.”
“Or first impressions,” Rosaleen countered lightly, though not without its undercurrent.
They came to a halt before the towering Weirwood, its red leaves rustling faintly in the breeze like a thousand whispering voices. Its face was solemn and ageless, its crimson sap trailing like ancient tears. Rosaleen’s gaze lingered on the carved eyes, so stark and knowing, and for a moment, she felt herself drawn back to Raventree Hall, to the looming Weirwood there that had stood sentinel over her family for generations.
She remembered her home, the mossy stones of its walls, the echo of crows in the twilight. She felt the roots of who she was, who she had always been, stir within her. A lady of her bloodline was meant to endure, to hold fast, as her ancestors had, and that realisation warmed her.
Her blood seemed to hotten, the faint flush of color rising to her cheeks. She squared her shoulders, her chin lifting slightly as she turned her attention back to Aemond. He stood a step apart from her, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression inscrutable.
Did he see it as she did, she wondered, or did he view it as merely another relic of the past, its significance swallowed by his Targaryen pride?
“Let us speak plainly,” she replied, tilting her chin slightly in challenge. “We are to be married, and while I may not have chosen this alliance, I intend to make the best of it. Let us not dance around the subject like nervous suitors.”
Aemond turned his head sharply at her words, his violet eye narrowing as if weighing her challenge. The breeze stirred the skin, and the soft rustle of the Weirwood leaves seemed to echo the tension between them. For a moment, he did not speak, his gaze steady and piercing as it settled fully on her.
“Plain speech,” he said at last, his tone even but edged with something unreadable. “A rarity in court, and yet, it seems, a virtue among the Blackwoods.”
Rosaleen’s lips tightened into a faint, controlled line at his response, the shift in her demeanor subtle but unmistakable. It was not anger, not entirely, but a flicker of discontent that she made no effort to conceal.
“And Your Grace would rather I lie?”
“I do not require appreciation for honesty, Lady Rosaleen. I value its utility.”
A brush of wind came against her skirts, the crimson fabric shifting like rippling blood. “Utility. Yes, that does seem the way, does it not?” she said, “might you tell me what utility the Riverlands offered?”
Aemond’s eye darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his face. “The Riverlands held loyalty to my enemies. War is not fought with pen and parchment, words are wind. And such war demands sacrifice.”
“You dare school me on sacrifice, Your Grace,” she countered, “I have walked through the ruin. Have smelled the burning flesh and seen the sky darken with ash and death.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he did not interrupt, his eye locked on hers with an intensity that seemed to draw the very air taut between them.
“I am to be your wife,” she continued, her voice unyielding. “To stand beside you and call myself your queen in waiting, your partner and your ally in securing my homeland to your cause. To your realm. I have seen sacrifice as clearly as I see you now and I wish never to see it at that measure again.”
Aemond’s gaze did not falter, his expression unreadable. His hands clasped behind his back once more, his posture as rigid as stone.
“You are bold, Lady Rosaleen,” he said at last, his voice cold as the chill of a winter wind. “Bold enough to speak to me thus. Bold enough to be my wife. Perhaps that is why you were chosen. Other’s tongues cut too freely, and the court may find that less tolerable. But you tread carefully, even when you push.”
“I tread carefully,” she replied, her voice steady, “because I must. Not all of us are born with dragons, Your Grace. I merely have my words.”
“He said WHAT?!”
Rosaleen rolled her eyes as the maidservant assigned to her pulled at the fastenings of her dress. The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, and only the dim flicker of candlelight lit the room. Alysanne sat laid back on the chaise, one cup of red wine cradled between her fingers.
Arianne was already abed in her chambers, having not slept the entire journey earlier that morning.
It seemed a lifetime ago now. Meeting Aemond Targaryen seemed to have the effect of several days worth of effort.
“He said that I was bold,” she admitted dryly. “And that perhaps I was bold enough to be his wife.”
Alysanne nearly spat her wine. “Bold?” she repeated, incredulous. “Bold enough to marry him? What does that even mean?”
She waved her hand dismissively when the maidservant attempted to plait her hair, wanting to do it herself. “Perhaps I was supposed to take it as a compliment.”
Alysanne giggled, sitting up, a bit weary and slurred from the wine, “Bold enough to be my wife,” she mimicked, her voice pitched low in a mocking imitation of Aemond. “It is typical. He burns half the realm to ash and still thinks he’s the one doing you a favour.”
Rosaleen snorted, “out, Aly. I must undress.”
With a dramatic sigh and flailing hand movements dragged to her feet, “very well, cousin. Good day.”
Rosaleen watched as Alysanne stumbled from her chamber, carrying the oak door with it with a thud. She glances over at the maidservant, who prepares the bed, noting the mortified expression on her face before she quickly lowered her eyes.
“Do not mind my cousin,” Rosaleen says softly, “she might have been a drunken widowed lord in another life.”
The maidservant’s lips twitched, though she quickly suppressed the smile, her hands smoothing over the freshly turned sheets. “Yes, my lady,” she murmured, keeping her gaze respectfully averted as she finished her task.
Rosaleen sat upon the chaise her cousin had just vacated. It was nice to have family in such a strange place like this, yes. But she observed this girl in the Keep’s employ, barely eight and ten by her eyes. So young.
“What is your name?”
The maidservant hesitated, her hands pausing mid-motion as if uncertain whether the question was truly directed at her. “It’s Lyla, my lady,” she answered softly, her gaze flickering upward before quickly returning to her work.
“Lyla,” Rosaleen repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “How long have you served here at the Red Keep?”
“Since I was twelve, my lady,” Lyla replied, folding the edge of a blanket with careful precision.
“Twelve?” Rosaleen echoed, a note of disbelief in her voice. “So young.”
Lyla’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it did not reach her eyes. “The Keep doesn’t care much for age, my lady. Only that the work is done.”
Rosaleen studied the girl for a moment, noting the faint weariness in her eyes that seemed far beyond her years. It was not so different from the look she had seen in her own reflection of late. “Do you have family still within the Keep?”
“My younger brother works with the stable hands,” Lyla said, her voice softening slightly, as though the mention of him offered her some small comfort. “But the rest of my family remains in the Reach.”
Rosaleen nodded, leaning back slightly against the chaise. “It must be difficult, being so far from them.”
“It is, my lady,” Lyla admitted, her hands stilling briefly. “But the Red Keep has its own…rhythm. You learn to live with it.”
The words lingered in the air, heavy with an unspoken understanding. Rosaleen could not help but wonder if she, too, would learn to live with the rhythm of this place. Would it shape her as it had shaped this young girl, or would she remain an outsider, always at odds with the walls that enclosed her?
Rosaleen’s gaze drifted toward the flickering candlelight, her thoughts spinning with the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. Her voice, when it came, was casual, light enough to mask her true curiosity. “Tell me, Lyla… what do you know of Prince Aemond?”
Lyla hesitated, her hands brushing over the edge of the fabric she had just smoothed. “Not much, my lady,” she replied carefully, as though wary of overstepping. “I am not among his attendants, nor do I often see him.”
Rosaleen was silent, but her dark eyes spoke everything she was thinking. That she wanted to know more, even if it came as gossip. It was more than she felt she knew about the man anyway.
The maidservant hesitated again, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her apron. “Before the war, he was rarely within the Keep at all,” she admitted finally, her voice low as though sharing a secret. “He would come and go as needed, but he was…absent, for the most part.”
“Absent?” Rosaleen repeated, her brows drawing together. “And where would he go, if not here?”
“I couldn’t say for certain, my lady,” she murmured, though her tone was evasive.
Rosaleen leaned forward slightly, her sharp gaze pinning Lyla in place. “You have heard rumors, then.”
Lyla shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing faintly. “It isn’t my place to speak on such intimate matters, my lady,” she said quickly, but the words only served to confirm Rosaleen’s suspicions.
Her lips thinned, though she maintained a neutral expression. “I see,” she said evenly, though the insinuation hung heavy in the air between them.
Brothels. It was not so uncommon a practice for men of his station, and yet the thought of Aemond Targaryen, this cold, distant prince, indulging in such pleasures was oddly jarring. It painted a picture of a man more complex, more contradictory, than she had anticipated.
She was strangely unsurprised.
Her own father had visited such pleasure houses when her mother passed, and made no secret of it. As many lords, princes and kings would do so for the rest of time.
“Thank you, Lyla,” Rosaleen said after a moment, her tone quieter now. “You may go.”
The maidservant dipped into another curtsy, clearly relieved to be dismissed. There was something about Lyla that at this time Rosaleen could not pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way she spoke. The way she stood, visibly anxious.
Rosaleen’s dark eyes lingered on the closed door, her thoughts turning over the maidservant’s carefully chosen words. What would this mean for their marriage? She doubted she would ever truly know.
Aemond’s facade was like a suit of armor, meticulously crafted and nearly impenetrable. He wore it with ease, a shield against prying eyes and unwanted intimacy. Yet beneath it, she sensed something more, a volatile edge, sharp enough to draw blood if she dared to press too hard.
Their earlier conversation lingered in her mind, the weight of his words and the tension that had crackled between them. He had made it clear, if she bared her claws, he would not hesitate to strike back.
And yet…she couldn’t help but wonder, her thoughts skimming a dangerous edge. What would it feel like, that bite? The sharp sting of his retort, the fire behind his gaze, the unspoken challenge in every measured word.
Indeed, how sharp were his claws? How violent the bite? Would he let go once he had the prey in his mouth, until he felt the blood coat his teeth and their hearts fluttering to a stop like the spasming wings of a dying butterfly?
She smiled to herself, drawing her resolve from all the Blackwood women who came before her.
She was no butterfly. She was a raven. Watchful. Patient. And she would meet his bite with her own.
Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged!
General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn
@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69
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@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics
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#forged in flames#rosaleen blackwood#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell characters#aemond x female#aemond x oc#aemond one eye#aemond angst#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x fem!oc#aemond targaryen x female#hotd aemond#prince aemond#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon aemond#aemond x original female character#aemond x ofc#aemond x original character#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen angst#hotd fan fiction
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Dandelion News - November 22-28
Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!
1. Los Angeles becomes a sanctuary city for LGBTQ+ youth and immigrants as officials reject Project 2025
“The Los Angeles City Council voted unanimously Tuesday to pass the “sanctuary city” ordinance, shielding queer youth who travel to the city to receive gender-affirming care from prosecution, as well as preventing city resources from being used in immigration enforcement[….]”
2. Huge deforested areas in the tropics could regenerate naturally, study finds
“Cleared or degraded tropical forests around the world covering a combined area larger than Saudi Arabia could regrow on its own, according to new research published Oct. 30 in the journal Nature. [… T]he permanence of regrown forests is critically important to the benefits it can provide to biodiversity and the climate.”
3. Minnesota tribe could soon get a solar-powered resilience hub
“A pair of developers are working to build a microgrid at an elementary school and community center on the White Earth Reservation in northern Minnesota [… which would] provide about 12 hours worth of backup power for residents to be able to charge cell phones, power medical equipment, or stay warm in the event of a power outage.”
4. An exchange between Indonesia and Tanzania supports food security and ocean health
“Around the world, WWF helps manage […] both traditional sustainability-oriented management and science-based practices. This combination supports long-term food security and biodiversity goals. […] Local ownership and management are […] key to achieving stable fisheries and social and economic benefits.”
5. Spiky blue devils and chocolate lilies: Victorian grassland bursts with wildflowers after ecological ‘reset’
“About 70 native plant species could be found within the site, including […] four endangered species of orchid. […] Careful management, including an ecological burn in May and weed control measures to reduce pasture grasses, laid the groundwork for wildflowers to thrive.”
6. Vast forests, wetlands and lakes conserved [in Ontario]
“A vast 970-hectare area featuring thriving forests, wetlands and crystal-clear lakes northeast of Sault Ste. Marie is now protected[….] The intact forests, lakes, wetlands and shorelines support high biodiversity and are home to many threatened species[….]”
7. A New Era of Compassion: How Suncoast Humane Society is Changing Animal Welfare for Good
“Our campus includes outdoor play areas, trails, and even a small swimming pool to encourage animals to stay active, explore, and simply be themselves.”
8. Building climate resilient cocoa farming in West Africa
“[… A] promising new approach to improve climate resilience in cocoa agroforestry across West Africa […] focuses on the critical role of leaf "phenology"—the seasonal changes in leaf cycles—in trees providing shade in managing climate impacts. [… S]hade trees that lose their leaves entirely during the dry season proved especially beneficial in maintaining soil moisture[….]”
9. New Zealanders save more than 30 stranded whales by lifting them on sheets
“[The Department of Conservation] praised as “incredible” the efforts made by hundreds of people to help save the foundering pod. “It’s amazing to witness the genuine care and compassion people have shown toward these magnificent animals[….]””
10. 'A really sobering moment:' English zoo fights extinction of freshwater Boxer pupfish
“Whipsnade Zoo aquarists were recently told by conservation partners that that the world's last remaining Boxer pupfish was in their care, prompting the zoo to carry out the immediate transport of all the "precious" Boxer pupfish eggs to another local conservation and education charity in the name of species preservation.”
November 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)
#hopepunk#good news#los angeles#us politics#lgbt+#immigrants#deforestation#nature#minnesota#native american#indigenous#electricity#solar panels#solar energy#solar power#ocean#fishing#food insecurity#wildflowers#native wildflowers#native plants#conservation#canada#animal shelters#humane society#agroforestry#new zealand#whale#fish#endangered
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🚨🚨AWFUL HORRIFIC NEWS🚨🚨
Hey everyone, some news update and a call to action :( Yes, KOSA is most likely going to be moving again possibly. Please read the entire message and take action.
WHAT TO DO?:
(YES YOU CAN CALL IF YOURE A MINOR)
1) Call House leadership everyday.
Steve Scalise (R), Mike Johnson (R), and Hakeem Jeffries (D). House leadership (GOP) sounds like they're somewhat in disapproval. Use their reasonings. There is a tailored call script SPECIFICALLY FOR REPUBLICANS in our call script here:
2) Call House Energy and Commerce Committee.
Click their names here:
and their phone numbers should be present. Split amongst yourselves which ones to call because there's a lot of members. If you have time, call all. If not, pick a few and call.
More noise = better.
⭐ See end for extra resources and tips.
1) Movement in the House. There will be a full committee markup next Wednesday at 10 am. The list of bills they will markup hasn't been finalized but KOSA is most likely to show up.
SOURCE:
2) 42 State Attorney Generals signed a letter in support of action on social media harms, including passing KOSA
SOURCE:
3) Schumer has been pushing for a vote on this all last week
⭐ Pretend you are a member of the GOP when calling them. Use their concerns. They are worried about pro-life, christian messages being censored off the internet. Pretend you are concerned about this as well. Say things like "this will give Biden a win and then they will use this bill to push their LGBT agenda on the rest of us!"
CALL SCRIPT FOR GOP:
I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA, the Kid’s Online Safety Act. This is a dangerous bill that will harm children. Many news organizations have reported that this bill actively harms kids by exposing their private data to strangers under the guise of protecting them. We need to hold Big Tech accountable, but KOSA is not the solution.
The bill let any state attorney general and the FTC to sue any website for “harmful” content. Do we really want blue state lawyers deciding what can and can’t be allowed online? Big Tech is already censoring us. That’s why they support KOSA. This is massive government overreach. We need a bill that actually protects children by creating better security measures instead of bringing about more censorship.
Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language. KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies, which would put them in further danger. How is this protecting children’s privacy? What parent would want their child’s private data in the hands of strangers like this? KOSA is actively putting kids in danger. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you.
CALL SCRIPT FOR DEMS:
I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA. Nearly 200 human rights and LGBT organizations total came out in an open letter opposing it. The ACLU is against it. Hundreds of thousands of Gen Z, who actually live online, are against it. We know the harms of social media, and we know this is not the solution. The new language does NOT meet any concerns brought up, in fact many organizations were ignored. Major news have reported that this bill actively harms kids. We do not want this.
The rewritten bill would still allow any state attorney general, and now the FTC, to sue any website for “harmful” content. When you have Republicans calling anything LGBT “sexual exploitation” or anything about race “CRT” to successfully ban books and teachers, then they will use any justification to censor the internet. The Missouri attorney general used “mental health” successfully to ban gender-affirming care with backed up research. Suicide rates will skyrocket for marginalized youth with this bill restricting content.
Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language. KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies. Furthermore, updated language threatens encryption the same way the Earn It Act does. How is this protecting children’s privacy? KOSA actively harms kids. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you.
friendly reminder!! ⬆️
#kosa#stop kosa#fuck kosa#trump vs kamala#anti censorship#gravity falls#art#aesthetic#vocaloid#kaito shion#oc#catgirl#gay rights#black lgbt#lgbtq rights#lgbtqia#trans rights#gay#trans#transgender#pansexual#bisexual#luka megurine#hastune miku#brazilian miku
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HELP STOP KOSA,CALL YOUR HOUSE REPS
With the end of the year approaching, we are expecting KOSA to be slipped into an end of the year spending bill. We cannot allow it to pass. There has been push by parents to bring KOSA back, not aware how dangerous KOSA actually is for children online. It would make it mandatory for platforms online to enforce age verification via ID, and deeming any content "inappropriate" for kids to be banned.This could range from not safe for work content, to health ressources, to climate change. It'll be up to politicians to dictate what is and isn't proper for kids,and, of course, killing encryption. Imagine the damage. Please focus on the entire leadership of the House,as well as reps generally, telling them to not bring KOSA up. Speaker Johnson must also be contacted, whos number is: (202) 225-2777 Heres a list of House reps to contact: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IyBUe6frFGF44rJQU3TahZ5zyG3tC7jai_hPneAKlnM/edit?tab=t.0 Use the call tool to call the House : https://www.stopkosa.com/ https://www.badinternetbills.com/#kosa
Here are scripts you can use : if your rep is GOP : I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA, the Kid’s Online Safety Act. This is a dangerous bill that will harm children. Many news organizations have reported that this bill actively harms kids by exposing their private data to strangers under the guise of protecting them. We need to hold Big Tech accountable, but KOSA is not the solution. The bill let any state attorney general and the FTC to sue any website for “harmful” content. Do we really want blue state lawyers deciding what can and can’t be allowed online? Big Tech is already censoring us. That’s why they support KOSA. This is massive government overreach. We need a bill that actually protects children by creating better security measures instead of bringing about more censorship. Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language. KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies, which would put them in further danger. How is this protecting children’s privacy? What parent would want their child’s private data in the hands of strangers like this? KOSA is actively putting kids in danger. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you. if your rep is DEM: I am urging you to VOTE NO on KOSA. Nearly 200 human rights and LGBT organizations total came out in an open letter opposing it. The ACLU is against it. Hundreds of thousands of Gen Z, who actually live online, are against it. We know the harms of social media, and we know this is not the solution. The new language does NOT meet any concerns brought up, in fact many organizations were ignored. Major news have reported that this bill actively harms kids. We do not want this. The rewritten bill would still allow any state attorney general, and now the FTC, to sue any website for “harmful” content. When you have Republicans calling anything LGBT “sexual exploitation” or anything about race “CRT” to successfully ban books and teachers, then they will use any justification to censor the internet. The Missouri attorney general used “mental health” successfully to ban gender-affirming care with backed up research. Suicide rates will skyrocket for marginalized youth with this bill restricting content. Multiple experts agree this bill pushes age verification, even with the new language. KOSA hands more private data of children to third party companies. Furthermore, updated language threatens encryption the same way the Earn It Act does. How is this protecting children’s privacy? KOSA actively harms kids. Do NOT support this bill. Thank you.
Tell them you'll vote for your reps if they vote no on KOSA,anything goes. But most importantly it's crucial that KOSA is not being brought at all for any vote. Also,to note, Biden supports KOSA: You could try asking your GOP rep why they would support a bill that has Biden's support,and that he could use it to his advantage somehow (we know GOP does not like Biden,so it should be utilized somehow). We need to ensure the bill doesnt pass at all.
Last but not least: COME JOIN OUR ANTI KOSA SERVER ! we organize to help fight against bad Internet bills ! https://discord.gg/pwTSXZMxnH
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Yandere Headcanons for Thaddeus from “Killer Peter”
(note: why do they always make the villain hot i saw no headcanons or fanfics of him or "x reader" so I decided to do a headcanons yes red is my favorite color)
1. Obsessive Affection With his complex personality, Thaddeus exhibits an intense and obsessive form of affection towards those he cares about. His love is not a gentle fondness; it borders on an all-consuming passion that can quickly spiral into possessiveness. He meticulously keeps track of every detail about the object of his affection, whether it’s their daily routines, favorite foods, or even their friends and acquaintances. This obsession drives him to protect them at all costs, leading to a darker side where he might resort to extreme measures if he feels threatened by anyone who comes too close.
2. Jealousy and Paranoia Thaddeus’s yandere nature manifests prominently through his jealousy. He cannot stand the thought of anyone else getting too close to you the one he loves. This jealousy often leads him down a path of paranoia, where he imagines scenarios in which his beloved(you) is unfaithful or is in danger due to others’ intentions. He may confront perceived rivals with a chilling calmness that belies the storm brewing within him. His jealousy can escalate quickly, transforming him from a caring partner into someone who will go to great lengths—potentially violent—to eliminate any threats.
3. Duality of Personality One of the most intriguing aspects of Thaddeus’s character is his duality. On one hand, he can be charming and charismatic, drawing people in with his wit and intelligence. On the other hand, there lies a darker side that emerges when he feels betrayed or threatened. This duality makes him unpredictable; readers are left guessing whether they will encounter the sweet Thaddeus or the cold-hearted protector at any given moment. This unpredictability adds layers to his character and keeps readers engaged as they explore how far he might go for love.
4. Manipulative Tendencies Thaddeus possesses a keen intellect that allows him to manipulate situations to his advantage seamlessly. He knows how to play mind games with both friends and foes alike, often using charm and persuasion to bend others to his will without them realizing it until it’s too late. His manipulative nature extends even to his beloved(you) he may create scenarios that make you dependent on him or isolate them from their support systems under the guise of protection.
5. Dark Romantic Gestures In true Yandere fashion, Thaddeus expresses his love through darkly romantic gestures that may seem sweet on the surface but carry sinister undertones upon closer inspection. For instance, he might surprise his beloved with gifts that have unsettling origins—like items taken from those who have wronged them—or orchestrate elaborate dates in secluded locations where they are completely alone and away from prying eyes. These gestures serve as both declarations of love and warnings: no one else can have them.
6. Unwavering Loyalty Despite his darker tendencies, Thaddeus embodies unwavering loyalty once someone has earned his trust and affection. He would go above and beyond for those he loves, often placing their needs above his own desires—even if it means making morally questionable choices along the way. This loyalty can be both comforting and terrifying; while it provides a sense of security for those close to him, it also raises questions about what boundaries he might cross in the name of love.
7. A Tragic Backstory To fully understand Thaddeus’s yandere tendencies, one must consider a potential tragic backstory that shapes who he is today—a past filled with betrayal or loss could explain why he clings so tightly to those he loves now. Perhaps early experiences taught him that love is fleeting or conditional; thus, when he finds someone worth loving again, he becomes desperate to keep them safe and never let them slip away.
Clingy Yet Charismatic:
Once Thaddeus develops an attachment to someone, he becomes incredibly clingy. He thrives on their attention and affection, often showering you with compliments and small gifts that seem innocent at first glance—like handmade trinkets or baked goods. However, this clinginess quickly escalates into possessiveness. He believes that anyone who gets too close to his beloved must be eliminated or kept at bay, leading him to orchestrate elaborate schemes to isolate you from potential threats—friends, family members, or even romantic interests He will go out of his way to be near you often inserting himself into your daily routines under the guise of wanting to help or spend time together.
warning: a lil NSFW(if your comfortable with NSFW you may read if not don't read this)
how would he be in bed-
he would definitely be dom or switch he would do it rough such as if you told him to go slow he would go faster thrusting inside you I don't even know why yall create a safeword he would be the type to call you "good girl your taking me so well~ "while he is fucking you from behind and whispers in your ear "your fucking mine" I feel like he would make jokes while yall are doing it (it is a canon at this point) he would purposely gag you on his dick while your giving a blowjob and laugh about it, I just know if he is good at martial figthtin he is good with fingers
Aftercare-
he would be the big spoon putting you to his chest as she cuddles you and he would act all innocent and shits and he would say how would a good job you did pleasing him as he kisses you smiling at you pullin' closer to him his hand is on your waist, he would make you a bath for him and you can wash off(there might be a round 2) but after all he is clingy don't get me started on him kissing all over your face telling you how much he loves you (he might be a villain but he would hug me if I was sad)
Thaddeus’ hugs become more frequent and enveloping as the relationship develops, offering a sense of security. Kisses exchanged in these early days are tender and sweet, leaving a lingering warmth that hints at deeper feelings. You might notice small tokens of his affection—a favorite snack he brings you or a shared playlist that reflects your growing bond.
His kisses transform into fervent expressions of desire—more passionate and demanding than before. Thaddeus seems insatiable, always wanting more closeness and connection. Love bites become a playful yet possessive mark of his affection, signifying that you belong to him in this chaotic world.
Cuddling Dynamics At home or during quiet moments together, Thaddeus often plays the big spoon role during cuddling sessions. He wraps around you protectively, creating a cocoon where you both can escape from reality for a while. This nurturing side reveals his softer nature beneath the tough exterior he often presents to the world.
(note: comment who yall want me to do headcanons for the next post you can either text me or ask in the box but I would prefer if you text me instead if you read all of this thank you so much and reblogged this)
#i am not finsihed yet#gonna finsihed this later#thaddeus x reader#killer peter#martial arts master#hot#hot villain#who would i do next#finally finished
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