#you didn’t link ur tumblr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquaquadrant · 11 months ago

Text

from eden, part IX (act II)

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

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

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

~*~

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Ten years, remember?)

(Of course he’s a good liar.)

(Surprise, surprise.)

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

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

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

(Here we go…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grian raises his eyebrows. “No end?”

“No portals?” Bdubs echoes disbelievingly.

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

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

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

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

Horror seizes Jimmy. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a brief silence.

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

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

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

Jimmy’s stomach drops.

Oh.

(There we go, now they’ve got it.)

(Makes sense, right?)

(Honestly, it’s so obvious…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Uh oh, no Impulse to the rescue…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh, sure.)

(That’s what they think…)

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

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

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

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

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

“They put you in a farm?!”

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

Ah. This must be ‘full demon’ mode.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy asks.

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

(There it is. Hm, firewalled. Gonna be tricky.)

Then Grian pushes his glasses back up, and it passes.

“Right,” he says briskly, putting his comm away. “I can’t find the world, so the portal thing checks out. But since Tango’s cut this meeting a bit short, do you have any other information? Anything the Hels guys might’ve said or done that we should know about?”

Jimmy blinks. Grian’s just looking at him expectantly, giving no indication that there’s anything out of sorts. Jeeze, he’s used to having random thoughts, but the stress of everything must really be getting to him if he’s imagining his friend’s voices, now.

“Um, actually,” Jimmy says, “the collar they put on Tango… he said it’s using some sort of… modified wither rose to dampen his fire? It’s uh, also dampening our soulbond.” He clears his throat, glancing away. “As a- as a fun little side effect.”

“Have you tried removing it yet?” Etho asks, stepping around Impulse with his hands in his pockets.

“I did, earlier,” Impulse chimes in from the ground. “Just with my hands, but uh, he acted like it was hurting him.”

Jimmy nods. “Yeah, Atlas locked it on him with a key, and I’m pretty sure he still had it when he left. So I think that might be the way to get it off.”

“Well,” Joel cuts in, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Impulse’s shoulder, “surely not the only way, right? I mean, you could always…” He makes a noncommittal noise, and draws a finger across his neck.

Jimmy bristles, wings flaring out. “What, decapitate my soulmate?!”

Joel holds up his hands. “Hey, hey, we don’t know if that thing’ll respawn on him!”

“His cuffs do!” Jimmy points out.

“Yeah, but isn’t it worth a shot?” Joel counters.

“I… I guess,” Jimmy relents, letting his feathers smooth back down. “But I’d rather look into a few other options before jumpin’ straight to decapitation, if you don’t mind. Tango’s been through enough as it is.”

Joel backs off. “Alright, fair enough.”

“Okay…” Grian turns to address the rest of the group. “Well, um… this has been an interesting revelation, to say the least. I think we’re gonna have to do a bit more research to figure out how they got here before we just… open the world back up. So that means we’ll all be stuck here a bit longer, is that- is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Bdubs says vehemently.

“Yeah,” Impulse agrees, “whatever it takes.”

Further murmurs of assent ring out from among the group. Everywhere Jimmy looks, he sees faces full of sympathy and understanding, not a single trace of resentment or annoyance to be found. God, he loves his friends.

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate it,” he says gratefully. “I’m gonna go check on Tango, but we’ll keep you updated if anythin’ changes.”

“Right, okay then.” Grian claps his hands together. “Uh- I guess that’s all for now?”

Nodding, Jimmy turns and takes to the sky, leaving spawn behind him.

His mind is still reeling from all the heavy revelations, his stomach twisted up into knots, but he’s at least comforted by knowing that his friends are behind them. Seems that the fears Bravo tried to instill were completely unfounded, nothing more than vicious, desperate attempts to sow division between Tango and the others. Jimmy really shouldn’t have doubted them.

(That went… surprisingly well.)

(Give it time.)

‘Oh, shove off,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

He finds Tango back at the spare room in Impulse and Bdubs’s house.

Thank goodness for that. He hadn’t exactly been sure if Tango would consider this a safe place to go. But with the ranch destroyed and the world on lockdown, it’s not like he has a lot of options.

Tango’s sitting on the bed with his back to Jimmy. At a glance, he seems relaxed, but his legs are curled under him in a way that’d allow him to spring up in an instant. And the way his pointed ears swivel back toward Jimmy tells him Tango is quite alert.

(So deceiving…)

“Hey, Tango,” Jimmy says softly. “You alright?”

“Oh, hey.” Tango doesn’t turn around just yet, shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, yeah.”

Jimmy lingers by the bed for a moment, uncertain. “Um, Impulse didn’t mean to lose his temper like that,” he offers. “He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just, in the moment- I- I- thought…” Tango sighs. “Anyway. So- so I guess I should head out, huh?”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “What? What’re you sayin’?”

“It’s over, right?” Tango asks, his voice tight, shoulders hunched by his ears. “They don’t want me around, and I don’t blame ‘em. I mean, once Grian opens the world again, it’s only a matter of time before another portal from Hels opens up. And- and who’d want to go through all that again, right? So don’t worry, I get it, it was my fault, so-”

“No, Tango, I promise- none of them blame you, alright?” Jimmy sits down on the bed- not too close. “None of them believe what Bravo was sayin’ about you. None of them think you’re some… some evil monster that deserves to be locked up in Hels.”

Tango finally turns around. His body is coiled with all the tension of a drawn arrow. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t see me- what I did- back at the ranch,” he says sharply. “They don’t know the whole story.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. He knew Tango would hold that against himself. “Well, I do, and I-”

“No, you don’t.”

Jimmy blinks. “Wh- oh, you mean the Helsknight thing?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “Look, honestly, based on what you told Bravo, I don’t blame you for doing that. You were just scared you’d get sent back, that doesn’t make you evil. I know you-”

“No, you don’t,” Tango says again, more intently. “You don’t know everything about me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy’s stomach drops. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Tango smiles without humor, a hard look in his eye. “You wanna know why I like making those- those crazy mob farms? Why I try to kill them in creative, fun ways?” He tilts his head. “Because I like it. I like to make their deaths entertaining. I’ll even sacrifice efficiency for it, I’ll go out of my way to do it. And I- it doesn’t stop there, I’ll kill passive mobs for no reason. Cats, frogs, things that don’t even have drops, for absolutely no reason. That’s not normal.”

Despite himself, Jimmy feels a chill run down his spine. “That’s not… those are just mobs, it’s- it’s not evil…”

(Are you sure about that?)

Tango exhales sharply- a short, bitter laugh. “Okay. You know why practically all my mini games end in death? Huh? You wanna guess?”

Distress shoots through Jimmy. “Tango-”

“I like to watch players die, too,” Tango says. “And I like it to be entertaining. I enjoy it, that’s- that’s just plain sadistic.” He rakes his claws through his hair. “That’s what I am, I’m a- a sadistic monster, okay, I always have been.”

“Stop it, don’t say that!” Jimmy protests, his heart twisting. “You’re not- people actually sign up for those games, you know. And it’s not like death is permanent, it doesn’t matter-”

“So?” Tango interrupts harshly. He jumps off the bed and starts pacing. “What- does that make any difference? Doesn’t matter if people enjoy them, okay, my- my reason for making them is wrong. Designing games is fun, sure, but I- that’s never what it’s been about. I like to make players struggle, and suffer, and die in the end. I like to watch them experience pain and fear in a trap of my own creation. I like the feeling of control it gives me. No matter how you look at it, that’s- I- I’m messed up.”

Jimmy can’t take this anymore. He rises to his feet. “Tango, stop, that’s enough,” he says, his voice stern. “I know I haven’t known you very long, but-”

“Yeah,” Tango snaps, rounding on Jimmy, “you haven’t! That’s the whole problem! I’ve kept a huge chunk of my life secret from you, my own soulmate. I’ve kept it from the Hermits, too- my friends of nearly a decade. I’ve deceived and lied to everyone I ever cared about. I’ve pretended to be this- this benevolent game maker who just wants everyone to have a good time, I’ve kept so much of who I really am hidden ‘cause I knew that if you guys ever saw the real me, you’d hate me.”

Jimmy’s mind is reeling. Tango’s clever eye for game design is something Jimmy’s always loved about him, the way he could create fun challenges even amidst the throes of a death game. After all, the first time they really interacted was when Jimmy died to his ‘Dare to Flare’ challenge back on the Third Life world. And that had been a laughably simple game compared to some of the things he’s done on Hermitcraft.

Even though it ended up costing Jimmy a life, the rush of adrenaline had been thrilling. And even though in hindsight, he knew it was a deliberate ploy by Tango to thin out his competitor’s lives, Jimmy’s never resented him for it.

So to suddenly realize there might’ve been more to it… that Tango might’ve actually enjoyed watching him burn to death- beyond the simple satisfaction of having outsmarted his competition, of course- is… unsettling, to say the least.

(What a start to a relationship!)

(The red flags have been there from day one.)

(A sadist and a liar, lucky you.)

But nevertheless, Jimmy holds his ground. “I don’t hate you.”

Tango tenses. “You should.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jimmy insists. “I love you, Tango.”

“No, you don’t!” Tango snarls, and the hurt in his voice is raw and ragged and bleeding. His eyes are burning with rage, and Jimmy’s almost certain that if it weren’t for the collar, he’d be on fire right now. “Alright? Just shut up! You love this- this version of me that I’ve presented, okay, this lie I’ve been living. You love Tango the friendly redstoner, who makes ridiculous high-pitched noises when he’s flustered and who’s funny when he’s mad and who can’t fight his way out of a one-block hole. You don’t love the sadistic blaze hybrid that sets things on fire and- and rips people’s throats out with his fucking teeth, don’t be stupid!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

(And there it is!)

(Finally showing his true colors.)

(He did try to tell you…)

For a moment, Jimmy is too stunned to speak. Tango’s never yelled at him before, not seriously, and the sting of his words is almost a physical thing.

Tango seems just as shocked at his outburst as Jimmy is, his face paling as his anger quickly extinguishes. The next words out of Tango’s mouth are almost guaranteed to be an apology, but Jimmy isn’t letting him off that easily.

“Now hang on just a second,” Jimmy says lowly. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel about you. I’m a grown player. I’m not some poor, innocent idiot that you’ve manipulated into loving you, alright? And it hurts that you’d think so little of me, that I’d stand here and just lie about my feelings to you.”

(Ooh, someone finally grew a backbone-)

Jimmy silences the thought, violently forcing it out of his mind. He’s got no patience for that sort of thing right now.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers, “I didn’t-”

“And what’s more,” Jimmy continues, gaining steam, “do you really think I’m the type of person to judge someone so harshly for things outta their control? You honestly think I’m some- some shallow, heartless jerk who’d turn on you, just like that? Or- for that matter, you think the Hermits would? After ten years of friendship, you have that little faith in them?”

Tango’s eyes widen. “No, no it’s- it’s not like that,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care that you’re from Hels,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward. “I don’t care what you did in the past, or that you kept it from me. I don’t care if some random guy thinks you’re just the manifestation of all his evil- frankly, I think that says more about him than it does about you.” He comes to a stop in front of Tango. “I love you. The teeth, the claws, the death fascination or- or whatever you wanna call it- I love all of it. All of you. And I wish more than anythin’ they hadn’t got that damn collar on you, so you could feel that love through our soulbond. But you’ve felt it before, right? Before I knew? Well um, it hasn’t changed, I promise you that.”

Tango stares back up at him. Now that the anger’s gone, he just looks scared. “You don’t-” His voice breaks. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do,” Jimmy answers, unwavering. As difficult as this conversation has been, this part’s easy. “I promise, cross my heart.”

Tango shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Please,” he whispers, “don’t… I can’t- if I let myself think that but you don’t mean it, I- I can’t handle that. Please. Just tell me now, okay, get it over with…”

Understanding settles over Jimmy. Creasing his brows, he takes a slow, deliberate step forward. “I mean it,” he says, lifting a hand to cup Tango’s cheek.

Tango trembles, but he doesn’t move away. He swallows, licks his lips. “Say it again?” he asks, almost a plea, his eyes darting to take in every inch of Jimmy’s face- like he’s unsure whether he can truly believe what he’s seeing, almost searching for any hint, any trace of doubt in Jimmy’s expression.

There isn’t any. Jimmy leans in. “I love you.”

Something glimmers in Tango’s eyes; a warm light Jimmy hasn’t seen since before the ranch burned.

Something like hope.

Love rises inside Jimmy like a wave- love and the sorrow of shared grief, the fierce determination to withstand it, and the agony of all the past suffering he can’t take away. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating, this sudden rush of emotion. A whirling maelstrom that makes his head spin. But his love burns brightly through it all, a sole lantern against the storm.

Maybe he can’t make Tango believe he’s worthy of love. But he can give it anyway.

Jimmy moves slowly, tilting his face down towards Tango’s. He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, giving Tango plenty of time to move away or say something to stop him, to give any sign at all that he isn’t feeling the same.

There isn’t any. Their lips meet gently, like a familiar greeting. Like the way sunlight falls through the window every morning.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Suddenly Tango’s kissing him back, fervently, pushing against him. Jimmy’s legs hit the bed and buckle, sending him backwards, Tango falling on top of him. His hands cling to Jimmy’s shirt, twisting in the fabric, and his tears wet Jimmy’s face, salt on his tongue. Above the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just make out the words Tango’s murmuring between kisses, breathless and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Jimmy pulls him impossibly closer, whispering, “I never doubted.”

They don’t need words after that.

~*~

“Jeeze, they weren’t kidding,” Tango mutters, taking in the ranch with wide eyes.

The ranch looks even worse than Jimmy had been imagining. Nearly the entire first floor is gone, just a wide-open plot and their lonely front door sitting ajar. Aside from the odd block here and there, it’s just empty. A couple trapdoors from the furniture in the living room. The smooth stone slabs that made up their kitchen countertops. An occasional unbroken glass pane floating where there used to be windows.

It’s not a home anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Up the intact cobblestone staircase, the second floor has only fared slightly better. Some of the walls are still standing, charred and moth-eaten as they are. He thinks most of the bathroom’s interior was spared, as it was primarily made of different stone materials. Polished andesite and the like. The chests in their storage room made it, of course, even though the room itself didn’t. And their bedroom seems to have gotten the worst of it. From down here, he thinks it might just be the bed itself that’s left.

The roof is gone, leaving their cobblestone chimney awkwardly sticking up from the ground to nowhere. The path up to the house and the surrounding fields have been torn up to make a ditch. Necessary as it was, it’s quite the eyesore. And to top it all off, one of the custom trees that Scar helped build has been hastily chopped down, due to its proximity to the nearby forest. There’s just a couple of logs and solitary leaves left floating in the air.

It hurts. Everywhere Jimmy looks, there’s another source of heartache. Another precious memory that’s been turned to ash. It’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

But he’s also aware of Tango standing beside him. He knows how much Tango is already beating himself up for the fire, and the last thing he wants to do is add to that guilt.

Jimmy turns to give Tango a rueful grin. “Talk about your fixer-uppers, ey?”

Tango exhales slowly. “Man, it’s so…” He glances at Jimmy, expression pinched. “I’m sorry, you worked so hard-”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says, shrugging. “It’s just a building.”

Tango hesitates. “It’s… alright to be upset. This was our home, and I- I got all ‘rahhhrr angry-burny rage mode’ on it and-”

“Not your fault,” Jimmy says, voice gentle but firm. He puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the Hels fellas for attackin’ us in the first place.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise, scuffing the upturned dirt with his boot. “Sure.”

It’s clear he’s not convinced, but Jimmy leaves it there for now. Their conversation from yesterday is going to take some time to fully sink in. He crosses over to a haphazardly-placed double chest near the front of the ranch and crouches beside it, lifting the lid with a creak.

“Martyn said everything they were able to save is in this chest here, let’s see…” He rummages through the chest’s inventory. A lot of it is random junk; miscellaneous blocks, half-stacks of wheat, dropped weapons and armor from the fight. But there are a few good finds, like some of the clothes from their closet, a couple of flower pots, one of his framed embroidery pieces...

“Oh, hey, look at this!” Jimmy calls excitedly. “My gloves!”

He pulls the gloves out, looking up from the chest to see Tango standing over him. His eyes widen when he sees them- happily surprised at first, and then the familiar dawning of guilt and regret.

“You uh… maybe I should take those back, for now,” Tango says quietly, his ears lowered. “Or- or maybe just forever, yeah.”

“Ey, stop it, no take-backs,” Jimmy chastises him, slipping the gloves on. “Gloves couldn’t have prevented that fire, anyways. And I like wearin’ ‘em, because that way it’s sorta like I’m holdin’ your hand all the time.”

A grin tugs at Tango’s mouth. “Aw, that’s real cheesy, honey,” he teases, even as a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Yeah, but I mean it,” Jimmy says loftily. “I’m keepin’ them.”

Tango holds his hands up, chuckling. “Alright, alright…” His gaze travels back towards the ranch, up towards the storage room with its rows of chests. “Guess we should still have plenty of materials to rebuild, huh?”

“Should do, yeah,” Jimmy says, straightening up. Having the gloves back is an immediate comfort, despite the fact he’d only gone two days without them. He foldings his arms, gaze sweeping critically over the remains of the ranch. “I guess for now, we’ll just focus on the structure? Y’know, get the place liveable again and worry ‘bout the decor and landscapin’ later…”

“Oh, that’s what you think!”

The loud voice makes them both jump. Jimmy whirls around to see Bdubs- of course, because there’s absolutely no mistaking that voice.

“Bdubs!” Jimmy laughs, clutching his heart. “What- what’re you doin’ here?”

Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “I- I can’t believe what I’m- ‘no interior decor’, yeah right! You’re not gonna get outta that very- so easy! I tell you!”

Tango snickers. Luckily Bdubs’s sudden appearance hasn’t seemed to cause more than a brief startle. “Oh, yeah? You gonna help out, then, shorty?”

“Hey!” Bdubs barks incredulously- though it’s clear from his expression he’s not really upset. “I’m tryin’ t- augh, n’you- you stu- yes. Yes, yes, I’m here to help, of course. For goodness sakes. I- how kind, are I! Sweet, kind Bdubs…”

“And handsome, too,” Jimmy adds cheekily.

That makes Bdubs beam, puffing his chest out. “Yeahhh, c’mon baby!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tango groans.

“Oh, stop it!” Bdubs huffs. “Anyway, Impulse would’ve come, of course, but he and Etho- the redstone guys, you know, uh, they’re havin’ a- a- little chat, little brainy-thing… brainstormin’ ‘bout the portal stuff with Grian. But never thy fear! I saw you guys head out and, in my eternal wiseness, have already called in the forcements!”

Jimmy exchanges an amused look with Tango. “Well, any help is appreciated,” he amends.

“Sure about that, Timmy?” calls Joel’s voice, as the man himself appears over the hill.

And he’s not alone. Cleo’s taller figure looms over him, Scott and Pearl walking on either side of her as a small pack of wolves weave between their legs. The trio is followed by Martyn, Bigb, and Ren- the latter seeming to have recovered his friendly disposition and wagging tail. Finally, Scar emerges from behind a tree to round out the group, calling out a cheerful, “Hello there!”

Joel comes to a stop next to Bdubs and claps him on the shoulder. “We figured you two could use the help, what with you not bein’ builders and all.” Cheeky man.

Jimmy snorts. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. But slights at their building skills aside, he’s actually quite touched.

Tango blinks. “You guys… all came to help out?” he asks, sounding amazed.

“Of course!” Bdubs declares. “We ha- we help!”

Cleo shrugs, giving a hapless grin. “You know, I- I- I really don’t know… why Bdubs invited me? I’m not that great a builder. But I can supervise, I guess? And- and heckle. Always heckle.”

“And reach tha’ tall bits,” Scott offers, lightly elbowing her hip.

“And reach the tall bits,” Cleo laughs. “Right. Yes.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Martyn chimes in, slinging an arm around Bigb’s shoulders, “since that portal stuff is way over my head.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Uh…” He speaks to Jimmy and Tango behind his hand, despite making no effort to lower his voice at all- for comedic effect. “Normally, I would’ve offered my perfect redstone prowess to uh, to help the other guys out with their little portal thing, you know, but eugh- I knew someone would have ta’ keep all these jokers in line.”

“Ah, of course,” Tango replies sagely.

“Well?” Bdubs turns expectantly to the others, throwing his arms up. “Get movin’ then! Sheesh! Stand around, waitin’ for- for no raisin…”

“Yes, my liege,” Cleo drawls, rolling their eyes.

Ren claps his big paws together. “Yeah, we’re burnin’ daylight, my dudes!”

Pearl’s fuzzy wings unfurl from beneath her red cloak. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with!” she says excitedly, fluttering up to the storage room.

Just like that, the other Double Lifers descend on the husk of the ranch. Placing down temporary chests and crafting benches, sorting through the remaining resources, filling in the ditch with dirt. Multiple conversations start up immediately as everyone sets to a task, and the atmosphere is comfortable- even if a bit strange.

Jimmy can’t recall a time when this many of them have worked on a project together. Not on Third Life, not on Last Life, not here. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible during a death game. Large gatherings between different groups are always fraught with tension and uncertainty, by the fear of a trap or a backstab or a fight breaking out.

But it’s nice. Pearl is hovering above the second floor, working with Cleo to build the walls back up while Scott prepares some stairs and slabs for detailing. Scar and Bdubs are already bickering about how to do the landscaping while Joel grumbles at them, waist-deep in the ditch with Bigb and Martyn placing dirt. Ren’s started tearing down the damaged trees, clearing room for replanting, and Pearl’s wolves mill about, filling the air with curious sniffs and yips.

Tango’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, and it suddenly occurs to Jimmy that this is the most people Tango’s been around since the difficult conversation at spawn. Impulse was checking on them throughout the rest of the day, of course, and a few of the other players stopped by now and again, but not in big groups or anything.

Jimmy steps closer to Tango. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Tango looks at him in surprise. A smile spreads across his face, and he takes Jimmy’s hand. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, it is.”

Jimmy smiles back. “Then let’s get in there.”

~*~

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “Dang, this looks even better than before!” he says, craning his head to look around the room.

After a full day of building and the gradual dispersal of the other Double Lifers, Jimmy and Tango are now seeing their new bedroom for the first time. They were around for the bulk of the structure building, but once it came time for the interior, Bdubs and Scar had insisted it be a surprise. Everything about it is perfect, from the custom furniture to the quilted wool rug to the fancy frame Scar built around their double-wide bed.

Tango clears his throat. “Maybe, uh- maybe we can just…” He kicks one of the beds with the toe of his boot. “... scooch this over a little…”

“Nope,” Jimmy declares, sweeping Tango off the floor and onto the bed. “Nice try, mate, but you’re stayin’ right here next to me.”

“Okay, okay, fine! I ju- don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tango huffs, but he’s grinning as he says it.

~*~

“Alright, fellas,” Grian says, clapping his hands together, “here’s what we’ve got so far…”

Jimmy leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Tango is a little tense beside him- probably just nerves. But it could be worse. They’re gathered in the living room of Impulse and Bdubs’s house; Grian perched on the arm of the sectional across from Jimmy and Tango, Impulse and Etho sitting adjacent to them. The familiar setting and fairly limited company seems to have helped put Tango more at ease for what might end up being a tricky conversation.

“We’re... pretty sure we know how the Hels peeps got here,” Grian continues, “but there are a few things we need to clarify, first.” He glances at Etho, inclining his head. “Etho, you wanna explain?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Etho stands up. “Tango, may I see your comm, please? I uh, just need to look at it for a minute.”

Tango blinks. Anxiety flashes across his face for just a brief second before disappearing. “Oh. Uh, sure?” He pulls the item from his inventory, holding it out.

Etho takes the communicator. “So,” he begins, sitting back down, “you said that in Hels, players can’t make portals with their communicators, right?”

Tango gives a short nod. “That’s right. That comm isn’t the one I spawned with, they took that from me at Hels Tek. X made me a new one, after I got to Hermitcraft.” He gives a dry laugh. “I told him- I told him I lost it. Which, I mean, that’s- it’s technically not a lie, just... not the whole truth.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. He might no longer be worried that the others will reject him, but this still can’t be easy to talk about.

Etho studies the communicator, his mismatched eyes narrowed in concentration. “So after you got a new comm, you were able to use it to make portals?”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “it uh, it’s taken me to each Hermitcraft world and everything in between, no problem. Hubs, solo worlds, creative- you name it.”

Etho hums. “Can you use your comm to travel to Hels?”

“No.” Tango glances away. “I’ve looked for it, a few times. Never shows up.”

That brings a couple more questions to mind, but Jimmy files them away for later.

“Interesting.” Etho seems to be delving deep into the communicator’s hardware, typing rapidly. “So uh, the portal issue isn’t centered on players that spawn in Hels, just their communicators. And since overworld communicators can’t find Hels, there must be something about the world itself preventing it.”

Tango knits his brows together. “I suppose…?”

It’s at this point that Grian leans forward. “Have either of you heard about firewalls?” he asks.

Tango shakes his head, but Jimmy’s heart jolts. He has heard that word before; just the other day, when he thought he heard Grian’s voice in his head. But that’s not exactly something Jimmy wants to bring up right now. Or ever, maybe. His weird, random, intrusive thoughts don’t need to be anyone else’s problem.

“Um…” Jimmy pretends to think about it for a moment. “I think I’ve heard the term somewhere before, but I- I dunno what that actually means.”

“Right.” Grian spreads his hands. “So firewalls are a sort of added security measure that admins can use when making a new world. It’s like, an impenetrable barrier ‘round the world that makes it basically impossible for anyone unauthorized to join via portal.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, eyes widening. “What- why haven’t I heard about this? Do all worlds have these?”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, firewalls are kinda outdated. Developments in server security and comm travel have basically rendered them obsolete. I mean, when’s the last time you heard of a private world being raided, besides ours?” He shrugs. “Plus, it’s a real tedious process to set one up, so they aren’t used often. Mostly for multiplayer worlds that are invite-only, if an admin is particularly concerned about hackers.”

Jimmy holds out a hand. “So wait, hang on, this- what’s this got to do with our situation?”

Impulse catches his eye. “If you try to join a firewalled world without permission, it doesn’t show up on your comm.”

“Oh,” Tango says, realization dawning in his expression. “You think Hels has a firewall?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Grian says, nodding. “However, it’s a bit odd, ‘cause firewalls are usually just one-way… meaning that they keep players out, but they don’t stop players from leaving. So if that’s what’s goin’ on with Hels, it’s a firewall unlike any I’ve ever heard of- where it’s meant to keep players in, too. I’m not exactly sure if that’s why comms made in Hels can’t make portals, or if that’s due to something else entirely, but uh, that’s my best guess.”

Tango runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I mean, this is the first I’ve heard of firewalls, but that doesn’t sound impossible…”

“So,” Jimmy speaks up hesitantly, “so how did the Hels Tek guys open a portal here?”

“How, indeed?” Etho repeats, finally looking up from Tango’s communicator. “Well, we know the portal was red, not purple. That’s like a comm portal, the way their light syncs up with the world they lead to. But uh, you know, the players coming through had items and armor on them, and they didn’t show up at world spawn. Their spawns didn’t reset, either, they uh- they kept spawning back on the other side. That makes me think this was actually a hacked nether portal, not a comm portal.”

Tango frowns. “Hang on, we- we didn’t have nether portals in Hels, either. I mean, how- there was no point, the nether and the overworld were combined into one realm.”

“Right.” Etho’s got that look in his eye- the glint of an idea about to take off. Jimmy’s seen it in Tango countless times. “You know how nether portals work?”

Tango coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, of course I know all the uh, super technical skadoodle bits, but- but maybe you should go over it.” He jerks his head towards Jimmy and Grian. “You know, for these uh, non-redstone people here.”

“Please do,” Jimmy chuckles.

Etho’s eyes crinkle upwards, like he’s smiling behind his mask. “Basically, they grab the coordinates they’re made on and translate it to nether coords, and vice versa. From what you’ve told me about Hels, being a fusion of the nether and overworld realms, a nether portal couldn’t work ‘cause it’d be like… giving it coords to a place it already is? It’d just crash and never ignite. But if you gave a nether portal frame coordinates to a different place… like, say, a different world…”

Even with Jimmy’s scarce knowledge of portals, it’s easy enough to catch Etho’s meaning.

“That’s crazy,” Tango protests. “How’d they- how could they possibly have gotten coordinates to Double Life?”

“I don’t think they did. I think they got coords to you.” Etho leans forward. “Think about it. The portal didn’t open at spawn, it opened down the hill from the ranch- where you were. I think that was intentional, considering you’re the whole reason they came.”

Jimmy’s mind is spinning. “But... how? And how’d you figure all this out?”

Etho shrugs a shoulder. “Uh, educated guess? Like, just kinda based on the things Bravo said, and what Tango’s told us about Hels and the players it spawns. But um, looking at his comm just now basically confirms it for me.”

“Wait, really?” Tango asks, surprised. “How?”

Etho tilts his head. “Communicators are pretty special items. They’re unique to the player they spawn with- even a replacement communicator like this one. It might not have the hard locks on it that prevent it from summoning portals, but it’s still unique to you. And based on its data, I can tell your player data is a little different. I think it has to do with you being from Hels.”

Tango hesitates. “Okay, and…?”

“If you and Bravo are really counterparts,” Etho says, “then I’d expect your data to be similar. Like, the same word in different languages, in a metaphorical sense. So if Bravo’s data was fed into a nether portal, it’d translate it to your data, and open a portal at your coords. Plus or minus a few blocks, probably.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So… you’re sayin’ they used Bravo to open a portal to Tango?” he surmises.

Etho nods. “I’d need Bravo’s comm or a look at his player data to confirm, but that’s my best guess, yeah.” He holds the communicator back out to Tango.

Tango stashes the communicator in his inventory. “So wait, what about- how does the firewall thing factor in, here?” he asks. “If it stops comm portals, wouldn’t it stop a nether portal, too?”

“Yes and no,” Grian answers. “A firewall works by constantly scanning for portals. If it finds one trying to form, it’ll crash it. If a nether portal was used to travel between different worlds, rather than two realms on the same world, a firewall would recognize it all the same.”

“But,” Etho continues, “if they somehow figured out how to stabilize the portal… like, by sending a constant stream of updates… it’d constantly reset the scanner of the firewall. Sort of like an update suppressor. That way, the uh, the firewall can never actually register the portal as a problem and shut it down. So that’d be one way they could keep a hacked nether portal open, even in the face of a firewall.”

Tango exhales slowly. “Okay…” he says, “and how do we stop them from doing that ever again?”

Impulse winces. “That, we’re not sure about. I mean, if Bravo wasn’t there for them to grab a signal from, I guess that’d stop them. However they built a portal, it probably needs his data to function.”

“Oh, well, great.” Tango throws his hands up. “No way he won’t help them again, he hates my guts. Only reason they haven’t come back yet is ‘cause Grian locked the world down, I- I guarantee it. But we can’t just all stay locked in here forever, you’ve all got lives and other worlds to get back to.”

Jimmy frowns, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Tango, anyone who’s got a problem with you has a problem with all of us.”

“For sure,” Grian agrees.

“Besides,” Impulse says, shrugging, “not to toot our own horns or anything, but I think we handled ourselves just fine against them.”

“You mean Pearl’s wolves handled them,” Tango says flatly. “And you guys had the element of surprise. I guarantee the only reason they went down so easy is ’cause they weren’t expecting much resistance. They show up again, now knowing what they’re up against, and that’s- that’s gonna turn out a whole lot differently.” He crossed his arms. “I need to leave, before Grian opens the world back up.”

“And what, just wait for them to come after you?” Jimmy demands, his wings puffing up. “Absolutely not.”

Tango makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. “It’s- you understand it’s only a matter of time, right?” he stresses. “Maybe it won’t be right after Grian lifts the lockdown, okay, maybe it’ll be days, or weeks, or months. Either way, it’ll happen eventually, and when it does… whether it’s- if that happens here, or back on Hermitcraft, or the next Life world... the result will be the same. People I care about will get caught in the crossfire, I- I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”

Jimmy pauses, wings drooping. The distress in Tango’s voice is sobering. There’s no question that Tango cares fiercely about his friends, and the guilt for putting them in harm’s way must be staggering. But still, he insists, “We don’t mind stayin’ put-”

“For how long, though?” Tango asks pointedly. “I can’t ask you guys to stay here forever. Like, I- I can’t stress enough how obsessive Atlas is. He came for me after ten years, okay, he’s not gonna just give up or lose interest. There will always be the risk of them opening another portal to me, so long as Bravo is in Hels.”

“So what if Bravo wasn’t in Hels?” Impulse cuts in.

Tango gives him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Impulse’s eyes are alight with excitement as he gains steam with his idea. “What if we went to Hels and got him out? That way, he’s not mad at you for being stuck there anymore, right, and Hels Tek can’t use him to make another portal.”

“What, you mean we open a portal to Hels?” Tango asks, raising his eyebrows. “I- I thought we already established that our comms can’t take us there, what- how are we supposed to get there?”

“The same way they got here,” Etho says. “We use your data to open a hacked nether portal to Bravo. Ahah.”

As intimidating as the prospect of encountering Hels Tek again is, Jimmy has to admit it’s probably the only solution. They can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away, not if it means Tango could get randomly attacked at any moment. And with all of the Double Lifers together, they stand a much better chance of succeeding.

“That’s a great idea!” Jimmy exclaims. “We grab him, shake Atlas down for the key to the collar while we’re at it, and get out. Problem solved.”

Tango doesn’t seem nearly as enthused. “No way. Absolutely no way. That’s- that’s way too dangerous, if you guys get stranded there- and Atlas is already looking for more hybrids to make farms with, he was about to take Jimmy for a feather farm!”

A brief silence follows this revelation.

Grian grimaces, ruffling his wings. “Oh, woof.”

“What?” Impulse asks, taken aback. “That’s why he had Jimmy chained up, too?”

Jimmy blinks. “Oh, is that what he meant?”

“What’d you th- you didn’t know?” Tango asks incredulously.

Jimmy holds his hands up. “Hey, hey, I didn’t spend much time thinkin’ about what he said to me!” he says sheepishly. “I was more concerned about you.”

Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Oh, great. Well yeah, that’s what he wanted you for, to stick you in a feather farm skadoodler for all eternity.”

Jimmy swallows. No wonder Tango’s been so against the idea of them going against Hels Tek again. Death is no big deal- they’d simply respawn. Few injuries cause lasting damage. But being trapped in a farm like that, with no means to escape…

“Well,” he says, “that still doesn’t change my mind. You’re his number one target, okay, you can’t go without backup.”

“No,” Tango huffs. “Let me do it. I- I know Bravo shouldn’t just be left there forever, but that’s not your guys’ faults! It’s my life, my mistake, you guys shouldn’t be putting yourselves at risk like that-”

“Tango,” Jimmy interrupts, “we’re not gonna make a portal to Hels and just send you through alone-”

“Well, I’m not letting you guys come with me!” Tango shoots back. “Most of you guys are hybrids or monsters, too, and I’m not gonna risk Atlas turning you into farms.”

Grian clicks his tongue. “Ey, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “and what’s the alternative? You just take off to some solo world until Hels Tek comes a’knockin’?”

Tango shrugs. “I mean, I’d be fine with that-”

“No,” Jimmy says firmly. “I’m not lettin’ that happen. This is our only option, to put this problem to bed forever, and we stand the best chance if we do it together. We have to take it.” He grabs Tango’s hand. “Please, Tango.”

Tango hesitates, staring at their intertwined hands.

Now more than ever, Jimmy desperately wishes that he had some sense of what Tango’s thinking- even just the slightest insight to his thoughts, the faintest impression of an emotion through their soulbond. Especially since he’s had his confidence in reading Tango so thoroughly shaken over the last week. It’s scary to consider that he might not know Tango nearly half as well as he should, that Tango can so effectively mask his true feelings even from him.

“... fine,” Tango says, after a small eternity. “Fine, okay, we- let’s plan an invasion to Hels, sure.”

Jimmy gasps. “Really?”

“But,” Tango says warningly, “we gotta go about this extremely carefully, alright? No willy-nilly ‘rushing in blindly without a plan’ nonsense. And- and once we’re there, if at any point I tell you guys to flee, you- you best be fleein’, got it? With extra flee. No stupid heroics of noble stupidness.”

It’s a chance. That’s better than nothing. “Yes, alright!” Jimmy cheers. “Thank you!”

(Yay, we’re going to Hels- said no one ever.)

(Do they know what they’re getting into?)

(Oh boy, here we go.)

Etho shrugs. “Whatever you say, Tango, you’re the uh, you’re the Hels expert, here.”

Impulse folds his arms. “That’s a dirty condition you kinda tacked on the end, there,” he mutters, “but I’ll accept it.”

“Alright then.” Tango gives a tired sigh, but the corners of his mouth are curling into a smile. “I- I guess we’re doin’ this. We’ve got some room in the basement at the ranch, we can build it there.”

“Excellent.” Grian grins. “Let’s build a portal to Hels, fellas.”

~*~

Jimmy’s startled awake by a shout.

Heart pounding, he squints into the dark room. As his eyes struggle to adjust in the scarce light, he can just barely make out Tango sitting upright in bed. His rapid, shallow breaths wheeze through clenched teeth, faint sparks emitting from his dim blaze rods as they try to ignite.

“Tango,” Jimmy whispers, sitting up, “you okay?”

Tango’s breathing hitches. Then he turns to collapse against Jimmy’s chest, clinging fiercely to his shirt. His entire body is trembling. “Nightmare,” he manages to get out.

Jimmy’s heart twists. He knew it was only a matter of time, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see. Gently, he wraps his arms around Tango, then his wings for good measure. “I got ya,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Tango tucks his face against Jimmy’s shoulder and falls silent. Maybe he’ll want to talk about it in the morning, maybe he won’t. But for now, Jimmy just holds him, and hopes that’s enough.

~*~

Jimmy stares at the redstone circuitry laid out before him. “I understand none of this.”

Though it’s only been a few days since they started work on the portal, they’ve already made a lot of progress. Impulse and Etho have been over basically around the clock, with Bdubs and Joel tagging along more often than not. They’ll watch the redstoners work until they get bored, and inevitably wander upstairs to bug Jimmy. Grian checks in on them every now and then, and the other Double Lifers have popped by for little visits, so it’s been a lot of activity at the ranch. Lots of people coming and going.

It’s strange, but not necessarily in a bad way. Almost like an actual pleasant community feeling. Neighbors helping neighbors and all that.

A dedicated digging session has left them with a bit more space in the basement, allowing them to section off a separate room from Tango’s sugar cane farm. They finished it with a stone floor and simple wooden walls at Bdubs’s insistence (he considered it unacceptable to just leave it all as freshly-dug dirt). An obsidian portal frame (complete with corners at Etho’s insistence) stands empty against the back wall, leaving abundant floor space for the redstone- of which there is plenty.

Redstone dust wires criss-cross through rows of repeaters and hopper lines. It’s all far beyond Jimmy’s capacity to understand, of course, but even Tango seems a bit baffled. He’s claimed many times that his understanding of redstone is surface-level at best, and that his real skill comes in applying the various components and systems in creative ways. But he’s at least been able to help with the construction, the actual placing of redstone components.

“Right,” Tango laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s- lemme see if I’ve got this right…” He points at a long line of redstone dust. “Main circuit to the portal.”

Impulse nods. “Yep.”

Tango steps gingerly around the redstone, gesturing towards a rather complex looking amalgamation of observers and comparators. “This nonsense over here will turn my skadoodle bits into a fireable signal.”

Etho, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“And this,” Tango waves at the hoppers, “will count out the final coords before they hop on the main bus line to the portal.”

Jimmy nods hesitantly. “Okay… okay, cool, so- so is it done, then?”

“Not quite,” Impulse says. “We need a player detector.”

Tango creases his brows together. “What, like a- like a pufferfish? A skulk sensor?”

“No, more like a- a whole separate system,” Etho explains. “It’s more than just registering your presence. We need something that can read your data, pick out your coordinates, and send them to the portal for translation to Bravo.”

Tango exhales slowly. “That… sounds pretty complicated.”

“Oh, it will be,” Impulse says, folding his arms. “I mean, just think about how much data each player contains, right, all the codes that dictate our behavior and biology… we don’t wanna overload this thing, so it’ll require some heavy-duty filtering.”

“Not only that,” Etho continues, “but uh, if that firewall thing turns out to be a problem, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stabilize the portal, too. That’ll take some tinkering with different power sources til we find the exact right input to override the firewall’s checker.”

Jimmy winces; he’d been hoping for a quicker solution. It’s already been over a week since the invasion, and he knows Tango hates being stalled. The sooner they get this problem taken care of, the sooner they can stop worrying and get back to their normal lives. Jimmy himself doesn’t have anywhere else to be, but the other Double Lifers do. And even if they don’t mind the unexpected stay-cation, it definitely bothers Tango that their lives have been disrupted for his sake. Goodness knows he’s already got enough of a guilt complex.

But Tango simply gives a bemused smile. “Well, let’s get started, then.”

~*~

“Are we really sure we wanna do this?”

Jimmy winces at Tango’s tone. “I know, I know,” he says regretfully, “it wasn’t my favorite idea either. But if it can get that collar off’a you, we gotta try, right?”

Trying to remove the collar manually had resulted in a sharp, shooting pain through Tango’s neck at the slightest movement. Trying to remove it with redstone had proven unsuccessful- clearly, it was designed to be insulated against any outside signals. Trying to pick the lock had resulted in nothing but a lot of frustration. So that left them with their last resort.

They’ve moved outside, round the back of the ranch, to avoid getting blood stains all over their newly refurbished house. A random bed has been placed down to provide them with a quick and easy respawn, their items temporarily stowed in a chest. Impulse holds a Sharpness V sword, tail flicking as he watches them apprehensively.

“I’m only gonna do this if you’re okay with it,” he tells Tango seriously. “We can go back to the drawing board, come up with some other things to try…”

“No, no,” Tango shakes his head, “I don’t- you shouldn’t be wasting time on this, you’re already working pretty much nonstop on the portal.”

The frustration in his voice is evident. Impulse frowns. “I don’t mind…”

“Well, I do!” Tango says, crossing his arms and glancing away.

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse before putting a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder. “I know there’s a chance it won’t work,” he starts quietly, “and we’ll have killed ourselves for nothin’. No one likes gettin’ their head cut off. But it’ll be over quick, we’ll respawn straight back here, and then at least we’ll know we tried everything.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “Hey, I- I’m not afraid of a little decapitation, alright, I just… I feel kinda bad putting you through this, you know?” Guilt creeps into his expression. “It’s not your neck that the stupid thing is stuck on. You shouldn’t have to-”

“We’re in this together,” Jimmy tells him steadily. “So if you’re willin’ to try it, I’m happy to die along with ya.”

Tango manages a faint laugh. “Jeeze, honey, you- you don’t have to make it sound so dramatic. We aren’t on a three-life system anymore.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Well, that’s how I feel! Honestly, if there’s even a chance this’ll get that thing off’a you, I’m down.”

“Alright.” Tango takes a quick, steadying breath. “Okay, I wanna try.” He glances at Impulse. “Uh- commence the chop-ificating, then, I guess.”

Impulse nods; he’s keeping his expression and general demeanor calm, reassuring. “Okay, then. So here’s what I’m gonna do…” He carefully sets the edge of his blade along the rim of Tango’s collar, so that the metal is just barely touching skin, and then pinches the collar between the fingers of his other hand. “I’ll give it one quick, clean slice, and try to pull the collar off your body, okay?”

Tango tilts his chin up. “Okay,” he whispers. He’s nervous, now; every muscle in his body is rigid.

Jimmy reaches for his hand. “I’ll be right there with ya.”

Impulse tightens his grip on the sword. “Tango, gimme a countdown whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright.” Tango exhales shakily, closing his eyes. “Five... four... three... two...”

Jimmy closes his eyes and squeezes Tango’s hand.

“One.”

Pain slices across Jimmy’s neck- an intense, searing burn, like he’s swallowed a bucket of lava. There’s a rush of vertigo, the world spinning off-kilter around him. He’s instantly thrust into darkness, that all-consuming void with which he’s rather familiar.

And then it’s over. He’s back, sitting on the bed with Tango in a piled heap of limbs.

Jimmy sucks in a breath. Now that everything’s stopped spinning, he can see that the collar is still around Tango’s neck.

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, sweeping Tango into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Tango’s laugh is muffled against his shoulder. “Worth a shot, right?”

Impulse, standing a few feet away and holding a bloody sword, looks dismayed. “No good,” he says as he walks over, putting the sword away. “Your body respawned before I could pull the collar off. But uh, that’s… not the only issue.”

That makes Tango look over. “What is it?”

“I caught a look at the inner face of it,” Impulse says, frowning, “the part that’s actually touching your skin? And, um… it looks like there’s a bunch of little… spikes on the inside of the collar?”

“Spikes?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know how else to describe them?” Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Um, they’re black in color, not super big... probably thinner than my pinky finger but not like, needles or anything…”

“Oh.” Tango blinks. “It’s the thorns. They’re wither rose thorns. That’s how it works.”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “What?”

Tango spreads his hands. “When Atlas locked the collar, it must’ve caused a- a bunch of thorns to pop out and dig into my neck. But they aren’t- they don’t have the full strength of wither rose, so that’s why I’m not getting the full wither effect, and after a while, you know, they sorta- they numb the area, so I don’t feel them. But when we start yanking on the collar, it forces them deeper into my skin, so it hurts.”

“Oh... my gosh,” Jimmy breathes, aghast. “That’s- that’s horrible!”

The whole concept of the collar is already inhumane- to treat a fellow sentient player like a simple animal. But this? This is just plain evil.

Impulse seems to be trying very hard not to get upset again. “Well, then,” he says, voice tight. “That rules out my next suggestion, which was to just go at it with a few sharp axes. I don’t wanna like, hammer those thorns deeper into your neck...” His expression turns thoughtful. “What if we try and get something sharp between your neck and the collar, slice off the thorns all the way around? Then we could-”

“No,” Tango interrupts. “Look, I- I appreciate the help, but if we tweak this thing the wrong way, it could probably jab an artery, or puncture my trachea, and then I’d respawn and be right back at square one again! No, I- I think we’re done.”

Impulse looks like he wants to argue, but Jimmy catches his gaze, giving him an imploring look.

“Alright,” Impulse relents. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says, “we’ll get that collar off, I promise.”

“It’s fine.” Tango’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “It... might not be the worst thing, you know, to have my fire locked down. Considering our fancy new house and all.”

Oh, they can’t have that. Jimmy puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tango,” he says seriously, “your fire is a part of you, and I’m not gonna rest til we’ve got it back.”

Tango sighs, but when he looks up, his eyes are fond. “I know.”

Impulse exhales slowly. “Do you... wanna try and get the cuffs off, then?” he offers.

“What?” Tango jolts. “Why? They aren’t hurtin’ anything.”

Impulse holds up his hands. “Hey, it’s okay, I just thought... if they’re from that terrible place, maybe you’d wanna get rid of ‘em?”

“And y’know,” Jimmy chimes in, “it’d be a lot easier for someone else to crack them off ya, couple good swings with an axe, maybe…”

“That won’t work,” Tango says stiffly. “They’ve been on me for so long now, been through so many respawns that if I’m not the one to remove them, it- they’ll just keep coming back.”

Impulse inhales through his teeth, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, man.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asks, his heart sinking. He isn’t overly familiar with the universal rules that determine what does and doesn’t respawn along with a player, but Tango seems pretty certain.

“Yeah. They’re basically part of my data now.”

“Oh.”

The unspoken question is glaringly obvious: ‘why haven’t you removed them yet, then?’ The cuffs seem just as well-made as the collar, but surely there’s a way to cut through them. At least, he should’ve been able to find a way sometime during the last ten years- even if he wasn’t comfortable asking any of the Hermits to help him.

But Jimmy can tell Tango’s already hit his limit for today. It’s a subject he’s always avoided discussing in the past, so they’ll just have to wait until he’s ready.

(Oh, gonna make that mistake again?)

‘Shut up,’ Jimmy thinks.

~*~

“Need some help, hun?”

“Ack!” Jimmy gives a start, accidentally yanking out the feather he’d been teasing. He whirls around. “Tango!”

Tango holds his hands up. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Jeeze,” Jimmy laughs, catching his breath, “I- I thought you guys were still working on the portal!”

“Well, yeah,” Tango says, closing the door behind him, “but Etho thinks we need a redstone ore block and we didn’t have any layin’ around, so he and Impulse went mining.” He crosses over to sit on the bed, curiously studying the feathers strewn about. “Doin’ some preening?”

“Um...” Jimmy ducks his head sheepishly. “Yeah, just- just the uh, burned ones... they’re startin’ to itch.”

Tango gives him a sad smile. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide it from me, I- I won’t get all weird mega guilt-trippy about it.”

Jimmy softens. “I just... I know you’ve been beating yourself up about it, that’s all.” He gazes at the burned feather in his hand. “It was an accident. I don’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tango runs a gentle hand over one of Jimmy’s wings. “Can… can I help?”

Jimmy smiles. “Sure.”

~*~

“Wait, are you serious?” Tango asks, eyes wide. “You think the portal’s ready to go? Right now?”

Grain nods. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimmy glances between them with raised eyebrows. They’d called Grian over for a little update on the current state of the portal project- now complete with the fancy player detector system that the redstoners have been painstakingly building over the past week. But once Etho explained that the final step was stabilization, Grian had dropped a bomb on them.

“I’ve uh… been doin’ some research,” Grian continues, “and I’m pretty sure that Hels has a firewall that’s just been sorta… inverted? It’s still a one-way barrier, it just stops players from making portals out rather than in. ‘Course, it’s still inaccessible by comm portal, but our little set-up here should circumvent that. Once we’ve gotten the portal to lock onto Bravo’s coords, there shouldn’t be anythin’ stopping it from forming.”

Etho scratches the side of his mask. “Well, if we don’t have to stabilize the portal, that’ll definitely simplify things,” he says. “We might actually have everything we need already.”

“Couldn’t hurt to fire it up,” Impulse agrees, glancing at Tango. “Just to give it a little test drive? If we do get a portal open, we can easily shut it down right after. We don’t have to actually go through it.”

Tango hesitates. “But wouldn’t Grian have to lift the lockdown?”

“Yeah, I will,” Grian amends. “But I’ve actually just finished settin’ up a firewall, so when I lift the lockdown, we’ll still be protected. We’ll be able to leave through any portal we want, but no one else can get in without bein’ on the whitelist.”

“Wait, really?” Tango looks surprised. “Why- did you let the others know? I- I’m sure they’ll wanna get back to their other worlds.”

“Ey, I only just finished it!” Grian defends. “I wanted to let you lot know first, so there wouldn’t be any panic or confusion if people started randomly leavin’ through portals. I’ll inform the others, but uh, I’m pretty sure they’ll wanna just stick around til we get this done. Especially if the portal’s ready to go. All that’ll be left to do is come up with our plan of attack, and we’ll need all hands on deck for the actual mission.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says easily, “Hermitcraft can wait.”

Tango chews his lip. “I… I guess we can try it,” he relents.

“Great!” Grian pulls his communicator out. “Gimme a second to lift the lockdown, okay…”

Jimmy turns to Tango, taking him by the hands. “Hey, is this alright?” he asks softly. “We don’t have to try it today if you don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Tango assures him, squeezing his hands. “It’s just- it’s a bit sooner than I was expecting, you know? But this is good. I mean, if this works, then this whole business will finally be over.”

Jimmy’s eyes trace the collar around Tango’s neck. “Yeah. And not a moment too soon.”

Obviously they’ve still got a pretty significant task ahead of them. It’ll be no easy feat to storm Hels Tek, not if they’ve got as much muscle backing them up as they did for the invasion. Atlas is one slippery fella, and it might be hard to get Bravo to listen to them long enough to cooperate. But getting the portal in working order is another hurdle down, so they can shift gears towards the impending mission. And once that’s done, there’ll no longer be a threat hanging over them.

Suffice to say, Jimmy’s looking forward to getting back to his domestic bliss.

“Okay,” Grian says, glancing up, “lockdown is officially lifted. Go ahead.”

“Alright, Tango.” Etho pushes away from the wall. “Uh, just hop onto the redstone ore block whenever you’re ready, I guess? Everything should be in place.”

Tango exhales shakily, looking nervous, but he manages to give Jimmy a smile. “Here goes nothin’...”

Turning away, he steps onto the redstone ore block, which immediately lights up. It starts a sort of ripple effect along the dust that connects it to the rest of the redstone, triggering all kinds of ticking and flashing. It’s all Jimmy can do to follow the signal as it travels towards the portal frame-

Static fills the air, and the portal ignites. Swirling red light fills the frame.

“Oh, nice,” Grian breathes.

“Yes!” Impulse cheers. “We did it!”

“Okay, uh, Tango?” Etho nods at him. “Go ahead and step off the block, now.”

Tango doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the portal with an unreadable expression clouding his gaze, almost as if in a trance.

Jimmy quickly hurries to his side. “Tango,” he murmurs, gently shaking his arm, “come on.”

“Huh?” Tango jolts. “Oh, oh right, sorry!”

He steps aside, and the portal remains lit. Impulse grins. “Alright, looks like we’re good,” he says, stooping over to hit a button next to the portal. A piston extends across the redstone line, and the portal extinguishes.

Jimmy lets out a breath of relief. An irrational part of him had been worried that Hels players would immediately start pouring through. “You okay?” he asks Tango quietly.

Tango nods. “Yeah, sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I’m fine, it just… kinda hit me all at once.”

“Yeah,” Impulse says, “I definitely wasn’t expecting to have a working portal today, either. But hey, good job guys!”

“Yeah, nicely done, fellas,” Grian says, sounding pleased. He starts typing on his communicator. “I’m gonna let the others know we’ve got the portal workin’, and tomorrow… we’ll all meet to start planning our invasion of Hels. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid plan to get Bravo, get that key from Atlas, and get out.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, sure. Easy peasy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimmy says, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “We won’t go through til we’re all good and ready, yeah?”

Tango’s expression softens. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Grian puts his communicator away. “Get some rest, everyone, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Details in chat.”

~*~

<Grian> portal done. meet @ impulse and bdubs tomorrow at noon for hels invasion plotting. all ideas welcome

<PearlescentMoon> Ooh :0

<InTheLittleWood> wait seriously? already??

<Renthedog> YO amazing job on the portal guys! :D

<BdoubleO100> oh THANKS A LOT for volunteering us to host GRIAN!!

<Grian> :P

~*~

Later that night, in the dark quiet of their room, Tango rolls over to nestle his head beneath Jimmy’s chin, claws bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Jimmy hums. “For what?”

“For… not givin’ up on me.”

“What’d’you mean?”

“I mean… you know, I- after everything I did, and- and everything I said…”

“I already told you, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Yeah, I know. But when I realized the secret was out… that things were- that we couldn’t just go back to normal… I mean, I was convinced it was over. Everything, my- my new life, my freedom, my friends. Us. But you never gave up hope.”

“Of course. It’s been a long road here, alright, I- I’m not givin’ that up without a fight.”

Tango tilts his chin up to look at Jimmy, red eyes glowing in the dark, and leans in to meet his lips. They kiss slow and sweet. Warmth hums in Jimmy’s chest.

This hasn’t been an easy journey, and he knows there’s plenty more challenges still ahead. Even if the mission to Hels goes well and they achieve all that they want to, the experiences Tango’s been through won’t magically go away. It’ll take time. Healing isn’t linear. But with everything out in the open now and the support of their friends, Jimmy’s hopeful that Tango can start to unlearn his self-hatred. Jimmy will be there every step of the way.

All too soon, Tango pulls away. “We should get some rest,” he whispers, settling against Jimmy again.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighs ruefully, draping a wing across Tango. “Gonna need all two of my brain cells at full strength.”

Tango huffs a soft laugh. “Love you, honey.”

Jimmy closes his eyes, smiling. “Love you, too.

~*~

Jimmy wakes up to a cold bed.

That immediately sets off alarm bells in his head, because since when has Tango gotten out of bed before him? Then he opens his eyes and realizes it’s still night; a faint crescent moon hangs in the starry sky visible through their window. Their room is dark and empty. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

The alarm bells become a siren.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jimmy springs out of bed, sparing a second only to grab his shoes off the floor before throwing the door open. His heart is in his throat as he flies down the stairs to the main level- all dark and empty- and hooks the corner to wrench open the basement door.

Already he can see the chilling red glow from the portal cast across the wall, a shadow of bleeding light, and a million curses scream through his mind. His stomach feels like it’s knotted in on itself and his lungs are burning for air, he’s moving faster than what seems physically possible and yet not nearly fast enough as he crashes down the stairs and bursts into the portal room, mouth opening to cry out-

Just in time to watch Tango vanish into the red light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player walks through a portal.

Tango’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’s already started shaking- if it weren’t for the wither effect flowing from his collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be igniting right now. It’s a bizarre mix of emotions. The scent of ash and the sight of netherrack are comforting, in a way. Familiar. But it’s also terrifying, because there’s no mistaking where he is.

(There’s a reason he doesn’t like hanging out in the nether.)

Fear threatens to swallow him. He pushes it down; he’s got a job to do.

Forcing a steadying breath through his clenched teeth, he takes in his surroundings, ears pricked cautiously. He’s definitely not at spawn- he’s at the border of a basalt delta, actually, fine gray particles fluttering through the air. Aside from the portal behind him, there’s not a structure in sight. No sounds save for the distant bubbling of lava and the distinctive slap of magma cubes.

Tango frowns, chewing his lip. The portal was supposed to take him to Bravo, so he must be around here somewhere. Why he’s not at Hels Tek, Tango isn’t sure. Maybe they’re out on an errand run? Either way, he ought to start looking around.

But first, he’s got to break the portal so no one can follow him. Everything he’d packed made it through with him, thankfully, so he equips his pickaxe and turns back to the portal-

Just in time for Jimmy to emerge, running straight into him.

The collision knocks Tango to the ground, pickaxe flying from his hand, his forehead stinging where it smacked against Jimmy’s chin. Blinking spots from his eyes, he pushes himself up on his elbows with a groan. Once his vision stops spinning, he locks eyes with Jimmy, who seems just as shocked as he is.

Both of them shout at exactly the same moment.

“What are you doing here?!”

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #hermitcraft #double life smp

446 notes · View notes

l3tm3kn0w · 22 days ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

jungkook x reader | friends to lovers | spiderman!au — link to masterlist

chapter summary: your mission to get an interview from spiderman reaches a new milestone as the arachnid vigilante acknowledges your presence during your latest chase, and the wheels of fortune are put into motion as you're faced with a devastating turn of events

wc: 8k

warning: explicit language, swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes, one joke about brutally murdering a best friend, mentions of drinking, mentions of kidapping, slow burn that’s burning slowly, jungkook has a crush tho ur just fucking oblivious sorry, other bitches wanting jungkook also deserves a warning i fear

a/n: hello world, hello tumblr!! first time publishing something here (a sister hailing from ao3 speaking) so please bear with me as i try to relearn how to navigate this website from my preteens. i’ve DMs open & believe i also opened asks????? with anon enabled???? (help????) so if you want to holler at me, you may do so there as well :)

aaaaand, welcome to the first chapter, where we’re really just setting the scene for what’s to come, hehe. please know that i don’t have a beta-reader, so please excuse any mistakes i might’ve accidentally left in 😣

hope you’ll enjoy it!! happy reading <3

You watch as the man plummets towards the ground from the 12th floor balcony.

A pretty jammed crowd of bystanders have formed on the street corner you, too, are standing on, watching with bated breath as the suited figure limply approaches the ground. You play with the voice recorder in your hand as parents cover their children’s eyes, and friends tightly grab onto each other in anticipation. The rest have their cell phones’ cameras up and ready, but the focus is not on the falling man.

You take a deep breath.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath. A man elbows you in the ribs, but you graciously ignore it in favour of not breaking your focus. “C’mon, c’mon, dude, show up. Show up. Don’t be a false reporting and an unnecessary trauma, c’mon.”

A gunshot is heard from somewhere within the apartment building. A window breaks, but it’s hard to say if it’s because of the bullet or the lean, male figure that jumped through it.

The crowd gasps as if one person, heads and cameras both immediately snapping towards the new person, clad in unmistakable red and blue. You allow yourself a satisfied smirk. He free falls for a moment, and someone shrieks, and you don’t bother trying to suppress your snort because, come on, it’s obvious that in the very next second, he’s going to— yup, Spiderman shoots a web, as Spiderman tends to do, and swings towards the suited man in a pleasant, even arch.

OK. Good. So, Spiderman is here.

Time to get into position.

“Excuse me, sorry,” you mutter as you fight your way through the crowd, trying to secure a nice spot around the edge, towards the closer side. People don’t really mind you, looking awestruck with their mouths slightly open as Spiderman’s hands steadily encircle the torso of the man who was previously plummeting towards certain death, very heroic indeed. And anyways — you’re a native New Yorker. Meaning you’re not above a little elbowing here and there when the situation calls for it. “Sorry, I’m coming through, excuse me.”

The crowd spits you out at the edge.

After stumbling a little, you huff, fixing the straps of your backpacks on your shoulders, and ruffling your hair.

You walk a little closer, just in time to hear the crowd erupt in a loud cheer as Spiderman touches ground, the loan shark looking man in his forties held bridal style in his arms. God, now that’s a sight. You should’ve brought your camera — if only you didn’t catch the report on Spidey-Watch so last minute while stepping off the subway.

OK. Approximately 25 seconds, now. That’s what you have.

You lean down to retie the shoelaces of your trainers. Tightly. With a double knot, and all.

Spiderman sets the man on his feet. Tentatively, the man, too, releases the hold he has around Spiderman’s shoulders.

He looks shaken, understandably. Face pale, clearly on the brink of vomiting, legs shaking as he takes a few tentative steps. The reality that his bones didn’t end up cracking into a million little pieces seems to sink in for him as he cries, hands flying back to grip onto the vigilante’s shoulders. “You saved me, Spiderman.”

“Yeah.” Spiderman nods. He pats the man’s hands on his shoulders — maybe in a show of comfort, maybe in an awkward attempt to get them off. “Please make more responsible deals in the future. Preferably not with the, y’know, uh. . . the mob.”

“I didn’t know they were the mob, Spiderman.” The man shakes his head, voice very utterly serious, before giving himself away by swallowing.

“Of course you didn’t,” Spiderman complies.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man affirms. He gasps, taking his hands off of Spiderman’s latex suit clad shoulders to rummage through the inner pockets of his suit jackets. “Wait a second.”

You take the chance to walk closer to the scene on the sidelines while the crowd is busy watching intently as the man produces a 5$ Starbucks gift card. Some gasp, some sigh in awe. Personally, you just think he’s a bit of a cheap ass loser as you grip your voice recorder tighter, fingers hovering ready over the buttons.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Spiderman shakes his head as he declines the generous offer, holding out his palms in rejection.

“Please, take it,” says the man, pushing the gift card into the vigilante’s chest before swiftly letting it go, so that the other has no chance but to grab it before it falls to the ground. “Let me repay you. Thank you, Spiderman.”

“Thank you, Spiderman,” the crowd echoes.

The scene is a bit funny. In the same way it’s funny when people clap when a plane lands.

OK. About 10 seconds now.

Spiderman quickly says his goodbyes to his impromptu audience, throwing up a few peace signs here and there while shooting a web behind him, ready to take off.

“Goodbye, you people. Drink water and, uh, stay safe!” Spiderman starts walking backwards as he speaks, gradually gaining speed. “Oh, and wear sunscreen!”

The crowd answers, “We will, Spiderman!”

And just like that, Spiderman is off.

It’s your time to shine. In your comfortable running trainers, you take off on the pavement, right under where he swings, attention divided between evading fellow pedestrians and keeping an eye on the arachnid vigilante.

“Spiderman! Hey, Spiderman!” you shout. For a moment, you swear you see him teeter. “Spiderman, I’m ___ from the NYU Weekly, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Nothing.

Spiderman keeps swinging. So, what to do, you keep running.

“Spiderman!” you continue, “I study journalism with a minor in communications and am writing my thesis on the presentation of superheroes in the media, and I think an interview with you could give great insight on the subject to the academics!”

Spiderman keeps swinging.

In your heedlessness, you faintly crash into one of the green, metal bins out on the street with your hip, letting out a painful yelp as you press a palm against the most likely forming bruise to soothe the pain.

But still, you keep running.

“Miss!” you hear someone shout. Snapping your head up, you see Spiderman looking down on you as he glides through the air, expression hidden behind his mask but voice a bit desperate. “Miss, please stop doing this, it’s very dangerous.”

“Give me an interview?” you try, starting to get out of breath.

You’ve never gotten this far before. Usually, he manages to shake you off pretty quickly at the first approaching street corner. This is a bit more than what you’ve been working out in the university’s gym for.

This might just be your chance, though— Spiderman actually acknowledged your presence, it’s been like half a minute and you’re still hot on his trail, and your new running shoes, although very, very fugly, are holding up great so far.

But before you have a chance to give it another try, a few — unexpected to your calculations — things happen in quick succession.

You hear Spiderman let out an uncharacteristical squeak, and the next thing you know, you’re falling back on your ass, some of the textbooks in your backpack painfully digging into your back as you collide with a news stand by the crosswalk.

A few metres from you, cars start speeding down the road as the lights turn green.

“I’m really sorry, miss!” Spiderman shouts once more. “Soak it in one part water and one part vinegar overnight! And be more careful watching where you’re going, please!”

And with that, Spiderman turns the corner, and away he swings above the New York traffic.

Well. There’s always next time.

Groaning, you push yourself up into a squat with both hands on the ground, before massaging the strain in the top of your neck where your head has jerked back upon impact with the news stand.

All over your chest, are slimy, gooey, sticky white spiderwebs. You try not to cry.

The sweater is cashmere.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi Min, a short, mint-haired communications major senior with cat-like tendencies and an endless temperament, (and your best friend since the diapers, but that’s worth mentioning only on the margins), whisper-yells as you slide into the seat next to him during the ongoing lecture.

Eyes on the presentation screen, you pull your laptop and water bottle out of your bag without any haste, trying to get an idea of which lecture of yours you are even sitting in on right now. You catch a few buzzwords like defamation, source credibility, Johnny Depp, and deep fakes on the presentation.

Introduction to Media Law, is the most feasible conclusion you can come to.

“I had a lead,” you mutter to Yoongi as you power up OneNote on your screen.

“You mean you stalked him on Twitter,” Yoongi corrects. He drops his stylus in favour of tugging on the sweater you didn’t have time to change out of, curiously touching the gooey remains of spiderwebs before wiping it back into the material from his fingers with a scrunched up face. “Ew. You look as if someone depraved just came all across your tits. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“As you can see, I had an actual interaction with Spiderman this time.” You smirk. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Details are unimportant. The point is, now I’m sure he knows who I am, and the next time he sees me he’ll—”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What do you mean next time? Namjoon told you to give up on the article.”

“That’s only because Namjoon’s been dumped again and became a defeatist.” You shake your head. The lecturer asks a question, so you start randomly typing on your keyboard. Old man Professor Hendersson’s a softie, he wouldn’t call on a student busy in the making of the perfect lecture notes. Some person in the third row answers him, and so you continue to do the same to Yoongi. “Dude’s gonna be kissing my feet when I make him the first NYU Weekly editor who signs off on an Avengers feature.”

“Avengers-adjacent.” Yoongi corrects.

“Spiderman wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

Yoongi snorts. “What a relief Spiderman won’t hear shit of what I say.”

“Hey guys,” whispers a third voice.

Jungkook Jeon — shy, giggly, fellow journalism major junior with a long haircut that makes him look like a triangle kimbap — slides into the other seat next to Yoongi, only a notebook and a branded cup of coffee in hand.

He looks slightly out of breath, cheeks aflame, and clothes messy, his large black t-shirt hanging inside out on his lean figure. It’s 11:42, which might as well be the ass crack of dawn in Jungkook-terms. He must’ve slept in.

Jungkook settles in the seat, taking a sip of his coffee with the straw as he turns the pages of his notebook to the next blank. That is when he seems to remember something.

Before he could even look over and ask, you reach over Yoongi (who scratches your arm that blocks his sight of his iPad, HayDay opened, which is not very nice of him, is it, but see — the aforementioned cat-like tendencies) to hand him the pen you’ve fished out of your bag the moment Jungkook sat down.

You know him too well.

Cheeks going a bit pinker, Jungkook huffs, accepting the pen as he whispers, “Thanks, ___”

“Welcome, as usual.”

Yoongi pipes up, his interrogative gaze turning to Jungkook this time. “And you? Been on a coffee date, debating existentialism and forgot time exists? Why am I the only one taking my education seriously?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “No offence, dude, but the only thing I see you taking seriously is trying to hack into Seokjin’s farm to sell his raspberry cupcakes to yourself.”

“I need to sell some to Greg.” Yoongi shrugs. “And I, unlike you dipshits, was here on time, wasn’t I?”

“I was at my Stark internship,” Jungkook whispers, before mumblingly adding, “In case it was genuine curiosity.”

You sigh. You look at this boy, with a hint of pity in your eyes. So young, so bright, way too cute for his own good, but just a bit too easy for this big, bad world. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he hums.

“Do you think you’ll ever get hired?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, didn’t you say you’ve been interning for him since junior year of high school?” you continue. In your years of friendship with the guy, steady since the freshmen camp in Upstate NY he ditched after a day and a half, you’ve heard your fair share about this internship at whichever branch of Tony Stark’s company, both from Jungkook and his childhood friends, Jimin and Taehyung alike. “It sounds like the old Ironbag is exploiting your labour for me. Go somewhere you’re appreciated. And is relevant to your studies.”

“Damn, I just realised it.” Yoongi pipes up.

You didn’t dignify him with asking the question. Yoongi’s eyes are screaming bullshit. You’ve known your own childhood friend for a bit too long to fall for an obvious bait like that.

Jungkook, who has been looking at you with a nervous glint in his eyes, though, is seemingly not as seasoned as you are. “Realised what?”

“Thank you so much for asking, Jungkook,” Yoongi pats the younger boy’s arm, before turning to you. “I’ve realised that you’re exhibiting extreme levels of jobless behaviour and should take your own advice first.” Next, he addresses Jungkook again. “Can you believe she was chasing Spiderman down the city this morning, too? That’s jobless. Jungkookie can at least put the Stark stuff on his resume.”

“I can, too,” you protest. The only reason you’re doing any of this is for the good of your academic advancement, after all. And if you get some brownie points with Namjoon for it, too… well?

“Yeah, you can put ‘stalker psycho’ as a previous position,” Yoongi says. “Will open lots of doors for you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the first journalist to get an interview with Spiderman, like, ever, and get hired to The New York Times straight out of college, but you do you, Yoongles.”

“Correction. Put ‘delusional stalker psycho.’”

“I—”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyways?” Jungkook interrupts, quickly averting his eyes when you look over at him again and catch him staring at your chest, and. . . right. Spider goo on your sweater. As already stated, he interrupted your bickering, but good thing he did, because you already have one hand in the air ready to whack Yoongi, and killing him might not be appropriate behaviour during lecture. Even if none of you are paying attention to it, and skinning Yoongi alive would be much more beneficial to your career in the long run. “You could just get an interview with Daredevil for the thesis. I think he gives out interviews from time to time.”

Yoongi snickers. “She’s scared of Daredevil.”

“I’m scared of Hell’s Kitchen,” you correct. “That’s very different.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Jungkook says, smiling sweetly at you while he doodles on the corner of his notebook. “The crime rate is a bit high there. I get it.”

“Oh, no Jungkookie, you don’t.” Yoongi shakes his head. He has a shit-eating grin curling on the edge of his lips, looking you up and down coyly as he whispers to Jungkook in dramatics. “She’s afraid of Hell’s Kitchen because she used to think Gordon Ramsey was Daredevil. Wanted to avoid him at all costs.”

It’s silent for the while — well, silent between the three of you. Professor Hendersson has started playing some video on the screen and that’s pretty loud.

Poor man has no clue on how to control the speaker system.

“I’m… pretty sure he’s not,” Jungkook says tentatively.

“Tell that to an 8 year-old me who was awfully confused by Hell’s Kitchen, the neighbourhood and Hell’s Kitchen, the television show.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend. “You’re right, Yoongi, I don’t get it.”

Yoongi pats his arms. “No problem, Jungkook. Being weird as fuck is her only charm.”

Jungkook looks ready to either confirm or fight that standpoint, but you interrupt.

“Anyways, I want the interviewee to be Spiderman, because… Lots of reasons, actually.” You sigh, thinking about how to put it into words. “First of all, most signs point towards him being young, like, around our age. He’s part of the digital native generation so he probably has different and potentially more complex views on social media and how it affects his job than the old farts and defrosted chickens in the Avengers. We could also assume he’s very media conscious, judging by how extremely lowkey his direct presence on the internet is, and yet he has a very unique relationship with the Spiderheads.”

“And who the fuck are those?” Yoongi asks.

Surprisingly, it’s not you, but Jungkook who answers for him. “His fans.”

“Please, not you, too,” Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook in horror.

The younger boy is very quick to shake his head. Vehemently. “Nah, nah, it’s not like that, I’m just very. . . uh, chronically online, you know.”

“You might wanna fix that, then.”

“Also,” you butt in. If you’ve started explaining, you want to finish explaining. Men, and their short attention span, God. “He just seems like a genuinely nice guy, you know? Other superheroes tend to end up in all sorts of scandals, and despite being high-profile and being around for years now, Spiderman’s slate is spotty clean. So he either has a killer PR team or he’s really just, like, a really nice and responsible guy, y’know? But it makes him a bit. . . well, impersonal when it comes down to it. I don’t wanna do an exposé or anything like that, of course, but I think people would like hearing his thoughts on stuff.”

“And you have the hots for him.” Yoongi adds.

Jungkook squeaks, and your hands shoot out to smack Yoongi on the chest. It’s a reflex, at this point.

“I do not have the hots for him,” you protest.

“Jesus Christ, how did I not realise,” Yoongi bemoans. “You so wanna fuck him, you samaritan-sexual freak.”

“You say that like being attracted to good people is a bad thing,” you hiss.

“Okay, here we go.” Yoongi points at you with his stylus. “Fuck, marry, kill: Hulk in Hulk form, Gordon Ramsey, Spiderman.”

“Dude, that’s so rigged!” you object.

“That’s what you get.” Yoongi shrugs.

“Kill Gordon Ramsey, fuck Hulk Hulk, marry Spiderman.” You give in, listing them on your fingers. “Obviously.”

“Knew you were a monster fucker. Freak,” Yoongi says delightedly. You hit him in the chest again, but he pays you no mind — probably has a dent in the shape of your fist on his chest at this point to soften the blows — as he turns to Jungkook. “Okay, let’s move on. Jungkook. Fuck, marry, kill: Megan thee Stallion, Rihanna, and ___.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend with wide eyes, cheeks already aflame a deep scarlet as he anxiously chews on his now soggy paper straw.

“C’mon, Gigi, don’t tease him,” you scold him.

“What?” Yoongi protest. “It’s a good line up.”

“Ignore him, Jungkook.”

“— could give us an adequate answer to that, right, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Hendersson’s voice breaks through your little bubble as the rest of the heads in the auditorium turn towards your little trio in the back in unison.

Uh oh. Busted.

Jungkook gapes a little as his eyes flit between the presentation and his blank notebook, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat. “Um. . .”

“You might wanna answer him, though.” Yoongi mutters. Utterly, utterly unhelpful.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

Hari’s playlist of 5 Seconds of Summer — a nostalgia mix, strictly made up of their first three albums’ repertoire — is blaring through your student apartment.

Sitting in front of the mirror in your room, you can hear them singing along in the living room as Hari carefully braids Piper’s hair, and you have to stifle a smile during their terribly off-key high notes as you perfect your eyeliner.

Half an hour ago, all three of your cell phones pinged in unison while watching Love Island on the couch as Seokjin messaged the big communal group chat a simple, ‘seoulite @ 9? who in?’ and a quick follow up of ‘reply or like this at least if you coming fuckers’.

Which brings you to the current scene: quickly getting ready as you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pick you guys up since they live in the same off-campus student apartment complex you do, and Taehyung doesn’t drink, but drives. (Like a maniac, really. He drives as if he did drink.)

The quickly getting ready part elongated a little bit somewhere between Hana settling on the green corduroy flares and you brushing your teeth as your phones lit up with a short additional message in the thread.

Jungkookie [20:34]: me too ^^

To his credit, Jungkook is a pretty faithful lecture-goer, and due to some cosmic coincidence, semester after semester, you guys end up in almost all of the same classes, so you, who is enrolled in the same programme he is, cannot complain about a lack of Jungkook in your life.

That cannot be said about the others, though. Piper, for one, is pretty fond of complaining about a severe Jungkook deficiency.

To put it fairly, Jungkook is not the most. . . reliable guy you know. Lacks a little bit of consistency. Too scatter-minded.

Because sometimes, the man cannot be shaken off for days on end even with some super high-tech Stark Industries scraper (for the hyperbole to work properly, please imagine that they’re producing handy tools instead of, like, weaponry).

Then, there’s the other times, the admittedly much more frequent times, when there’s just simply no sight or sign of Jungkook until he conveniently decides to pop up out of the blue again.

But to be honest, it’s the dynamic your little group always had since forming.

The first time it happened, you were worried, though. Mostly because the two of you were partnered up for a group project that was rapidly coming up all the while you couldn’t get a hold of this guy you’ve known for like three weeks at that point, but the worry, of course, extended to his person, as well.

Although, after some time, seeing how nonchalant Jimin and Taehyung — friends who have known Jungkook since the dawn of time and are thick as thieves with him — are when faced with worries over Jungkook’s where- and howabouts (‘He’s just home tending to his aunt,’ / ‘He had to travel for the Stark Internship, happens sometimes’ / ‘He sprained his ankle in the gym, no biggie’ / ‘He’s probably helping out his aunt at their restaurant for the week,’ / ‘He just travelled back to Korea for Chuseok with his family to visit relatives,’ / ‘He’s fostering a stray cat, can’t leave her alone,’ and such) you decided there’s surely no reason for you to sweat about it too much.

(And anyways, Jungkook made it up to you tenfold for that one instance. He showed up to your dorm one night with two bags of takeout from their family restaurant — amazing jajangmyeon — and braved through the assignment with you in one sitting on your shitty, spring mattress. Volunteered to hold the Q&A segment following your presentation, and stayed over late into the AMs to watch the first two Star Wars prequels with you. It really solidified your budding friendship.)

It’s probably not that easy to be all cool about any of it when you have a big fat fucking crush on the guy, though. Like Piper does, for example.

These past few weeks were also ones that have seen very little of Jungkook, so the excitement bubbling in all three of you at his message is quite understandable — it means all ten of you in the groupchat have RSVP’d Seokjin’s invitation, after all. And it’s been way too long since a get-together with everyone present.

The levels of excitement only differ where Piper got struck by a desperate need to change into a tighter pair of jeans, put on some highlighters over her eyelids, and braid her blonde hair into something called a waterfall braid.

But it’s okay. After finishing your own makeup and jumping into a looser pair of pants, you gladly join Hari and Piper in the living room to line the latter’s lips with a dark red colour. Her crush is cute.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung blast up Hari’s phone with announcements of their arrival and even more messages urging the three of you to make haste. They throw in a few threats of leaving you guys to fend for yourselves in a cab if you’re not down in 10, as well, but after all this time of being friends with them, you know they’re just shooting blanks.

Grabbing your coats for the chilly September nights, the three of you lock up your apartment and make your way down from the fourth floor, and into the waiting Hyundai by the sidewalk in front of the complex.

“6.34 after the first message.” Taehyung turns to Jimin who’s sitting in the passenger seat as the three of you file into the back. “Chim, can you believe that?”

“Can’t say I do, babe. It has to be a new record.”

“Do you know who edits the Guiness’? I’m gonna call them on the way.”

“Har-har-har, hello to you, too, brothers and in-laws,” Hari chirps, poking a finger through the gap between the seat and the headrest to prick the back of Jimin’s neck with her acrylics. The boy yelps, trying to snatch his younger sister’s hand, but he’s too late. “Nice evening we have here.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice evening, pleasant breeze, picturesque light pollution,” Taehyung drones on, one hand on the steering wheel while he fiddles with the radio with the other. “Let’s get a move on, are you guys ready? Have everything, all in one piece, et cetera? I have serious business to deal with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, we can leave,” you answer him, while Piper pipes up:

“What’s up with Jungkook?”

“Got a new dog,” Jimin supplies.

“And the asshole refuses to send me a picture of him,” Taehyung huffs as he drives out of the parking lot, before pointing a thumb at Jimin. “And this asshole refuses to hack Kookie’s iCloud gallery for me.”

“After all these years, which part of ethical hacking do you still not get?” Jimin sighs.

“What kind of dog did he get?” Piper follows up enthusiastically, and that conversation entertains the three of them for most of the ride.

(Jungkook got a doberman.)

Sitting by the window on the driver’s side, you drone out their conversation and occupy yourself with the city view and your thoughts.

You’ve washed your sweater. Spiderman’s washing tip has, surprisingly, worked. Which could be a nice opener for the next time you see him.

It’s been a few days since there was any sighting of him that you could catch, though.

Two days ago, Reddit was buzzing with a store robbery the vigilante has managed to stop while you slept, and yesterday, you got an alert from a Twitter account you follow called the Spidey-Watch while eating lunch in some burger joint close to campus with Seokjin and Hoseok, but it was on the far edge of Queens and you doubted you’d even get there in time to witness anything.

But never mind. Ever since you took this on the mission at the beginning of the previous spring semester, there’s one very important lesson you’ve learned: serious journalism requires patience.

And hell, if you’re not the epitome of patience by now. (Yeah, there might’ve been some problems with your inner zen in the past, but you took up yoga over the summer).

Even if just unwittingly, you lose track of the conversation in the car as you drive through Queensboro Bridge, but then a few moments later, it’s the radio playing faintly in the background that inadvertently gets your attention.

The music on the station ends in favour of the 8PM evening news, a female voice with a bit of an irritating intonation covering a few economic and political reportings your brain doesn’t quite retain, before — “. . . so with the disappearance of Amanda Porter, we urge the young population of New York City to be particularly cautious in the upcoming weeks as the number of missing person cases increases all over the city. Especially people in their late teens to early twenties are advised to avoid remote areas and travelling alone at night. The New York Police Department’s Missing Persons Unit has yet release a follow-up statement since their press conference on —”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung mutters as he quickly turns the volume down, sharing a concerned look with Jimin from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of the ride over to Queens passes quietly.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The Seoulite is a small, Korean hole-in-the-wall type of bar, except it is not as much of a bar as just the owner, an old woman commonly just called Auntie Aecha’s street-front apartment with a second-hand bar from Ebay dumped into her kitchen in the place of an island, and a couple of tables and chairs scattered around her entrance hall and living room.

Don’t ask. You’re not quite certain of its legality, either.

A few things to know about Auntie Aecha:

She’s a compulsive hoarder, and the decoration (or maybe, at this point, with its excessiveness, the lack thereof) proclaims it loudly. The place is packed with rugs, vases, paintings, magazines, lamps, biblical figurines, blankets, pottery and a wide array of trinkets laying around everywhere.

She has three cats, a dog, and a parrot freely roaming around the place. You’ve never learned their names, but that’s because their names keep changing every time you're here and not because your lack of trying, even when Auntie Aecha, despite her impressive age of 70 and some mystery as she says, doesn’t display any of the typical symptoms that usually come with old age, like forgetfulness. She just simply keeps calling them different fucking names, so you’ve stopped trying to keep up.

And lastly included in this list that obviously lacks completeness — she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. No other comments on that.

Namjoon found this place accidentally (distraught from heartbreak, he was trying to go over to Jungkook’s — the only problem with that plan was that this is not the area of Queens Jungkook lives in) last year after getting dumped.

Ever since Auntie Aecha has personally nursed Namjoon’s broken heart into beating again with imported peach soju, your little group took up frequenting this bar/apartment any time the urge to get together somewhere arose. (And that was only partly because Auntie Aecha gives alcohol to those of you — Piper and Hari — who are twenty-but a little short on-one).

By the time the five of you get in tonight, everyone else is here, already sitting around your usual table by the decorative fireplace.

There’s a bit of commotion as they all stand up and everyone tries to greet everyone, before you file back into your seats. Somehow, you end up on the bench seat with Jungkook — even if you distinctly remember seeing him in the armchair, the most coveted seat, by the other side of the table — and shoot Piper an apologetic look as she dejectedly takes a seat on the puff between Namjoon and Hari.

“Congratulations on becoming a father,” you mutter to Jungkook, playfully elbowing the guy on his side.

He shoots you a confused look, eyes impossibly bigger as he peers down on you. Sitting on the small bench just enough for two people, your shoulder is pressed against his biceps. The material of his large, black hoodie is nice against the bare skin of your arms.

“Don’t look so scared, I meant your dog,” you scoff at him, teeth biting into your bottom lips as you smile. Jungkook’s gaze wanders, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“No, no, no, there’s… there isn’t. No,” he protests, shaking his head as spots of red freckle his cheeks.

It makes you giggle — Jungkook is rather easy to fluster, despite the many eyes that follow him around hungrily anywhere he goes. As it seems, he’s completely unaware of his own allure, when objectively speaking, Jungkook is one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever met. He has these huge sparkling eyes, an elegant nose, an endearing smile overflowing with teeth, and freckled smooth honey-skin with beauty spots to kill for. And that’s just the outside.

All in all, let’s just say that you’re not entirely blind to what captivates Piper so much.

“He’s. . . Bam,” he continues. “That’s his name. I. . . um, y’know, found him a few days ago. A stray.”

“You’re sweet, Kook,” you tell him. Seokjin with the help of Hoseok has arrived back at the table with drinks, and places your usual orders — a whiskey coke for you and wheat beer for Jungkook — in front of you guys. You quickly thank them and take a sip, fiddling with the straw as you ask, “Bam. Anything particular behind the name?”

“Yeah. It means ‘night’ in Korean,” Jungkook tells you, reaching for his own drink. “My aunt named him. You, um, you wanna see pictures?”

“Sure.” You nod, and hold your drink out of reach when Jungkook leans a bit into you to fish his cellphone out of his jeans pocket.

With two fingers, you pick the lemon out of your drink to chew on it — you’re between friends with no one to impress, so if you want to rather unflatteringly suck on the garnish, you will, thank you very much — while you watch from the corner of your eye as Jungkook unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through his gallery.

He freezes, and scrolls up and down for a long moment, before hesitantly handing over his phone to you. “This is, um,” he eloquently mumbles as a description to accomapy the picture.

You take the phone from Jungkook that’s opened on a selfie of him and a dark brown doberman in bed. The focus is clearly on the dog, given that the picture cuts off somewhere above Jungkook’s chin, and you recognise the location as his bedroom, a few Star Wars and Overwatch posters on the wall in the background giving it away.

He’s a cute dog, Bam. He looks into the camera, deep dark eyes looking weirdly intelligent, his mouth open and tongue lolling out as he’s laid back against Jungkook’s naked torso. That has abs. Like, a fucking six pack. Wow.

You know Jungkook frequents the gym, he has even accompanied you to your treadmill workouts in preparation of chasing Spiderman from time to time, but in the oversized clothes he always wears, it’s easy to forget he's not actually scrawny. Still, wow. So he has abs. Yeah. Good to know.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, so you make the executive decision to zoom in slightly on the dog as you comment, “He’s really cute, Kook. Bam looks like a smart boy.”

“Yeah, he. . . yup, he really is, very smart.”

“IS THAT BAM??!”

Suddenly, you have a Taehyung-weighted mass thrown across your lap, and two hands wrenching Jungkook’s phone out of your hold.

Caught off guard, you let out a yelp as you fall slightly over Jungkook, and you would’ve been about to spill your drink, too, if it weren’t for one of Jungkook’s hands fixing around your wrist, while the other balances both you and Taehyung by wrapping itself around your back. Quick reflexes.

“Hey, shithead!” you snap, slapping a palm over Taehyung’s back.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this cutieful little cinnamon roll from me, dude!” Taehyung cries, zooming in and out of the picture with two fingers like a boomer. “Look at Bamie! So, so adorable, look at his ey— wait. Jungkook Jeon, is this a thirst tra—”

“Tsk, children,” an accented voice chides. “Behave.”

You peek your head out behind Taehyung’s shoulder to beam up at the woman who has walked over to your table. “Auntie!”

Alerted to her presence, Taehyung assumed a position with a degree more of civility (he’s now sitting perched on your legs, back straight and legs thrown over your thighs on one side) looking up at Aecha with a toothy grin, telling her something in Korean.

The woman snorts, retorting in the same language. Jungkook fails and tries to stifle a giggle beside you.

“I brought you children a little something,” Auntie Aecha says, setting a plate of cookies on the table.

Another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: though she would never admit it to your faces, too big on that tough love shtick she has going on, it’s an open secret that your ragtag group of ten are her favourite customers.

Expressions of thanks echo around the table as all of you latch onto the cookies, Seokjin standing up to offer his seat, but Aecha denies, “No, no, sit back, sit. I won’t stay to bother you young people for long, this old lady just wanted to say hi.”

“You never bother,” Namjoon says between two bites. “Stay, Auntie, please.”

“You kids are too sweet,” she smiles, patting the boy’s shoulder with ringed fingers. Auntie Aecha has the most exquisite collection, full of emeralds and intricate silverwork, unique enough craftsmanship to match her generally eccentric style. Right now, too, she’s dressed in an elegant white blouse and a long, navy blue skirt covered in detailed patterns and a beaded shawl tied around her waist.

The conversation picks up around the table again, but Aecha lingers. “___?”

“Yes, Auntie?”

“Have you had your fortunes read lately?”

You smile at her, breaking off a piece of the cookie in Taehyung’s hand. He looks about ready to protest, if only Auntie Aecha’s presence wasn’t holding him back from whining publically. But he decided he could share your seat, so you might as well share his cookie, right? Simple and fair.

“You know you’re the only one who does me readings,” you tell her.

Sometimes when the group is fewer in numbers, or when you visit in the afternoon for a cup of coffee, you entertain her charade from time to time. You think it’s rather silly — yes, you live in a world with Scandinavian Gods and purple evil aliens, but no way in hell a random old lady in Queens is, like, an actual psychic. Who tells the future from tarot cards, of all things. Right. . .

Aecha hums. “Right. . . The Wheel of Fortune. What does it mean?”

You’re unsure whether the question is directed on the card’s meaning in general, or on its possible effect on your life. But regardless, the answer to both scenarios is:

“I don’t know.”

She does that thing. The thing that chills you to the bone sometimes, the thing when her eyes seem to dim, like there’s no sight or soul in them, and her face looks paler for a moment under the lights. She fixes her gaze on you, before it slips over to Jungkook.

You feel his fingers, that are still splattered across your back, tighten as he stares back.

“So soon?” Aecha mutters, then: she snaps out of it. A smile is back on her face, a bit weaker than before, as she says. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you kids to it. There’s a clue in the night, ___.”

And with that, she walks off.

Slowly, Jungkook retracts his hand from your waist, while Taehyung’s head whips around towards the two of you. “So, that was weird as fuck, huh?”

“Right. . .” Jungkook and you both mumble.

You break a bigger piece off of Taehyung’s cookie, and then break that into halves again before offering one of them to Jungkook. He seems spaced out, but readily accepts it.

That’s another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: she says weird, cryptic shit sometimes. But that’s how you love her.

“‘There’s a clue in the night, ___’,” Taehyung repeats in a deepened, mysterious baritone. He wiggles his fingers in your face, which you promptly swap away. “Any clue what that might mean?”

“None.” You shake your head.

“Anyways.” Taehyung shrugs, picking Jungkook’s phone back up, and giddily scrolling through his gallery. “Let me look at more of these Bam pictures.”

You sigh. You’ve long since stopped whacking your brain to figure out what Auntie Aecha’s off handed comments might mean. They’re usually just similar nonsense.

Suddenly, Taehyung is yanked off your lap just as abruptly as he came, before Yoongi’s fingers latch onto your forearm next. “Bitch, I need you at the table soccer, pronto.”

“And that’s my cue, guys,” you sigh, before standing up.

After ruffling Jungkook’s hair, you step over Taehyung who’s now splattered on the floor, then take one last sip of your drink, and leave it besides Jungkook’s beer on the table.

He’s the only motherfucker here you can trust not to drink it while you’re away.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The following Thursday evening finds you tucked away in one of the public libraries of Queens, sharing a table with Hoseok who quietly types away on his short story, while you add the finishing touches to your article for next week’s newspaper before sending it over to Namjoon for editing.

Originally, you guys came over to the neighbourhood because you accompanied Hoseok to pick up these sneakers that he found on Facebook Marketplace, which turned out to be a total scam, unfortunately.

So, in Queens and awfully unaccomplished, the two of you tried to ring up to Jungkook’s (his aunt answered the intercom, Jungkook’s apparently out) and to Namjoon’s (where you guys actually got in, but were promptly kicked out at 6PM because some show Namjoon’s grandmother is obsessed with like a teenager was starting on the telly, and she doesn’t want you kids around to make a rattle) so without any idea of what to do, the two of you decided to retreat to the next best option of a free shelter in Queens, since you’ve already made the commute here. That’s the library.

“What’s another word for ‘motivating’? As an adjective,” you ask Hoseok, taking a sip of water.

“Duh. ‘Inspiring’,” Hoseok says without even looking up from his laptop. Or stopping typing, for that matter.

“It makes me so happy that you hold my intelligence to such high regards, friend.” You kick his shin under the table, but it does little to deter him. “I meant besides that and ‘encouraging’, obviously.”

“‘Impelling’, ‘propelling’, maybe ‘provoking’ depending on the context,” Hoseok lists like the walking thesaurus he is — the pros of having a friend in the English major.

“Thanksie yousie.”

“Bless you.”

You finish typing up the article, and send it over to Namjoon’s school mail inbox. Without anything to do now, you immediately fall victim to boredom.

Hoseok seems to be in the flow, though, fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard as he mumbles under his breath, so you scroll through your newsfeed for a while — someone won the lottery this week, a politician is under suspicion of tax fraud, wow, who would’ve thought, another disappearance happened in Manhattan, a baby giraffe was born in the zoo, nothing about Spiderman since you’ve last checked — before opening up a Watermelon Game with cat pictures on the web to occupy yourself with for the time being.

Some ten minutes pass with that before the silence is broken again.

“So how’s the Spiderman thing coming along?” Hoseok asks.

After combining two large, yawning cats into an even larger, screaming and wet one, you meet his gaze over your computer screens.

“Steady,” you simply say, and it’s vague enough not to constitute a lie. You let another baby kitten fall from the metaphorical sky. “Why?”

“Yoongi told me about the spider cum on your sweater.”

“Ew, it’s not fuckin—” you shriek, earning yourself a few ‘ssh’s and a dirty look from the librarian. You nod your head in apology with an awkward smile. Bending your laptop’s screen slightly, you lean in closer to hiss, “It’s not fucking spider cum.”

“Think about it,” Hoseok argues. “It’s his bodily fluid.”

“Actually, a few people on the forums think it might be synthetic,” you tell him.

“You’re just gonna have to ask him that, too.”

Humming, you take your phone out to make a quick note of it. That’s actually a pretty relevant question — for science.

“Yoongi also told me that you left class early to try and catch him again yesterday and just ended up falling into Meadow Lake,” Hoseok continues.

“So why are you asking me then, if you already know everything?”

“I’m just curious. Unlike the others, I do kinda think that you’re gonna get somewhere.” Hoseok shrugs. He continues typing as he adds. “All this embarrassment without some sort of a pay-off? Nah. Karma is kinder than that.”

That’s. . . wow, that was actually pretty nice to hear. Impelling, if you will.

Even if it was a little — a lot — backhanded.

“Aww. Hobi. . .” You pout, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “My only fan.”

“Lukewarm supporter,” he corrects.

“Whatever,” you brush him off. “Actually, nothing much happened besides those. Taking the subway back home drenched and stinking was a humbling experience, but I’m just gonna have to keep going. For the pay-off, like you said.”

Hoseok just hums again, and turns back to his writing, his curiosity seemingly running dry. Whatever.

For the next twenty-something minutes, you occupy yourself by playing round after round of Dress to Impress with Yoongi (later joined by Seokjin and Hari, as well) and you have lots of fun downrating each other’s outfits, so you don’t really accomplish anything. But who cares.

‘ur ootd look like smthng drawn on a deflated balloon lol ugly butt @ yunkiboongi’ you type in the chat, whipping out the lame PG-13 insults in consideration of the fact that, you know, Roblox is for middle schoolers, when Hoseok unceremoniously snaps his laptop shut, standing up from his seat.

“I’m perched. A quick drink at Seoulite before we leave the ‘hood?”

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

After consulting Google Maps, the two of you make the twenty-minute walk through Queens to Aecha’s. Sharing Hoseok’s Airpods, you listen to Epic Sax on repeat on the way, while you try to bring up the topic of Namjoon as subtly as possible.

See, you and Jungkook have a running theory.

It’s not long — it’s just that Hoseok and Namjoon are in love with each other, possibly secretly dating already (this is the point where you guys usually lose the rest of your friends when trying to get them onto the bandwagon, and to be honest, your faith has wavered at this point too, but then Jungkook raised a good point: for the past six months, you haven’t even seen pictures of these people, let alone meet them, that Namjoon is apparently getting dumped by biweekly. Jungkook thinks keeping up the pretence of Namjoon being an unlucky serial dater is part of their elaborate cover-up plan) so Jungkook and you are trying to get any sort of hint or confirmation on the matter, like the nosey little bitches you two are.

Whatever. You come up empty. After droning on about Namjoon’s chest, like ‘He has really nice tits, doesn’t he?’ and ‘You kinda just wanna suffocate buried between them, am I right?’, which are not at all subtle, you admit, you come to the conclusion that Hoseok must be either oblivious, a damn good liar, or not in love with Namjoon, which you personally refuse to believe.

When you round the corner to the street of the Seoulite, the two of you step into the flashing of red and blue police lights in the pitch black night. Confused, you hand the borrowed half of the earbuds back to Hoseok, furrowing your brows as you two keep walking closer.

A smaller crowd has gathered around the block that you know houses the Seoulite, some clearly passersby and others most likely denizens of the neighbouring buildings, clad in their pyjamas and a coat in the evening hours.

“What the fucks going on?” you croak, grabbing onto the arm of Hoseok’s coat with two fingers as the two of you squeeze into the crowd.

The pavement in front of Auntie Aecha’s door is railed off with a police line, officers moving in and out of her apartment through the opened door.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Hari and Jimin were here just this morning.

A weak rumble befalls the crowd as people whisper to each other, too quiet and too much for you to overhear anything.

You rummage through your backpack, taking a deep breath before noticing two officers engaged in conversation by the police line.

“Excuse me?” you call out.

One of them turns, sparing you a look over his shoulders, before saying. “Not now, kid. Please wait for the official reports.”

“I’m ___ from NYU Weekly News,” you continue, flashing him the press card you have procured from your bag.

“School paper’s covering crimes now, girl?” The officer sighs, but walks closer to inspect your ID nevertheless.

“Always did,” you reply. It’s a bit of a stretch.

The most illegal activity you’ve written about was someone stealing a piano from the music room. Which was a fun one, by the way, because how the fuck do you steal a piano without anyone noticing, and yet. . .

“Okay,” the policeman says, not entirely convinced. “The owner’s kids from Kentucky requested a wellness check. We did it. The apartment shows clear signs of struggle, and the owner couldn’t be reached, so the NYPD is opening a missing person’s case, suspecting kidnapping. And that’s all I can tell you, kid.”

You swallow, grip tightening around Hoseok’s wrists, who has gone just as rigid as you did.

“Thank you, officer.”

The man nods, and leaves the two of you alone as he walks back to his colleague.

Hoseok looks at you, expression baffled as he reaches for your hand. His tight hold is welcome. You feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Auntie Aecha’s missing?”

NEXT CHAPTER

105 notes · View notes

eetherealgoddess · 9 months ago

Note

Could u pls write pt 2 for CAUGHT ..?

It was so good, Ur writing is js so amusinggg

(It totally OK if u don't want to)

😼💞

Alright, this is gonna be angsty af and I don’t think you’re gonna expect the ending so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry if Sanzu or anyone else seems ooc I really tried to keep them in character.

Read the first part for context!! Link below!! ♡︎♡︎♡︎

Part One

ꨄCaught 2ꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Cheater Au

Sanzu Haruchiyo & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Caught 2

“So you work for a criminal organization?” You question Sanzu as you sit on the bed with your knees against your chest, arms circled around them. Fortunately, Sanzu didn’t have to follow the Haitani Brothers to work today so he stayed home to answer any questions you have to regain trust, though you haven't accepted or declined their ‘offer,’ you decided to give him a chance to tell you the truth about everything he either lied about or never informed you. He sits beside you, body still bare as he leans his head on your shoulder, blanket only covering his bottom half.

“And the Haitanis too?”

“Yeah.”

You pause in thought, repeating what has been confirmed in your mind. Everything began to make more sense considering the situation from the night before.

“How long have you been cheating on me?” You grimace as the ache in your chest appears, the memory still causing a type of pain you won’t be able to rid any time soon. His lack of response caused you to feel worse as your stomach dropped, anxiety high as you sat in discomfort while holding back your tears.

“A year.” You couldn’t look at him, pushing him off as you curled into a fetal position, facing away from his form. You don’t bother to fight off the arms circling around you as his body spooned yours, hugging you tightly. Half way needing the comfort as well as not having the strength as you humiliatingly allow the tears to fall.

“Why?” You say in a shaky voice, his hand gently stroking your stomach as you feel his breath on your neck.

“I love them as much as I love you.” He whispers, fingers gripping your skin as he listens to you weep.You turn your head to meet his eyes.

“How could you say that? We were together first! Y-you betrayed me!” His palm reaches your face as he hovers over you from behind.

“I’m sorry.” He places his lips on yours as you move your lips back eagerly, desperate to revive the old feeling you would get before you found out about everything. The smacking of your lips echoed through the bedroom as he climbed on top of you, the covers sliding down as his naked body sits on top of yours.

Your cock springs to life against his ass as your hands are placed on his chest. Both of his hands gently grab your wrists before pinning them beside your head. He moves slightly against your cock, testing the waters as you quietly moan against his mouth.

“Such a good slut for us. Dirty boy, what would Y/n think if he saw you like this?” Ran teases with a smirk as he continues his thrusting, making intense eye contact with Sanzu who responds with another loud moan before Rin smacks his ass.

You continue to ignore the painful memories, Sanzu releasing your wrists to wipe your tears with his thumbs, his lips catching your tongue in a sucking motion as you feel his cock harden against your stomach. One of his hands reaches back, brushing against your cock before rubbing his thumb along your tip.

“He likes it. So fucking dirty.” Rin chuckles as he accelerates his thrusts. “Tell us how much of a dirty whore you are.” He halts before bending over to grab Sanzu’s hard cock as he gives it a squeeze. Ran pulls Sanzu’s head off of his cock.

“I’m such a fucking slut! I’m a dirty whore! Keep fucking me, please! I’m so close!”

Your eyes are shut tight as you begin to sweat, pleasure shooting from your cock from his touch. The touch you thought was only shared between the two of you. The touch that felt only special to you. Sanzu’s lips move from your mouth as they make their way down your neck, kissing the scar he left from biting you yesterday. You shiver as he whispers, “I can’t let you go,” against your neck. …a bullet made contact with his stomach, his body falling with a thud.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell at the intruders before hopping up and running to the bleeding man…

The pink haired beauty spits in his hand before he wraps it around your cock, rubbing your shaft before he lowers himself, moaning out as your erection is engulfed in his ass. You suck in a breath as he picks himself up before dropping down. He rolls his hips, meeting your thrusts as you both accelerate, your hands holding onto the back of his head and neck as he grips your shoulders.

“We’ll never be through! You promised!” He says before he pulls his arm back and lands a direct punch to your face.

He pulls back with a heated gaze, placing his hands on your chest as he speeds up, hair flapping as his head falls back, mouth slightly open as you eye the pretty sight in awe. You wet one of your hands with spit before wrapping around his shaft, tugging as his hips buck harder.

“Good. So good.” He whispers, his nails piercing your chest as you speed your hand.

“S-stop!” You yell, grabbing Sanzu’s hair before pulling him off your cock, a string of saliva and cum hanging from his mouth as you eyed his gorgeous, red face. His eyes glazed over as he moans from the grip on his head, body rocking as Ran fucks into him.

“What is th-!” He cuts you off by desperately attaching his lips to yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He whispers against your lips with one hand balancing himself as he rubs your cock.

“S-Sanzu! Wait.” The memories that invade your mind begin to distract you, becoming too overwhelming to handle as he rides your cock. Pulling your hand back, you place it on his shoulder, slightly pushing him away. He doesn’t budge, continuing to pound his own prostate against your erection as he bites his lip. You hold back from bucking your hips as you sit up, only to be pushed back down by his hands.

“He’s still not convinced.” Rin says, motioning his head for Sanzu to kiss him. You hear the lip smacking of both men next to your ear, the pain in your chest deepening as well as your conflicted feelings of being aroused by the display.

“Stop!” You yell out, sweat dripping from your head as he pins your wrists. He narrows his blue eyes.

“Why can’t you accept me?” He hissed, riding harder as both of his hands wrap around your throat. Your hands attempt to peel his fingers off before you try to push him off, his hands cutting your air way off as your body rocks against the bed.

“You like this, huh? Watching him get fucked while he takes your dick in his throat. You just wanted to be included, yeah?” You can hear Rin’s smirk as Ran chuckles, sweat covering his body as his face becomes darker.

“You’re a dirty boy, too. That's why you watched us for so long. Maybe you’re a slut too, yeah?” Ran grins.

You scratch his arms as blood oozes out, attempting to free yourself as his grip tightens, your face tight as it becomes warmer, your feet kicking the bed as you try to grip him somehow to push him off. He only stares down at you with a cold glare, pink hue still on his face as he nears his orgasm.

“It’s okay if it feels good. Embrace it, my love.” Sanzu says softly against your cock…

Black dots begin to fill your vision as you struggle to get Sanzu off of you. Finally, another pair of arms wrap around the pink haired fiend before he’s yanked off of you, hands releasing their tight grip as you sit up and cough violently, catching your breath before you fall back down weakly.

“I just need him to understand, Rin!” Sanzu growls frustratingly as he’s held in the purple haired man’s arms, attempting to free himself before Rin forces him to make eye contact.

“I know, but you have to calm down.”

You ignore the older Haitani caressing your forehead with his thumb as well as checking your breathing. Your eyelids shut, darkness engulfing your vision.

Ran looks back at the two men.

“I think we’ll give it to him. There’s no coming back from this.”

You wake up in a bed, sitting up as you stretch and yawn. You look at the dim lamp as well as the dark room, attempting to remember your surroundings. You look at the door in confusion when three people you don’t recognize walks in.

One of the men smiles before he sits on the bed.

“Do you remember your name?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you nod your head.

“Y/n?” The man smiles wider as he says, “Good. Do you remember anything in the past twenty four hours?”

You think for a minute before you shake your head. You also say no when he asks if you remember who he is or the other two people in the room. They all give each other a look.

Come to find out, you recently suffered from a head injury, causing you to forget not only some of your past but the past twenty four hours as well. Including the men who claim to be your boyfriends. Apparently you’ve all been together for three years. You had a nurse who came to check in on your amnesia for a week before you got back on your feet. At least one of your boyfriends stayed with you while the others went to work at some business firm they work for.

A year passes and everything is back on track, as well as your blooming relationship. The sex is enticingly good, your boyfriends seeming to know all your favorite spots as well as helping you learn theirs. They replaced all your old belongings such as your devices with new ones, clear of any old data. You all had been living happily together, until one day, home alone and bored, you eyed the office. Curious you looked around, coming across a filing cabinet. Opening it, you found an old phone. A weird feeling settled in your gut as you set it on the charger.

While it charges, you check the files. The names catch your eye as you pass through. Grabbing one, you open it, gasping as you drop it from your hand. Your body trembles as you eye the gruesome photo. Eyebrows furrowing as your palm covers your mouth, you read the document attached.

Victim? Traitor? Bonten? What the fuck?

You set that one back, grabbing another file and opening it to view the content. Gasping once more with wide eyes as you stare at another ‘traitor’ that Bonten took care of, a gruesome detailing of the incident. Seeing the phone turn on next to you, shakily grabbing it, you eye the picture of you and Sanzu in confusion. Why is it just you two? You search through the phone’s photos as well as the messages, gaining clue after clue of what truly happened with your ‘head injury.’ You figured out every single lie they told you since you woke up a year ago.

You couldn’t stop the vomit from shooting out of your throat, gagging and dry heaving as you breathe heavily, sweat covering you as you frantically get off of the floor, not bothering to clean the mess. You run out of the office straight into a chest. The hairs on your arms stick up as you look at the person you thought you knew in fear.

“What a curious little kitten.”

233 notes · View notes

buttercupjosh · 1 year ago

Text

Jump Then Fall (The 4 times everyone else thinks you’re Quinn’s romantic partner and the 1 time you actually are)

(Gif credit to @gabelandeskog)

Word count: 5,045

Genres: strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had this specific idea in my mind for about 2 years but never wrote it out because I decided to write other things first and took certain things from this concept and kinda put it into my other stories but after Quinn was named captain in September 2023, I decided to write it out. (Speaking of my other stories, I did write a Quinn fic in 2022, which you should check out). The title and this story is based off of the song, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift. It’s set from this past week (October 7th-14th), with additional fictional elements added. (Yes, I decided to publish it on Quinn's birthday because why not?) It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I was enchanted to meet you” -Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Prologue

Losing in a fantasy sports league can come with many different types of punishment, whether it’s being forced to eat a pancake for every wrong player you picked or putting in extra money in the winning jackpot. Your punishment for losing in the fantasy sports league you participated in was wearing a very 2014 Tumblr-esque “lol ur not Quinn Hughes” shirt that your best friend got you as a gag gift for Christmas to a Canucks game. This punishment came at a convenient time when you already planned to be in Vancouver for a work conference. Accepting your fate, you proudly donned the cringey t-shirt at the game, and as expected, people did look at you weirdly. What you didn’t plan at all was that your game seats happened to be located next to where a group of some of the Canucks WAGs were sitting. Lenasia, Ethan Bear’s fiance, noticed your shirt and immediately began talking to you. You explained to her why you were wearing such a thing and that clicked an idea in her brain. Lenasia turned away, began talking again to the other WAGs she was with, and was also frantically texting someone. After a brief period, Lenasia faced back towards you and told you to wait after the game because she had a surprise for you. You had a slight inkling of what that surprise was but silently hoped that it didn’t actually come true.

After the game was completed, Lenasia led you through the tunnels of Rogers Arena and told security that you were with her. It felt weird to hear her say that, considering that you just met her a few hours ago. You stood together outside of the Canucks locker room and the feeling of embarrassment continued to rise within you as the guys filed out, some of them laughed at your shirt and then, you saw him. Quinn was right there, less than 10 feet away from you. Your suspicions were right; you would have just settled for a signed item from him and have no interaction with him but you were actually going to meet him right now. You felt like you were going to pass out but tried your best to maintain your composure. Lenasia introduced you to Quinn and told him the same story of why you were wearing a shirt with his name on it. Quinn didn’t fully quite understand why the shirt was such a big deal but agreed to take the photo with you. He was nice enough to wrap his arm around you with a side hug and being that close together oddly felt natural and comfortable for two people who had just met for the first time. After the photo was finished being taken, Quinn kindly offered to sign your shirt so he inked his signature on your right shoulder. You thanked Quinn and Lenasia again for everything and left to return to your hotel. It was a lot to process but you were rightfully shocked that you started your night fulfilling some silly punishment and ended it by meeting the person whose name is on your shirt.

The following day, you sent the photo of you and Quinn from the night before to your friends and your friends joked in the groupchat that if you played your cards right, you might be next in line to date him. Yes, you posted about it on Instagram and tagged Quinn so everyone knew you actually met him. Since the day after you met was an off day, Quinn had some time to scroll through Instagram and he saw your post. Seeing your post led him to see all of your posts and eventually, he ended up in your DMs.

Do you always look that cute wearing someone’s name?, an Instagram message from a very familiar verified account read. You couldn’t believe it and thought you were somehow dreaming when you read Quinn’s message but it was very much real. You replied back: I guess I always do but I only wear the names of attractive guys and considering this is my only piece that has an athlete’s name, I guess you should consider yourself lucky ;) It felt odd to shamelessly flirt with a famous athlete (considering that most of them wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway) but it wasn’t like you were actually going to date him or be his friend anyway (or so you had thought).

The flirty interaction eventually led to the exchange of numbers and to a long message chain between the two of you that would extend on for months. You did return home from your trip to Vancouver and maintained a long-distance friendship with Quinn. Your friendship with Quinn was great; you trusted each other, shared some secrets, did virtual movie nights together sometimes, sent memes back and forth, told some of your closest friends and family about the other, and communicated on the phone constantly. Once of your favorite things to do with Quinn was that he would always call you during your morning commute to work and on his commute home after his games to decompress after the game. Since you didn’t live in an area where there was an NHL team, your options for seeing Quinn again in person were limited and you weren’t sure if you were going to ever see him again. It felt weird to ask about seeing each other in real life so everything was just kept online until one day, the timing was right to move things offline.

————————————————————

About a year into your friendship, the right opportunity opened up for you to return to Vancouver to see Quinn again. To the delight of many, Quinn was named Captain of the Canucks and he invited you out to his first game as Captain. You were important enough to him that Quinn wanted you to be there to celebrate that amazing accomplishment; you were surprised by the invitation but excited at the prospect of seeing him again. You used some of your remaining vacation time and paid for your plane ticket to and from Vancouver; Quinn wanted to pay for something so he placed you to stay in the nicest hotel that Vancouver has to offer. You were thrilled to spend a week in Vancouver and hopefully make some fun memories with Quinn while you were there.

Your anticipation for seeing him was slightly halted when Quinn revealed that he couldn’t pick you up from the airport because your flight arrived at the same time that he had captain responsibilities to fulfill in the community so you and Quinn agreed to meet to have dinner later on that evening. Emma, Anthony Beauvillier’s girlfriend, picked you up from the airport to take you to the hotel; you had never met or interacted with Emma before but you appreciated her kind favor. The drive from Vancouver International Airport to the hotel (which Quinn did not tell you beforehand because he wanted it to be a surprise) was normally a 30-minute drive, which turned into an hour drive due to traffic. While you and Emma waited in the rush hour traffic, you talked and learned more about her, her relationship with Anthony, what things are like in Quebec, and what it’s like to be a hockey WAG. Emma had a lot of questions about your relationship with Quinn and was curious as to why you, his romantic partner, weren’t around as much before. You corrected Emma by telling her that you and Quinn were just friends and nothing more and you came to support him as your friend.

“Are you sure you and Quinn are just friends because he must really like you a lot to pay for you to stay here?”, Emma asked as you pulled up to the Fairmount Waterfront hotel.

You replied yes, you were just his friend and she handed you over your room keys that were passed to her through the chain of command. You thanked Emma for giving you a ride and you both mentioned wanting to hang out with each other again.

Quinn was not kidding when he told you that you would be staying at the best hotel in Vancouver; your room had spectacular views of the Vancouver Harbor and was very fancy. As you got ready for your dinner with Quinn, you began to reflect on your conversation with Emma about him. You could admit that he was endearingly handsome and had qualities that you were looking for in a boyfriend but you and Quinn never really discussed romantic pursuits and outside of that initial flirty exchange when you first started talking to each other and the occasional compliment, there wasn’t much flirting really going on between you. You had always assumed that Quinn had someone, whether it was someone in Vancouver or in Michigan, waiting in the wings for him. Your thoughts were interrupted when you got a text from Quinn that he was coming up to the room. It was happening; for the first time in over a year, you got to see your internet best friend in person and you were ecstatic. Although he had a copy of the hotel room key, Quinn knocked on your hotel room door and a smile beamed across both of your faces as you recognized who was standing at the doorway. Quinn engulfed you in a long-awaited hug and you rocked back and forth. There were many areas in his life that made him feel delighted but hearing you laugh was one of the best sounds to him and holding you in his arms was the greatest feeling.

After separating, you realized that Quinn was dressed for a night in while you were dressed for a night out. The weather app indicated that a storm was rolling in so Quinn dressed to stay in at the hotel, order food, and have a movie night, while you were willing to brave the rain to try some of Vancouver’s cuisine. Quinn thought that you looked nice and wished that he communicated to you that Vancouver storms were no joke and you looking cute in your rain jacket wasn’t going to push him to go out in such weather either. He also really wanted to spend time with you without the distractions that come from him going out in public. You agreed to order in and changed into more comfy clothes while you waited for the food to arrive. Preseason hockey was over so Quinn decided to treat himself (and you) to some authentic Chinese food from his favorite place. As you and Quinn indulged on the delicious Chinese food, you began catching up with each other on what had occurred in your lives recently. As Quinn shared what had been going on his life lately, you heard all of the words he was saying but the only thing you were thinking about was how you just wanted to be together and you would lose focus sometimes as he spoke. You and Quinn kept talking so much on so many different topics that it was almost midnight before you decided to watch a movie. You settled on watching Ferris Buller’s Day Off before drifting off to sleep.

————————————————————

For Quinn, it felt surreal to wake up the following morning next to you. After being in contact with you for over a year, here you were, right there, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. Throughout the night, Quinn was respectful of your boundaries and no lines were crossed, everything was kept PG. You were awoken by the sound of water running coming from the bathroom and waited for Quinn to emerge out. After he came out of the bathroom, you discussed the day’s plan (which there wasn’t really one) and decided to go to breakfast at a very special place. Quinn still had some time off before the first game of the season so you had even more extra time to spend with him.

On the car ride to the restaurant, you began to imagine what it would be like to live in Vancouver. Sure, this wasn’t your first time there but you saw it in a different light as you were gazing outside of the car window with Quinn by your side. You arrived at your destination and Quinn got out and kindly came around to open the door for you; it was a sweet gesture that he didn’t have to do.

The restaurant was the same cafe that Quinn and Petey tended to frequent and the wait staff at the restaurant was so familiar with him, down to the point that they knew his exact order: plain buttermilk waffles topped with whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, and sides of bacon, potatoes, and guacamole. The waitress, an older woman named Louise, reminded you of an endearing grandmother figure; she even put your meal on the house as a treat. After the meal concluded and you were on the way back to Quinn’s car, a fan was waiting right outside of the restaurant for an opportunity to meet the captain of their favorite team. The fan approached you, Quinn’s romantic partner, to take their photo together. You wanted to correct the fan for being wrong but you also could tell that Quinn wanted to get going so you let it be; besides, Quinn didn’t even hear the fan address you as his lover. Quinn later on apologized for the fan encounter but it wasn’t an issue for you, you understood who he was and the things that came with being a famous athlete and you expected something like that might happen while you were together. You continued on the rest of your spontaneous day, being touristy around Vancouver, visiting Gastown, Stanley Park, and Granville Island with the cutest tour guide.

————————————————————

Your time in Vancouver coincided with Canadian Thanksgiving. Dinner is usually held at the team captain’s house and since Quinn is the captain, dinner would be held at his place but since his apartment couldn’t quite hold the entire team, Tyler Myers offered to host dinner at his home. It was exciting to celebrate a holiday together and learn more about each other’s Thanksgiving traditions but it also made you feel a little nervous because you would be meeting more of Quinn’s teammates and spending time with their families. The Canucks team’s Thanksgiving dinner was potluck style and everyone had to bring something so you and Quinn offered to bring a dessert. You decided to make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and Quinn graciously purchased the ingredients for you and let you use his kitchen. Quinn was a good sous chef; he actually enjoyed baking with you and you both had fun together. You even got into a little squabble over who would wash the dishes before agreeing that you would wash them and Quinn would dry them. After the cookies were done, you both got ready for dinner.

On the car ride over to the Myers house, your mind began to wander, contemplating about the domestic moment you shared earlier with Quinn and how you would want more moments like that with him. Quinn felt the same way but wasn’t sure how to verbally tell you that. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination. You casually mixed and mingled with the other Canucks players and their families; as expected, some of the players had kids and the kids were curious to know who you were and you explained to them that you were Quinn’s friend. Tristan, Tyler’s son, asked if you were Quinn’s lover friend and you were going to tell him no but you were interrupted by the message that dinner was about to be served so you let it go.

Despite your initial nervousness about the event, dinner actually went well and your cookies were a hit. The other Canucks players and their wives and girlfriends accepted you well into their group; they liked you for you and they liked you with Quinn. Due to the fact he’s their captain, some of the guys pushed Quinn into giving a speech and he expressed his thankfulness and gratitude on such a special holiday; he even looked at you when he mentioned how glad he was to have the people in the room as a part of his life.

During the post-dinner relaxation time, you and Quinn settled into watching the CFL game that was on before Tristan came up to ask the both of you to play hide and seek with him and his sister, Skylar. The football game wasn’t that interesting to either of you so you both agreed to play. Since you were the guest, the kids had you count first.

As you were looking to see where Quinn and the kids were hiding, you observed around the Myers home and began to think about how this was something that you had desired to have one day; a home full of love, laughter, and children. You checked the guest room closet to see if anyone was hiding in there before greeting Quinn by shouting BOO as soon as you opened the door. Instead of stepping out to help you find Skylar and Tristan, Quinn pulled you back into the closet and shut the door for a quiet moment alone. Quinn’s heart was beating super fast, not just because you inflicted fear into him for a brief second, but also because you were close to each other inside the dark closet. You obviously couldn’t see in the darkness but Quinn kept staring at the presumed outline of your mouth because he wanted pull you closer and kiss you so bad. Quinn almost had his chance to ask but was interrupted by the sound of children’s feet pattering on the ground and the door opening. Tristan quickly corrected you that as the counter, you were not allowed to hide until it was your turn to hide. An all-too-familiar chuckle came out of Quinn and you rolled your eyes at him since he was the one who caused you to break the rules before playing another round of hide and seek with the kids.

When it was time to say goodbye, Tristan and Skylar came over to give you a departing hug and Tristan loudly said that he had fun with you, Quinn’s special friend. It warmed your heart to hear his little voice say that to you. Before dropping you off back at the hotel, you had asked Quinn if he was going to stop and get his annual Thanksgiving apple pie slice from the bakery. He had mentioned his Thanksgiving tradition to you only once but it meant a lot to him that you had remembered that. Due to the fact that you made dessert from scratch, Quinn forgot to pick up the pie beforehand to bring to the party and the bakery with the pie that he enjoyed was already closed, but it was okay. Quinn didn’t mind skipping his tradition because he got to make a new memory with you. You and Quinn had such a good time at the Thanksgiving dinner and you had quietly hoped to get the opportunity to spend more holidays together.

————————————————————

The Canucks home opener was finally here. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking for Quinn; he knew that this day was coming but it felt a little more surreal that it was actually here. Quinn’s parents, Ellen and Jim, even flew in to watch their son receive his official captaincy before jetting off to go watch Jack and Luke at the Devils home opener the following day. You felt a bit of deja vu being back at Rogers Arena, since that was the place you and Quinn had met over a year ago, but that deja vu feeling came in a good way. It was fun to watch warmups with the other WAGs and you got to see Emma again. As warmups went on, you held J.T. Miller’s son, Owen, in your arms while Natalie Miller held her daughters, Scarlett and Scottlyn, closer to the glass to give them a better view to see their father on the ice. Since the day was very busy for Quinn, the only time he got to see you was for a brief second during warmups. Quinn’s heart swelled up with joy when he saw you at the glass, holding baby Owen and he also thought you looked so stunning and beautiful in your outfit. He wanted to pass you a puck but instead, he gave you a quick wink and passed a puck to a young fan with a sign and continued to skate around.

Warmups were over and the game was about to start soon so you went up to your seats. Instead of having you sit with the other WAGs, Quinn got you a ticket next to his parents. Of course, Quinn wanted you to meet his parents for the first time in a much more formal way but due to the limited time that you all had in Vancouver, it was slightly more convenient for you to meet his parents while at the game. It was a little awkward at first to meet Quinn’s parents because you were just Quinn’s long-distance friend and meeting the parents is a big deal but Jim and Ellen already knew who you were because you were important enough to their son that he had told them about you. Ellen mentioned to you that she suspected you were dating Quinn because he spoke so highly about you, indicating a possible crush but always shut it down by mentioning that you were just friends.

When it was time for Quinn to be introduced as captain, you got delightful goosebumps on your body because you were so proud of him. You already knew he was captain but watching some of the old Canucks captains pass the torch over to one of your best friend’s brought a rush of happiness to you; your heart even skipped a beat as he put on the jersey with the “C” on it. The game itself was amazing; the Canucks beat the Oilers 8 to 1 and Quinn had a 3-point night. Throughout little moments during the game, Jim and Ellen would ask you different questions about yourself and share tidbits about Quinn; it was nice that they were actively engaging and getting to know you. You were worried that Jim and Ellen wouldn’t like you as a person and for their son but it turns out that they enjoyed your presence and it also didn’t hurt that it was really fun to cheer for Quinn alongside his parents.

After the game was over, you, Jim, and Ellen walked down the same tunnels to the Canucks dressing room that you had walked to over a year ago when you met Quinn for the first time but this time, you weren’t as nervous to see him. Still experiencing the high from the evening’s successful game, Quinn was so ecstatic to see you, waiting for him with his beloved parents. When Quinn had invited you to come to his game, he had imagined seeing you again in those familiar halls with his parents in his mind and that moment of imagination came true. In his post-game interview, Quinn had mentioned that he would hold onto the night’s memories forever and you would also hold onto those memories in your own way too.

————————————————————

Since the Canucks had to leave for a roadtrip after their home opener and you were leaving soon, you had one last day to both celebrate Quinn’s birthday early and also to do something to say farewell to you. Instead of just a big fancy birthday/goodbye dinner, you and Quinn decided to go out for a day on the golf course and out to a casual dinner afterward; you also had to run a few errands because Quinn needed to grab some things before leaving on his upcoming road trip. Quinn picked you up to go with him to drop off his parents at the airport so that you could see them again and he wanted your opinion on some things when he went to IKEA. The car ride over to the airport was fine and Jim and Ellen didn’t mind getting in some extra time with their potential child-in-law. You and Quinn stepped out of the car to help with their bags and give his parents a goodbye hug. While you were giving the Hughes family some space and waiting in the car, Ellen whispered in her son’s ear that you were a keeper. His mother was right and Quinn had known that from the moments that he spent with you, the conversations you shared together and you were everything he ever wanted. Quinn had the keys to unlock your heart but he just needed to use them. Throughout the entire time you were there, Quinn began mentally preparing himself to confess his feelings for you somehow but those plans always fell flat because the anxiety of not being sure if you liked him romantically lingered throughout the air and he was scared to ruin the friendship you shared. He was falling for you hard but he was afraid to take that leap.

With one final wave goodbye, Jim and Ellen left for their flight to New Jersey and you and Quinn continued on the day’s itinerary. Goodbyes were always going to be a bit difficult, no matter who or what you were saying goodbye to. Quinn tried to not wear his heart on his sleeve and be strong but you could tell that Quinn was sad to see his parents go so you reached over and gently placed your hand on top of his. Quinn told you thank you and you shared a quick glance with him before arriving at IKEA. Instead of immediately telling you how he felt, you and Quinn aimlessly wandered around the large store; you had mentioned to Quinn that his apartment was missing a floor lamp in the living room so that he didn’t have to use the overhead ceiling light as much and he took you to IKEA to help him pick one out. Thursday afternoons at IKEA were quiet so it was almost like you and Quinn had the whole store to yourselves. As you walked through the store, you and Quinn looked at the different room setups and asked each other what you liked and disliked about each room setup; you also both began to imagine what it would be like to share a home together. Quinn even absentmindedly grabbed onto your hand and your fingers interlocked together for a brief second before you found the lamps and slipped your hand away to look at them. You picked out a black floor lamp that matched the aesthetic of Quinn’s apartment and continued to wander around the store until you reached the cash register. Quinn didn’t try to hold your hand again and neither of you brought up that moment for the rest of the day. Your time at the golf course was fun; being the self-proclaimed golf expert he was, Quinn did win the game.

Quinn decided that he wanted to have his birthday dinner/last meal with you at Moxie’s. While you waited for your food to arrive, you gave Quinn his birthday gift. It was challenging to get a gift for someone who could afford plenty and rarely mentioned what they wanted so you got Quinn a signed copy of Golf Kitchen, a cookbook that included recipes from some of the most famous golf clubs around the world, and a grill set that looked like golf items; it combined two of his interests: cooking and golf. Quinn was a bit taken aback by your gift because you didn’t have to actually get him anything; your presence and time spent with him was a gift within itself. He had mentioned it before but Quinn was so grateful to have you as a part of his life and he was going to miss you tremendously once you returned home. You would miss him so much and were sad that your great time with Quinn was coming to an end; you still had an extra full day in Vancouver before your flight early Saturday but the Canucks were leaving for Edmonton on Friday after morning skate.

After dinner, Quinn walked you up to your hotel room and you and Quinn continued to soak up all of the time you had left together as much as you could before the inevitable departure came. Before leaving, Quinn passed you a signed warm-up puck from last night’s game, mentioning that he owed it to you. You held the piece of rubber in your hand, smoothing your fingers over his signature.

“So now, you own two things with my name on it”, Quinn cheesily told you.

You were trying to hold back your tears and masquerade your emotions but you began to sob while embracing Quinn for one last time. Quinn felt a bit emotional too and he blurted out that he was in love with you; he decided to be brave and not let the fear take over. You thought your mind was playing a trick on you when you heard him so you looked up at the green eyes that were staring and waiting for a reply from you.

“Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”, you hesitantly asked.

“Um, maybe I should have kept that to myself. I’m sor-”, Quinn rambled.

You cut Quinn off with a kiss, something that he had been waiting a while to experience with you. You repeated that you had loved Quinn back as well. A long wave of relief rushed over the both of you; the jump was worth the fall and you were there to catch him. You didn’t have to say it out loud but Quinn knew that you would always be there for him. Quinn asked if you were available to come back to visit him for Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe losing in a fantasy league wasn’t so bad after all.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing #hockey imagine #please read my story

277 notes · View notes

crazylittlejester · 1 month ago

Note

*slowly appears*

I FOUND YOU!! (I read ur Fics on ao3 and had no clue u had a tumblr so u have no idea how happy I am :3!)

also,

If ur still in a talking or yapping or whatever kinda mood do you have any headcannons or something on Mask/Time, Tune/Wind, and Link/Wars?

*slowly fades away because this took way to much time to hit the ask button*

HELLO!! HI :3

im definitely in a yapping mood today!!

- Tune/Wind and Mask/Time have created so many little paradoxes as jokes and Warriors is completely oblivious to it. It’s just little inside jokes they have with each other that the other person doesn’t find funny until the second time they meet. One of them is always confused and the other one is always in on a hilarious little secret

- Time has hypermobile joints because of how often he transformed his body with the masks when he was younger, and it’s not uncommon for something to get popped out of place for him, and this has been effecting him since just before the War of Eras

- Wind is allergic to peanuts

- Warriors one time burnt a meal so fucking badly that the chain refused to let him forget about it and when Tune ran into him in the war he was physically incapable of not mentioning it (in a way that wouldn’t reveal he’d already met the captain)

- Time has a slight stutter that used to be significantly worse when he was much younger, and that’s part of why he signed so much as a kid. Warriors on the other hand didn’t want to be perceived as anything other than a Castle Town native and until he got the accent down perfectly, had Proxi speak for him. He didn’t need all of hyrule to know he was just some guy from some random ass village, they hated him enough already

- It was very hard for Tune to adjust to the younger version of Wars after seeing how much genuinely happier he’ll become. Like it actually broke his heart to see him that depressed, he didn’t know what to do with himself

- Wars’s Zelda literally lets Mask get away with whatever the fuck because they got super super close when she had to hide herself as Sheik since Mask knew it was her, and this has translated to Time being able to pull “not to worry, i have a permit” type shit with zero consequences

#jes ask #jes headcanons #lu warriors #lu wind #lu time #lu mask #lu tune

51 notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 6 months ago

Note

can u do a five fanfic where he saves vivi from smth/someone. like “kill for ur love” sorta trope. idk if you’ve alr done im only on #3 of halo but pls its a need

No Escape

Five is forced into assassin mode when Vivian is put in danger by another Commission agent. He must not be very smart, though, because no one in their right mind would dare lay a hand on Five's girl.

Thank you so much for this request! I love writing anything with these two and this was a great subject that I hadn't done before. I hope I did ok! 😊

Words: 8,045

Warnings: blood, violence, Five being a badass but also a softy, smut at the end but can be skipped and it won't affect the story at all

As an aside: this story is meant to take place at some point during my AU series Halo on AO3, when Five and Vivian are not yet married and he is working for the Commission. If you like this pairing, you can check out more (lots more!) here. Also, here is a link to my Master List posts on Tumblr.

And a big shout out to my homie @kaybreezy3000 who was a major help with this one, and did the super sexy cover art!

Five tried to swallow down his rising panic as he sped through the city’s dark and empty streets. The heavy rain battered down onto the roof of the car and the tires sent up a spectacular spray of water every time he screeched around a corner. He didn’t care if he was driving one hundred miles an hour over the city streets or running red lights. His foot stepped harder down on the accelerator. If a cop tried to stop him, they’d have to shoot out his tires first. Even then, he wouldn’t stop. With his heart hammering away in his chest and his hands gripping the steering wheel, he glanced over at the handgun lying on the passenger seat where he had thrown it. A flash of lightning illuminated his face for a brief moment, and he saw his eyes reflected back at him in the rearview mirror. They looked like his normal emerald-colored eyes but with one major difference. These eyes belonged to a man who was desperate and seething with rage.

He had known something was off as soon as he had come home that night. Viv always left the light on in the living room for him, no matter how late he was going to be. And most times she didn’t even know when he was coming back, but she left it on all night long, just in case. So, when he had teleported into their apartment earlier and it was dark, Five was immediately suspicious.

He had called her name, but there was no answer and he didn’t hear her in any of the rooms. The place wasn’t that big, so it’s not like she wouldn’t have heard him. But he checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Both were dark, with no signs of her anywhere. When he walked into the kitchen, though, and snapped on the light, he knew something was very wrong.

There, in the middle of the tile floor, was a large pool of amber-colored liquid, surrounded by hundreds of glass shards. One of the kitchen chairs had been turned over and was lying on its side.

Five called her name again, as if she would appear out of some secret panel in the wall, carrying a broom and laughing at herself for being so clumsy. But, of course, that didn’t happen and the only sound was the echo of his own voice bouncing off the kitchen walls.

He crouched down next to the spill and the broken glass. The floor was sticky and the whole room smelled like whiskey. Most of the glass was clear with no markings, but one large chunk of it still had a label attached. When Five reached out with a trembling hand to pick it up, he held it closer to read the print. He recognized it immediately. This was not the normal liquor they kept in the house, and it would have been impossible for Vivian to have even acquired it on her own. Not unless the local corner store had come across a rare shipment of whiskey that hadn’t been distilled since 1865.

Five stared at the piece of broken glass in his hand, trying to wrap his head around what he was gradually piecing together. When he looked up at the kitchen table, he saw Viv’s phone lying there, which did nothing to quell the growing sense of dread in his stomach. He stood and picked it up, the movement making it come to life and flashing a photo of the two of them that she kept as her home screen. That’s when he noticed the smear of blood across the screen.

His eyes darted from the phone to the overturned chair, to the broken bottle and spilled ancient whiskey and his heart sank.

“Vivie,” he said in a horrified whisper.

She was gone and he knew who had her. Why, he had no idea, but wherever she was, she would be scared and maybe hurt; or worse. Five forced the gruesome horror scenes from his mind. It wasn’t going to do him any good to crack up now. He needed to focus on finding her and he needed to do it fast. There was no telling what this fucking psycho was capable of. And if Five found out she had been hurt in any way whatsoever, one thing was for damn sure. God help the man who was responsible.

When Vivian heard the knock on the door, she figured it was the older lady from two doors down. Ever since Five had moved in, the woman had been making herself much more present around their apartment; always stopping by with plates of cookies or a scarf she just happened to have knitted. She never seemed particularly interested in talking to Viv, but if Five was around, she had endless amounts of time to stay and chit-chat. Not that he even pretended to be remotely interested, but she ate up every terse smile and head nod, apparently taking them as signs she should come over more often. Viv had no doubt the woman, who was technically closer to Five’s age than her own, wished Viv would suddenly disappear in some sort of tragic accident so she could swoop in and make her move.

Viv rolled her eyes and smiled as she headed for the door. “Sorry, Betty,” she started as she opened the door. “Five’s not home right n—oh!” Viv stopped when she saw it wasn’t Five’s old lady girlfriend, but rather a man she did not recognize. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”

The man was taller than Viv, but his build was a little on the scrawny side, with thinning brown hair that was combed to the side and a pockmarked face. His gray suit pants looked too baggy for his frame and were cinched at the waist with a belt, as if they had fit him at one time when he had more weight on him. The white dress shirt he had on was wrinkled and a shabby-looking trench coat hung loosely around his wiry frame.

“Oh…sorry,” the man said slowly and Viv could see he was most likely drunk. “I’m looking for Five Hargreeves? Does he live here?”

Considering she had no idea who this man was and the fact that he was asking about Five had her immediately on edge. It’s not as if Five had friends stopping over. Or had friends, period, for that matter.

Viv crossed her arms over her chest. “And who, may I ask, wants to know?”

The man laughed and ran a hand through his sparse hair, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Right, sorry. I’m Sam. I work with Five.”

Viv hesitated but accepted his handshake. “I’m sorry, you said you work with Five?”

She knew better than to just give up any information about Five’s work, and she was highly skeptical of this man’s claim. For one, Five worked for the Commission and it’s not as if that was the accounting office down the street. They were a highly secretive time-traveling operative filled with dangerous assassins. For another, Five never talked about anyone he worked with. Unless they were pissing him off in a particular way that day. So, to have this man she’d never heard of before showing up at their door and knowing Five lived there was a major red flag.

Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair again, looking embarrassed. “Yeah. I’m sure you don’t have many of us stopping by unannounced, do you?”

“And by ‘us’ you mean…”

The man gave a sheepish smile and then pointed at the ground near his feet. Viv looked down and saw the familiar black briefcase she knew Five and all of the other agents at the Commission used for getting around. It would have been nearly impossible for anyone else to have one, so this guy must have been who he said he was. It put her a little more at ease, but not totally.

Viv nodded. “So, what can I help you with? I’m afraid Five isn’t home right now.”

The man’s face fell a little. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I don’t have much time, but I wanted to bring him by this bottle of whiskey I know he likes.” He held up a very old looking bottle of some kind of brown alcohol. The label looked old-fashioned, yet brand new. It was also only half-full, presumably the remains of what Sam had already drunk. Viv wasn’t familiar with the name on the label, either, and she was fairly certain she knew all of Five’s preferred drink choices.

“We shared a couple of glasses of it a while back, so I picked up some more on my last mission and figured I’d bring it by,” Sam explained. Seeing Viv’s dubious face, he continued. “It hasn’t been made since the 1860s, and technically we aren’t supposed to take things back across timelines, but I figured one little bottle of whiskey wouldn’t make the whole world collapse, right?”

He laughed at his own joke and Viv could see he actually had a nice and genuine smile, even if he was a bit tipsy. His story seemed legit, although it was still weird that Five had never mentioned him to her at all. Although now that she thought about it, he didn’t really tell her much at all about the Commission; for both of their sakes. For all she knew, maybe he had a boatload of friends down there. Maybe he was the life of the party.

She gave him a smile, softening up a little. “No, the world seems to still be in one piece. And don’t worry, I won’t tell. Five once brought me back a bottle of perfume from 1923 Paris, so I think we’re safe.”

He chuckled and then they both stood there awkwardly until he cleared his throat. “Well, just tell him I stopped by, I guess.”

Seeing his disappointed face made Viv feel sorry for him, especially when she saw that it had started to rain. He looked so sad and pathetic standing there in his baggy clothes, drunk on Old West whiskey, and seemingly lonely. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him tugged at her heartstrings and she didn’t want to leave him alone in the rain.

“Why don’t you come in? Five should be home soon, you can wait for him if you’d like.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

“No, no, really, I insist. Come on in. I’m Vivian, by the way; Five’s girlfriend.”

Sam followed her inside and she shut the door behind them. She then led him into the kitchen, where she offered him a seat at the table. He sat down heavily, almost missing the chair entirely in his altered state, leaving the black briefcase next to him on the floor.

“This is a really nice place you have here,” he marveled as he glanced around their simple kitchen.

Viv looked surprised. “Really? Well, thank you, but it’s not much. There weren’t too many apartments in the area that I could afford at the time I moved in.”

“So, you lived here first and Five moved in with you?”

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “We met, fell in love, and he moved in here. I was never intending on having a roommate, but you never know what life will bring, right?”

Sam looked at her with an odd expression; one that Viv wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“And life brought you Number Five, the assassin, huh?” he asked.

That was a weird question and Viv hesitated for a moment. “Uh…yeah, I guess it did.”

“You know, Five never mentioned you when we shared that whiskey,” Sam said; his eyes seeming to harden just a little. “He also said he lived in a shit hole place, all alone. But this is definitely not a shit hole and he clearly isn’t alone.”

Viv swallowed nervously. “Well, that was probably before we met. He was kind of a loner before that.”

Sam gave a low chuckle and he looked around the kitchen again, seeming to take in his surroundings in detail and soaking it all up. Then he was back to eyeing Viv up. He still had the same friendly smile on his face, but she could see something about it had changed.

“Aren’t we all,” he mumbled. “He’s a lucky guy, though. Ending up with someone as pretty as you.”

Vivian shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “Um, oh. Thank you.”

It was quickly becoming clear that inviting this man in had not been a good idea. Viv cursed herself for having such a bleeding heart sometimes. She should have followed her initial instinct about him. She just hoped Five would be home soon.

Trying to change the subject, Viv pointed to the bottle on the table. “So, you said you and Five spent some time together at the Commission? Five’s not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, so how did that come about?”

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg of the other. “Well, you’re right about that. Five is not exactly Mr. Friendly, at least around there. But he must have been in a good mood one day and decided to sit and chat with me. Although, maybe the whiskey was more of the motivator. Anyway, once we got to talking, we realized we had a lot in common.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we both ended up working for the Commission out of necessity rather than desire, but I won’t bore you with those details about myself. He was kind of a loner like you said, and so am I. And I could tell he had a lot of hostility towards most of the world. He knew the unfairness of life and how some people have it good and some don’t. That’s just the way it goes. Unfortunately, he and I got dealt one of life’s shitty hands and had been living with it our whole lives.” Sam stopped and looked at Vivian, again with that weird look in his eyes. “At least, until he met you, apparently. Now he seems to have the good life; coming home to this nice place with you waiting for him, while I’m stuck in my piece of shit house eating microwave dinners for one every night. That is, when I’m not putting a bullet in some poor bastard’s head.”

He chuckled at that and Vivian attempted a smile. This man was appearing to become more unhinged by the minute and she wasn’t sure how to keep up this conversation anymore.

“I know doing what you do, and for whom, can be extremely hard and I’m sorry. But I’m sure things will change for you. Everyone deserves to be happy, and to have love.”

Sam stared at her with unfocused eyes as he processed her words. Viv could see the wheels turning in his head and she suddenly felt very much in danger. Why had she let this guy in their home? The hairs on the backs of her arms stood up.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Sam said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Maybe I’d be happy, too, if I had someone like you to come home to every day. Someone young and pretty to take care of me.”

The tone of his voice and look in his eyes were dangerous, and Viv instinctively began to stand up and back away. “You know, you’re making me a little uncomfortable. I think you should leave.”

Despite his unsteadiness from the booze, Sam was quick. The kitchen chair he had been sitting in fell over with a loud bang as he sprang up, grabbing her arm in the process.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “Please. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Viv tried to pull her arm away. “Let go of me!”

“Please, just sit back down. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You are hurting me! Let go of my arm!” she cried as she desperately tried to free herself from his grasp.

He took hold of her with his other hand so that he was firmly gripping her by both her upper arms with surprising strength. Shaking her, he yelled in her face. “I am not hurting you! Just stop! Stop and listen!”

“No! Let me go!” she yelled back, struggling against him and trying to kick at his shins or anywhere else she could reach.

“Stop doing that, or else…” he hissed.

“Or else what? If you think Five’s not going to lose his fucking mind when he finds out you grabbed me like this, then you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“I AM NOT CRAZY! DON’T CALL ME CRAZY!” he screamed; his face contorted with fury.

Viv flinched and she started struggling harder. That’s when she saw Sam’s eyes move off of her and down to the ground near where he had been sitting. A white-hot panic started to rise up inside of her when she realized what he was looking at. The briefcase.

She couldn’t let him get to it. Not when he also had ahold of her. There was no telling where or when she would end up. With all of her strength, her adrenaline pumping, Viv fought as hard as she could against him. Kicking and pulling, she managed to yank him off balance, causing him to knock into the kitchen table, upsetting the bottle of whiskey and sending it tumbling to the ground. They continued to fight against one another, their shoes crunching in the broken glass.

When Viv lost her balance, she managed to free one of her hands, catching herself on the way down. Her hand landed on a piece of glass, the sharp edge slicing into her palm. With a last-ditch effort, she tried to reach out and grab her phone off of the table. At the same time, Sam reached for the briefcase. Viv watched in horror as she saw his hand latch onto the handle at the same time that she felt her fingers slipping across the screen of her phone. Then she felt the familiar feeling of being sucked into nothingness, her stomach lurching, as they both disappeared in a flash of light.

It was a miracle that Five even remembered what street Sam lived on. He had only mentioned it once, during a drunken conversation one night as they both slugged down the gasoline passing as whiskey in the Commission break room. Five had remembered because it was about a block away from where he used to live; before he met Vivian. It was in a shit part of town, but that would actually play to his advantage now. It was less likely anyone would pay attention to gunshots or other signs of violence when you’re already in a crime-filled neighborhood. Not that Five didn’t know how to cover his tracks. He was a professional, after all.

The fact that he wasn’t sure which run-down house was Sam’s posed a problem, along with the fact that he could have taken Viv anywhere and to any time. If that were the case, he was going to have to go to more extreme measures to get her back, including breaking Commission protocol. Which he was more than willing to do.

But as he drove slowly up the street with his headlights off, Five was granted a small amount of luck. A light was on inside one of the houses and Five could see clearly into the front window. On a table in the living room was the briefcase. He didn’t see Sam or Viv inside, but it was most definitely a Commission issued case.

“I’ve got you now, you piece of shit,” Five mumbled out loud as he parked the car a few houses down.

The rain was coming down hard and Five was soaked through in a matter of seconds as he hurried down the uneven sidewalk, his shoes splashing through the puddles. He didn’t want to risk being seen by blinking out in the open, so he waited until he was standing on the front porch of Sam’s house. The rain leaked down through the cracks in the rotting awning above him. After another quick peek inside the window, and seeing no one in the front room, Five teleported inside.

He took a second to take in his surroundings. Resisting the urge to call out for Viv, he remained silent and started making his way toward what he assumed would be the kitchen, his Glock held firmly in his left hand. There was no one there, but on top of a wooden cutting board on the worn and peeling countertop, was a meat cleaver. It caught Five’s eye, and since he is never one to turn down the convenience of a sharp weapon up for grabs, he left the kitchen with his gun in one hand and the cleaver in the other.

Five passed by a small, empty bathroom, and then came to a bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was closed and when he tried the handle, it was locked. The door was old and flimsy looking, so he didn’t hesitate to give one strong kick, cracking the wooden frame and splintering the door so that it swung open. As soon as he saw her, he felt immediate relief and horror wash over him.

“Vivian!” he cried, forgetting all of his training and not surveilling the rest of the room first. If he had been watching someone else doing the exact same thing, he would have told them they were brain-dead and lacked critical thinking skills. It was such a rookie move. But his emotions had taken over and he only saw her.

Viv was tied up to a wooden chair, arms behind her, with a blindfold over her eyes and a piece of duct tape over her mouth. She was frantically mumbling something when she heard Five’s voice, but it was unintelligible from behind the tape.

“Shit,” Five whispered as he hurried over, kneeling down in front of her, and placing the gun and knife on the ground. He immediately started to undo the blindfold. “Oh my god, Vivie, I’m so sorry. It’s ok, I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here,” he was saying as he yanked it away from her eyes.

Viv blinked into the sudden brightness, but then her eyes widened in fear as she looked at Five. Five assumed it was from shock and he continued to talk to her and assure her it would be ok as he carefully stripped the tape away from her mouth.

“I’ve got you, angel, don’t worry,” he said, right as he freed her mouth and she took a deep breath in.

“Five! Behind you!”

Five turned around, just in time to see Sam emerging from the bedroom closet with a wild look in his eyes. In his hand he had some sort of small device and he was coming their way. Five tried to grab one of his weapons off the floor next to him, but it was too late. Sam was quicker, and before he knew what was happening, Five fell to the floor in a heap; convulsing violently as electrical currents traveled throughout his entire body.

The stun gun Sam used was a standard-issued weapon from his employer and was given to every field agent, along with a Glock. The electrical charge from these particular guns were much stronger than what any modern-day policeman or SWAT member carried. Word around the halls was that it once took down a full-size grizzly bear with one zap. Sam wasn’t letting up on the trigger as he leaned over Five’s body, pressing the device into the back of his neck and watching with satisfaction as he was electrocuted over and over again.

Because Five was soaked through from the rain, the electrical shock was amplified as it continued in an endless loop through his body while he writhed and groaned on the floor. Five let out a grating cry, his body flickering with a pulsing blue light as he tried to use his own electrical power to counter the attack, but he wasn’t strong enough. Viv watched in horror as the light faded away and he became silent, even as his body continued to contort and seize right in front of her.

“Five! No! No! Stop, you’re killing him!” she screamed, her voice breaking and her eyes filling with tears. She tried in vain to break from her restraints. “Stop! Please! Five!”

Sam finally stopped, tossing the weapon to the side so that it skittered under a beat-up dresser. He was breathing hard as he looked at Viv and then at Five’s limp, unmoving body at his feet. Viv started sobbing loudly and she hung her head as the tears flowed down her face and onto her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. Then he spoke louder, but his voice was trembling. “I had to do it. He was going to take you away. I’m going to let you go, I told you that, but I need you to listen to me first and you’re not listening. All I want is for you to sit here and talk to me, and maybe stay with me for a night. But you weren’t listening, and so I had to tie you up, but I didn’t want to. He was going to take you away from me, and I can’t let that happen. Not until you stay here for a while.”

Viv lifted her head slowly, strings of tangled hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks, her eyes narrowed in a hateful glare. “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO! YOU ARE A CRAZY, PATHETIC LOSER AND I FUCKING HATE YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking before she started sobbing again.

Five was still lying unmoving on the floor, but his eyes were open, and to Vivian’s relief, she saw he was breathing, although it was shallow. Sam looked down at him with a glower. Then he nudged him in the side with the toe of his shoe and Five let out a weak moan.

“This is your fault, Five. If you had just stayed put and let me handle this, it wouldn’t have gone this far. But now you ruined it.” Sam squatted down next to Five, leaning in closer so that he could hear. “I wasn’t going to hurt her, you know. But now…well, now you’ve gone and fucked it all up.”

His voice grew louder and more desperate. “We were the same, you and I! So, how did you get so god damn special? I thought we were friends; I thought we had a connection. But then I find out you’re living this perfect little life, with your fancy apartment and your pretty girl. But what about me, huh? Where’s my perfect life? My happy ending?”

Sam stood up and looked at Vivian, although he was directing his words at Five. “I was going to kill you and keep her, but now I have a better idea. Since I know you’re currently paralyzed but can still see and hear everything that’s going on, I think maybe I’ll kill her instead. Then you can watch and listen as your perfect little life is ripped away from you until you’re just like me again. All alone and mad at the world.”

“You stupid piece of shit,” Viv growled out. “He never did anything to you.”

“YES, HE DID!” Sam yelled right in her face. “He took my life! I deserve this life, not him. He’s killed way more people than I have; I’ve seen his records. I know his reputation. He might as well be Satan himself! So why don’t you tell me why he gets you and I get nothing?”

Viv looked him dead in the eye. “Because Five is good and decent, and he knows how to love others. He feels remorse for all of those lives he took. You, on the other hand, are nothing but a giant pile of dog shit in a cheap suit. And no one will ever love you.”

Sam smiled. “At first, I wasn’t going to enjoy this, but now I might.” He bent down to pick up Five’s Glock which was lying next to his immobile body. “I think I’ll shoot you in the head with his own gun. That feels poetic to me, don’t you think?”

He raised his arm and pointed the gun right at Viv’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering as a few tears leaked out. “Five, I love you,” she said quietly, knowing they would be her last words, and hoping he could hear her. Just as she was trying to steady herself against the pain and sudden death that would be upon her any second, she heard a high-pitched scream and she opened her eyes.

Sam was standing right where he had been, his face frozen in horror as Five’s gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He slowly sank to his knees before falling face first onto the ground, collapsing onto his stomach with a loud and painful groan. As he fell over, Viv could see a meat cleaver was embedded in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades; the shining metal handle sticking straight up in the air as blood seeped from around the blade. Viv looked up to see Five falling to his knees next to Sam. He was shaking and breathing hard, but alive and apparently able to move again.

“Oh my god, Five! Are you ok?”

Five nodded slowly and lifted his head weakly to look at Viv. “Yeah. Are you?”

She nodded her head and started to quietly cry again. Then another pitiful groan came from the injured body on the floor. Sam was stirring and trying to get his arms under him in a futile attempt to get up. Five seemed to gain more strength as he slowly hauled himself up to standing again. He placed a foot on Sam’s lower back, grabbing the handle of the cleaver and yanking it out of the mutilated flesh beneath him. Sam screamed again while fresh blood began pouring out of the wound. Thick drops of scarlet red dripped from the cleaver and onto the old and dented hardwood floor beneath them.

Five was still unsteady on his feet, but he leaned down and pulled Sam’s face up off the ground by a fistful of hair.

“You made a fatal error, my friend,” Five warned. “You have no idea what I am capable of. But you’re about to find out because you have fucked with the wrong man.”

Sam breathed out a shaky laugh. “You think you’re better than me. But we’re the same.”

Five clenched his teeth and held the blood-stained meat cleaver under Sam’s throat. “Listen, you pathetic waste of space; you are wrong! We are not the same, and we never have been,” he hissed.

Sam let out a more maniacal laugh. “We are though. You just can’t admit it.”

Five got ready to draw the sharp blade across Sam’s neck. He wanted to split his throat open from ear to ear and watch him bleed out slowly and in agony. One corner of the cold steel pressed into his skin and a rivulet of blood trickled out.

“Five, don’t,” Viv said suddenly.

Five didn’t look up as he paused. “He needs to die, Vivie.”

“Not like that. Please, I just want to go home. Let’s go home, ok?”

Five looked up at her sorrowful face and knew she was right. He needed to get her back home. But he still wasn’t about to let this fucker go, even if the odds of him surviving the horrific wound in his back were slim. He let go of Sam’s hair, letting his face fall with a loud thunk onto the floor. Then he picked up his pistol and pressed it into the back of Sam’s skull. He glanced at Viv as a warning to let her know to look away.

“Lights out, you stupid fuck,” Five growled before pulling the trigger.

BANG! Sam’s skull exploded, sending blood and brain matter everywhere. Vivian flinched and looked away, but Five watched with satisfaction as the grisly contents oozed out of the gaping hole in the dead man’s head. Then he dropped his gun and hurried over to Viv, who was still bound to the chair.

As soon as her hands were free, she threw her arms around Five’s shoulders and he pulled her tightly into him. She burst into tears again, sobbing into his shoulder as they both knelt on the ground. He kissed her temple and smoothed her hair.

“Vivie…look at me,” he said as he held her face in his trembling hands. “Are you hurt at all? I saw blood on your phone.”

She shook her head while more tears ran down her cheeks. “No, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Five, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, I was stupid and I let him in, he said you were friends, I wasn’t thinking. Five, I’m so sorry.” She started crying loudly again, touching the side of his face with her hand. “I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead. And it was all my fault.”

Five closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, his own tears threatening to spill over. “Darling, you have nothing to be sorry for, ok? You did nothing wrong. I just…god, I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you. Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Five, you’re the one that almost died!”

Five gave her a smile and kissed her softly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. You should know that by now.”

She let out a small laugh, sniffing back her tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” He glanced very quickly to the dead body on the floor and then back to Viv. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

She nodded and they stood up, Five still shaky and unsteady on his feet. Viv held on to him for support. “What’s going to happen now? Aren’t the cops going to come after us?”

Five shook his head. “No, we’re safe. He works for the Commission, so he’s their problem to deal with. Agents die all the time in the field. He’s just one more spare cog in the wheel that won’t be missed.”

On the way out of the house, Five remembered the briefcase. He grabbed it off the table and turned to Vivian. “I don’t think either of us should be driving. I have to bring this back anyway, so do you mind?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. The sooner we can get home the better. We can get the car later.”

With a nod, Five programmed the case, took Viv’s hand in his, and in less than two seconds they were back in their apartment. As soon as they arrived, though, Five collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees. He was still so weak from being electrocuted almost to death and now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, it was starting to catch up with him.

“Five! Oh my god…”

Viv put her arms around his waist as he leaned against her and she helped him up. Tears started to form in her eyes again as they traveled over Five’s exhausted face.

“I am so sorry, Five…this is all my fault…and now you’re hurt…”

“Vivie, I’ll be fine. And it’s not your fault.”

She could see he was starting to sway on his feet again and she nodded before realizing he was covered in a splatter of quickly drying blood. “Come on, you need to get cleaned up first and then you can lie down, ok?”

Viv led Five to the bathroom where she had him sit on the top of the toilet seat while she helped him undress down to his underwear. She didn’t trust that he was strong enough to take a full shower, so she wiped up his face, neck, and chest with a wet washcloth; the dried blood that was painting his skin gradually fading away. Five closed his eyes from both exhaustion and the feel of her touch as she gently washed his latest sin from his body.

After he was cleaned off, Viv washed her own hands and bandaged the cut on her palm, and they both collapsed onto their bed, too tired to turn back the covers. Viv crawled next to Five as he lay on his side, and he wrapped her in his arms with her face buried in his chest. They both let out a long sigh and then she looked up at him. With her hand on his cheek, she kissed him, her warm lips pressed to his as he kissed her just as deeply in return and stroked her hair.

“Are you going to be ok?” he asked her quietly.

“Yeah, I’ll be ok. I’m pretty tough, you know,” she said with a smile.

Five laughed and squeezed her tighter. “I know you are.” He was silent for a minute before speaking again. “I’m sorry, Vivie. I’m sorry that I can’t ever seem to escape the hell that follows me everywhere. All I want to do is keep you safe, but I seem to be failing in that department.”

“I never feel safer than when I’m with you.”

Five didn’t respond to that and was quiet again. “I’d do it again, you know.”

“What?”

“Kill anyone that tried to hurt you. Without a second thought. And I’m sorry because I know that’s not what you want to hear, but if protecting you means I have to be the bad guy, then so be it.”

Viv looked into his eyes and smiled sadly. “Five, you’re never the bad guy. You’re my own personal superhero and you will always be the good guy. Because you are good inside. I need you to remember that.”

Five chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but if I am, it’s only because of you, angel.”

Bonus: Smut (as a little treat)

It took a few days before Five was completely healed from his electrical ass-beating. He couldn’t even blink a few feet without the power leaving his body and feeling like he was going to faint. And even though he loved that Vivian took care of him, he was getting pretty fucking annoyed with getting scolded every time he tried to do something she didn’t think he could handle. He reminded her several times that he had made it through four and a half decades of self-preservation in a barren hellscape, so unloading a bag of groceries was probably not going to be the end of him. But she just gave him a pointed look that told him she didn’t give a shit what he said and then he shut up again. After the third day, though, she finally decided he was well enough to return to his normal activities.

Viv was at the kitchen sink when Five came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. “I have a surprise for you,” he told her with a grin.

She sighed heavily, continuing to rinse off the plate she was holding. “If it’s what I’m currently feeling being jabbed up against my butt right now, I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve seen it before. Several times.”

Five gave her ass a pinch so that she squealed and then scooped her up in his arms, the dish clattering into the sink. “That’s only part of it,” he answered before he teleported them into the bedroom and onto the bed with a bounce. “I can blink again,” he said with a cocky smirk.

Viv scowled at him, fighting against her smile, and she smacked him on the arm. “Five Hargreeves, you are the worst! What have I told you about non-consensual blinks?”

Five laughed and shrugged. “It was worth it.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he was dragging her on top of him and pulling her in for a kiss, his hand tangling in her hair. She immediately gave in and made a little moaning noise into his mouth.

“Besides,” he said as he pulled away with a smile. “I know you secretly love it.”

Viv shook her head. “I don’t. But I do love a lot of other things you can do.”

Five nuzzled his face into her neck and placed a line of soft kisses along the underside of her jaw. “How about I do a few of those things right now?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” she said quietly while she started tugging up his shirt.

He chuckled as her hand slid over his hard abdomen and chest. “Trying to undress me already, my love?”

“You know I hate it when you have clothes on. I’d much rather have you walking around naked all day, just for my viewing pleasure and for easy access.”

Five laughed again and then flipped her over so that Viv was on her back, and he sat up on his knees, pulling his black t-shirt over his head before leaning down again. The muscles in his arms and back flexed as he held himself over her. He pressed the hard crotch of his pants into her thigh and he flashed her his sexy, crooked smile.

“If anyone needs to be walking around naked all day, it’s you. So let’s start there.”

Viv smiled and let him take his time with her, softly running his lips over her stomach and chest before lifting her shirt over her head. When he moved to tug her pants off, she stretched out long, closing her eyes and sighing. She felt his hand drifting over her legs and hip, and around to her ass where he gave it a small squeeze. Then he repositioned himself between her legs and she felt the warmth of his breath on her inner thigh as he placed his hands on either side of her hips.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured.

Viv let out a quiet moan when she felt his mouth and tongue drawing hot lines over her skin, punctuated with tiny nips of his teeth. When he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down a little bit before covering the entire damp area between her legs with his mouth, she jerked her hips up with a whine.

Five leisurely sucked and licked at the thin fabric that separated him from that hot piece of heaven just underneath. He was teasing himself just as much as her, because the wetter she got, the more he could taste. And the more he could taste, the more his feral instincts kicked in and he wanted to devour her.

When he finally threw the lace underpants somewhere to the side, he was already on his knees between her legs, holding her tightly by her thighs, as he watched her rocking her hips up in anticipation. She looked up at him under hooded eyes, the corner of her bottom lip caught in her teeth, before sucking in a loud breath.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” he growled before immediately getting back to the matter at hand.

Five always knew the best ways to make Vivian a trembling mess, and one of those ways was to eat her out like she was the first meal he’d had in years. She liked when he was slow and gentle; flicking his tongue over all of her most sensitive places and taking his time. But when he lost all restraint and consumed her entire pussy, groaning and shoving his tongue inside of her while sloppily sucking at her clit, that’s when she lost her damn mind.

It always came with a slight risk of bodily harm for Five, since she would be thrusting her hips up into him so wildly, and pushing his face harder into her that it was a wonder he didn’t end up with a neck injury or suffocating to death. But he figured if that’s how he went out, he’d be ok with that.

“Five! Oh…my…fucking…god…YES!!!”

She pushed herself harder into his face with each word until she was screaming unintelligible words and Five could feel her thighs trembling and her body shaking as her back arched off the bed. He continued greedily lapping her up until she relaxed again and fell back against the pillow. When he sat back on his knees, he was breathing hard and fast. He pushed his hair off his forehead as he licked at his lips; her warm, liquid sex coating his mouth and dripping down his chin.

While Viv lay there, catching her breath, she watched as Five wiped his face with the back of his hand, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a tiny smirk. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told her all she needed to know. Now it was his turn and she was about to get railed. Hard.

He unbuckled his belt and opened the fly of his pants, taking out his hard cock before shoving her legs further apart with his knees. When he leaned over the top of her, covering her body with his own, he kissed her long and deeply; making sure she got a good taste of herself on his tongue. Her already soaked cunt accepted his dick with ease as he sunk himself inside of her.

With one hand holding himself up and the other gripping and pulling her leg up higher around his waist, Five started rhythmically thrusting into her, and moving his face to her neck.

“Vivie,” he breathed against her skin and she closed her eyes and dug her fingers into his back. “I can’t live without you, angel.”

“I’m yours forever, Five.”

Five continued to fuck her hard but slowly, the buckle of his belt that was still dangling from his opened pants clinking with each push of his hips. He was groaning and biting into the crook of her neck as he kept his face buried there and Vivian clutched his body to hers. In between heavy pants, he told her all of the things he needed her to know. Every little thought and emotion that made its way to the forefront of his brain. If he didn’t tell her, the moment may pass and she’d never know.

“You are my whole world, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I am nothing without you. I love you so much, Vivian, so much.” He started moaning louder as his pace got faster and he held himself over her again to look down at her face. She smiled up at him, even as she let her head fall back again with a cry from how good he was feeling as he pounded into her.

“Five…”, she whimpered. “I love you, too...you feel so good like this.”

Her words acted like some sort of switch inside his brain, and after a few more seconds, Five was unleashing his hot cum inside of her while he pressed his forehead into her shoulder and groaned low in his throat. As his body relaxed, he stayed where he was, lying on top of her and breathing hard against her neck. She stroked his back and hair and ran her fingers lightly down his arms. He felt her lips press against his ear and she sighed happily.

“No one can ever take me away from you, Five,” Viv whispered.

Five kissed the side of her neck and then her lips. He didn’t say anything in return. Mostly because he knew she was right. Because if anyone ever tried to take her away again, he had no problem slaughtering everyone in his path to get to her.

65 notes · View notes