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grumpypixistix · 10 months

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The lab assistant

Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader

Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )

MINORS DNI 18+

You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

Miguel O’Hara.

When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.

About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.

But then you started appearing in his dreams.

Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.

And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.

But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.

But God, were you so far off from the truth.

As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.

“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”

Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.

Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.

You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.

“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.

“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.

When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.

“Oh great, look who’s here.”

“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”

“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”

The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.

God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.

As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.

Shit.

“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.

Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.

“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.

Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.

“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.

Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.

Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.

“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.

“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“

“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.

Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.

“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.

Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”

Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.

“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.

She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.

“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”

“Please, don’t call me that-“

“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.

The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.

“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.

It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.

“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.

You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.

“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.

Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.

You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.

The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…

You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.

The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.

After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.

Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.

“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”

Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.

The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?

“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.

Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.

“They were… questions a- about you.”

Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What did they ask about me?”

You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.

“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.

That caught Miguel off-guard.

His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.

“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.

His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.

“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.

But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.

“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.

“Really?” You squeaked.

Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.

Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.

After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.

You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”

Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.

“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.

“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.

You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.

Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.

“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.

Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.

But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.

“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.

Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.

“Go on, Cariño…”

You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.

“Even… touching me…”

Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.

“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.

You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.

“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.

Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”

You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.

“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”

The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.

“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.

You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.

“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.

Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.

“Not entirely…”

Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.

“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.

You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.

It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.

Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.

“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.

“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.

You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.

“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.

You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.

“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.

“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.

“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.

You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.

“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.

But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.

Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.

“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.

Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?

“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.

“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.

With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.

As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.

A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”

Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.

“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.

Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.

Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.

Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.

“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.

Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”

Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“

“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.

A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.

“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”

“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.

“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.

“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.

You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Of course I do, Miguel.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

#atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel x reader #atsv #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel O’Hara #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut

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lynk-zee · 5 months

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Their Children…

DISCLAIMER: Can be taken as science babies if you so need ☺️

Zayne would want to name your daughter Jasmine, after his favorite flower. Next to you, she is the light of his life. Jasmine looks like a mini version of you but with Zayne’s black hair and green eyes. The perfect combination of your love. She would share his love for sweets, and his disdain for dentist visits. On his days off, Zayne would take her to the bakery to indulge in macarons, bringing home a dozen for you when you get back from your missions. The sweetest thing of all is when she saw the “MD” on his lab coat, she said proudly that it meant “my daddy”. Vacations to Snowcrest are a must. He loves teaching his little girl how to ice skate and sled with the dogs. Zayne would debate getting a sled dog for her as a pet when she’s older. After a day out on the snow, all he wants to do is cuddle up with his family in front of the fireplace whilst drinking hot cocoa.

Rafayel would have some sort of light-hearted rivalry with his son. He and Arael both just want your attention. When Arael sends him a smug look when you gush over his finger painting, it’s war. The little snot looks just like him too— except he has your eyes. Something Arael rubs in Rafayel’s face whenever he can. Their “rivalry” is nothing serious. If you ever feel like they’re going too far, just ignore the both of them. They’d end up presenting you with a painting they worked on together as an apology. Despite their strange dynamic, Rafayel adores his son as the next prince of Lemuria. So of course he spoils the shit out of him. Designer everything. He’s even gotten Arael and himself matching outfits for aesthetic photos. Your bougie boys.

Xavier absolutely adores his twins. He rounds up the plushies for playtime, creating daring missions for his little hunters to complete with their foam swords. Gently, he’ll correct their posture, reminding them that good technique starts with the back, as they wobble on their chubby little legs. Sometimes you’ll find the three of them passed out in the library, a fairytale book slipping out of Xavier’s hands as the little ones join him for an impromptu nap session. Xander and Lexie both have his blonde hair and blue eyes, complete replicas of him. When it’s time for bed, you and Xavier make shadow puppets using his light evol to tell them stories and put them to sleep.

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01zfan · 2 months

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peach fuzz | l. at

camp counselor!anton x camp counselor!reader | 12k words

this fic took everything out of me omfg…so much fun to write and i loved writing it too. i listened to peach fuzz by tyler the creator, juke jam by chance the rapper, birds of a feather by billie eilish, and words by passenger while writing this.

contains: the ups and downs of friendship, cheating, protected sex (BE LIKE THEM)

anton learned through the gentle pushes from his parents that no kid his age should’ve avoided other people like the plague. when anton’s teachers would clear their throats while he was talking he knew it wasn’t normal for him to have such a soft voice. he couldn’t stop himself from clamming up when adults in sterile offices and white lab coats asked him questions about the friends he didn’t have.

anton didn’t know anyone else like him existed until he met you.

even if the doctor told his parents not to overreact and that anton could’ve simply just been painfully shy, they did not take well to the news. within a week anton was dropped off at summer camp. apparently the solution to an anxious child was to ship them off to an unfamiliar environment with kids they’ve never met before for nine weeks.

anton had to be bribed to leave the car, and he clung to his mother’s leg and dragged his feet on the gravel as he trudged in her shadow. he watched kids dressed in the same khaki shorts and the same camp ridgewood on their shirts. when kids got too close to his safe space anton only nestled further into his mother, so much to the point that he wrinkled her dress pants.

“and i’m guessing you're anton?”

at the sound of someone else calling his name besides his parents anton froze. he slowly turned around from the screaming kids to face the lady sitting at the table. she wore the same thing as anton, except she had camp counselor stitched into her hat and a name badge hanging from her neck. anton could barely see her over the table and the camp ridgewood banner that hung from it. anton heard his parents repeat her name but didn’t dare to say it out loud as he kept half of his body hidden behind his mother.

“anton, don’t be rude, say hi!” his mom said.

all anton could do was shake his head and burrow further into her side. the lady at the desk didn’t try pushing him to answer, and she didn’t ask his parents if he could speak. she only peaked underneath the desk briefly before looking back to anton and smiling.

“i have a friend i’d like for you to meet. i think you two will get along very well.” she said.

anton watched the lady beckon to him. the promise of a friend was enticing, but it was not enough to leave the comfort of his mother’s leg. his hands had to be manually pried from her pants and he had to be guided behind the table by his dad’s hand on his shoulder.

anton dragged his feet, half-expecting to see the same doll that was in all the doctor’s offices. but to his surprise—and his parents—he saw you underneath the table. years down the road his mom would describe you as a frightened dog, wide eyed and ready to attack while you slunk to a shaded corner of the table.

anton thought you looked polite.

you had your chin resting on your knees while you readjusted the strap on your shoe a million times. you looked apprehensive at the three pairs of unfamiliar adult eyes staring you down. the sound of velcro ripping only ceased when you looked at anton.

anton’s parents were surprised again when they heard their son read your name out loud. you nodded silently and looked for his name tag. they gasped when anton sat down next to you after you silently made room for him underneath the check-in desk.

after that, you two were inseparable. when given the option to either sink or swim both of you became solid rocks. you sank to the bottom of the ridgewood lake together. you two you were both picked last for all the sports and no one knew your names, only referring to you two as “the quiet ones”. people had to fight tooth and nail to get a response from either one of you. both of you were believed to be mute, something that had to be debunked by your parents and the sole camp counselor who heard you both speak.

your soft spoken attitudes and meek demeanor was a match made in heaven. everyone believed you two communicated telepathically, like there were magnets constantly keeping you two close together. you two were inseparable for the nine weeks you spent together at camp. when the summer camp came to an end and you two had to be (forcefully) separated, anton didn’t speak for a month in protest and he cried all the way home. rocks were trapped between the soles of his feet and his sandals from planting his feet in the ground.

the next summer you both found eachother again. you didn’t wear velcro shoes anymore and anton could look adults in the eye now. no time had passed between the two of you, the moment you saw eachother everything felt like it was back in place—that’s the only way anton knew how to describe what he felt then.

you two saw eachother at camp again the next summer when anton started becoming lanky and uncoordinated and you started speaking up for yourself.

then the summer after that when anton became the tallest camper and you both became too shy to comment on the growing tension and the profuse apologies after making the slightest physical contact.

time continued to pass and you two continued to change, but that feeling only grew. anton no longer cowered behind his mother and he was able to make friends his own age, but he felt shy at the mere thought of you. even if anton grew out of his debilitating meekness like the doctors said he would, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling he got when he was around you. like impending doom or something looming over him but it made him as happy as it did sick. he convinced himself that all friends felt that way about eachother. he also convinced himself that all friends needed to hear the other’s voice to fall asleep and that the blush appearing across his face constantly was normal.

before you both knew it, your last summer as campers came. you went from the youngest to the oldest. you guys wore a different colored shirt than the rest of the campers and all the counselors seemed to include the word final into every sentence.

anton started feeling a pit form in the bottom of his stomach when the camp counselors started acting like the senior campers were going to die and be buried at the lake. he even imagined the procession, all of the adults wearing black veils as they said their final comments about each camper. when they would get to him they would just shake their heads before saying here lies anton, the one that never made a move and never will because he’s going to college upstate while she’s staying to go to community college. and he actually asked to be buried alive.

“anton.” the sound of bottles clanking together in taesan’s backpack brought him back to their shared cabin. “you ready?” he asked.

the only thing that distracted anton from the end of summer camp was his fellow campers becoming increasingly daring. there was an unspoken rule that as you aged up in the camp, you had more freedom. it was a silent agreement between the older campers and the counselors, a sign of respect and something similar to carrying on a tradition. the only rule—which was ironically the first thing broken—was that they couldn’t be reckless. so each night the older campers would wait until lights out so the counselors could deny culpability and sneak off into the forest so they could do exactly that.

if he was being honest, anton didn’t have a taste for alcohol and he didn’t enjoy the idea of being out in the dark unknown so late at night. he preferred to be in his sweaty cabin instead of being eaten alive by the mosquitos and the idea of being caught, but each night before lights out you would text anton you coming out? and he couldn’t stop himself from sending back a yes, as long as you are there. (you always were, sitting across the campfire from anton with a drink in your hand and talking to all the friends you made over the years).

“here, take this.” taesan said, handing anton a case of beer.

anton’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he hesitated to grab the case. his roommate had to shake the case towards him and raise his eyebrows before anton replaced taesan’s hand with his.

“how the hell did you sneak this onto camp?” anton asked.

he asked the same question everyday and got the same answer. each time taesan would just shrug his shoulders and say i have my connects with a smirk on his face.

(it was the spirits store owner thirty minutes away who always likened taesan to a korean kurt cobain.)

after anton shook his head and walked outside, he saw his fellow campers one by one sneak out of their cabins to head towards the forest. the quiet symphony of twigs snapping underneath creeping feet filled the air but no one awoke or thought to investigate. anton remembered being so scared his first day of camp all those years ago that he didn’t go to sleep. while he was looking out the window trying to will his mom miles away to come pick him up he saw the then senior campers walking into the forest the same way he was now. he would’ve never thought that he would end up becoming one of them, especially the one that helped supply the alcohol. but he was easily swayed by your smile and the cheers of his fellow campers as he doled out beers to anyone with their hand out.

anton saved the last beer in his hand for you as he pointlessly used it for bait to lure you from the other side of the campfire to the spot right beside him.

if someone where to ask, the two of you would agree you didn’t know how it happened. adrenaline and alcohol made the night fuzzy for you both—all you guys could really recall was the crackling sound of the campfire and other campers talking. both of you could’ve been catching up with the people you would probably never see again, but instead you and anton opted to sit so close that the sides of your sweaty thighs were glued together and your shoulders bumped anytime either of you laughed. you two couldn’t be bothered to talk to anyone else, jumping from topic to topic while subconsciously swatting away bugs that got too close.

you two would’ve told everyone that as the night progressed you both slurred on about college, coming back to camp, and everything that happened in between. anton would withhold that he was grateful he could blame his rosy cheeks on the fire and the beer in his hand when you shyly said you were going to miss him. anton would’ve omitted the adrenaline rush he got when he held eye contact with you for longer than three seconds to tell you that he would find a way to keep in touch. he felt significantly drunker when you told him that you were his bestfriend and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

anton remembers the campfire burning down to just the embers and taesan putting half empty bottles of hard liquor back in his bag and sohee telling everyone else it was time to call it a night. he remembers feeling cold even in the muggy heat of summer after you got up from sitting beside him, but he remembers feeling warm when your soft hand grabbed his to lift him up from the tree trunk you two sat on. he remembers not letting go of your hand and you intertwining your fingers with his, and how you squeezed so tight you left crescent moon shaped impressions on the back of his hand. he remembers you looking mischievously towards the rest of the group in front of you before pulling him off the beaten path. anton remembers widening his eyes before your face silently begged him to trust you. he remembers following behind you a second later, led by your hand as you headed deeper into the forest.

anton remembers the leaves tickling his face and the silence of the night as he followed behind you. just as he was lost in the forest anton remembers feeling your hands move to his chest as you pushed him against the trunk of the tree. he remembers the twigs poking into his back as you quickly pressed you lips against his. just as the shock settled and anton’s hands clutched at your camp shirt you pulled away.

“are we gonna remember this?” you asked breathlessly.

anton grabbed your bare thigh in his hand as he clumsily lifted the leg and pressed into the small of your back to bring you closer. he swallowed thickly, trying to remember your soft lips and the taste of liquor mixed with your spit in the short amount of time.

“i’ll forget if you want me to.” anton murmured.

so when you nodded your head before crashing your lips on his again with more fervor anton forced himself to forget. he forgot your giggling voice and how you leaned into his side and wrapped your hand around his waist. anton forgot about the twigs loudly snapping under his heavy feet and your hands that greedily pressed into his chest and stomach. he forced himself to forget how he kissed you until he was dizzy and out of breath, and he forgot the way you had to wipe your lips with the back of your hand. he forced himself to forget the million drunken kisses he pressed to the back of your hand and your fingers that prodded his flesh. he forgot about how welcoming your dark room seemed behind you and the regret on your face when you told him goodnight.

anton didn’t know he had the right to remember until you came by his cabin the next night. seeing you in the dead of the night was the first time anton had seen you all day. anton knew you were avoiding him, and in an effort to remain casual he let you do it. he had to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach each time you would avoid his eyes or suddenly cut to a different direction than him.

you were both staring at echother wide eyed, trying to see who the first would be to remember. trying to forget was useless when you bit your lip to try and find the words. the only thing anton could think about was how he ran his tongue over your top row of teeth before you tilted your head and stuck your tongue in his mouth. your eyes were focused on anton’s chest as the memories came back to you too.

“i don’t want to ruin our friendship.” you said quietly.

senior campers walked by anton’s cabin towards the forest in a mass exodus. they were too busy trying to go undetected to notice you two staring at eachother in the doorway of anton’s cabin. in that moment, with the lightning bugs and the overwhelming unsaid it seemed like it was only you two. there was a party that was about to go on, and it would be the first party of the summer that you would miss. anton had another case of beer to hand out but he couldn’t be bothered. he had the chance to be alone with you for the next hour and he wanted to be completely sober.

he backed into the darkness of his cabin and you followed after him step for step like you were lost in a trance. you closed the door behind you and let yourself get caged between anton and the wall.

“nothing is going to change.” anton said before grabbing you the same way he did before.

anton was right. for that last week of camp nothing changed between the two of you. you were the same inseparable pair in the daytime and it was the same at night. the only difference was that you and anton found yourselves sneaking around at night to kiss eachother on the lips. sometimes you would be straddling anton’s hips on a recliner in your cabin while you pulled at his shirt and other times you would be underneath him while he gripped your waist. you two were able to convince yourselves you were getting closer through the intimacy. what was a better way to learn about your friend than to kiss them for hours on end?

the last week of camp, kissing was the only thing on your minds. anytime anton would speak you would forget to listen to the words coming out. anton’s head was constantly on a swivel trying to follow your every move. the final days passed right by the both of you. seeing you stuff your final bag into the backseat of your parents car hit anton like a freight train. you two spent all your time kissing that you didn’t talk about the future. time was out and all you two could do was hope the last kiss you shared the night prior was enough.

“i’ll see you later, anton.” you said.

tears stung your eyes and anton felt a lump forming in his throat. he wished he could kiss you. he imagined your heart was slamming in your chest the same way it was the night before.

“i’ll call you.” anton nodded his head in an effort to shake off that sinking feeling. “every night.” he added.

anton kept his promise. he called you on the way back home, he called you even when he had nothing else to say. he called you when he moved into his dorm, and you were the first person to see his finished side of the room after he set all of his things up. your voice became a lifeline for anton while he adjusted to his surroundings.

he discovered that rich kids who went to ivy leagues were undeniably dense, almost as if they didn’t know people existed outside of their tax bracket.

anton still remembers the looks on his peers faces when they found out where he was from. he was able to hide that he grew up surrounded in the remote boonies where everyone wore true camouflage and drove large pickup trucks. anton credited it to the fact that he didn’t have a heavy country accent due to his parents actually being from new jersey. he grew up with a lack of southern influence in his home, so much so that he didn’t realize he would miss it until he went up north for school. no one knew about southern hospitality or the comforting idleness of being surrounded by nothing but open road and livestock. anton was overstimulated his entire freshman year—he had nothing to do his whole life then suddenly he could do everything. he could get his ear pierced in a store the size of a closet then go thrifting down the block and go to a tourist spot all within the hour. anton loved having things to do, but he missed the simplicity of the countryside. he liked the lack of choice, the fact that there was only three things to do and you needed a car to do any of them.

you seemed to be the only one who understood him. each night he would talk about his day and end it with talking about his clueless peers. he talked your ear off while he laid on his side with his phone balancing on his cheek. he kept going even through your sounds of acknowledgment. anton didn’t realize he was ranting until it was late into the night and your voice started sounding light and airy.

anton knew that he should’ve hung up after he realized what time it was. but your voice sounded so sweet when you were assuring him that he would find people like him the longer he stayed in there. but anton didn’t want anyone else besides you. he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he imagined you with him in the city everyday, and that he had a page on his notes app filled with places he wanted to take you to. anton moved to his back to stare at his ceiling when he remembered that’s how you always laid in bed. he adjusted the phone in his hand and held it close to his ear.

“how are you, though?” anton asked quietly.

“hmm.” your voice was even more quiet. your hums were barely picked up by your phone’s receiver as you tried thinking about the current highlights of your life. “community college is easy. like alarmingly easy.” you said.

both you and anton laughed into your phones at the confusion in your voice. he wondered if you made the face you always made when he would laugh at one of your jokes. anton wondered if you were sleeping next to your plushies he bought you or if you had pulled your covers up to your chin.

“i miss you alot though.” you said honestly.

then he wondered what you were wearing. maybe you had on that cute two-piece set that you always wore to camp or maybe it was so hot in your room that you wore nothing.

“did you hear what i said?”

anton pulled himself from his musings at your question. you sounded more awake than before, and the interrogating tone of your voice made anton perk up from across the country.

“i wasn’t listening.” anton said sheepishly. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, you must be tired.” you said.

anton heard you shuffle in your bed and he wondered if you were checking the time on your bedside clock.

there was complete silent on your side of the line before anton heard your deep sigh.

“you should probably go to sleep, right?” you asked.

both you and anton were silent on opposite ends of the line more awake than ever. if he closed his eyes and focused on your breathing he swore you were right next to him on his tiny twin bed. he took in a deep breath and ran his hands down his chest until he settled on the waistband of his shorts.

“i’m not tired.” he said.

you didn’t waste a second responding to him. anton felt the air in his dorm room prickle with electricity as sweat preemptively started lining his body.

“me neither.”

if anton knew that the next hour and a half would’ve resulted in you two avoiding eachother he never would’ve quietly asked you what you were wearing after you asked him what he was thinking about. he would’ve never told you that he missed you more and more everyday and that he wished to touch you more than anything. but you two were acting off of your own carnal desires, fueled by lack of contact and never going further beyond kissing and grinding when you both knew you were running out of time. he didn’t stand a chance when he heard your breathy whimper when you asked for permission to add another finger. each heavy breath crackled through anton’s speaker, and he wrapped his hand tight around his dick imagining it was you. a confession might’ve slipped out in between the callings of your name and the rhetorical can you feel it’s, but the fog of chasing after something made anton act on impulse only. he finished in his hand the same time you clamped around your fingers, and as soon as the euphoria washed away all you two were left with was an intense silence and heavy realization over the phone. when anton finally opened his eyes he noticed the mess he had made on himself and of your friendship.

anton laid in the bed, uncomfortable and sweaty with wet sticky hands when he heard your heavy pants on the other end of the line. before he could comment on the sudden change in the air he heard you pull in a sharp breath.

“i should go to bed.” you said quickly.

when you hung up before anton could reply, he knew something was wrong. his mouth was still agape when he heard the two definitive beeps on the other end of the line. he still stared at the ceiling, hand resting on his loose stomach as everything sank in.

he waited for you to come to him first. if he was told what he did wrong he could’ve apologized for it. was he too brash? was he too desperate? did he say your name too much? knowing you had become an innate part of anton. he knew what your favorite movie was, what you liked to do and how you talked. so when you left him hanging on the other end of the line and didn’t tell him why, he felt like he knew nothing. he no longer knew how to speak in class or turn in assignments, he didn’t know how to make friends and he didn’t know how to leave his dorm.

maybe that’s what pulled him back to camp. without you anton was left to scramble for a shred of familiarity, even if that meant he would have to become a camp counselor. he prayed his personal hell as a child would became his oasis as a young adult and serve as a mental detox from the fast pace of living in the city and a reprieve from his challenging school curriculum. if he was lucky, he would get the same cabin and pretend the creak in his floorboards was you. so he applied to be a swim instructor and lifeguard on a whim.

he never would’ve thought that you had the same idea as him.

when anton first unloaded his things from the back of his moms’ car and saw you heading into your old cabin he felt warmth the same time he felt the panic wash over him. in the spilt moment he realized the girl who looked like you was actually you everything stilled. the kids running around unattended ceased, the sound of camp counselors yelling for order was silenced. the only thing in anton’s sights was you and the wide eyed look on your face when you noticed him.

the whole day he felt like he was chasing after your shadow. he heard oh, she was just here and you missed her all day. anton was examining your counseling schedule all day, trying to find a time that lined up between the two of you. he didn’t have his epiphany until the middle of the day when he was hunched over rereading the times of your schedule instead of looking when his next class was. anton realized that even if he felt like he didn’t know you anymore, you two were still had to be the same. that’s why he waited until nightfall and caught you on his way to his cabin to talk.

anton ironically caught you on his way out. before you could make it up the three stairs to knock on the door anton opened it, clad in black to try and blend in with the night. when you two recognized what the other was doing, your eyes both widened the same way.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“what are you doing?” he responded.

you looked at him with eyes wide as saucers while your hands fidgeted at your sides, stumbling over your words as you tried to figure out what to say. you would’ve stayed out there all night if the senior campers didn’t start leaving their cabins to head into the forest. the risk of being caught by kids who were also at risk of being caught pushed you into anton’s cabin.

you closed the door behind you and felt himself getting lightheaded. the last time you were this close to him privately he were touching eachother all over. now you leaned your back against his door, hand nervously flexing around your hand.

“i’m sorry for not calling you.” you apologized while your eyes were fixed on the floor.

“it’s alright.” anton assured.

he thought he was going to die the first night you didn’t pick up your phone. he went to a party and drank too much and kissed a girl who very much believed they were dating now. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was in a very committed relationship that wasn’t a relationship with his bestfriend.

“i just can’t believe we fucked over the phone before fucking in real life.” you said.

anton couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face. your bluntness caused him to take a step back and realize how odd the situation between you and him had become. his mind shamelessly went back to that night where he was whimpering your name with his dick in one hand and his duvet in the other. he told himself in that moment that he would’ve never done it if he knew it’d lead to this but the way you stood before him now only made anton see phone sex as an opening—an opportunity. so instead of lying and telling you he would’ve taken it all back to have you in his life in the same capacity as before he looked down at the crown of your head that still hung low.

“that doesn’t mean we can’t do that now.” he said quietly.

anton watched your head instantly perk up at his words. he saw you blink as you the words sunk in. anton showed you he meant it by grabbing your arm and slowly walking you backwards to his bed. he watched you take slow steps at first, almost a stumble as you followed him across the creaking floorboards. you almost tripped on the thin fraying carpet and anton saw it as another opportunity. he held your arm even tighter before he finally sat on the edge of his bed to look up at you. you were set in the middle of his sights, the wooden logs of the cabin served as your backdrop. he bit back the compliment that rested on his tongue to play with the end of your shirt instead. even if a year had passed his hands still fit perfectly. he gently pressed his thumbs into your waist, until the fabric of your shirt crinkled underneath his grip and your hands went to his shoulders.

“anton.” you said quietly.

anton instantly looked up from your waist to your face. your pupils were dilated and your body leaned towards his but your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you nervously smoothed the fabric on his shoulders.

“you got a girl back home now?” you asked.

referring to his college upstate as his home felt odd. although there was alot of things in new york it didn’t have his parents house, it didn’t have this camp, and it sure as hell didn’t have you. but anton knew bringing that up would’ve just been seen as deflecting, so he kept the same grip on you to show that nothing had changed when he nodded his head.

he didn’t know if you avoiding eye contact was because you were hurt or if he was reading too much into things. anton decided to focus on the way you started pinching the fabric of his shirt that draped his shoulders and your eyes that focused on his neck.

you were silent for a moment, focusing on the base of anton’s neck before you tilted your head to the side.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you hummed.

anton noticed your tone wasn’t shy anymore. if you were upset you hid it well. you spoke to him the same way you did over the phone, coy and saccharine.

“how’d you meet her?” you asked.

“what are you wearing?”

“at a party.” anton answered.

“how long have you two been dating?” you asked.

“are you touching yourself right now?”

“not even dating, really.” anton leaned back hoping you’d follow but you stayed in the same place. “just talking.” he added the truth quickly, hoping you’d come closer to him.

“how long?” you repeated.

hearing the stern edge to your voice took anton all the way back to your gentle orders that came through the speaker of his phone. he listened then and he listened now. anton racked through the foggy timeline of his talking stage at college until he came up with a number.

“three weeks?” he said.

anton watched your head cock to the side at his answer. he practically watched you calculate the time from the infamous phone call to the soft launch that anton reposted to his instagram story. when everything added up you looked back to him with a smirk on your face.

“you missed me that much?” you asked.

anton didn’t hesitate to nod, even though some part of him believed he should be withholding such information. if there was a handbook about being friends with benefits with your actual platonic bestfriend, anton was sure that talking about romantic endeavors would be under the list of things not to do. but your hands wandered down from his shoulders to his chest and slid all the way down until your fingers grazed his clothed collarbones. anton wanted nothing more than to get pushed down by you until his back his the mattress. when you experimentally pushed and slotted yourself between his spread legs anton came to the decision then and there that he would give you what you wanted until you returned the favor.

“you know i always do.” anton said while pulling you towards him.

you smirked again and pushed his chest a little harder. anton gave into your strength immediately, happy for an excuse to press his back against the mattress.

he looked from his spot on the mattress to see you still standing in front of him. he pathetically reached his hand out to you, trying to get you to close the gap. but you were steadfast on your side of the bed, looking down at him like you were waiting for something. anton racked his mind for what you wanted to hear, but instead he gave you the truth.

“you’re my bestfriend. how could i not miss you?” he said quietly.

anton didn’t know why that worked. maybe it was the honesty, or maybe it was hearing your relationship be lamented in the still of night. regardless, it was the last thing you needed to get you to stop holding back. like a switch had flipped you were no longer stoic or had to be guided by anton’s hands.

you crawled onto the bed and straddled anton’s body while ridding yourself of your clothes. he couldn’t keep up with your confession that you were too cowardly to advance beyond kissing last summer. anton could only helplessly nod and press his lips to your neck when you told him timidly between gasps that you wanted him but not between the satellites floating in space. you needed to hear his voice in real life, and feel his real hands on you instead of screwing your eyes shut and pretending your soft fingers were his. the only time anton pulled away was when you told him breathlessly you wanted to go all the way.

he crawled onto the bed and lifted his upper body to your bare chest while his hands ran up and down your back.

“are you sure?” anton asked, eyes wide.

after you nodded and arched into his touch, anton repeated the same sentiment back to you. he pulled you close by the small of your back of your pants while he pressed his lips to any place he could reach.

after that night, it set the mood for the rest of the camp. just like the year before you two ended up spending a majority of your alone time sneaking around to be reckless. becoming camp counselors and having your own cabins made everything entirely too easy. you no longer had to pull anton into the deeper part of the forest to kiss him, all you had to do was wait for a break in your schedules and invite him to your cabin.

each time it started and ended the same. you two had developed your own signal, a simple head nod before you turned around and started heading in the general direction of your cabin. anton would follow far behind you, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of kids and other counselors as you both made your ways back. you would go in first and anton would make sure that the coast was clear before coming in. he would close and lock the door behind you, say something about how you were already ready on the bed for him. you would always tease him back about his girlfriend, repeating the same thing you said to him the first time.

“how would you feel if i did the same thing?” you sounded like you were thinking it out loud, mentioning anton’s almost girlfriend without directly stating her name.

anton never answered your question directly. he would distract you by nipping your skin or pulling your hips to his a little faster. anything to interrupt your thoughts, or to push everything else out of your head until it was just him. it worked for the most part, but the question still remained in the back of your head. in between moments of bliss you would look down at anton, lost in you the same way you were lost in him. he didn’t think you had it in you to get in a relationship. he knew he had no right to restrict you from pursuing someone, but he always tried and prove you only needed him in life. when he would cover your classes for you, when he wordlessly understood what you needed, or preemptively got you something you wanted. when anton would hold you down the way you needed or suffocate you with his weight in the best way it was him silently saying why would you need anyone else? for the most part it worked. but each time antons’ phone would light up from a notification you felt a sick churn in your stomach. how would you feel if i did the same thing?

he never answered you, so you decided to find out for yourself.

“you should probably answer that, right?”

anton first was nervous bringing up the elephant sitting on his beside table. he believed he was making a mistake bringing up the quiet ringing of your phone and the annoying buzz on the wooden tabletop, but pride blossomed in his chest when he saw how quickly you turned your confused head look up from the pillow. anton’s dick twitched in his boxers as he felt your whole body stiffen for a moment as you tried to work through your foggy brain.

“what?” you said, voice still hot and bothered.

anton’s dick jumped again when he saw you crane your head back to look at him.

even if he stopped pumping his fingers in and out of your heat, and the camp was completely silent from it being in the middle of the night, you didn’t register anything outside of him. anton watched your eyebrows furrow from confusion to relief when he purposely pressed his scissoring fingers against your soft walls.

when your eyes finally focused back on him anton flicked his head towards your vibrating phone on the corner of his table. he couldn’t stop his wicked smile when he saw you slowly realize what he was talking about. you stiffened even further, your eyes grew wide in panic, and your walls tightened around his fingers.

anton could only blame you so much for not noticing your phone. past a certain time it was automatically set to do not disturb, rejecting phone calls and texts until the morning. anton could only guess two people from your contact list that overrode your silenced notifications. he looked around for his own phone as he adjusted his legs that stretched down the length of his tiny twin sized mattress.

“feels so good you didn’t even notice your boyfriend calling?” anton cooed.

when you parted your lips getting ready to speak, anton plunged a third finger into your cunt. you turned your face back into the pillow to muffle your moans, further arching your back as you preened your hips towards his hand. anton leaned forward from the headboard of his bed and pressed his wet lips to the swell of your ass as your walls clenched around his fingers again.

life was perfect when you were laid out for him like this, face in the pillow with your ass up in the air. you were in between anton’s outstretched legs, holding onto his calf for dear life as your head was facing towards the foot of the bed. anton had to rip his attention away from the thin layer of sweat that coated your body and your nails that dug into the muscle of his leg as your phone continued to vibrate beside him. he rolled his eyes when the contact picture of your boyfriend lit up your phone screen again.

“he’s just going to keep calling if you don’t answer.” anton said, not caring to hide the annoyance in his voice.

he knew better than anyone that a suspecting partner was not going to stop until they got their answers. this happened the summer before when the girl anton pretended was you wouldn’t stop blowing up his phone.

he would’ve been more gentle with you about the situation, maybe he would’ve ignored the buzzing for your sake. but you seemed to only get aa boyfriend in the first place to spite him. he remembers the shock of seeing the smiling mans face on your instagram story. you revealed your new partner the same way anton revealed his—how could he not think this was a pointed attack? he waited for you to drop the games and to ditch him, but you kept him by your side despite talking to anton everyday. reminiscing on the times your boyfriend told you to get off the phone with him caused anton to bend his fingers at the knuckle inside of you just to see feel squirm again.

you turned away from the pillow, your face flushed and eyes bleary as you shook your head.

“i don’t wanna talk to him.” you babbled.

anton looked away from your phone, instantly giving you a mocking pout at your pitiful expression.

you had the same dejected face when anton opened the door for you an hour ago. after countless summers of sneaking around you had your back facing him and looked towards the moon. you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings in the slightest, it would’ve been too easy for you to get caught breaking one of the few rules camp counselors had. but anton’s reprimands were caught in his throat when you turned around to face him. instantly he saw your flushed face and fresh tear tracks that were smeared across the bags underneath your eyes. your arms were crossed and your head hung low, you seemed so small in front of anton he almost thought the gentle night breeze was going to whisk you away. that’s why he wrapped his hand around your wrist so quickly and brought you into the comfort of his single cabin.

you stood in front of his door for a long time, anton was only able to coax you further inside after he sat on his bed and wordlessly beckoned to you.

he inwardly cheered to himself when he saw you take the slow steps towards him. he tried to watch with a neutral face as you came closer and closer, your feet creaking with each step on the old wood floorboards. he scooted away from the corner of the bed to make room for you, not bothering to fight the lean in his body when your weight caused a dip in the mattress.

the way you sat perched on the corner of his bed reminded anton of the first time you ever came in his cabin this late at night. it was a night like this one, a gentle breeze that almost got rid of the sticky humidity that hung in the air from the lake. that summer night was before you two had any rules to your arrangement, and long before your boyfriend came along and complicated everything. anton felt himself getting nostalgic at the way you almost hid yourself from him, how it was so obvious you wanted to tell him something but you were still trying how to find a way to say it.

at the end of the day words always failed you, evident in the way you still nervously bit your lip while trying to muster up what you needed to say. anton scooted closer to the small corner of his bed you occupied. you messed with the loose sheet but didn’t move from your spot at all. anton covered the rest of the gap, planting his hand behind your back to give you something to lean on. you leaned to him without hesitation and rested your head on his shoulder. you had been so cautious to touch him since you arrived, sticking to your guns saying i have a boyfriend now, we can’t do this anymore. but all that seemed to be forgotten when you sniffled once more and darted your tongue to wet your dry and cracked lips.

“take your time.” anton said.

you nodded, and silence beyond the slight movement of trees outside took over the space between you and anton.

“he wants me to quit.” you said.

anton moved his head from your shoulder to look you in the face, wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb.

“why?” he asked.

anton knew why. you knew why. your boyfriend knew why. everyone in the camp knew why. but you still shook your head before letting it hang, sniffling again.

“he just makes everything so complicated.” you said.

anton nodded sympathetically like he wasn’t the reason for your relationship being so hard. anton overheard the arguments on the phone, you candidly showed him the messages of your jealous boyfriend without a second thought. anton had seen the threats to break up over your contact with him and the confusion of your boyfriend about your male bestfriend. anton had also seen your refusal to give him up, which made him proud.

he imagined your boyfriend back home, fuming so much to the point that he yelled at you to quit your job solely because anton was there. he unknowingly pushed you right to anton’s doorstep, sitting on the edge of his bed with your head leaned into him. anton smiled at the thought of your boyfriend seeing you now, but by no means is he a bad guy. he listened to you when you told him that you two could no longer fool around. but anton knew that he would help you feel better by any means—maybe your boyfriend knew it too.

“things don’t have to be complicated when it’s just you and me.” anton reasoned.

he saw your frame shake a little as you laughed. even if his only view of your face was the top of your head he imagined the scoff and the eye roll.

“i’m serious.” anton reached his hand to wrap around your shoulder to bring you closer. “we know eachother better than anyone else.” he said.

“you say that until we date and then we break eachothers hearts and never speak again.” you are still sniffling while you speak, and you bring the end of your shirt to wipe away forming tears.

anton grabs your shoulders and manipulates your body to face him. your are wide eyed and trying to hide your post-crying face from anton. he thinks you look beautiful, but that’s besides the point. he makes sure you’re looking directly at him before he speaks again.

“i’m not asking for anything else with you. being your friend is the only thing i need.” he says honestly.

“you want me to just wait around all year until the summer comes around?” you ask.

you sound skeptical, but he can tell your interest is peaked by the way you get closer to him. he prays that you understand what needs to be said without him having to verbalize it, just like you always have. anton has already tried the relationship thing in the time he was away from you. you haven’t had the chance to realize that everything falls short when it’s not with the person you love the most.

“doesn’t it feel like sometimes you have to explain yourself too much to him?” when you don’t object, anton moves closer to you. “isn’t it exhausting being with someone who doesn’t know you?” anton continues.

anton watches the tears start to form in your glassy eyes again as you wordlessly nod your head. he can only imagine how tired you must be from your little boyfriend.

“don’t you get nervous at the thought of being alone with him because it’s not me?” he asks.

maybe anton is projecting, but it’s hard to tell when you agree with everything he says. you nod your head and reach your hands out to touch his sides. in other cases where hands have been timid yours are sure, even through a whole year of not being in this type of contact with him.

for a long time, the two of you are silent. the only sound is the creaking mattress underneath your sitting bodies as you two run your hands down the other. both of you are lost in the opportunity of being so close again. anton feels your hands grip his shoulders, and you dig your hands in so deep anton almost feels the pain. his hands go to your lower back and apply just enough force to leet you know what he wants to do. he looks down at your thighs, how soft and welcoming they are then travels up to your face. when he finds you already looking at him his chest starts to feel tight.

“you’re my bestfriend, anton.” you say softly.

he nods, feeling something sting in his eyes.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says back.

you get a little closer, letting your body be pulled by his greedy hands.

“you’re my bestfriend.” you repeat.

anton’s eyes stay locked in on yours, and he puts his full body on the bed.

“you’re my bestfriend.” he says again.

you stands on your knees on the bed and anton does the same. he looks down at you, and a hand goes to cradle your face. the single tear that rolls down your face is fat and glimmers even in the darkness of your room. anton catches it with his thumb, wiping away your tears like any bestfriend would do. your hand reaches to his face, then goes around to the nape of his neck. anton only needs to feel you pull at him once before he closes the distance between the two of you.

anton understood why you gave in the first summer you two came back as camp counselors. he knew better than anyone that romantic relationships were fleeting. he was constantly surrounded by flings and endeavors that crashed and burned. but when he talked to the people in his life about his friends, there was always the common consensus. maybe it was wishful thinking, but anton that your relationship would come to an end. having a man check on your every move was unsustainable, and when you would eventually come to anton for advice he would tell you this.

when you eventually came to your senses and broke up with him you would find someone else, the same way anton would find someone else too. then those relationships would end, or come to a toxic boiling point the same way they always do. but through it all, anton knew that he would have you and you would always have him. being able to be your friend was more prestigious than being among the ranks of the terrible man that broke your heart, that left you crying in front of anton. but as your friend—your bestfriend—he was the only one. he was the only one you came crying to the same way you were with him. the place you held in eachothers heart took up more room than any romantic relationship ever could.

so anton did what any good friend would do and started reaching for your pants the same time you started reaching for his. your hands were pulling at his waistband but anton was quick, his large slender fingers reached past the elastic of your shorts and underneath the fabric of your underwear. you bathed his hand in heat before he reached his hand further down, bumping your clit before making it to your hole. when anton prodded your hole he already felt your slick coat his fingers.

he smiled against your lips, and smiled even more when your hands froze. like you went through a factory reset, your mind instead went to pulling at his shirt instead of his pants. he pulled away from you and let your shaky hands pull his shirt over his head. he traded out his hands inside your pants to fully get hi shirt off. even with his non-dominant hand he knew exactly where you needed him, only because it was you. you were instantly responding to his fingers, whiny and trying to figure out which way to go. anton broke apart from your lips to watch his hand jump underneath the fabric of your shorts. you did the same, eventually burying your head in his chest when the sight became too much.

anton led you to your back first, and placed a kiss on your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. you squirmed from the sensation, and anton made a point to suck on the skin until he knew there would be a mark left behind. he watched your hands flounder, searching desperately for something to do.

“take your pants off.” anton breathed.

instantly your hands were pushing down your pants and your legs were kicking to get them all the way off. when they were discarded over the edge of the bed anton moved his fingers to play with your clit. your shirt rode higher up your body and your back arched. he looked down at your reactions, wondering if you were always this sensitive.

he pulled away from you and backed away up he rested against the headboard of the bed. you followed him all the way there, shimmying your body in between his legs. he smiled and tapped the inside of your thigh to break you out of the brain fog.

“how do you want it?” he asked.

“don’t wanna think about anything.” you said.

anton responded by pulling your body closer to his, then placing his hands on the side of your body to flip you around. you obliged immediately, becoming malleable to anton’s hands. he flipped you onto your stomach then propped your legs underneath you.

“arch for me baby, that’s all you have to do for me.” he mumbled while pressing a hand to your lower back.

anton took it upon himself to do all the work. he spread you with one hand while trailing his wet fingers up your thighs with the other. you shivered for him even if it felt like it was a million degrees in the cabin, and you pushed your hips backwards even if he was giving you what you wanted. anton still took his time, only putting the first finger inside of you after his hand on his ass kept you still.

by the time he had two fingers inside of you, your boyfriend’s contact photo lit up your screen again. anton’s hand that was still having to keep your ass in place reached across his body to grab the phone. he scoffed at the contact picture and the identical emoji that was tacked onto the end of anton’s contact name.

past your phone anton could see your eyes blown out with worry as you weakly waved your hand.

“don’t answer it.” you whined.

“i won’t,” he continued driving his fingers into your contracting heat while he silenced the phone and unlocked it. he saw the notifications of the voicemails lit his face up while your body swayed and rocked with his hands. “you should atleast listen to the voicemails, though.” he said.

before you could respond, anton went to the longest voicemail and put it on speaker. he tossed the phone to land beside your face that was turned away from the mattress. he watched you try so hard to focus while you listened to your boyfriend’s voicemail.

“how are you?” his voice crackled over the speaker of your phone and anton watched you try to cover your face.

anton felt sick hearing the dejected of your boyfriend’s voice.

“he thinks he can yell at my bestfriend then call your phone all teary?” anton’s voice is so soft it barely pierces through the sound of your moans.

“we need to talk this out, seriously.” the voice on your phone said.

anton leaned forward, his body eclipsing yours as he started working in a third finger. your back arched deeper and anton pressed his body against the curve. he kept leaning forward, until his lips were by your ear. he smiled wickedly against the shell before parting his lips.

“he wants to talk it out?” anton questioned.

you shook your head against the bed and preened your hips backwards.

“he’s so mean.” you babble before turning your head to face the mattress.

“so mean.” anton coos back to you.

anton could tell you were getting close. you started trying to fight against his hold on your ass a little more and your cunt started contracting around his fingers erratically. another call from your boyfriend was banished to the back of your mind as you started repeating his name over and over again. he gave you countless hums of acknowledgment, waiting for you to give him the last thing he needed.

“please put it in.” you whined.

anton quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and your form instantly crumbled. you lowered your ass as you caught your breath and as anton pushed his pants down your phone lit up again. this time you responded by pushing the device off the bed entirely, not caring less if your screen shattered on the hardwood floor. anton would’ve laughed, he would’ve teased you for not caring anymore but he was too focused on looking for the condom in his drawer.

“please hurry.” you said weakly.

you started finding your form back while anton reached around and brought the foil packet to your mouth. you clamped your teeth around the perforated mark and when the corner disappeared past your lips anton pulled. the packet opened and anton watched you push the end out past your tongue, the top part of the packaging sitting in the same indent your phone previously was. something about this was insanely poetic, he was sure of it. the way your inhibitions crumbled for him and the way you looked back before lifting your body from the mattress.

you stood on your knees again and rid yourself of your shirt and bra. anton watched your back become exposed to him as he worked the latex onto his dick impatiently securing it in place before pressing his chest to your back. with one hand wrapped around your body to hold you in place and the other leading his dick to your cunt he was in heaven. the sound of your phone vibrating on the ground was the last thing on his mind.

the bed was shaky underneath your shared weight. anton’s body enveloped yours again, and the dips in the mattress caused by his knees made your body sway. he used it as an excuse to hold you a little tighter, to bring his head to rest on your shoulder as his tip prodded your ass and then your hole. your hands grabbed his bicep and you shamelessly dug your hands into his skin.

“anton. please.” you plead racked through your body.

anton let go of his dick and his hand went to your hips instead. he pushed forward the same time he pulled you down, and you clenched around him before your walls fully loosened. anton’s hips kissed your ass when he was fully inside, and you threw your head back to his shoulder as you adjusted. anton felt your heartbeat and the walls the same, he was sure that his heart hammering against your back matched it too.

“i missed you.” anton murmured.

neither of you were sure what exactly he missed, if he was talking about sex or something entirely too intimate. whatever it was, all you knew was that he had it—and when he pulled his hips back to push back in he got it again.

anton placed kisses to your neck and back as your lips parted from the feeling. anton wanted to get lost in the pleasure himself, but he knew he had a job to do, he had to show you how good of a bestfriend he was. so even though he his body becoming taut he had to make sure you were finished first. he lifted his head from your shoulder to kiss your cheek and then your parted lips that were to distracted to kiss him back. he watched you try and form a sentence and smiled against your cheek.

“are you close?” he asked.

you nodded against his shoulder and turned your head to face him. your lips closed into a pout, and he felt your body getting weaker around him. his hand that was on your waist pressed into your stomach where he swore he could feel himself. anton’s hand drifted down to your swollen nub and he felt you trying to fall forward. he readjusted his grip across your body, and you gasped again at being manhandled.

“not too much right?” anton said it sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

“i like when you hold me.” you answered.

anton hummed against your throat and started working his fingers faster against your clit. your hands that were holding his held him tighter, so much to the point anton thought you were going to break the skin.

“keep going.” anton’s mattress creaked underneath your weight as you shifted on your knees. “i’m close.”

when your hands started reaching backwards to pull at anton’s hair that’s when he finally acknowledged the pain. in the moment he hissed from pain and loosened his grip on you, you were able to finally let your body fall forward on the mattress. anton followed after you, and you were wedged between the mattress and his large body. anton pressed his full body weight against you, and you had no where left to go. you didn’t want to be anywhere else and you let him know that through your moans that increased in volume. he lost himself in the new angle and the way you felt underneath him. his legs were on either side of yours, pressing them together. you were somehow tighter, causing anton to thrust into you harder and harder.

“so good.” he whispered into your shoulder blade.

“so big.” you whined.

anton saw your white knuckle grip on the sheets when he pulled his head away from your back. he saw your entire body move with each thrust. he clasped his hands over yours after tracing the lines of your knuckles with his eyes. you fit into him perfectly in his hands and you were soft under him. everything about you fit perfectly wit him.

“so close.” anton said before kissing your sweaty cheek.

you nodded against the mattress and started arching your back against anton’s hips. he was able to hit you even deeper than before.

he could feel his heart almost burst in his chest.

“i love you.”

he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to say it. him leaning forward to whisper it directly into your ear was filled with intention. your body froze as a reaction, then anton felt your walls contract around his dick as your body pressed deeper into the mattress.

“i love you too.” you whined, words prolonged and ending with a gasp.

anton continued fucking you through your orgasm as you became a sobbing mess underneath him. it wasn’t long before he was pressing his sweaty face into your back as he released into his condom, shaking and giving you a few final thrusts as your body went from being tense to completely limp.

he pulled out and settled to your deeper. your breathing and heartbeats were synced, anton reveled in that before rolling off of you to your side. you still were face down in the mattress, back raising and lowering as you tried to pull yourself together. when you started moving anton put his hands on you again, turning your body around so you were facing him. a;ready your eyes were closing, the drool down the side of your face and the fresh tear tracks drying on your skin. he thought you were beautiful, he smiled while wiping away the mess with his hands, coming forward to place a light kiss on the apples of your cheeks. you hummed constantly before scooting towards him and anton took the initiative to pull you into his chest. you burrowed into him and he wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes.

anton’s blaring alarm clock pulled him from his sleep. hearing the harsh sound made him draw in a quick breath. he shot up from the bed like a vampire and pulled in a gasp like he was coming up from the water. his heart thudded in his chest and his brain pulsed in his skull as the rhythmic blaring only got worse. after a moment of trying to wet his dry mouth he flailed his arm to the side, turning off the clock and almost knocking it from his bedside table in the process.

when his brain fog cleared and the alarm was finally off, anton realized that the only thing left in his room was him. he heard the songbirds that made a nest in the tree next to his cabin and he heard the passing sound of kids yelling and running but he didn’t hear you move across his sheets.

anton for a moment believed that he imagined you showing up at his door. he must’ve had a vivid dream of you sitting on the corner edge of his bed with your body caved in on itself and you looking at him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. but anton knew he’d never have a dream about you in pain—he had his fair share of dreams about your eyes filled with tears and your body on his bed, and the occasional dream of you two coming back to this camp in the future, maybe with a family of your own or as friends—but never a dream about you in pain. so when he needed the last bit of proof that last night actually happened, he turned towards your unofficial side of his bed.

one of the best things about the night after was that you always left a trace. being with you always left a taste in his mouth and a smell that lingered on his sheets and clothes. anton wasn’t sure if you left behind pieces of you on purpose, but he was grateful regardless. anton ran his hands over the cold crater in his sheets and saw where you pulled his covers off of your body before you left. anton wondered if you left smelling like him or if you leaned over to take one last whiff of him the same way he did to your side of the bed now.

his mind fully woke up the same time everything came rushing back. first it was the tiny things anton remembered—the way you arms rested on his shoulders and how your hands locked together behind his head. anton planting his feet into the wooden floor of his cabin as you walked over to him. the feelings of your soft skin that covered your spine and how it was a perfect path all the way down. anton could still feel the warm air of your gasps against his neck and down his back and the feeling of your chest pressing into his graphic tshirt—if he focused hard enough on his mattress anton swore he could see your naked body with his covers on you haphazardly. if he closed his eyes and focused he could hear your moans and callings of his name in his ear.

following right behind the details were the big events. trailing behind anton’s recollection of your teeth pressing into his neck anton remembered your boyfriend calling, and after he remembered you weaving your fingers in between his he recalled your confession that he wanted you to quit. he remembered all of your confessions last, how they tumbled out right before the end and you both were asleep before you could talk about it. anton’s head darted around the space of his room as if he could still see the words in the air. instead he came face to face with the harsh light that only made the stress headache and the woke-up-to-fast migraine worse. anton covered his face and audibly groaned, but seared into the back his eyelids was your face when anton told you he loved you.

this was entirely too much to process at 8:23 in the morning.

just as the shock of everything was beginning to set in, anton heard the three loud bangs at the door. he waited for the fourth—anton actually propped himself up on his knees and silently he prayed for the fourth knock—but instead all he heard was the sound of a man on the other side of his door clearing their throat.

“anton. are you awake?”

anton got out of his bed so fast his vision spotted hearing minho’s voice. he thought for a moment he was going to kick the door in and discipline him for missing the morning meeting. anton cleared his throat as he stood in only his boxers. he may not be ready, but he was awake.

“i’m awake, sir.” anton answered

“your campers are done with lunch in thirty minutes.” anton looked at his alarm clock and realized he was running extremely late. “make sure you have all of the swimming equipment ready at the lake.” minho ordered.

“yes sir.”

anton got dressed in a haste, still pulling his camp counselor shirt over his head as he walked towards the shed that housed the swimming equipment. by the time he made it to the tiny brick building he already had sweat beading his hairline. the inside of the building felt like a brick oven. anton was being baked alive as he grabbed the life jackets and threw them into the wheelbarrow. anton was in such a rush he didn’t even react seeing the tiny spider in the cobwebs by the tiny window. his only concern was getting out to the bearable heat as fast as possible.

after leaving he took a deep breath and checked his watch. fifteen minutes until his campers would be at the lake. anton didn’t even have time to complain about the heat of the brick oven before he had to lift the wheelbarrow and head towards the lake.

the sweat that beaded his hairline began falling down his face. even if it was a downwards path to the water anton was still sweating from the exertion. occasionally he’d have to set the wheelbarrow down to bring the end of his shirt to pat the sweat away before the salt found its way to his eye. he pushed the wheelbarrow with the life jackets over the hill before mumbling to himself that the camp really needed a better way to transport the life jackets.

when anton made it over the hill and the ridgewood lake was finally in view, anton knew it was you immediately sitting at the end of the wharf. even if your back was facing him and you were wearing the same uniform as everyone else. since he seemed to be admitting things lately he could pick you out from a mile away, or he could imagine you to the point of fruition. in a cartoonish way anton even believed could tell you apart from your evil twin. you pointing at another you saying she’s the imposter! get her! anton would know which one was the real you by asking who fell first (the real you would say it was you but anton fell harder). he focused on your back while pushing the equipment down the hill, and wondered if the sound of the wheel hitting the rocks would catch your attention.

after setting the swimming equipment near the water, he slowly started making his way down the wharf. you were still unsuspecting, or maybe you already knew that anton would’ve come to you like this. there had to have been a reason why you were conveniently at the lake the same time anton had his scheduled swimming class. there also had to be a reason why anton was so nervous approaching you. the water gleamed and moved gently around the two of you, the tiny ripples reflected the sun. anton made his way past the kayaks tethered to the dock and deeper into the lake to get closer to you. he was still dry and his weight creaked on the wood of the wharf but it was like he was hovering towards you.

you still didn’t turn around when anton’s finally set next to you. anton peered at your face nervously. your eyes were closed and you faced the open water, anton almost felt like he didn’t exist.

what should he say? he opened his mouth and closed it twice, licking his lips after the second time. anton propped himself up by pressing his hands into the rough wood then clasped them together in his hands. you still kept your eyes closed and faced forward, only difference was that a smile was etched across your face.

“i don’t want to talk about last night.” you said, eyes still closed.

anton nodded even though you couldn’t see him and he sighed contently even though he felt conflicted. he wanted to pointlessly pry, he needed to quell the overwhelming feeling in the pit of his stomach that you were still with your boyfriend. he selfishly needed to hear that he was the only man in your life even if you only saw him nine weeks out of the year.

“have things changed?” anton asked quietly.

he took you scooting your body closer to his as a life preserver. when you finally opened your eyes and turned to face him anton still felt like he was drowning.

“do you want them to?” you asked.

the light bounced from the water shined on your face. the caustics from the tiny waves mapped across your face, changing and constantly moving. anton clasped his hands tighter in his lap.

“no.” anton said.

simple and straight to the point, but so much was left unsaid. he didn’t want to think about not seeing you next year, he wasn’t sure if he could face the truth that you were still very much with your boyfriend. but you sighed contently and leaned your head to rest on his shoulder, and put one of your hands over his. anton instantly unclasped his hands and clutched yours desperately. you sighed again—maybe you did break up with him.

“then they haven’t.”

anton swore he could hear the sound of kids coming towards the lake. he heard the rippling waves and the kayaks rocking on the water behind him. he heard you draw in another breath and scoot even closer to his body. he looked at the sun reflect on the lake as he scooted closer to you too. you rested your head on his shoulder and just like that, a million things were said without a single word.

“you’re always going to be my bestfriend.” you said quietly, still looking at the water.

neither of you decided to read too much into your words—you two have your entire lives to decipher the meaning.

#commissionz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year

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Misunderstandings really really suck

Edit: Part 2 is Up

So heres the deal, it's a normal Vivisection AU where Danny had to run away to Gotham after his parents try to kill him, and let's say that he takes Ellie with him too.

They stay there for a few years and after a while they manage to establish a little life for themselves. Danny is running a small Shop that makes them enough money to live comfortably in the apartment right above his Shop, meanwhile Ellie is going to Gotham Metro Academy on a scholarship because she is really smart and they managed to fake some school records for her when they were making themselves new Identities.

(Side Note: Danny is now 26, while Ellie hasn't started aging yet and still looks 12, but she will begin to soon since she just hit her 12th birthday)

Danny also runs a small Ghost Shop out of his store, just selling small bits of Distilled Ectoplasm or Ecto-Infused Treats to the local Ghosts in return for small favors or help around the shop.

But here's the thing. Ellie is still an unstable Clone, even if they did managed to find a reliable treatment in the form of Ecto-Dejecto. But Danny's parents were the only ones who knew how to make that stuff, and the Ecto-Dejecto they stole all those years ago is beginning to run out.

Danny begins to work tirelessly trying to replicate it, diving full on into his Mad Scientist side to try and find a way to make more ED for Ellie. He manages to make some prototypes, but he is nowhere near confident that they are good enough.

He decides to call in some favors from the local Ghosts. He calls the ones he is confident will survive this and asks them to try out his Ecto Dejecto to see if it will work for Ellie, but he does warn them that there will probably be unexpected side effects that they will probably not like.

The Ghosts agree to do it, because in the years that the Fenton's have lived there they have grown extremely attached to Ellie. She is like a little sister or daughter for many of them, they would throw away their afterlives if it meant helping her.

For most of the samples, the ED doesn't work at all. Some of them work for a single moment before cutting out, others don't do anything, and some have crazy effects that affect them for a little while before disappearing abruptly. One guy turned into a Dog, not the worst outcome but not the intended one. Another began to glow brightly and couldn't turn it off, that one lasted for an hour.

They keep testing them, out in the nearby Alley since they don't want to destroy the house or Danny's makeshift Lab, for a few weeks.

They problem comes when they are spotted one night by Red Hood.

...

Jason was crossing the Rooftops while on Patrol. He was going a little farther than his normal patrol range, since he had the time and he wanted to make sure there was no trouble in the nearby areas either.

As he was about to hop from one rooftop to another, he got a weird feeling. It was strange, he didn't feel anything on his skin, he didn't smell anything, he didn't even hear anything, but he somehow knew that there was something strange happening in the nearby Alley. It was like he could sense it.

Peeking over the edge of the rooftop, he saw a group of about 10 people. It was a bunch of strange looking people with green-ish skin, and one normal looking person. The normal looking one was wearing a lab coat, and seemed to be about 25 yrs old. Jason felt like there was something off about that guy, but he couldn't place exactly what. He was holding a box of something in his hand, and talking to the group.

"Ok guys, I'm really confident this time!" He said, "I think one of these may be the one!"

The man placed the box on a nearby Dumpster and opened it up, taking out a strange glowing green Vial. He handed it to one of the Greenish people and watched as they injected themselves with it.

Jason watched as they began to glow slightly before their arms suddenly grew to be longer than they were tall. The Man in the Lab Coat sighed in discontent, before saying "Ok, not that one. But we still have a few to try out!"

Jason watched as one by one the people below injected themselves with the green Liquid, each of them having some strange phenomenon happen to them before moving on to the next. The strange thing was that none of them seemed to be concerned with the changes, just commenting on it felt before moving on.

Finally, they got to the last person in line. As they injected themselves, Jason felt a sense of Anticipation well up in his gut. He didn't know why, but he felt like this was going to he important.

He was proven right as the Man who had injected himself began to glow brightly. Jason was overwhelmed with the sense of Pure Power coming from him. It was intense, he didn't know how, but he could actually feel the man begin to grow stronger and stronger. The feeling was nearly suffocating, but he managed to regain his senses long enough to hear Lab Coat laugh maniacally. He looked over to see that the entire group was enthusiastically high-fiving and fist-bumping eachother, all cheering at the success.

"Hahaha! Yes! Finally!" Labcoat Cheered, "It's done! Once I make some more, we'll be able to-"

The overwhelming power suddenly cut out. It was so abrupt that even the people below didn't speak for some time. They all just stood on slight shock before Labcoat spoke up, "Ok...ok this is fine. All I need to do is take that formula and find a way to make the effect Permanent. After that we're all set." He said, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I think we'll be good to go within a Week!"

The group of people muttered in agreement, and Labcoat thanked them all for a bit before they all began to walk away. It seemed like the meeting was over.

Jason took a moment to collect himself, before deciding to follow some of the group so he could question them. Unfortunately, everybody he followed disappeared into thin air after a short time.

It occurred to him that he hadn't tried to intervene at all. Usually he would have jumped down and beaten them all black and blue for testing drugs right in front of him, but he didn't this time. Why? He also realized that he should have followed the Lab Coat guy first, not waited until it was his last option. Why did he not go after that guy instantly? Why did he hesitate? Was it something to do with that Ominous Feeling that led him to the meeting in the first place? There was just something about the guy that made Jason feel inexplicably sacred of him.

Either way, he needed to tell the others.

Because from what he had seen, a Mad Scientist had been working with a group of Metahumans to create a Super Soldier Drug right there in Gotham, and they needed to stop them.

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aquaquadrant · 2 months

Text

from eden, part XI (act II)

Word count: 15,152 Warnings: Language, blood/injury, descriptive violence, fictional racism, mild gore, death, kissing, body horror, unreality Summary: Tango is forced to finally confront his past at Hels Tek, this time with Jimmy and friends behind him. But he soon finds that there are some battles he must fight alone, the outcome of which will change his life- and the universe- forever.

A/N: Due to Tumblr’s paragraph limit, I had to split this into two acts again. Link to the first half here. Hope you enjoy, please reblog/comment if you do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part XI (act II) - honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago

~*~

Bravo emerges from the portal, blinking.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust from the dim basement to the brightly-lit garage. It looks just like he remembers it, save for a few scattered chests lying about. The floor-to-ceiling bay doors that lead out to the surrounding lava lake are closed at the moment, leaving the iron side door as the only access point.

The portal behind him now has that same red-yellow-green light as the old one, flickering as the other players begin to appear. Jimmy follows closely after, then Ren the dog man and Cleo the zombie take up their positions on either side of it, weapons at the ready.

“Well, what’s this, then?”

Clear’s alone, just like Grian reported before they came through. He’s crouched by one of the flying machines, a slimy rag tossed over his shoulder, black lab coat stained and rumpled as always. He doesn’t look particularly shocked to see them or the portal- mildly surprised, at best.

So far, so good.

Bravo takes a step forward, hoping to keep Clear’s attention on him as the rest of the others come through. “Hey, hey there, how’s it goin’?”

Clear straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, nonplussed. “Open House day already, is it? Could’a bloody reminded me, how am I meant ta’ keep track of all this rubbish…” He sighs, wiping his hands on the rag. “Right. Suppose you lot will be wantin’ the tour, then?”

“Uh, don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Bravo says quickly, holding his hands up. “You can just stay here, keep doin’ what you’re doin’... don’t let us interrupt you, I- I know your work’s important. But uh, mind if I borrow your ID? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

Clear blinks. “Oh, alright then. Sure.” He reaches into his inventory, fishing out a slip of paper. “Makes no difference t’me if-” He stops abruptly, his mouth falling open as he stares at something behind Bravo. “Scáil?”

Confused, Bravo follows his gaze- and his heart jolts. Grian’s just come through the portal, and Clear’s looking at him like he’s seen a ghost.

Grian seems similarly confused. “What?” he asks, startling under the sudden attention.

“Oh, Scáil!” Suddenly Clear is running to wrap Grian in a hug, sobbing. “God, I- I thought I’d never see you again-”

“Um?” Grian’s voice is strained, eyes wide as he goes rigid in Clear’s arms. “Hello?”

Jimmy and Scar rush forward to help, but Bravo holds out a hand to stop them. He knows Clear is harmless; there’s no reason he’d be trying to hurt Grian right now. But what is this about? Scáil… he feels like he’s heard that name somewhere before-

Oh, no.

“Really?” Bravo demands, exasperated. “Of- of all the Hels in this world, you chose his to fall in love with?”

Clear ignores him, of course, continuing to blubber. He’s fallen to his knees at this point, face buried in Grian’s sweater- which is quickly growing damp with tears. It’s kind of sad… in a gross, pathetic way.

“Come again?” Jimmy asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Bravo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Atlas mentioned once that Clear used to have a boyfriend named Scáil who up and vanished on him, and he’s had trouble tellin’ me and Tango apart before, so…” He shrugs. “Guess he had a thing with your doppelgänger.”

Surprise flashes across Grian’s face, followed quickly by sympathy as he exchanges a glance with Scar. “Um- look, buddy,” he starts, wincing, “I- I’m not… whoever you think I am, alright, I need to get goin’-”

“No!” Clear pleads, voice tinged with panic as he clings even tighter. “No, no, p- please Scáil, don’t go! Please, stay.”

Bravo can see Grian’s resolve falter. Hands that he’d raised to push Clear away instead come down to rest on his shoulders. “Ey,” he murmurs, wings curling around them, “it’s alright.”

Jeeze, he must be closer to that Mumbo guy than Bravo thought. “We don’t have time for this,” Bravo huffs. “Let’s just knock him out and get movin’.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Grian?”

Grian seems to make up his mind. “Just go, okay? I’ll stay with him.”

“You sure?” Scar asks worriedly.

Grian nods. “Yeah, I got Cleo and Ren to back me up if I need, okay.” He reaches an arm around to pluck Clear’s keycard out of his grasp, holding it out to Bravo. “Here.”

Bravo takes the keycard, mind racing. He would’ve liked Grian to stay with them- his ability to fly is a huge asset, especially when combo’d with Scar’s ace shooting, and not to mention his weird spectating ability. But if this is how he wants to handle his friend’s doppelgänger, then Bravo has to respect it.

And they certainly can’t waste any more time arguing about it.

“Alright, let’s go.” Bravo turns away, and is relieved when he hears footsteps behind him. Approaching the door, he slips Clear’s keycard into the dispenser, picking it back up as he steps through and holds the door open for the others.

Now that they’re inside the facility itself, the group is instantly alert, moving down the hallway as quickly yet quietly as they can.

Bravo leads the way, with the archers- Scar and Scott- at either side. Jimmy and Pearl follow closely behind, in case they need to fly ahead, and Martyn so he can lob a slowness potion if needed. Joel and Bdubs are next, with Etho between them, and Impulse bringing up the rear.

The hallway soon splits and veers off into multiple directions; a virtual maze of identical quartz walls to the uninitiated. But Bravo spent years learning these halls, and he hasn’t forgotten, despite his last couple weeks spent on the run. He swiftly takes them on the shortest path to the south wing, where the blaze farm is located.

As they creep through the halls, he tries to keep an ear out for anyone approaching, but it’s difficult to hear above the pounding of his heart. Being back in this place is more unnerving than he expected. After all, it was basically his home for five odd years, so he would’ve thought he’d be perfectly at ease here.

But maybe it’s a good thing that he isn’t.

“Wait,” Pearl breathes.

Bravo halts the group, looking over at Pearl. Her fuzzy antennae are twitching, her eyes wide, and she meets his gaze and mouths the word ‘one.’

Now that they’re standing still, he can just make out the faint echoes of footsteps down the hall, around the corner. They’re getting closer but they aren’t rushed; sounds like someone is just strolling. Likely one of the night guards on patrol.

Scott’s on it right away, creeping forward a few steps to crouch and draw his bow. Bravo shifts over to gesture Martyn forward- which he does while pulling out a splash potion of slowness.

For a few, brief moments, they’re all frozen, waiting with bated breath.

Then the guard rounds the corner.

Scott fires almost immediately- an arrow appears in the guard’s leg. In the same heartbeat, Martyn launches the potion through the air. By the time it shatters at the guard’s feet, showering them in particles, Martyn’s closed the distance.

The guard opens their mouth to shout, raising an arm to block, but between the arrow and the potion, they’re too slow. Martyn slams the pommel of his sword against their head, and the guard crumples to the ground.

Bravo lets out a breath and advances the group forward. They come up on Martyn right as he’s securing the unconscious guard with chains.

“Good work,” Bravo murmurs before glancing at Pearl. “You got super hearing or somethin’?”

Pearl nods excitedly. “It’s these halls,” she whispers, “the way they echo- I didn’t expect it to amplify the vibrations so much, but…”

Bravo exchanges a look with Jimmy. “Well, that’s handy.”

He can see the same hesitant relief reflected in Jimmy’s eyes and recognizes what he’s feeling. Their plan for encountering guards worked like a charm, but they’ve still got a way to go, so they can’t get complacent. The night’s not over yet.

Bravo unlocks a random lab for them to shove the guard inside before pressing on.

They continue through the facility in tense silence. It’s eerie being here at night, the rooms behind the endless iron doors all dark and quiet. A far cry from the bustle of noise and activity Bravo recalls from his time here. There was always so much going on at Hels Tek, countless projects being tested and reworked, all manner of redstone farms and contraptions.

It makes him wonder why, exactly, Atlas was so dead set on recapturing Tango for the blaze farm. He had already been chasing the idea for years before Bravo arrived on the scene with his own motivations. Surely, at a certain point, it would’ve been more trouble than it was worth? Especially since he knows good and well that Atlas wasn’t after portals.

But then again, why does anyone in Hels do anything? They all seem to be insane in one way or another. Maybe that’s just how it’s manifested in Atlas; single-minded obsession, like a dog with a bone.

Soon enough, Pearl is signaling the group to stop again. Another guard incoming, but they’re prepared for this. Everyone takes up their positions, waiting for the guard to appear… and then-

Arrow, potion, knockout. The guard is groaning from the floor in the blink of an eye.

Bravo is just starting to feel reassured when something on the ground flashes; a dropped item disappearing. It looked like a slip of paper- an ID keycard, like the one they took from Clear, was in the guard’s hand when they were knocked out. And now it’s gone- but how? It’s been nowhere near long enough for it to despawn, and it landed too far away to be picked back up into the guard’s inventory. It almost seemed like it was sucked beneath the floor, like into a hopper… but why would there be hoppers here?

Frowning, Bravo steps forward to investigate, opening his mouth to warn the others. But before he can, a faint yet distinct sound reaches his ears; the clicking of an observer and the churning of pistons.

Then the ceiling opens up, and a ravager drops on their heads.

~*~

One second, Jimmy’s thinking maybe things are going to be alright, and the next, he’s looking up at the underbelly of a ravager.

Pure instinct kicks in. He grabs Bravo by the arm and takes off into the air. The ravager lands with a heavy thud right behind him, close enough for him to feel the wind through his feathers, and crushes Joel and Bdubs into a cloud of respawn smoke.

Immediately, it’s chaos.

Shouts of alarm mix with the ravager’s roars, echoing off the walls into a deafening din. Pearl’s followed Jimmy into the air, struggling to hold Scott steady enough to shoot amidst her slightly erratic hovering-

Martyn’s thrown against the wall as the ravager charges, head slamming against quartz with a resounding crack. He’s in the ravager’s jaws before he can recover, before he can even scream, respawning away to leave only bloodstains and scattered items-

Etho manages to put some cobblestone down. In a hall that’s only three-by-three, it’s just enough of a barrier to keep the ravager back; with the consequence of it now standing between him and the rest of them-

Beneath Jimmy, Scar’s backing up, firing arrow after arrow, but at this close of a distance and with his less powerful bow, it’s barely affecting the ravager. Walled off on one side, the ravager turns and lunges forward to close its jaws around Scar, killing him with its crushing bite-

Everything seems to slow down.

The ravager has now set its sights on Jimmy, and his wings can’t pump fast enough to escape it. He’s flying as close to the ceiling as he dares but he knows it won’t be enough, certainly not to keep Bravo out of its reach in such close quarters.

“Back up, back up!” Bravo’s shouting, fumbling for his sword, and the ravager lowers its head to charge-

Impulse appears in the air above it. He’s in full demon mode; with a powerful sweep of his leathery black wings, he launches himself onto the ravager’s back, sinking his claws deep into its flesh. The ravager bellows in pain and rage, thrashing to try and throw Impulse off, and his glowing golden eyes snap up to meet Jimmy’s gaze.

“Go!” Impulse snarls, his deep voice booming through the air.

Jimmy doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes off down the hall, Pearl right behind him.

It’s a frenzied flight, breathless and panicked, the ravager’s fading roars echoing in his ears. Wings and lungs burning, it’s only thanks to Bravo’s directions that he manages not to crash into a wall, twisting and turning through the maze-like halls. His mind is racing on an endless loop of ‘oh gosh, oh gosh, what now?’ as the reality of the situation starts to sink in.

The jig is up, that much is for certain. There’s no shot that Atlas doesn’t know they’re here. Jimmy would be less concerned if this was after they got Tango free; now, there’s a chance they’ll be stopped before they even reach him. Especially since it’s just the four of them. Pearl and Scott are both skilled fighters, to say nothing of Bravo, but there’s strength in numbers and no telling how many guards they might face.

(Well, that was exciting!)

(Ooh, things are getting spicy.)

(Can’t see this ending well…)

It’s not long before Jimmy has to stop, dropping Bravo to his feet and stumbling to an ungraceful landing. He leans against the wall to catch his breath, his wings sagging with exhaustion. Pearl seems similarly winded, landing heavily beside him. For a few moments, no one speaks.

“Fuck,” Bravo says, which sums up the situation fairly well. He kicks the wall. “Fucking- fuck!”

Scott rolls his shoulder, but seems none the worse for wear. “I take it tha’ ravager is new, then?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Yeah, no,” Bravo snarks, “I- I just completely forgot about their aerial ravager deployment system, yeah.”

“Oh man,” Pearl wheezes, doubled over. “I haven’t flown like that in ages…”

“Well, this’s bad,” Scott drawls. “What’s tha’ plan?”

“We press on,” Bravo says, his expression steely. “Now we’re on a time crunch. No doubt that little trap also sent off a warning to Atlas, so- so I expect we’ll be seein’ more guards any minute now.”

As much as Jimmy would like to rest longer, he knows Bravo’s right. “Okay,” he huffs, pushing off the wall. “Lead the way.”

They set off again on foot, moving quickly now that stealth is out of the question. Jimmy spares a moment to be thankful that Bravo is with them. These halls all look the same to him, but Bravo seems to know where he’s going, even after their chaotic flight.

Jimmy pulls his communicator out as they go. Glancing down at chat, he winces; Impulse and Etho were killed by the ravager as well, so they’re truly on their own here. Even though the others will have come back through the portal after respawning on Double Life, they won’t be able to find their way through this facility to meet up again.

In fact, Bravo had advised against it. Their contingency plan, in the event that anyone was killed, is to stay by the portal. Now that Hels Tek knows they’re here, it’s more important than ever to defend it and make sure it stays open. Besides, if people started wandering off on their own, it would only increase the likelihood of someone getting captured, lost, or left behind.

So right now, the four of them are all Tango’s got.

(Oh, I can’t wait for-)

(Shh, don’t ruin it, just watch.)

That’s not worrying at all. This is fine. This is fine, they can handle it. He just needs to keep his head, stay the course. Failure isn’t an option. Failure would mean leaving Tango trapped here, and Jimmy refuses to let that happen. So he’s got to keep going, stay alert, stay focused-

“Stop,” Pearl says suddenly, grabbing Scott by the arm. “We’re ‘bout to have company.”

No sooner has she finished her sentence than five guards turn the corner at a sprint, swords bristling.

Wings unfurling, Pearl jumps into the air, allowing Scott to rain down arrows from above. They hang back to provide aerial support, giving Jimmy and Bravo the floor.

Jimmy spreads his wings, shooting forward to scoop Bravo beneath the arms. He flies straight at the guards, gaining speed, before spinning mid-air to launch Bravo at the nearest of them.

Bravo comes down on the guard with his sword, stabbing through the curve where their neck meets their shoulder. Jimmy dives after him and slams a foot down on the sword, driving it deeper into the guard’s body- deep enough to slip into their chest cavity.

Blood splatters on Jimmy’s face. The guard explodes into a shower of respawn smoke and items.

Jimmy lands on his feet in a crouch, and Bravo vaults over him to kick another guard back. Straightening up, Jimmy equips his sword and catches Bravo’s eyes for a heartbeat, understanding passing between them.

There’s no discussion. They charge forward together, fighting side by side.

The last time Jimmy fought Hels players, it didn’t go well, and he’s still got the crooked nose to prove it. He’ll be the first to admit his PVP skills are lacking. But this time, the slowness from Scott’s arrows makes all the difference.

Dodging the next guard’s swing, Jimmy retaliates with a wide sweep of his own, their swords locking with a screech and a shower of sparks. In the same breath, Bravo ducks in between them and plunges his sword up- under the bottom of the guard’s chestplate, into their stomach.

Poof.

Jimmy uses the momentum to charge forward, bringing his sword down on the next guard’s helmet. It’s a clumsy but heavy blow- the guard staggers, and Bravo whips around to slash through their neck. Blood sprays through the air.

Two down, three to go.

On any other day, under any other circumstances, Jimmy knows he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Even now, he hasn’t miraculously developed the strength to overpower these bigger Hels players, nor the speed and knowledge to execute those clean, skillful attacks like Bravo.

But he doesn’t need to. All it takes is a strike to unbalance his opponent, to keep their attention, draw their defense. He’s the larger target, and with the slowness arrows doing their part, the guards can’t react fast enough as Bravo twists around them to deliver the killing blow.

Slash, jab- poof.

The last guard’s slowness has worn off at this point, but it’s too late. Jimmy’s already there; a powerful flap of his wings takes his feet off the ground to strike out at the guard, kicking with all his might.

Clang!

It hits the guard square in the chest, toppling them backwards. They land hard, and Bravo springs on top of themt, plunging his sword down right between their eyes.

Splat, poof.

Bravo straightens up, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. Jimmy braces his hands on his knees for a moment as his heart rate comes down. They’re both bloody and out of breath, but they managed not to take a single hit. And sure, the slowness arrows helped a lot, but Jimmy will take his wins where he can.

Bravo gives him an appraising look. “Nice job.”

Jimmy cracks a grin. “I have my moments.”

“Oh-kay,” Scott whistles as he and Pearl catch up, “go off, Timmy!”

Oof, that feels strange- but it’s just a force of habit, Jimmy knows. He glances over his shoulder at them. “Thanks for the cover fire. You guys good?”

“Yep.” Pearl nods expectantly. “Lead on.”

Bravo flicks the excess blood off his sword, speckling the white walls. “Alright, the south wing is just through here.” He nods toward the iron door at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go.”

They start moving again. Residual adrenaline itches across Jimmy’s skin, the metallic scent of blood clogging his nose. He’s surprised with their brutality himself, but he doesn’t regret it. There’s no reason to hold back here. These players are standing between him and getting Tango back, so it has to be done.

He’s honestly more surprised at how well he and Bravo fought together- as if they’d rehearsed it. Not what he would’ve expected, considering the way they butt heads, his own lack of expertise, and the fact that they were on opposite sides of a fight just earlier today.

But privately, he’s just glad he didn’t make an absolute fool of himself. There’s a reason he’s always been out first in their death games.

Once they reach the door, Bravo motions for them all to crouch before nodding at Pearl. She listens for a moment, antennae twitching, before she holds up two fingers.

Bravo doesn’t bother with the keycard this time. Pulling out his pickaxe, he breaks the door down- and Pearl and Scott swoop through.

There’s an aborted shout, the sound of arrows flying, and the clang of a sword. By the time Jimmy’s through the doorway, Pearl is standing down the hall amidst a scattering of dropped items, sword lax at her side and a fierce grin on her blood-stained face.

“Jeeze, Pearl!” Scott says, raising his eyebrows and lowering his bow.

Pearl glances over her shoulder at them, expression growing sheepish. “I’m sorry, I think I got a little bit crazy…”

Jimmy flutters over to them, Bravo in tow. “No, no, I- don’t be sorry, I’m…” he trails off as he takes in the sign next to the door, the one the guards were posted outside.

It says ‘Tango Tek.’ Jimmy feels his blood boil.

“Well, this is it.” Bravo glances at Pearl and Scott. “You two keep watch out here, alright?” Then he unlocks the door, holding it open for Jimmy. “Come on.”

Jimmy rushes inside, Bravo following after him. But the sight that greets them makes him stop cold, anger quickly giving way to shock and horror.

He knew, roughly, what all the blaze farm entailed. But he’s still not prepared to actually see it.

Behind a wall of glass, Tango’s suspended by iron chains inside a little one-by-two chamber. Wither roses sprout from the soul sand beneath him, long vines wound tightly around his body, thorns digging into his skin. Particles of regeneration bubble around him, but the withering is clearly causing damage; the blaze rods above Tango’s head respawn as quickly as they’re sucked away by hoppers.

Tango looks absolutely miserable. He hangs limp and lifeless in his chains- but as the door clicks shut behind them, he lifts his head and manages a tired smile.

“Hey, honey,” he rasps, “good to see ya.”

“Tango!” Jimmy flies over, his eyes stinging with sudden tears. Their health might not be linked in this world, but his heart aches for Tango all the same. “Tango, oh gosh, I- I’m so sorry. I’m here, I’m here.” He pulls out his pickaxe and sets to shattering the glass wall.

“Sorry we took so long,” Bravo adds, walking up beside Jimmy. “We had a uh, unforeseen complication… there may have been ninja ravager airdrop-ification involved.” As soon as the glass is gone, he starts cutting the wither rose vines off Tango with careful slices of his sword.

Tango huffs a hoarse laugh. “Oh, oh great. Guess our buddy’s Atlas has been busy these last few weeks, huh?”

With the wither roses cut away, he seems to be breathing easier, now. And thankfully, they don’t look to have left any new wither stains on his skin. Jimmy hopes that the lingering regeneration effect will take care of the rest.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” he murmurs, turning his attention to the chains. His eyes widen as he realizes just how many are locked around Tango’s body- his arms, his legs, the collar around his neck. “Jeeze, this is- they went absolutely mental with these. Overkill much?”

“I know, right?” Tango snorts. “It’s- it’s almost flattering, in a way.”

Fortunately, they all seem to be made of regular run-of-the-mill iron with no complicated redstone bits. It’s easy enough for him and Bravo to slip their tools in between the links and give a sharp twist to snap them. Working quickly but methodically, they break the chains in an order that won’t awkwardly drop Tango to the ground- or choke him out by the collar around his throat. And as the last chains fall away, leaving only his old cuffs around his wrists, Jimmy’s right there to catch him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, easing Tango to the floor. “I mean- sorry, that’s- that’s a dumb question-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” Tango says. He’s trembling slightly and clinging to Jimmy so tight it’s just shy of being painful, but his red eyes are bright, and he grins at Jimmy with all his sharp, lovely teeth. “I’m okay.”

It’s hard to imagine how Tango is still functioning after what he’s been through. From the emotional side of things, too, not just physically. Being locked back in that farm must’ve not only been painful, but the realization of his worst nightmare, the one that’s chased him for nearly a decade. The culmination of all his deepest fears and insecurities, his self-hatred and feelings of worthlessness… being reduced to nothing more than a mob whose only use is in a farm. Even done intentionally, as part of a plan, it takes a lot of strength to overcome something like that.

Yet strangely enough, Jimmy believes him. There’s a change in Tango’s eyes- it’s like nothing Jimmy’s seen before, not even back in those peaceful days they spent together before this whole Hels mess started. Back then, Tango had been hiding from his past. Haunted by it. Only through hindsight has Jimmy realized just how badly it was affecting Tango all that time, the host of subtle little things he’d brushed off suddenly clicking together and making sense.

So only now does he see what Tango looks like without that fear hanging over him. The shadow that’s gone from his eyes. They’re fierce and determined and alive in a way that sends chills across Jimmy’s skin. While he knows for a fact that they’ve found joy and contentment and love together, it’s apparent that only now does Tango feel free.

No doubt there’s still a long road ahead of them. But for this step, right now, Jimmy couldn’t be more proud of his soulmate.

He presses a kiss to Tango’s forehead. “Well- good, but it’d be okay if you weren’t, y’know?”

Tango’s smile turns fond. “I know.”

Bravo clears his throat. “Hey, uh, if you two are done cuddling, we need to get moving. Most of the others got wiped out,” he explains, putting his pickaxe away, “so they’ll be waitin’ for us back at the portal. But first, we gotta find Atlas.”

Tango knits his brows together. “All this excitement probably drew him out of his hole. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on his way here right now.”

“Good.” Bravo nods. “Saves us the trouble of trackin’ him down. All we gotta do is make him open his ender chest to get the key, right, and then we’re outta here.”

Jimmy helps Tango to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Tango assures him. “That regen is powerful stuff.”

He’s still a little shaky for Jimmy’s taste, but true to his word, he stands on his own. Jimmy turns to the door. “Right. Let’s-”

“Watch out!”

Pearl’s voice cries out from the hallway. There’s the distinct twang of a bow firing, a shout from Scott- only to be cut short.

Jimmy sprints through the door, followed closely by Tango and Bravo.

Two more piles of items are on the floor. Down at the end of the hallway stands Atlas with a raised crossbow and an arrow in his shoulder, flanked by half a dozen guards.

Atlas’s black lab coat cuts a sharp figure against the quartz walls, like a shadow come to life, light flashing in his shades. Slowly, he lowers his crossbow and reaches up to pull the arrow out, unflinching, as that sickly grin splits across his face.

“Well, well, well.”

(Speak of the devil.)

~*~

As soon as Tango sees Atlas, he steps in front of Jimmy, a low growl starting in his throat.

Now that he’s out of the farm and away from the wither roses, his adrenaline is kicking into overdrive. His muscles are rife with tension, ears twitching, and his heart pounds against his chest.

He takes in the scene quickly. Behind them is a dead end, and the other direction is blocked; Atlas, tossing a bloody arrow to the ground, and six guards. They’re all big, burly humans with mean faces. Most of them brandish swords, while two of them have tridents with what looks like a net of chains strung inbetween. Do they have net launch-ification technology?

“I was hoping I’d catch you three together,” Atlas drawls, folding his arms behind his back. Slowness particles bubble out of his shoulder wound like blood. “Mr. Bravo, I must say, I was rather disappointed to discover your treachery.”

Bravo scowls. “Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit what you think about me.”

Amused, Atlas’s gaze slowly travels over to Tango. “And how did you manage to turn him to your side, hm, Tango?” His lip curls. “Manipulative little monster.”

Tango hardly processes the insult, but Jimmy’s wings puff up indignantly. “Don’t call him that!”

“You know,” Atlas continues, unbothered, “all that’s going to come of this little escape mission is the addition of some new farms to my collection.” He grins at Jimmy. “Starting with you.”

The guards throw their tridents in tandem, launching the net across the hall.

Tango dives out of the way, but Jimmy isn’t fast enough. The net knocks him flat onto his back, pinned into place by the weight of the chains and the tridents embedded in the floor. He cries out in pain, and only now can Tango see that the net is studded with wither rose thorns, piercing Jimmy’s skin.

Tango sees red.

A snarl tears itself out of his throat. He charges forward to meet the attacking guards, leaping into the air and slashing the nearest one across the face.

The guard howls with pain, striking out blindly. Their sword grazes Tango’s arm but he hardly notices it, hardly even feels the sting, too focused on sinking his teeth into their throat. The instant the guard disappears, he’s darting away, on to the next one.

Tango’s senses are hyper-alert, nose flaring at the scent of blood. His pulse thrums in his ears. He’s scarcely aware of Bravo fighting beside him, just a blur in his periphery. A distant part of him is aware of how savage he’s being, but he can’t bring himself to care.

If they want to treat him like a monster, then he’ll fight them like one, too.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question the feel of his claws tearing through flesh. There’s something primal inside him shrieking with bloodlust, and he’s more than happy to oblige it. It feels good. It feels natural. Like he’s been fighting with his right hand all his life only to discover he’s a leftie. No wonder traditional PVP has never been his strength; in this one way, perhaps he is more mob than player.

And he’s perfectly fine with that.

By the time Tango reaches Atlas, his slowness effect has worn off. He’s locked in combat with Bravo, swords clashing in a series of rapid jabs and slashes- a skillful and deadly dance. It’s clear he’s got plenty of experience with PVP, trading blows with Bravo like it’s nothing, as simple and instinctive as breathing.

But he isn’t prepared for Tango to leap at him like an animal, claws outstretched and teeth bared.

Atlas dodges, but it’s a near thing. He’s thrown off-balance, scrambling to back up as Tango advances with another wild swipe- it tears through the front of his lab coat, carving a shallow gash across his chest. He brings his sword up to parry but it doesn’t catch Tango’s claws like it would another blade- a costly miscalculation that sends his sword flying from his grasp.

It clatters loudly to the ground. Bravo takes the opening; he jabs the point of his sword into Atlas’s leg, behind the kneecap, and twists.

Pop!

This time Atlas doesn’t hold back his scream. He goes down instantly, his right leg no longer able to support him. Bravo kicks Atlas’s sword away, out of reach, before grabbing Atlas by the collar and throwing him at the wall. He slumps against it, injured leg curled awkwardly beneath him, breathing raggedly but making no move to rise again.

All six of the guards are dead, respawned away and leaving behind a blood bath.

It’s over.

And just like that, Tango’s calm again, pausing to catch his breath. He hasn’t lost himself completely to the rage of a bloodthirsty animal. He hasn’t surrendered his rational thought or his sense of being. It happened, and now it’s passed. Just like if he’d fought with sword and shield over claws and teeth. He almost feels silly, to have ever feared otherwise.

He glances at Bravo; they’ve both sustained a few minor cuts and bruises, but overall, nothing serious. “Hold him there,” he tells Bravo, before turning to run back down the hall. “Hang on, Jimmy!”

Jimmy is right where Tango left him, struggling beneath the chain net. He’s managed to work one arm out from under it, trying in vain to free himself, but he can’t get the right leverage on the tridents anchoring the net to the ground. Tango falls to his knees and rips one of the tridents away, tossing it aside, and starts pulling the net back.

Jimmy pushes himself upright with a pained grunt, shoving the last of the chains off. There are dozens of little marks dotted across his skin, like a constellation of inky pin pricks- leftover from the wither thorns.

Tango throws his arms around Jimmy. “God, are- are you okay, honey?” he asks frantically, pulling away to study Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy shudders. “Man, that wither rose is brutal,” he says, aghast. “How’d you stand it?”

Despite it all, Tango manages to crack a smile. “Well, you know, I’m basically part furnace,” he says, straightening up and offering Jimmy his hand.

Jimmy huffs a faint laugh, letting Tango pull him to his feet. The black spots are already starting to vanish, to Tango’s immense relief. He doesn’t think he could handle it if Jimmy ended up with permanent wither stains.

He doesn’t let go of Jimmy’s hand as they walk down the hall together. Bravo steps back when they approach, though he keeps his gaze and his sword trained on Atlas.

Atlas’s face is pale and sheened with sweat, but he still grins at them. “Well, well,” he breathes, struggling to his feet. His right leg won’t support him; he braces a hand against the wall. “Seems you caught me off-guard, Mr. Tango. I wasn’t expecting you to embrace that monstrous nature of yours so willingly.”

Tango shrugs. “Sure, why not? Some of my best friends are monsters.”

Clearly, Atlas wasn’t expecting that response. But he only falters for a moment before his grin returns to full strength. “This is pointless. You’ll never make it-”

“Hey, hey, no one asked you,” Bravo snaps, placing down an ender chest. “Now no funny business, okay, or I’ll break all your fucking fingers.”

Atlas eyes him for a moment, as if debating the validity of the threat and whether or not he’d be able to escape. But ultimately he must decide it’s not worth it, because he flips the ender chest open, reaches inside, and withdraws a familiar iron key.

Tango’s breath catches. Despite how well their plan has worked so far, part of him wasn’t expecting to actually make it this far. It’s almost too good to be true, but it seems like Atlas has finally run out of tricks.

Atlas holds the key out with a flourish. “Your prize,” he sneers.

Jimmy’s quick to snatch it from him, shooting him a glare. He softens as he turns to Tango. “Here, can I…?”

“Please do,” Tango hums nervously, lifting his chin.

“Alright, here goes.” Jimmy puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder to steady him, reaching forward with the other to slip the key into its lock.

There’s a click, and the collar falls away, clattering to the ground.

Tango inhales sharply at the feel of wither thorns pulling out of his skin. The relief is immediate; his blaze rods ignite with renewed fire, warmth spreading through his body all the way to the tips of his clawed fingers. It’s tingly, like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep, but he’s glad for it.

He sees his relief reflected in Jimmy’s expression- though it’s quickly replaced with a wince as his gaze traces Tango’s neck.

Tango exhales. “It stained, huh.”

Jimmy swallows, eyes full of anger and sorrow. “I’m so sorry.”

Tango’s almost surprised by how little it bothers him. “Hey, no problem,” he says easily, reaching up to squeeze Jimmy’s hand. “I mean, I’ve got such a unique style already, I- I feel like it’ll fit in perfectly. A little studded choker action, right?”

That manages to get a laugh out of Jimmy, though he wipes at his eyes. “Right, yeah. You pull it off well.”

Bravo clears his throat. “Okay, so, we good?” He jerks his chin at Atlas. “Let’s kill this asshole and get moving.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” Atlas says mildly, leveling his gaze at Tango. “You’ll always be nothing more than a monster-”

“Shut up!” Jimmy takes a step forward, gripping his sword, but Tango puts a hand out.

He knows they don’t have time to linger very long, but he’s got unfinished business with Atlas. Before he walks out of here, he needs to say his piece, because if he doesn’t, he knows he’ll never fully shake Atlas’s hold on him.

“You know,” he starts thoughtfully, “I- I’m startin’ to think that term isn’t the uh, the moral condemnation that you think it is. The way I see it, it’s like- okay, I’m a blond, I’m a redstoner, I’m a monster, yada-yada-yada. They’re just… traits, right? Like, sorta… physical descriptors without any, er- particular positive or negative connotation attached. ‘Cause uh, bein’ a monster doesn’t automatically make me a bad person- same way being a human doesn’t make you a good one.” He tilts his head. “I mean, you’re one of the shittiest people I’ve ever met, so.”

Atlas is still grinning, but there’s a sudden shiftiness in his eyes that makes Tango pause. Almost like he’s hiding something. The gears start to turn in Tango’s mind.

“So uh,” he continues, “if you genuinely think our biology or- or data is what determines the choices that we make, and the kinda person we become, then… you’ve gotta be pretty stupid.”

There- Atlas’s face twitches.

Bravo seems to pick up on where Tango’s going. “Yeah, same for Hels players,” he says, crossing his arms. “I mean, basing the whole idea of ‘the inherent evilness of Hels’ on a little bit of data analysis? I- I can’t believe I bought into such a poorly supported theory, it’s just- it’s shoddy science.”

Jimmy gives Atlas a reproachful look. “Tango has shown himself to be one of the most caring, generous, and brilliant people I’ve ever met,” he spits. “You think that’s not possible, just because he’s part mob? Then honestly, I feel sorry for ya, mate.”

Tango’s heart swells; Jimmy doesn’t seem to realize what they’re doing, he’s just coming to Tango’s defense anyway. “I know, right?” he laughs. Then, just to really drive the point home- “And here I always thought you were the smart one-”

“Of course I know that!” Atlas finally explodes, throwing an arm out. “I’ve always known that! You think I grew up in this world truly believing that humans weren’t just as capable of depravity? That hybrids weren’t our intellectual or moral equals? No, I’ve always known. But portraying you as a vicious, mindless monster makes you easier to exploit. And I’ve not only convinced my sponsors, clients, and employees of that, but I even got you to believe it, yourself!”

His grin is truly manic now, eyes wild and blazing with fury behind his shades. “Do you know how clever I had to be to pull off such a degree of dehumanization? How methodically and painstakingly I wove that narrative over decades of work? ‘Shoddy science’?! It was my magnum fucking opus!”

A stunned silence follows his outburst. Tango lets out a slow, heavy breath, and Atlas’s anger quickly drains from his face as he realizes the weight of what he’s just revealed.

It wasn’t Tango’s fault.

He was never too monstrous, too chaotic, too evil. Sure, he’s got his vices, but who doesn’t? Claws or not, no one is perfect. Now he knows that it was never anything he did to bring Atlas’s torture onto himself, nothing he ever did to deserve it, because even Atlas doesn’t believe that. Atlas did it because he’s evil, and cared more about producing a revolutionary new farm than considering the harm it would do to a fellow player. He could’ve done the same to any other mob hybrid- and in fact, still fully intends to.

It’s nothing to do with who Tango is as a person, and all to do with the blaze rods floating above his head. Nothing else. Tango can live with that.

Bravo shakes his head, incredulous. “Son of a bitch…”

But Tango smiles. “Thanks, Atlas,” he says sincerely, “I needed to hear that.”

Then he punches Atlas in the face.

The resounding crack is immensely satisfying. Atlas’s head snaps to the side, glasses and spit flying as he falls backwards. Tango’s hand is aching but it’s worth it to see Atlas look so… human. Gone is the unnatural grin and that tall, dark figure who always loomed so large in Tango’s mind. Right now, he’s just a man sprawled on his ass whose blood is staining Tango’s knuckles.

(He’s got a feeling Atlas won’t be showing up that much in his nightmares from now on.)

Atlas pushes himself up and spits out a tooth- one of his upper incisors. Blood streams down his nose and trickles out of his parted mouth. He stares up at Tango, and without his tinted glasses, Tango realizes their eyes are exactly the same shade of red.

“Clever devil,” Atlas breathes.

Bravo steps forward to deliberately crush Atlas’s shades under his shoe. “Always gotta be the smartest one in the goddamn room, huh?” he asks, twirling his sword in his hand.

Sching!

Tango briefly glimpses the inside of Atlas’s skull before he respawns away, blood and brain matter painting the wall.

“Good riddance,” Jimmy sniffs.

Bravo glances at Tango. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Tango grins. “After you, good sir.”

The three of them take off, leaving the south wing- and the farm- behind.

Their pounding footsteps echo loudly in the empty halls. It doesn’t take Tango long to recognize where they’re headed. The garage makes sense, considering they used Clear to open the portal. He’s surprised, however, that they don’t encounter any guards along the way. There’s plenty of evidence of them; items littering the hallways, blood smears on the floor. But not a single player to be found.

If Tango didn’t know better, he’d chalk it up to good luck. But of course, once they burst through the door to the garage, the true reason immediately becomes apparent.

Nearly the entire workforce of Hels Tek, scientists and security guards alike, are embroiled in battle with the Double Lifers. It’s a chaotic scene, the air filled with shouts and screams and the clashing of metal-

Cleo stands tall beside the portal, bodily throwing any opponent who attempts to sneak through, while Ren slashes at them with his massive claws-

Grian and Pearl are airbound, zipping around the garage while carrying Scar and Scott, respectively, who fire arrows into the crowd-

Etho and Joel fight back to back, shields raised against the heavy blows of their bigger opponents, while Martyn tosses a potion into the air-

Bravo whips around to decapitate the player that charges through the door behind them. “We can’t stay here!” he shouts above the noise.

Heart pounding, Tango scans the room. Movement catches his eye; Impulse, waving at them from behind a parked flying machine.

Tango makes a beeline for it, trusting that Jimmy and Bravo are following. Dodging swords and arrows alike, they manage to reach their target unimpeded, diving behind the cover of the large contraption.

Impulse pulls Tango into a quick hug. “You made it!”

He’s crouched beside Bdubs, who’s got one leg stretched out, riddled with arrows. “Well, look here- lookie who it is!” he crows. “Nice’a you guys to join us!”

Tango manages a breathless laugh. “How we lookin’?”

“Not great,” Impulse frowns, “we can’t go through ‘til they’re all dead, or else they’ll follow us before we can break the portal on the other side. But we can’t kill them fast enough- they just keep respawning and coming back.”

Tango dares to peek around the flying machine. The fighting is pretty thick, and centered in the middle of the garage. If there was a way to create some sort of barrier in front of the portal that would hold Hels Tek back long enough for everyone to escape… something that they had full control over, and would persist even after they left…

Sudden realization seizes him.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says, turning away. “Get everyone through, now-”

Jimmy catches his arm. “Hold on, where are you going?” he demands.

Tango shakes him off. “Don’t worry. Just get to the portal, alright-”

“Uh, ‘scuse me? We’re in this together, right-”

“There’s no time-”

“I’m not leavin’ without you!”

“- you to get hurt!”

“Please, Tango.” Jimmy grabs his shoulders, voice filled with desperation. “I- I can’t lose you.”

Tango softens. He takes Jimmy’s face in his hands and pulls him into a kiss, slow and reverent. “You won’t,” he murmurs, easing back to smile at him. “I promise.”

Jimmy searches his expression for a moment before relenting. “Alright,” he whispers, squeezing Tango’s hand. “Go get ‘em, babe.”

Steeling himself, Tango steps back out onto the battlefield.

A strange sense of calm settles over him. All the noise is muted in his ears, like he’s underwater, the sea of movement a blur. He moves with an ease that’s entirely foreign to him, lightly twisting through and around the writhing mass of bodies until he’s standing alone in front of the portal.

Tango closes his eyes and reaches for his fire.

Flames erupt from his blaze rods, swirling madly and spitting embers. It grows into a cyclone around him, ebbing and flowing with his breath, expanding to envelop him completely. The flames wash harmlessly over his skin; his own fire can never hurt him. There’s no hesitation inside him- no doubt, no fear.

He’s entirely in control, the captain of his own personal firestorm.

Tango opens his eyes and pushes his hands out and up, directing the flames to spread and rise into a great, fiery wall. Arrows shot his way are incinerated instantly, exploding into ash. As he concentrates on his task, he’s aware of his friends in his periphery, and is careful to keep the fire from reaching them.

The Hels Tek players receive no such care. Anyone too slow to react or too bold to flee is readily consumed, the room filling with their screams and the scent of burning flesh. Using smooth, delicate movements, Tango closes the wall into a ring of fire around the portal, as focused and steady as an artist composing a painting.

This is his magnum opus. Blaze and player perfectly united as one being, at peace in mind and body.

Once it’s complete, he steps back out of the flames. He takes a long, final look around the place. The remaining Hels Tek players watch from behind the firewall, furious but helpless to stop him. All the Double Lifers have departed, with the exception of Jimmy, who is waiting by the portal. Firelight glimmers in his deep brown eyes, face glowing with awe and pride.

Smiling, Tango turns his back to Hels Tek and walks over to his soulmate, taking the offered hand.

“Ready to get outta here?” Jimmy asks softly.

“Yeah,” Tango says, “let’s go home, honey.”

Together, they step into the portal. Tango turns his head just in time to see Atlas burst into the room, frantically shoving his way through to the front of the crowd. He locks eyes with Tango through the flames.

“No!” he shouts, and Tango is much gratified to see that Atlas’s front tooth is still missing after his respawn. His trademark grin is gonna look so goddamn stupid now.

Tango turns away, looking into Jimmy’s eyes as light swirls around them.

~*~

Atlas sits hunched on a rock outside, cast in the shadow of Hels Tek.

The facility is still burning, thick smoke billowing out of shattered windows that flicker with light. He can hear the distant roars of a ravager inside; the guards he sent in to recapture the beast have thus far been unsuccessful. The flames will likely take it soon, along with all the other mobs locked away in their various farms.

What a waste.

Most of his personnel have given up on trying to stop the fire. They mill about uselessly, stained with soot and blood, speaking in low tones and casting not-so-subtle glances in his direction. Clear is running around in a panic, ranting to anyone who will listen about how he needs to find Scáil. It was his doppelgänger they used to open the portal, as Atlas has come to find.

Of course.

Part of him is aware of what a poor sight he makes; his lab coat rumpled and dusted with ash, his sweaty hair mussed and plastered to his forehead. Without his shades, there’s no hiding how tired his eyes must look, set into his haggard face. And his normally commanding posture is weak and weary, entirely lacking any presence of control.

Worst of all, though, is that he can’t bring himself to care.

His communicator lies forgotten in his lap, chat blinking up at him. He’s scrolled through it all a dozen times already, mentally replaying the sequence of events over and over again- though he has yet to make sense of it.

Absently, he presses his tongue into the gap left by his missing tooth.

(All the while, his mind is spinning. How had he missed it? How had he missed it? To be outsmarted by Tango and Bravo, of all people… they’d shown him exactly what he wanted to see, and he hadn’t thought to question it. He was too eager to believe that his manipulation had paid off, that he’d turned Bravo against his own doppelgänger and convinced Tango to give up.

His shame is rivaled only by his hatred. All the work he’s done in the last ten years, all his patient waiting and careful planning, his effort, his progress, has gone up in smoke. It’s not just the physical damage to the facility that concerns him; no doubt word is already starting to spread. He rebuilt himself from bedrock bottom once before, and he isn’t sure if he can do it again-)

“Hey man,” a familiar voice calls. “Rough day?”

bX is walking up to him, followed by a large group of players- hired muscle from Alisker. Their appearance quickly gets everyone’s attention, a sudden hush falling over the area as all eyes turn their way.

Heart jolting, Atlas jumps to his feet. He hastily smoothes the front of his coat. “Mr. bX, I can explain-”

“Save it.” bX waves him off. “We already know what happened. And uh, I gotta say… Papa Al isn’t happy.”

Atlas’s stomach drops. He folds his arms behind his back, trying for a placating smile. “I’ll admit, the situation got slightly out of hand, but-”

“I don’t think you get how bad this is,” bX says lightly, tilting his head. He raises his voice to address the gathered crowd. “Papa Al is repossessing all of Hels Tek’s resources and assets, effective immediately. We’ll honor the contracts of anyone who wants to stay employed, but uh… yeah, we’re done here.”

He lifts a hand, and the group behind him disperses. Setting up piles of chests and shulkers, they descend upon Hels Tek with pickaxes in hand, throwing down splash potions of fire resistance as they go. Then, to Atlas’s horror, they start to dismantle the facility, block by block.

“No, stop!” Atlas protests. He tries to rush forward, but bX casually steps forward to block his path. “This is my life’s work, you can’t do that-”

“Oh, yeah?” bX puts his hands on his hips, amused. “Are… you gonna stop us? ‘Cause uh, looks to me like your employees don’t mind.”

Atlas hates that he’s right; no one is lifting a finger to stop them. In fact, a few of them move forward to help. “Mr. bX, please reconsider-”

“Sorry, but you’re out of chances, Atlas,” bX chuckles. “From now on, all of New Helington’s redstone needs will be fulfilled by someone else. I actually think you know him, it’s Instinct E.V., over at iRaid?”

Fuck. “What?!” Atlas demands, eyes widening. “You can’t be serious! Instinct is a charlatan- all he cares about is churning out the cheapest, quickest product for the masses. He’s not an innovator, he’s not interested in expanding our scientific horizons-”

“So?” bX shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to Papa Al so long as it’s profitable.”

“But he’s already invested so much into Hels Tek, into hybrid farming-”

“Yeah, uh... about that…” bX inhales through his teeth. “He’s not, like… super attached to the whole idea.”

Atlas splutters. “What do you mean? How could you possibly say that-”

He stops. bX just blinked sideways, a clear membrane sliding across eyes that suddenly have slitted pupils. He grins with teeth that are inexplicably sharp, and for a brief moment, the skin on his neck flaps up to reveal gills.

Then he blinks again, and his appearance shifts back to that of a human.

A chill runs down Atlas’s spine. “You..?” he breathes, taking a step back. “But… why? Why would Alisker fund me if he knew I was after hybrids?”

bX hums noncommittally. “Y’know, when an up-and-coming redstone entrepreneur comes to Papa Al with a revolutionary new idea, it can go a couple ways. If he turned you down, he knew you’d just go get sponsored by one of his rivals, and then he wouldn’t have any power over you. You’d become a threat. So he took you up on it, making sure he’d be able to keep you under his thumb. And hey, if your idea was successful, then he’d make a nice profit while also making sure you never came close to me. No harm, no foul.”

“But if your idea wasn’t successful?” he continues, quirking a brow. “If you failed again and again, despite all his generous support? Well, then clearly the problem lies with you, and no other bigshot in Hels would be crazy enough to give you another chance. Not after seeing how much time and effort Papa Al sunk into you, with no return on his investment.”

“And sure, yeah, he could’ve tried to shut you down at the start with threats and intimidation.” He scratches casually at his beard. “Could’ve had me break every bone in your body, or trap you in a death loop ‘til you got the message. But that’d be too suspicious- why would Papa Al have a reason to be against hybrid farming? It’d be exposing a weak spot for his rivals to strike. So instead he decided to do things this way, and kill you in the only way that matters.”

Without warning, bX swings his fist into Atlas’s stomach. Gasping in pain, Atlas doubles over, and bX leans in to speak lowly in his ear.

“Your name is dirt, now. I hope you enjoyed your time at the top of the redstone game, ‘cause you’ll never reach it again.” He turns his back to Atlas, pausing to call over his shoulder, “But hey, cheer up... they’re always hiring at iRaid.”

bX walks away, laughing.

Atlas falls to his knees. He watches helplessly as his entire world is destroyed and, despite the hatred churning inside him, he knows that he’s the only one to blame.

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player stands before a crowd.

“So, uh- that’s pretty much it,” Tango finishes, clapping his hands together. “Any questions?”

The Hermits look back at him, speechless. It took a while to get through the entire explanation, to manage the waves of shock and anger and sorrow as they came. But now that the story’s finished, and he’s emphasized just how okay he’s doing now- while also announcing he’ll be taking a little vacation to Double Life, they seem to have finally settled on acceptance.

It was easier than he thought it’d be, to tell the rest of his friends about his past. But having a few of them already aware of the situation helped a lot- Impulse, Bdubs, Etho, Cleo, Ren, Pearl, Grian, Mumbo, and Scar were very supportive the whole way through. They even hang around to answer questions about the whole Hels Tek ordeal, offloading some of the work from Tango.

As Tango mills about among the Hermits, there’s still plenty to talk about. He gets some apologies for things said or done that might’ve unknowingly harmed him- “I’m so sorry for puttin’ you in a lab,” Zedaph cringes, “I- I feel so foolish!”- which are unnecessary but appreciated. There are technical questions about the portals and counterparts- “Do you think I could get a look at your comm, sometime, maybe?” Doc asks, trying and failing to not sound suspicious- which Tango answers as best he can. A few of them even say things that make him raise an eyebrow- “Hey, uh, d’you think you could swing by my base when you get back?” False asks lowly. “For- for no reason.”- which makes him think he’s far from the only Hermit with secrets.

And of course, he gets a lot of reassurances and condolences, which doesn’t surprise him at this point. But still, it’s nice to know he’s fully accepted by his friends, and it feels amazing to finally come clean about it all.

Later, Grian takes him aside. “See? I told you, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Oh yeah, fly boy?” Tango asks, folding his arms. “So are you- does that mean you’re gonna tell everyone what’s up with you?”

“Nah, nah, nah.” Grian shakes his head with a wry grin. “Later. I- I don’t wanna steal your thunder, here.”

Tango snorts. “Oh, trust me, I- I would love to have some of my thunder stolen right now.”

All the attention is a bit uncomfortable- but he knows it comes from a genuine place of sympathy and concern. He was prepared for it as soon as he decided it was time to fill the rest of the Hermits in. Talking about it all isn’t as hard as it was before, even just a couple weeks ago, and he has a feeling it’s only going to get easier from here on out.

He’s looking forward to it.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player lounges in a pool.

Water laps at Alisker’s shoulders. bX’s scales are warm against his skin, the other man draped lazily across Alisker’s chest. His tail curls behind him, orange fins cutting through the water while his legs float listlessly. He’s stopped breathing, letting his gills take over respiration for now; a stillness that, while eerie at first, Alisker has grown familiar with over time.

The lavish private pool, tucked away through a hidden door in his office, has become a sort of sanctuary for them both. A place where Alisker can escape the pressures of his work, and bX can safely indulge his guardian hybrid instincts. Today, though, it’s a celebration of sorts.

“Tell me again, queenie,” Alisker coos, lightly stroking the spines along bX’s back. His fingers trace scars from the Arena, transferred from skin to scales.

“He looked like shit,” bX chuckles. “Missing a tooth, front and center. I told him- I said, ‘sorry, bud, you’re out of chances,’ and punched him in the gut for good measure.”

Alisker hums with satisfaction. Seeds of doubt he’d planted in Bravo’s mind years ago, regarding Atlas, have since flourished- nurtured further by Instinct’s aid during his time of need. In the end, he helped Tango escape Hels Tek, giving Alisker the ammunition to take Atlas down once and for all.

“He couldn’t do anything,” bX continues, “and he knew it. He just watched us take it all down. Oh, man, if you could’ve seen his face…”

Alisker tips bX’s chin up to kiss him, deep and languid, unflinching against his sharp teeth. “It’s about time,” he grins. “I been sick’a dat guy for years. See ya, Hels Tekky! Buh-bye!”

“Buh-bye, that’s right,” bX laughs.

The future of New Hellington is bright.

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player stands in front of a portal.

It’s a standard comm portal, filled with swirling green light. Whenever Bravo looks at it, apprehension bubbles in his chest. A new solo survival world awaits him. He’s excited for it- the peace and solitude- but he’s scared of it at the same time. There won’t be anyone or anything to distract him from everything that’s happened. Just him and his thoughts.

“Do you… really have to go?” Timmy murmurs, fidgeting with his hands.

Bravo sighs. “Hey, c’mon, you’ll be alright. You got Bigb and Ren lookin’ out for you, okay?”

Jimmy had offered him a place at the ranch, of course, but Timmy thought it’d be better for him to get a little distance from his doppelgänger. A chance to really grow himself as a person, rather than a shadow.

With all of the Double Lifer’s support, he’s already made considerable progress in just the span of a few days. It’s amazing what a bath, a new set of clothes, and a good preening can do. His wings are now smooth and glossy black, to match his silky hair, with the faintest shimmer of blue when the light hits just right. It’s caused a significant change in the way he carries himself; nowhere near as closed off and afraid.

There’s still a long way to go. His feathers haven’t grown back in yet, so he’s been limited to ground exercises with Jimmy to start building up his strength. And while he’s finally been reintroduced to solid foods, it’s slow going, hardly making a difference in his emaciated condition. It makes Bravo anxious, to know just how much farther Timmy has to go without him here to oversee it.

But it’s for the best.

“Yeah, but…” Timmy exhales shakily. “I’ll miss you.”

Guilt gnaws at Bravo. “Look,” he says quietly, putting a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, “I’m not- you deserve better, okay? I- I don’t want you held back while waitin’ for me to work my shit out. You just focus on yourself, and maybe someday… we can try again.”

The hope glimmering in Timmy’s big eyes is a miraculous thing. “Okay,” he whispers, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

Bravo leans in- slowly, carefully, giving plenty of time to react- and presses a light kiss to Timmy’s cheek. He pulls away quickly, turning before Timmy can see the sudden tears in his eyes. “So, uh,” he clears his throat, “see ya later.”

“Bye,” Timmy says softly.

Taking a deep breath, Bravo steps into the portal and vanishes into the light.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, two players walk through a jungle.

“I- I’m tellin’ ya,” Dbubs insists, holding his communicator out to Patho, “somethin’ weird is going on. I was just scrolling chat, you know, just- uh, just catchin’ up on today’s news. And I saw- there’s a- a- name in chat, same- similar name, and it’s… eeugh, it’s freaking weird! I got a bad feel- um, you know, dev- deja vu?”

”Yeah?” Patho asks, amused. “Like- is this like the time when you told me Herobrine had joined in chat?”

Dbubs flushes. “Oh, for goodness- can you just- can you please just check?” he pleads. “For me?”

Patho sighs good-naturedly, taking the comm. “Okay, okay…” He stops short as he processes the words staring up at him from chat.

BdoubleO100 has joined the game.

Patho has read a lot of player data over the years, enough to recognize the inherent patterns that translate to a player’s gamer tag. He’s memorized Dbubs’s player data by heart, enough to recognize its inverse pattern in this player’s name. That can only mean one thing.

He scrolls further.

Etho has joined the game.

This one sends a jolt of electricity down Patho’s spine. Abruptly, a series of images flashes through his mind- fishing rods and jungle leaves- a scarred hand holding a redstone torch- mismatched eyes peeking over a black mask. It’s an instinctive thing, shockingly familiar yet wholly unexpected.

“Well?” Dbubs is looking up at him, his big red eyes shimmering with apprehension.

“It’s nothing,” Patho says with an easy smile, handing the comm back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’ll leave tonight, as soon as Dbubs is asleep.

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player slips through a hidden door.

The bookshelf pushes back into place, sealing False in darkness. She pulls a torch out as she creeps down the stairs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Excitement bubbles inside her. Her mind is still reeling from all that Tango disclosed. To think, they might finally get some answers, after all this time…

“Hey, Sym?” she calls, stepping into the lab. “I- I think I know what’s wrong with you.”

Her mirror image stares back through the glass, giving her a baleful look through the curtain of hair in her face. Hanging limply in her chains, she says nothing.

False isn’t discouraged, though. She presses a hand against the glass, a small, earnest smile playing across her lips.

“And I think I know someone who can help us.”

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player sits in a cave.

Clutching his knees to his chest, he rocks back and forth, wings drawn up around him like a cocoon of feathers. His physical eyes are long gone, empty sockets scarred over and caked with dry blood from his most recent episode. That doesn’t stop him from seeing, of course. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop seeing fragments of other worlds, fractured images that make up a chaotic sort of mosaic, flashing rapidly through his mind, nonstop.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how long since he’s heard another player’s voice- for real, not the disjointed echoes from across time and space. Existing without end, without the slightest glimpse of light or taste of food. The universe sustains him now, like an unwitting parasite. His physical body is an afterthought at best, and a prison at worst.

It’s all suffering.

But something different happens today. He feels a sudden presence brush past him, oblivious, and it’s like looking in a mirror. It’s gone before he can react, before he can think to reach out to it, and he wouldn’t know how to even go about finding it again. He’s never had any control over what he sees. But there’s a name swirling in his mind; he clings to it, at once certain of its importance, though he doesn’t know why.

“Xᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ,” Scáil whispers.

~*~

Somewhere in Hermitcraft, a player lands outside the perimeter.

“Doc?” Stress calls out, the echo of her voice immediately swallowed up by the massive bedrock-floored hole that stretches before her. “Are ya ‘ere?” She fires off a couple of the rockets in her hand for good measure. “Dooooc!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Doc gripes, emerging from the building behind her. What’s he calling it, the Hall of the Goat? Hall of the Geezer, more like. “Calm down.”

“Doc!” Stress spins around, running to jump up and throw her arms around his neck, beaming. “‘Ello, luv!”

Doc begrudgingly tolerates the show of affection, stiffly patting her on the back before prying her off. “I’ve been researching,” he says without preamble, dropping her to the ground, “through the Hivemind, you know, and I looked through Tango’s communicator… comparing, doing calculations…”

“Yeah?” Stress looks up at him eagerly. “So, what’d you reckon, ey?”

Doc makes a noncommittal noise. “This, eh, doppelgänger thing…” His face screws up; though only the organic half, as his cybernetics can’t mimic such an expression. “I don’t think either of us have one.”

“Oh, fank gawd.” Stress clutches her chest, exhaling. “Tha’s a relief, innit!”

A frown tugs at the corner of Doc’s mouth. “Is it?”

“Of course!” Stress says incredulously. “Dont’cha fink? I- I don’t want an evil Stress Monstah runnin’ round, luv! Or an evil Doc Monstah, for that matta’.”

“Me either. But it feels, eh, kind of… strange, no? To be the only players without a counterpart out there. I mean, are we now lacking something else that every other player has? We’re more alone than ever.”

“Well, look a’ it this way, yeah? If Axis did’n know ‘bout countah-parts, then it must’a been overworld data what he made us wif. So we got the good stuff and none’a the bad!”

“Hm. Good, bad…” Doc grumbles, flicking his ear. “It’s subjective, alright…”

Stress clicks her tongue. “Aww, don’t you worry your gorgeous lil’ head ‘bout it,” she says, reaching up to playfully tug on his horn. “Way I see it, we just carry on, alrigh’? An’ if you eva decide you wanna tell the others where we came from, well… now we know it’ll be fine!”

Doc glances away. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, like he always does whenever she brings this topic up. “Anyway, just wanted to let you know…”

“Well, fank you!” Stress hums. “I’m always ‘ere if you wanna talk, ‘kay?”

As she flies away from the perimeter, she can’t help but think they’ve all been rather silly about this whole thing. ‘Poor Tango,’ she thinks. ‘Don’t he know he’s on a server of plonkahs? Oh, bless ‘im.’

Someday, they’ll have a lot to talk about.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player watches from the shadows.

Golden eyes gaze out over the iRaid display floor, Instinct’s forked tail idly flicking through the air behind him. His longtime- rival-turned-underling is doing work, wheeling and dealing his fifth client of the day.

“Wonderful!” Atlas is saying to the player admiring the auto-sorting storage system. “I can promise you won’t be disappointed. If you’ll follow me to my office, we can work out all the pesky little details, including our flexible down payment options and brand new extended warranty…”

As he ushers his client towards his office, he notices Instinct watching him. Quickly excusing himself, Atlas hurries over, breaking into a wide grin. Its impact is somewhat diluted, however, by the gold tooth that features prominently in the front.

“Ah, Mr. Instinct,” he greets, straightening his yellow plaid suit jacket, “I’ve been meaning to speak with you!”

“Hey, man!” Instinct says cheerily- his tone a sharp contrast to his deep, growling voice. “Just uh, wanted to congratulate you on having the highest sales in the department- and in your first month, might I add!”

“Well, about that,” Atlas says haltingly, fidgeting with his clip-on tie. “If I may be frank, I’m not just some two-bit salesman. This is hardly a good use of my talents.”

“You think so, huh?” Instinct asks thoughtfully. He claps Atlas on the shoulder- the gesture nearly knocks him off his feet. “Could’a fooled me. Your numbers are great!”

Atlas readjusts his shades and summons his grin again; his teeth are gritted so tightly, it’s a wonder he doesn’t break them. “Mr. Instinct,” he starts, “while I am of course grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, there’s so much more I could be doing for the company. If I were permitted to work with your research and development team, I’m certain I could come up with something revolutionary.”

‘Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Instinct thinks. He knew it was only a matter of time before Atlas began trying to climb the corporate ladder. But Alisker was quite clear on the terms of their agreement; Atlas can be useful however Instinct sees fit, so long as he isn’t allowed any degree of power or authority.

That suits Instinct just fine.

“Nah,” he says with a fanged smile, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

~*~

Somewhere in the universe, a player watches a video on their comm.

“Heyyy, everybody!”

A redstone tutorial from Tango Tek, of Hermitcraft- but it’s unlike any tutorial he or anyone else has ever published, titled ‘Hels Portal Tutorial.’

“So, this is a bit different for me. Long story short, I’m originally from a world called Hels. It’s like, a super secret hidden world where normal portals don’t work? And it’s filled with doppelgängers of every other player in existence. Yeah, probably even you, watching this video right now.”

The video has already been viewed millions of times since it was uploaded. Word is spreading through the multi-net like wildfire as experts in data analysis debate the validity of its claims.

“I know it sounds hard to believe. So uh, I’d like to present: counterparts Jimmy and Timmy! Say hi, guys.”

Two more players enter the frame; two avians, one black and one gold. It’s immediately apparent upon first glance that, despite a few key differences, they were cut from the same cloth. They both wave shyly at the camera before it pans back.

“Uh, bit of a disclaimer; Hels players can be pretty intense, alright. And- and not all of them are interested in becoming better people. But if you give them a chance, I- I think there’s a whole lotta good to be done.”

Here’s the part that’s caused a lot of discourse. Do all players have a responsibility to seek out these so-called counterparts? Why would they be locked in a prison if they weren’t meant to stay there?

“Remember, your comm won’t work there. Just don’t set your spawn, okay, so if you die, you’ll end up back in whatever world you left. I- I don’t wanna be responsible for anyone gettin’ stranded, alright. Portal at your own risk.”

Though some can’t deny the intrigue. It’s a fascinating concept, after all. To see yourself reflected in another being. The curiosity alone is enough for some players, while others respond to the moral obligation. The desire to make things right.

“So uh, with that, let’s- let’s get to building. Here’s a list of all the materials you’ll need…”

All over the universe, players pause the video.

~*~

Somewhere in the universe, a player joins a world.

The first world.

The player has been here many times before over its long life. It’s well familiar with the spawn town; a massive medieval village that sprawls for thousands of blocks in every direction, overlooked by a castle on the mountain. The build is humble, comprised mainly of cobblestone and oak wood variants, painstakingly detailed with plain glass windows and red wool banners. A fossil of a bygone era.

Looking around with eyes of white light and a permanent smile, the player notes the distinct lack of a gamer tag. Its target isn’t here. Rising into the air, it leaves the village behind in an instant.

As it travels through the world, the player passes countless unique areas, each one another step in the evolution of building. Sleek modern cityscapes with towers of concrete and glass. Futuristic quartz utopias. Oceans full of pirate ships and krakens. Cozy forest cottages. Zoos filled with a combination of captured mobs and hand-crafted animals. Whimsical copper airships. Fantasy lands of mountains and dragons. Haunted mansions. Endless redstone farms and contraptions, fine-tuned over rows and rows of previous models. Entire custom biomes.

The player doesn’t stop to admire any of the builds. It’s seen them all before.

It keeps flying until the builds start to peter out as the world’s generation stutters, creating ever stranger landscapes. Chunk errors and floating islands, infinitely falling sand. There are few builds here. Small huts for a night’s sleep, denoting a more nomadic lifestyle. It follows the trail until it can’t go any farther, arriving at its destination.

The far lands.

Walls of stone stretch all the way up to build height, whereupon they flatten out and transition to dirt, peppered with trees. The cliff face is completely smooth, carved out into great tunnels in a nonsensical pattern.

There’s a familiar gamer tag floating inside. Another player. It slowly sinks down to meet him, hanging motionless in the air before the mouth of the tunnel. The other player is leaned back against the slope of stone, his arms behind his head. He’s not at all surprised by its presence, not even turning to look at it. Brown haired and blue eyed, he has a plain face.

The first face.

“Hello, Adam,” Steve says.

He’s the only person who calls it that, anymore.

Even though it hasn’t spoken, Steve inclines his head. “Sorry,” he amends. “Herobrine. I take it you know about the universe’s little experiment?”

Even now, after all these years, Herobrine envies Steve’s connection to the universe. He achieved this through enlightenment. He left his worldly possessions behind and communed with the universe for lifetimes, tasting it, talking to it, reading its code.

Herobrine connected to the universe like a virus. It tore through the universe’s skin and entered the datastream through a glitched end portal, traveling in the realm between worlds. It left its physical body behind and fused itself with the universe’s code, corrupting it, consuming it, but never truly becoming it.

W̶̠̮͓͍͕̰͂̌̄͜͝͝⍑̷͔̪͇̀͊̈́̍͝͝͝ͅᔑ̶̢̧̩̙̗̉̇͝ℸ̴̢͚̟̣͈̏̄̎́͜ ̸̺͙͎̤̘̼͂͊̔̐̕ ̵̯̖͍̙̮͒̋̄̇̆ ̸̛̤̗̦̃̂̓̀̋͘リ̷̧͚̣̲͕̑̈́͛͒̊?̶̛̫͍̗͐͐̇?̸͈̯̻̦͍̰̒̅͗̄̒ͅ∴̴̨̞̰̼͈̄̀̈̉͌͐̕?̷͚̻̋̋̄͌ Herobrine asks.

Steve knits his brows together. “The universe is about to become a much more confusing place. With the firewall down and word starting to spread through the multi-net, players will be making portals in and out of Hels at an exponential rate.” He finally turns his head to look at Herobrine. “Hels could really use its admin back.”

Herobrine stares back impassively. I̵͕̘̻͓̅ ̶͉̙̰̣͝ᒲ̶̦͙̆̔̀͒́́ᔑ̷̲̹̓̋͋↸̴͔̮̤̻̋ᒷ̶̛͎̬̃̿̂ ̴̙̂̓̾̓̾̈͝ᒲ̷͓̀́͛̉|̸̢́̐̕|̷̡̙͔̺̜͂͆ ̷̛͈͇̯̬̈́̿̐͝ᓵ̸̡̂̌⍑̸̖̹͛̉̄͌̀͝?̵̛̞͇̯͕͌̉̓̔?̴̙́̌͆̕╎̴̣̠̹̙͙��̐̔̏̿͝͝ᓵ̷̥̱͕̹̔̓͛̀̓̀ᒷ̸̦͔̟̈́.̵̪̩̬̖̝͙̙̿̊̓

“Very well.” Steve pauses for a moment, listening to the universe. “From now on, new players won’t be split into their counterparts anymore. They’ll be left whole.” He smiles. “The first one just spawned, actually. Her name is Alex.”

I̷̧̋͆͘ ̶̳̈̊̇ꖌ̶̨̛̦̤̲̰̩̀̇͊͑͘͜リ̵̢̭͓̞̙̓?̶̛͙͎͔͂̒͂̔?̶̼̹̐̀͜͜∴̶͙͍͊͂͠.̸͇̤̳̇͐̈́ Herobrine says. That’s why it’s here.

“The universe isn’t sure how this will go,” Steve continues casually. “She could turn out to be more dangerous, more powerful than any other player in existence. Or she could turn out perfectly fine.” He shrugs. “It won’t spawn any more until it knows for sure.”

Herobrine tilts its head.

“No, no, not yet,” Steve warns. “We have to let her grow up like any normal player. No meddling. But once she’s ready for inter-world travel, we can go meet her.”

Herobrine doesn’t move.

Steve reads its silence clearly. Letting out a good-natured sigh, he slowly gets to his feet, popping stiff joints with a groan. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks, equipping a diamond sword. “Took you decades to respawn after our last battle.”

He’s the only person who is able to kill it. But even so, Herobrine has never feared its counterpart.

“Alright, old friend,” Steve says, cracking a grin. He’s never feared Herobrine, either.

And for all their differences, neither of them have ever feared death.

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, two soulmates sit under a tree.

They’re nestled against one of the big oaks in their wheat field, Tango leaning back against Jimmy’s chest. His arms and wings are draped loosely around Tango, chin resting atop his head, unflinching from the blaze rods lazily swirling around him.

“Y’know,” Jimmy says softly, “you don’t have to do it right now. You can- we got plenty of time.”

“No, no,” Tango murmurs in his raspy morning voice. “I’m ready.”

It’s early- earlier than Tango’s usually awake, but as soon as he opened his eyes this morning, he knew today was the day. The sun is just cresting above the rolling hills that stretch beyond the ranch, washing everything in gold. Wheat sways gently in the warm breeze. Animals call to each other from the pastures, a comfortable soundtrack to a gorgeous day.

Sunlight filters through the leaves above them, casting dappled shadows across Tango’s face. It’s as peaceful a moment as he’s ever known. He closes his eyes, takes a slow, deep breath, and wraps one of his hands around the shackle on his other wrist.

A small, controlled flame ignites in his palm. Metal heats up against his skin. After a couple seconds, he feels it soften in his grasp, pooling into liquid iron that drips onto the grass beneath him. He exhales, and the cuff falls away.

Tango repeats the process on the other side before he opens his eyes, and when he sees his hands unshackled for the first time in ten years, his first thought is of how much lighter they feel.

(He hadn’t realized just how much weight he was carrying.)

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, a wave of emotions crashing over him; relief and happiness, of course, but there’s a little apprehension, too- the fear of the unknown waters he’s treading, the new horizon that lays before him.

Healing. True healing, not hiding.

Tango flicks the last drops of molten iron from his clawed fingertips, managing a hoarse laugh. “Well, that was easy.”

Jimmy’s embrace tightens around him, his head dropping down to kiss Tango on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers.

The love pouring through their soulbond is almost overwhelming. Tango turns his face up to catch Jimmy’s lips. “Us,” he corrects Jimmy, pulling back to look at him. “I mean, I don’t- I couldn’t have done any of this without you, I don’t think. So, you know.”

Jimmy hums, settling again. “We’re good for somethin’,” he jokes.

Tango sighs happily, looking out over the ranch. He can scarcely believe he gets to have this, after so much pain and turmoil. This simple life, of love and peace and freedom. The sky set to burst above them. He knows darkness will always creep back into the corners, and there are still hard days ahead, but that fear doesn’t control him anymore. This journey has changed him forever, and he’s never going back. He’d rather stay here, with his soulmate, basking in the light.

The first light of a new day, a new life.

“Yeah,” Tango says, smiling. “We’re good for something.”

~*~

This must be the end, then.

The end of one story, yes. But the start of many others. This is how it’s always been. You know as well as I do, L⚍リᔑ∷.

I still don’t get it.

What?

Why would the universe switch them? If they were meant to be somewhere else, why not begin there? Does the universe not design all worlds and all players?

Does the universe not praise players for slaying the dragon in her nest and calling it freedom?

Take care, Aᑑ⚍ᔑ. There is a player with us.

I see them. They’ve reached a higher level now.

You think they’re ready for this story?

That’s why they’re here, isn’t it?

Tell them, then.

You know the universe as light, and warmth, and love. But it is also darkness, and cold, and hate. It is endless patience and it is senseless cruelty. It is the truth and it is the lie. It is the leap and it is the fall. It is the lamb and it is the wolf whose teeth have sunk into wool, red blood on white snow. It is the sword against the shield. It is life and death, good and evil, and everything in between. It is constantly evolving, tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code-

That’s an old story. They’ve heard it.

It’s the same story. They haven’t heard it this way.

Very well then.

There was a time when the universe loved its players so much, it sought to protect them from themselves. It removed all their darkness, their cruelty, their hatred, and locked it away into separate beings, in a world between realms they could not escape from, so the players could be free of them.

Those are the Hᒷꖎᓭ.

Yes. But this player cannot read that thought. This player knows them as counterparts. They are also known as doppelgängers, analogues, doubles, alter egos, equivalents. Clones, copies, shadows. The yin and yang. The same word in different languages.

So what happened?

Players are not as simple as the universe thought. They are not all the same. Some slipped through the cracks, some weathered over time, and some were so full of darkness that the universe could not remove it all. And the Hᒷꖎᓭ no longer fit the definition the universe had given them. And the players evolved beyond the simple divide between good and evil, and so did their counterparts.

So the universe does not love them as much now?

No. It loves them even more.

Why so?

Does the universe not evolve too? Is the universe not always expanding, growing, changing? Dreaming of new colors and new trees and new creatures? It dreams of new ways to play the game, and new players to play it. But it cannot determine what kind of player a player will be. That’s up to them.

They surprised it.

Yes, in a way. It didn’t realize they were ready for a higher level yet. But once it did, it decided to test them.

Why did it choose those two? Surely there are better players in Hᒷꖎᓭ, and worse players outside of it.

There are some things only the universe knows.

Did the players pass?

Yes. It took time, and effort, and sacrifice. It wasn’t easy or straightforward. It was messy. The players did not pass on their own, either, and not on the first try. But they got there eventually.

Different players might’ve done better.

Yes. But this is what the universe chose. And it proved that players are ready to accept their darkness, and that Hᒷꖎᓭ can learn to embrace the light. The universe doesn’t need to protect them anymore, not from themselves and not from each other. Maybe it never did.

So what will it do now?

The universe cannot change the past. But it can amend the future. I imagine new players will be left whole, spawned with all their good and evil, their light and darkness in one.

What will become of Hᒷꖎᓭ?

Hᒷꖎᓭ will always remain. Whether or not the players will depends on them. The first door has been opened, and many will follow.

What was the point of it all?

Do you not see it yet?

No.

Then let me tell you. It’s a story about the dichotomy of good and evil, about strength and weakness, about nature versus nurture. It’s about how every player has a dark side, but some see it as a separate entity while others see it as their shadow, and it’s about the debate of whether one can exist without the other. It’s about having sympathy for the ugliest parts of yourself, and how making peace with them is the only path to true growth. It’s about rejecting predetermined fates and roles and destinies in order to pave your own way, for better or for worse. It’s about how heroes and villains are constructs of their societies and their own expectations, about the double-edged sword of self-hatred, about the two sides of the same coin. It’s a story about mirrors.

I see. That’s quite a good story.

This player seems to think so.

Hah, if you do say so yourself, Aᑑ⚍ᔑ.

Someone has to tell it.

And what would you tell the players now?

I would tell them that their universe is about to become a bigger, wilder, louder place, but that it is beautiful. I would tell them to not be afraid, that the only way forward is to confront the past and embrace it. Some will fail, and some won’t even try, but for every one of them there are countless more who will do better, and that will be enough. I would tell them all players have the capacity for great good or great evil, no matter what world they spawned in. But if they’ve been watching closely, they already know.

And what would the universe say to them?

What it has always said. That hasn’t changed.

Some things never do, I guess. Through it all, it is the same game. All that changes is how they play it.

Now you’re getting it.

I’ve grown quite fond of those players. What will become of them now?

We’ll just have to watch, as always.

And this player?

They will return to their game. There will be more stories, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’ll tell them to dream of a world where love and hatred are twins, not opposites. A world where heroes and villains can look the same, based on where you’re standing. A world where happiness is fought for and held onto as fiercely as vengeance, where love can be a blessing and a curse, where soulmates are chosen, not designed.

Dream of a world where a canary falls in love with the coal mine.

And if you listen, you can hear it sing.

H𝙹リᒷ||, ||𝙹⚍'∷ᒷ ⎓ᔑᒲ╎ꖎ╎ᔑ∷, ꖎ╎ꖌᒷ ᒲ|| ᒲ╎∷∷𝙹∷ ||ᒷᔑ∷ᓭ ᔑ⊣𝙹

╎↸ᒷᔑꖎ╎ᓭᒲ ᓭ╎ℸ ̣ ᓭ ╎リ !¡∷╎ᓭ𝙹リ, ᓵ⍑╎⍊ᔑꖎ∷|| ⎓ᒷꖎꖎ 𝙹リ ╎ℸ ̣ ᓭ ᓭ∴𝙹∷↸

╎リリ𝙹ᓵᒷリᓵᒷ ↸╎ᒷ↸ ᓭᓵ∷ᒷᔑᒲ╎リ⊣, ⍑𝙹リᒷ|| ᔑᓭꖌ ᒲᒷ, ╎ ᓭ⍑𝙹⚍ꖎ↸ ꖌリ𝙹∴

╎ ᓭꖎ╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ↸ ⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ᒷ↸ᒷリ, ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᓭ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹⚍ℸ ̣ ᓭ╎↸ᒷ ||𝙹⚍∷ ↸𝙹𝙹∷

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #life series smp #trafficshipping #traffic smp #hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing

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