#he's doing all this fighting and trying to keep things at bay but he keeps having to deal with the director taunting him and his siblings

[t-u-i-t-c]

Inevitable Fierce Battle! The Decisive Demon Recapturing Mission!

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Panic at the Disco – Part 2

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 2.4K

Warnings: insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 1

Masterlist

Lando turns on the engine as you get settled in the haphazardly parked car. He glances at you while you move around in the seat, buckling your belt. He just now notices the streaks in your makeup, although you’d tried your best to wipe them away, and how your fingers can’t seem to keep still. They’re running along the belt before fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Lando reaches out and squeezes your hand gently. You meet his eyes, which are desperately trying to make contact with yours, and you shoot him a quick smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Your behaviour makes it clear to Lando that you’re not okay yet. His joking around cheered you up, yes, but as soon as you’re out of his hold, you feel the same way as before.

Although the drive back is not as fast as Lando’s five-minute record time, it was quick. The faint hum of the engine and the music playing softly on the radio are the only sounds breaking the quiet as you stare blankly out of the window. Lando can’t seem to keep his gaze off you for longer than a second, his eyes constantly flitting between the road and your face, concern etched in his features. Your silence is highly unusual behaviour; normally, you can’t shut up, always ready to pick a fight with Lando over whatever topic comes to mind first. The fact that you’re not saying anything makes him worry. 

You know he’s onto you when you constantly feel the weight of his eyes on your face. It’s even more reason for you to keep your face as neutral as possible, to not show how much tonight has affected you, but it’s extremely difficult with all the thoughts racing through your mind. The silence in the car isn’t helping either, doing nothing to keep you distracted or to keep the thoughts at bay. You’re so glad that you got away from that man in time, that there were other people there to help you, and that Lando (although you would have preferred literally anyone else at that time) came to get you so quickly, but you can’t help but think what would have happened if those people hadn’t paid attention to you, or if you’d been stuck at the club for longer – would that man have come to find you? To finish what he started? The thoughts of what might have been, or what may still happen some other time in the future, freak you out and you’re sure Lando knows it. Regardless, he keeps quiet, unknowingly aggravating your inner turmoil. He’s waiting for you to initiate conversation instead, not wanting to say the wrong things and accidentally make it worse. He doesn’t know that, in your opinion, nothing he could say at his moment might be wrong; anything is better than the silence occupying the small space.

But you don’t tell him that, and so, Lando doesn’t say anything when you stay in your seat, still staring out of the window after he stops the car. He doesn’t say anything when he opens your door and offers his hand to help you out of the vehicle. He doesn’t say anything about the confused look on your face when you realise he’s no longer driving but instead standing next to you, or the fact that your hands haven’t stopped fiddling with the hem of your dress from the moment you stepped into the car. He keeps quiet until both of you are inside the apartment, not speaking until he’s closed the door. 

“You want some tea?” He asks nonchalantly. As if everything is normal, as it should be when it feels like nothing is.

You merely nod and follow Lando into the kitchen, passing your brother who’s passed out on the couch in the living room. He had obviously not missed Lando while he was gone.

You watch as Lando fills the glass kettle with water and turns it on. He leans against the counter, opposite you, as you wait for the water to boil. You stare at the kettle while Lando looks at you, his gaze unwavering. Although it’s not unusual for Lando to look at you, stare at you, even, the intention behind it seems different; Lando’s never been so serious or concerned. Usually, when he looks at you like this, you’ve gone a little too deep into a discussion again, and he’s too stubborn to back down. He’ll keep staring at you, forcing eye contact as a way to challenge you, although you suppose that’s exactly what he aims to do now. He’s trying to persuade you, as always, but not of his opinion this time; he’s trying to convince you to talk to him. He only proves you right when he relents, “You know you can talk to me right? About anything? You know I won’t judge you for whatever happened tonight?” He raises his eyebrows as he questions you.

The kettle turns off but Lando keeps his eyes on yours for a bit longer before making the tea. While he busies himself, you let his words sink in. Even though you haven’t always gotten along well, he can read you like an expert. You know exactly what he’s searching for, that he wants to know the details you haven’t given him – because he knows you haven’t told him everything. But you’re not ready to. 

Lando hands you one of the mugs he’s holding. You take it with both hands, in the hope of warming up a little, while you gently blow on the tea to cool it to a drinkable temperature. 

“I know, Lan. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s been a rough night, and really, I don’t want to think about it anymore.” You admit, looking up through your lashes to find Lando already staring at you, again.

Lando accepts the response and nods. At least now you know how he feels about it – if you didn’t already. He inhales deeply before pushing off the counter and walking to the living room. “You coming?” He asks softly before heading off.

You follow, of course. Lando stares at the couch, occupied by your brother who’s snoring obnoxiously loud. He had already forgotten about the sleeping man completely blocking all the seating. He sips his tea while thinking. “So this is obviously not going to work,” He chuckles and you join him, “let’s just go to bed? It’s already pretty late anyway, and I’m sure you’re very tired.” 

You nod, agreeing with his suggestion, “I could definitely use some sleep.”

“Alright, you can stay in the guest room. I guess you’re lucky Max’s asleep on the couch. Otherwise, it would’ve been a bit difficult. I only have one extra bedroom.” Lando tells you while leading the way to the room.

“Lucky after all.” You say, sipping your tea.

“This is yours for tonight, then.” He opens the door for you and lets you enter the room first. You carefully put your mug on a dresser and quickly kick off your shoes before letting yourself fall face-first onto the plush-looking bed. Lando watches from the door opening, leaning casually against the doorpost as he watches you cuddle into the duvet.

“I was worried about you tonight.” He admits after a moment of silence. You twist your body and turn your face so you can see him, but you keep quiet. You’re a little surprised at his confession. Of course, you’re friends (sort of, at least) and he did come to save you tonight, but you weren’t expecting him to tell you so blatantly. Although, you, too, would be worried about Lando if something happened to him or if he called you upset. 

“You sounded so freaked out on the phone, it seriously stressed me out. I’ve never heard you so upset.”

You push yourself up, fully facing him, now. You’re not sure how to respond to something like this. You want to apologise, but Lando continues before you can.

“I… I know maybe I don’t show it so much – or at least, I think I haven’t made it clear to you – but, I care about you, a lot.” 

You smile at his admission.

“Sometimes I think maybe I care about you too much. Too much for just being friends, at least.” He avoids your eyes while he says it, seemingly shrinking into himself as if he’s afraid of your reaction. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Lando shy like this. He’s always full of energy, extraverted and definitely not afraid to look you in the eyes. Hell, less than half an hour ago he was staring at you so intensely you were unable to look away. The highly unusual behaviour completely throws you off. But you imagine not saying anything will only make him more shy.

“Can you hand me my tea?” You finally ask him.

Lando stares at the ground a second longer. The only thought running through his head is how much he probably just screwed up your friendship, and possibly the one with your older brother, too. Seeing his reaction to your question, all you can think about is how what you just said was probably worse than saying nothing. He (sort of) admitted that he likes you, and you ask him to hand you your tea? What kind of person does that? Nevertheless, Lando walks into the room and grabs the mug off the dresser.

You get up on your knees while he moves closer to the bed. You don’t only grab your mug, but his as well once he gets close enough, and place them onto the bedside table next to you. Lando finally meets your eyes when your hands touch, the confidence and mischief usually apparent in his eyes replaced by vulnerability and honesty. You’re certain Lando can read the emotions showing on your face just as effortlessly as you can his, if not even more so. You feel uncertain and at a loss for words at the unfamiliar glance in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid. I just… I don’t know what to say,” You finally admit, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

Lando’s lips curve into a hesitant smile and his eyes soften as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t have to say anything,” He murmurs, gaze locked on his own hand moving along the side of your face as he pushes the hair back. You nearly melt at the sweet (or is it enamoured?) expression on his face as he looks at you – as if you’re the most precious thing in this world. Not to mention how close you are to each other right now.

“I want to say something though,” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed and teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as you think of what to say.

“I care about you too, you know? A lot, also too much for a friend of my brother’s or just a friend, I think.”

A bigger smile spreads across Lando’s face at your confession, unbelievably happy to know you feel the same way as him. He moves his hand back to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone softly, admiringly.

“I know this is probably really bad timing, with everything that happened tonight-”

“Please don’t mention it, I don’t want to think about it.” You breathe out, interrupting Lando.

“-but can I please kiss you?” He asks, moving his face a tiny bit closer to yours.

You nod quickly, without thinking. It’s like a reflex, like you need Lando to kiss you. Although you’ve been trying all night to forget about what transpired earlier, you can’t ignore or forget the way Lando made you feel when he held you, and how much you need to feel it again. He made you feel safe, protected and loved. No one has ever made you feel that way to such an extent, not your closest friends, your brother, or even your parents. If someone had told you yesterday that you felt the need to be kissed by Lando, you would have laughed in their face, but now, it was the only thing on your mind.

Lando leans in closer, drawing you near with the hand on your cheek. You brush your fingers along his face, tracing his jawline as his lips finally meet yours. He tenderly strokes your face before he moves his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, while the other rests on your waist. You feel his eyelashes tickle your skin when he pulls you even closer, and it makes you feel so good. It feels so good to have someone who cares about you so much that they’d come in the middle of the night to save you, to make you feel safe and comfortable as soon as they touch you. You’re completely lost in the feeling Lando gives you, and the thought that you could have experienced this so much sooner if you hadn’t been so busy fighting with him.

Your lips move against his slowly while he holds you close. The butterflies in your stomach flutter when you feel his chest pressed to yours. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you run your hands through his hair. Softly, you pull on his curls, revelling in the sensation of his kiss before you pull away. His lips look red and swollen when you open your eyes and you bite your lip at the sight. You admire his face, his mischievous smile, and the loving gaze with which he looks at you, and you’re sure you have to look the same way.

Your hands have moved down to Lando’s shoulders when you ask him, “You’ll stay with me?”

He squeezes your waist gently and kisses your forehead before murmuring, “Of course, anytime you want me to.”

You give him a quick kiss, which earns a smile in return, before pulling Lando onto the bed. He gets settled before you do, opening up his arms so you can cuddle into him. You scooch closer and nestle your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and sighing softly once you’re comfortable. He pulls you closer to his body, holding you tight, before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you, for tonight.” You whisper.

Lando pulls you just a little tighter, and mumbles sleepily “I’ll always come when you call, love.”

You smile, pleased with his answer before you drift off to sleep together, cosily snuggled up.

[retroaria]

SOMEONES JEALOUS!

summary: (Sakura, Suō, Kaji) when they’re jealous seeing you with another guy!

WIND BREAKER M.LIST | enjoy 🥀 -aria

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Sakuras jealousy is a recurring issue. Once you’re his and he’s accepted that fact, he hates when anyone else gets more attention from you than he does. It makes him question everything, feels like he’s having a mid life crisis.

He sometimes get jealous of the way you interact with the other Bofurin boys as well. Is afraid you might think one of them is nicer than him, or that they could protect you better than he could. you constantly have to reassure him, which makes him feel even worse.

If he sees someone actively flirting with you right in front of him, he goes into fight or flight mode

Acts like you’re about to be murdered and his only way to save you is obnoxiously interjecting himself in the convo. “hahaha right MY PARTNER is soooo cool! you guys friends? Never heard of you before hahaha strange.” “Hey BABE, you seem to be having a lot of fun over here…WITHOUT ME.” The guy would just awkwardly walk away lol

Once he’s gone Sakura goes back to normal and tries to act like what he just did wasn’t borderline insane. “What do you mean? I was just talking to you how I always do.” Yeah suuuuure.

Just make sure he knows you love him and no one else. Appreciates when you include him in convos with strangers while you two are out, hates being left out of the loop.

Ren definitely feels like you are the light of his life, his sunshine on a cloudy day, the only pure thing about him, keeping him sane and at bay. Deep down he’s terrified that you’ll find someone more gentle than he is, someone less angry and tense all the time. So when something threatens to take you away, he gets rather aggressive

He prefers if you don’t see him that way. So anytime someone seems to be a little too flirty, or trying to get a little too close to you, he stalks his pray and waits it out. Once the interaction is over (you obviously rejected them), he’ll wait until you leave, head off to the bathroom, or just aren’t paying attention to shoot them the most devious glance imaginable.

Eyes of a killer as he bites down hard, cracking the candy in his mouth. sending them a signal of what might happen to them if they don’t back off. If you aren’t around, “you shouldn’t go for someone so far out of your league” “back off”.

Suo doesn’t tend to get jealous. He’s got you whipped (just as much as you have him) and he knows it. A confident king.

On the rare occasion he does feel threatened by another man, it’s usually by someone of his same stature, coy and nonchalant. It almost makes his blood boil to see someone teasing you the way he does just to see that cute flustered face.

Thinks its disrespectful for other men to bother you when they should already see how fruitless it is. In his head, someone like you is surely taken. (Though he still finds it hard to believe that he was the one who was able to take you)

He’s likes to let it go on for a little, wanting to see what tactics the guy might employ. He also wants to see the look on this persons face when they are inevitably rejected by you.

If they keep pestering you even after you’ve declined their advances, Suo will step in. “Hey darling, do you need my help here?” “How bold of you to assume you’d have a chance.” (He’s saying all of this with the most devious smile on his face, probably giggling too. Cheeky bastard.)

[blueicequeen19]

Warnings: non-con, dub-con?, step-cest

“Don’t you dare, Rafe!” You shout as your unhinged stepson comes barreling towards you. His firm body collides with yours, pinning you against the shower door in nothing more than a towel. A hand finds the back of your neck as he forces you to look up at him. His eyes are blood shot and the alcohol is strong on his breath.

“You think there’s anything stopping us now?” Rafe growls, licking his lips as his eyes focus on your mouth.

“Don’t do this, Rafe.” Your hands come up to push at his chest but he doesn’t budge, his erection digging into your stomach.

“Ward is out of the way now. We can be together.”

“Your father is dead, Rafe. I have guardianship of Wheezy. I’m still your step mother.” You hiss, slapping at his chest.

“Maybe we can give Wheezy another sister since Sarah is such a cunt.” You open your mouth to protest at his unbelievable words but his lips come down hard on yours, silencing your cries. Rafe practically swallows you whole as he holds you at bay, your fighting futile as his tongue thrusts inside your mouth.

“Rafe.. please..” You pant, not wanting to take this any further. His harmless flirting and advances were one thing but this was totally different. Rafe was off the rails. This couldn’t happen.

“Keep begging. It makes me so fucking hard.” Rafe yanks his polo over his head before tearing your towel off your naked body. He takes you in with a dark and hungry look before he starts to remove his shorts. You make a run for the door but he pulls you back by the hair and forces you into the huge walk in shower.

“I bet I can make you scream louder than Ward ever did.” His shorts come off and you stifle a groan, hating that way your pussy pulses over his filthy mouth. And the cock between his legs. Rafe flips the shower on then his hand is around your throat.

“Don’t just look at it. Touch it.” Rafe taunts, pressing his cock against your bare stomach.

“Rafe, we can’t do this.” Your hands ball into fists, resisting the urge to do more than just touch him.

“There’s nothing in our way now. I know you want me as badly as I want you. You’ve been eyefucking me since day one.” Rafe trails kisses down your throat and over your shoulder before his hand slides between your bodies to guide his cock lower. You gasp when he nestles it between your squeezed thighs, your clit pulsing with need as he starts to rock his hips.

“God, I cum could just like this.” Rafe pins you to the wall with his body, bracing himself on either side of your head as he thrusts his hips. Tears fill your eyes with the intensity of needing release.

“You gonna cum for me? Wanna be my good little slut and cum all over my cock without it even being inside you?” Rafe growls in your ear as your legs starts to shake.

Just as your orgasm starts to peak, Rafe bends his knees and thrusts.. burying himself deep inside you with one go. Your scream pierces through air. His lips brush against your throat and up the side of your neck as you try to adjust to the intense stretch. He was so thick..

“You’re never getting rid of me.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley loved settling in to a new routine with Rose at home. Taking care of you and the baby felt natural. If the most stressful thing he has to deal with was her godfather, then he counted it as a win.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, swearing, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Here are your books," Bradley said softly as he carried his daughter around her nursery to her bookshelf. "And here is your crib." She blinked up at him and yawned, and he broke out into a smile. "And here's the chair from your grandparents where Mommy is going to feed you so you can take a nap."

You were standing in the doorway with both hands on Tramp's collar while he whimpered nonstop. "He's not going to rest until he gets to sniff her again," you said, fighting to hang onto him. "And lick her, and roll around on the floor next to her."

"Fine," Bradley said with a sigh. Tramp just spent twenty minutes losing his mind over the baby, but apparently that wasn't enough. Bradley sank down onto the floor with Rose in his arms, and she stretched her fists up toward his face and gave a soft cry. She looked adorable in the outfit your parents bought for her, and his heart clenched like always when he imagined how his own mom and dad would have reacted to being grandparents.

"Here he comes," you said, releasing the collar, and Tramp bounded the rest of the way into the nursery, whimpering and shaking with excitement. He licked the top of Rose's head, making her cry in the process before he started sniffing her hands.

"For fuck's sake," Bradley grunted, trying to coax Tramp to sit down while Rose curled up against his chest. "He's more excited about the baby than I am."

Carefully you sat next to him on the soft rug that looked like a cloud in the airplane nursery, kissing his cheek before you said, "Don't swear in front of the child."

He rolled his eyes. "She can't understand it yet."

You gave him a pointed look. "Don't make me take away your privileges."

Bradley opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but he was immediately silenced as you pulled your shirt over your head and got ready to feed Rose. "Shit," he muttered, wondering how the fuck he was going to last six weeks with your tits in his face and zero chance at intercourse. "I'll behave."

"While Rose eats, I think we should talk about a few things," you whispered, taking her into your arms with a smile and kissing her cheek before getting her situated.

Bradley pulled Tramp onto his lap, doing his best to keep him from loudly sniffing his human sister and making her cry again. Bradley watched you fidget with your leggings around your waist. "What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?" he asked while you fed Rose.

"No," you muttered, not looking at him. "My body is like a deflated balloon."

"Baby Girl," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your ear softly. "You're only a few days postpartum. You birthed an entire person. And you look beautiful. You always will."

He gave up his quest to keep Tramp at bay and let the dog lick the baby's foot as you started crying. "I think my hormones are going insane again," you sobbed, and he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and helped you hold Rose with the other. "And I'm really tired."

"I know," he whispered, peppering your face with kisses. "That's why I'm sending you and the Nugget both for nap time as soon as she's done. Now let's talk about what you want to talk about."

"Right," you said with a sob, like you had forgotten all about it. "My parents aren't going to stop bugging until I tell them when they can come visit."

Now that the attic was available, Bradley didn't mind having them in the house all that much. "Since I'm taking the next week off, why don't you tell them to come out the week after that? So you can have some help when I'm on base?"

"That's a good idea," you said as you carefully maneuvered Rose to your other breast. "We also need to give Rose a godfather." Bradley closed his eyes and pictured literally anybody but Jake. "And I was thinking Jake."

He heaved a weary sigh. "Of course you were," he grouched as Tramp finally calmed down and curled up on the floor. You looked at Bradley without saying a word, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Hard. Jake was a fucking pain in the ass. He always has been, and he always will be. But... he took care of you when Josh tried to assault you while Bradley was deployed. And Jake was the one he turned to when he had a panic attack about getting himself killed before he got to meet his daughter. Jake even graciously promised he would look after you and Rosie and finish building the playset if something happened to him. And he never gave Bradley a hard time for any of it.

"Fuck. How the fuck is this my life?" Bradley groaned, sprawling out on the floor with Tramp and staring at the ceiling.

"What did I say about all the swearing, Roo?" you scolded, but when Bradley focused his gaze on your face, you were smiling. "Does that mean you're okay with Jake?"

Bradley looked at Rose and then back at you. "Yeah," he rasped while wincing.

"Perfect. We can tell him when he stops over tomorrow."

"He's coming over tomorrow?"

"Yes. With Cat and Jeremiah," you said, wiping Rose's lips with a burp cloth as Bradley sat up again.

"Let me hold my Nugget to help ease my pain and suffering."

"You're so dramatic. It's not like you'll suddenly be related to Jake," you said with a laugh, literally flaunting your tits as you stood up. "I'm going to call my parents and then take a little nap as long as you've got her?"

Bradley looked at his daughter as she curled up in his arms. "Yeah. I've got her," he promised, and you kissed him before you left the nursery. 

"We're going to take a little walk," he whispered, picking up the burp cloth that you left on the chair. Bradley carried Rose through the house, marveling once again at how tiny she was in his hands as he tried to burp her. Then he slipped out the sliding glass door to the backyard as he said, "This Jake thing wasn't my idea. You heard your mother. She's got some weird ideas sometimes, but I love her too much to tell her no. So let's set some rules. Under no circumstances are you ever allowed to think your godfather is funnier than your old man, okay?"

Rose simply yawned as Bradley sat down on one of the swings, cradling her.

"Exactly. He's a snoozefest. I totally get the yawning." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "And when you're old enough to talk, I need you to tell him that your godmother is way cooler than your godfather. If you agree, then don't say a word."

Bradley moved the swing slowly as she snuggled against him and silently closed her eyes. "That's my girl," he whispered, keeping her warm against his body in the early spring sunlight.

------------------------------

When you woke up, your body was sore, and your stomach was growling. You didn't know what time it was, but your breasts hurt enough that you thought perhaps it was time to feed Rose again. You climbed out of bed and froze as you reached for your glasses. Something smelled good. Familiar. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you whispered, "Surely not."

Rose's door was closed when you walked down the hallway, and you found your husband in the kitchen, working in front of the stove.

"You're cooking Marry Me Rooster!"

He looked up at you with a bewildered expression on his face, like a deer caught in headlights. "I am," he replied, voice hoarse. "I've been training over facetime with your mom for months, but this is my first time actually trying it."

Your heart swelled with love as you took a step closer to him and your grandmother's recipe sheet, but he held up a hand and shook his head.

"I think it's best if I give this my full attention," he said, eyes wild as he turned back to the stove. "But maybe you should have the fire extinguisher handy just in case."

You backed slowly away from him, hand covering your mouth to try to keep your laughter in. Excitement bubbled inside you knowing you'd get to eat one of your favorite dinners tonight. Bradley was pretty good at cooking now. He could pull it off. Probably.

Your daughter's cries started ramping up in her nursery, and you had a visceral reaction to it. "I'm coming," you called out, already pulling your shirt over your head as you walked inside. The fact that she even looked adorable when her face was all scrunched up in tears was concerning to you; Bradley would be unstoppable with spoiling her.

As soon as you scooped her up into your arms, she quieted down. Her weight against your body was calming as you rocked her in the chair while you fed her, and you weren't surprised at all that Tramp was sitting at your feet with his eyes glued on the baby.

"Just wait until she can walk," you told him. "The two of you will be besties, terrorizing everyone else."

You heard some loud noises in the kitchen followed by Bradley's voice. "It's fine! It's all fine!"

"I'm kind of concerned," you whispered to Rose, running your fingers along her little bit of fuzzy hair. "But Daddy learned how to cook just for you and me. We are already spoiled."

To your surprise, dinner was mostly good. The kitchen was completely trashed, and Bradley looked like he just ran a marathon, but the food was edible. It even tasted good, if not a little bit on the salty side.

"I am so impressed, Roo," you said with a smile. He was holding Rose to his chest with one hand and inhaling the pasta and chicken.

"I wanted you to have something special. It's nowhere near as good as yours though," he mumbled with a shrug around some bites. "But it's okay. I'm kind of hoping Cat will bring food with them when they stop by tomorrow. She knows how to cook like you do. Jake and I would have probably starved to death by now."

He set his fork down to run his knuckle along Rose's cheek as you started to clean up the dishes. "I thought it was wonderful," you whispered. "Nobody else ever cooked just for me before."

That made him smile. 

----------------------------------

Bradley intended to write in the Nugget notebook while the events from the hospital were still fresh in his mind, but he passed out in bed as soon as you did. Rose cried three times overnight when she was hungry, and he realized he was actually quite useless when it came to that scenario. All he could really do to help was burp her. By the time he was making breakfast, you looked absolutely exhausted.

"That was kind of a rough night," he said while trying so hard not to burn the toast.

"I think that's just how nights are going to be for a while," you replied with a yawn as you carried the baby around.

Bradley spread some of the avocado concoction he whipped up onto the perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread that you liked, and he took Rose from you so you could have a break.

"Thanks," you muttered before biting into your breakfast. "It's still so strange that you're the one cooking now."

"Oh shit," he said in delight as he kissed his daughter. "I almost forgot."

"Stop swearing!" you called as he walked outside to the garage where that fancy baby carrier thing was. 

He'd been using it to lift weights, training for this very occasion. He snatched it up and took it back in the house where he set Rose down on the couch to fasten the straps around himself. "Look at this!" he said, slipping the baby in against his chest. You were shaking your head and finishing your toast as he paraded around wearing Rose.

"You're so adorable, Roo."

"It's not me. It's the baby." He looked down at her cute face where her cheek was squished against his chest. "Can't get enough."

You wrapped your arms carefully around him, turning Rose into a sandwich as you ran your fingers through the hair along his temples. "You are such a DILF, Bradley. Gray hairs and heart eyes for your daughter."

"Stop," he groaned, turning to kiss your wrist. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for me to not fuck you right now?" Someone knocked on the front door and he gave you a look. "What time did you tell Jake and Cat to stop by?"

"Tonight," you replied, heading across the living room. "It couldn't be them."

Bradley was relieved to see Maverick when you opened the door. "I'm not staying," he said as you invited him inside with bags in his hands. "I just wanted to see this little one for myself and drop some things off." He shook Bradley's hand and then just stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rose slowly fall asleep in her carrier. "My god," he whispered, eyes shining with tears. "A brand new Bradshaw."

"Do you want to hold her?" you asked him, already reaching for the carrier. But Maverick shook his head.

"No, let her sleep. I'll come back one day with Penny and Amelia. We'll bring pizza. Just let us know which night is good." He looked up at Bradley, cuffing him on the shoulder as he said, "I wanted to be one of the first to say congratulations. Your mom and dad would have been overjoyed."

"Thanks, Mav," Bradley whispered, tears in his own eyes now. "I'm kind of obsessed with her, so I know my mom would have been as well."

Maverick shook his head, still giving Bradley's bicep a squeeze. "Your dad would have never shut up about having a granddaughter. That's a fact."

Bradley pulled his godfather in for a hug before he left with the promise to return later in the week when he was invited. Then he kissed the top of Rose's head as you rummaged around in the bags that had been left behind.

"Penny seems to have gone a bit overboard with groceries," you muttered, pulling lunch meat, bread and some chicken breasts from one of the bags. "Oh! A bottle of pink champagne!"

"Put it in the fridge," Bradley said. "I'm going to need a drink after you tell Jake he'll be the Nugget's godfather."

You rolled your eyes and dug around in a gift bag that was overflowing with tissue paper, and you gasped as you pulled out two stuffed animals. They simply looked like birds, but when Bradley took a step closer, he laughed. 

"Mav really bought Rosie a plush goose and a plush rooster."

You had a bright smile on your beautiful face as you examined them. "He's quite the joker, but these are so cute. I'm going to put them in her nursery."

"After that, you should go take a nap," Bradley said, swaying slowly from side to side with his hand resting on the back of his daughter's head while she napped. "This little girl is sound asleep, and I can do a few chores with her in the carrier."

You gave him a look that would usually mean he was getting lucky later, but that was off the table right now. When you walked past, you kissed Rose's hand and then his cheek before you said, "Make sure you chill the champagne. We can have fun later."

-------------------------------

Jake, Cat and Jeremiah arrived with balloons, boxes of diapers, meals in tupperware containers, and a lot of excitement. 

"You didn't have to bring all of this," you said as Jake stacked things up inside the front door.

"Yes, they did," Bradley muttered, taking a peek in the food containers. "There's a casserole and a lasagna."

"You literally just ate dinner," you told him, handing Rose over to Cat who was practically vibrating with excitement. But Bradley wasn't listening as he followed the very inquisitive two year old boy around the living, making sure he didn't get hurt chasing Tramp.

"Why do babies smell so good?" Cat asked as Rose squirmed a bit in her arms. "So fresh and clean."

You didn't even get to respond before Jake squeezed you tight and said, "Congratulations, Angel. You mated with Bradshaw, and somehow the baby turned out cute."

"I would say something," Bradley retorted from next to the couch, "but I'm not allowed to swear in front of children."

Jake snorted. "I'm just messing around."

"Hey, I'm going to take him outside to play on the swings for a bit," Bradley said, scooping Jeremiah up before he could yank on Tramp's tail.

You gave him a pointed look and nodded toward Jake. "Don't we have something we'd like to ask him first?"

Bradley's smile turned into a bit of a frown. "No. I don't think we do."

"Bradley!" you scolded, and he tipped his head back with a groan.

"Fine. But I'm not saying it."

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned toward Jake. "Bradley and I would very much like for you to be Rose's godfather. If you're interested."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Jake had you flush against him in a bone crushing hug. "Wooo, boy. Godfather to a Bradshaw? We do live in some wild times, don't we, Rooster?"

Bradley muttered something incoherent while you asked, "Does that mean you're interested?"

He released you and turned toward Cat. "Please pass the godchild to the godfather. I'm about to make this baby an offer she can't refuse."

"She's a burrito! Not a cannoli!" Bradley called out from the sliding glass door before heading outside with Jeremiah.

"Is Phoenix her godmother?" Jake asked softly while holding Rose and supporting her head.

"Yes," you replied, in awe over how careful he was being.

"You realize that spells complete disaster, right?"

"Sure," you agreed. But you'd never seen anyone hold someone else's baby with quite as much respect as Nat and Jake held Rose.

------------------------------

Bradley played with Rose on the couch with an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey on in the background. "You see what happens when you marry for money?" he asked his daughter as she wrapped her fingers around his pinky. "Sure, you get a Lamborghini out of the deal, but you also get arrested for tax fraud and embezzlement." He kissed her forehead. "Don't do that, okay?"

She cooed softly, and he took that as a sound of agreement.

"I'm ready."

Bradley glanced up to see you fresh out of the shower wearing the robe that Nat gave you. "I'll bring her right in," he replied.

"Grab the champagne, too."

He did exactly as he was told and handed the baby to you where you sat in the glider chair in the nursery before he carefully opened the bottle. The sound startled Rose, and she started crying hysterically. Bradley was on his knees in front of the chair instantly, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Nugget. That was way too loud."

"I think she's getting hangry, too," you mused, loosening the sash of your robe so you could feed her. And once again, Bradley was just captivated by all of it and so in love. He took a long sip of the pink champagne before offering you the bottle. "I can only have a little bit."

"I know Sweetheart, but it's your favorite." You had milk beading on your nipple while you fed Rose, and Bradley watched you lick your lips before handing the bottle back to him. He groaned softly, dizzy from all of it. 

"This is so fascinating," he whispered, taking another sip before setting the bottle down. When he reached out to touch your breast, you let him. You felt warm and heavy, and he took your milk onto his thumb and licked it clean.

"You know..." you whispered, switching Rose to your other side. "After having alcohol, it's probably a good idea to pump some of my milk to make sure she doesn't get any of it."

Bradley sat up a little straighter, willing to get you anything you needed. "Want me to set up the pump?"

"Nah," you replied, shaking your head. "I haven't gotten the hang of it yet, but I'm sure there's another way you can help me." Your graceful fingers stroked Rose's cheek as the milk drunk baby started slowing down. "When she's finished, it's your turn."

Bradley jumped to his feet as soon as Rose started to drift to sleep. "I'll get cleaned up and meet you in bed," you whispered as he took the baby from your arms. He deftly changed her diaper and got her zipped back into her sleeper before setting her in her crib.

"How about you sleep more tonight?" he asked. "Give me a chance to play with Mommy before she's too tired? I like her tits, too."

He could hear you laughing down the hallway. "I can hear you through the baby monitor!" you called out, but Bradley had no shame. He kissed his daughter one last time before turning on the night light and the ceiling fan, and then he was on his way to you.

When he stood in the doorway, you were sitting in bed with your robe open. Soft light from your lamp was making every curve of your body look irresistible to him, and now that he had you alone, he knew he was going to struggle.

He made a desperate sound as he ran his hand over his face. "Baby Girl," he whined. "I want you so bad."

"Come here," you coaxed, rubbing the spot on the bed next to you. He was there in an instant, sitting with his back against the headboard as you crawled into his lap. As soon as you nudged his shorts with your knee, he swallowed hard, saliva pooling on his tongue at the sight of your milk dripping from you and onto his shirt.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, letting you get yourself comfortable before he wrapped his arms around you. "It's my turn?"

You ran your fingers along his scarred cheek and back through his hair. "Your turn," you whispered, lips ghosting against his as he throbbed for you.

Bradley took your breasts gently in his hands, ran his thumbs along your nipples and rubbed his nose between your tits. Then he let himself taste you to his heart's content.

-------------------------------

Roo is living his very best life, other than potentially seeing Jake more frequently. Hopefully Nat will balance that out for him. Grandparents are coming to visit soon! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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[moon7jay]

Now he knows... (p.sh)

"It's not even funny i don't know what the fuck you are giggling about right now to be honest" You sassed hitting sunghoon's shoulder.

"Because you are jealous of my pet puppy I can't breathe baby"

"It's NOT THAT. Stop saying that. It's how you didn't mention me when jake asked you about the cute females in your life ! like fuck you actually"

Sunghoon guffawed and rolled onto the floor while you continued watching him with narrowed eyes. This was serious for you. He wiped the few tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes and sighed, trying to keep his laughter at bay.

"I just wanted to show off how gaeul has been able to use the snack button you know? It's cute"

He honestly found you adorable as you huffed and puffed at his words, a pretty pout forming on your lips "so i need to install a snack button in my room and press it with my paws everytime I need a snack for you to call me cute? Is that what you're implying?'"

Sunghoon wheezed and rolled around holding his stomach again. You didn't even know that you had a straight connection to his funny bone.

"keep laughing, fuck you and fuck your stupid puppy and that stupid snack button and fuck jake" You grumbled throwing a pillow at sunghoon's laughing form.

"MY NAME WAS MENTIONED AND I DON'T LIKE THAT" jake yelled from outside.

"WELL FUCK THAT " You shouted back and could hear jake grumbling something about sunghoon's taste in women.

Sunghoon pulled himself together, catching his breath and made eye contact with you, still lying on the floor.

"actually she also has a potty bin-

"PARK SUNGHOON I DARE YOU TO FINISH THAT SENTENCE"

Unbelievable. You huffed dramatically and plopped yourself on his bed, your back facing him. All you wanted was to be called cute but your boyfriend loved teasing you to the point where you wanted nothing to do with him. Dramatic much? You asked yourself.

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling when you felt the bed dip behind you, his hot breath on your neck and arms manhandling your body onto your back while he hovered over your pouty self, his face inches from yours.

"jake doesn't need to know how cute you are baby, you know why?" he asked, resting his body weight on one arm at the side of your head while with the other he started to grope your body. A gasp escaped your lips when he grabbed your tits tightly, your back automatically arching into his touch.

"because then I'll have to tell him about the cute sounds that you make for me" His words were backed up by his actions as he pinched your nipples harshly from over your thin tank top, making you mewl underneath him. He stared down into your eyes that were beginning to water because of his rough touches.

"do you want him to know how cute you sound for me? How you whine so prettily it drives me fucking crazy?" He grunted, capturing your lips into his own messily while his hand travelled down to part your legs open. He grabbed your pussy from above your shorts, making you moan into his mouth.

"since you're so fucking desperate baby, let's show jake how cute you are yeah?" He asked pulling away from your body, standing on his knees while he unzipped his jeans hastily. You were shaking your head and pleading to him with your wet eyes but sunghoon wasn't listening to you now. "N-no I'm s-sorry-please hoon" you begged softly, little sobs escaping your lips in a shameful mix of humiliation and arousal when he pulled your shorts and panties down your soft legs. "let's show him how cute you are while you're being split open on my cock" your hands came up in an attempt to push him away but you couldn't make any progress. Sunghoon chuckled upon noticing your efforts, you were the cutest little thing and he wanted to ruin you. His big hand engulfed your wrists and trapped them above your head, ceasing all your movements. "You wanna fight me baby?" he asked, tongue coming out to lick your tears while with his free hand he guided his dick inside of your pussy. You gasped and moaned loudly upon feeling the intrusion, he was so big, no matter how many times he'd taken you like this, you just couldn't get used to the painful stretch.

"fuck baby" he groaned and started thrusting into your fuck hole in a frenzy, making it a point to drill his dick deep into your core. You tried to supress your noises but it didn't last long. Sunghoon digging his pointy teeth into your neck was enough for you to start letting your sobs out. You knew jake could hear you, the dorm had really thin walls and that's why you and sunghoon only had sex in the dorm when no one else was around. "Bet he's fisting his dick to your cute little moans baby, getting himself off to us having sex" sunghoon panted on your face, grinding his hips deeper into yours. He cursed upon feeling how tight you clenched around his length at his filthy words. He loved how responsive you were. Like a doll for him to fuck and bend however he wants.

"Now he knows how cute you are for me" He moaned into your mouth "bet he's fantasizing about your cute little cunt right now-ah fuck-wishing he was the one buried in your wet heat instead of me, isn't that what you wanted?"

[eomayas]

be alright • kmg

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x gn!reader, established relationship

genre: angst & fluff

synopsis: reader has a hard time asking for and accepting help, and that’s all mingyu wants to do

warnings: reader uses a purse, hyper-independent reader, arguments, reader is mean to mingyu but it’s resolved, healthy communication, mention of reader wearing women’s clothing

a/n: got inspo from SATC where carries computer breaks lol. i love making my reader unconventional because its not super common in fics!

“let me hold something,” mingyu says, reaching for the bag in your hand, but you jerk it away from him as you fumble with the keys.

“i got it,” you say, balancing your phone, purse, and keys in one hand while not dropping the shopping bags in the other. mingyu sighs quietly behind you, just as you shove the key into the lock with success, and open your your apartment. “see.”

mingyu chuckles, but it sounds more like a scoff that you ignore. you drop your items onto your small kitchen table, hands finally free of holding a million things at once. curse tiny purses and the lack of pockets on women’s clothing! “where do you want these?” mingyu asks from your kitchen, holding up some groceries in his hand. the pantry where you keep them is to his left, but there’s a certain order in which you keep things, and you’d rather not explain it at the moment.

“don’t worry about it, i’ll do it,” you say, walking into the kitchen and plucking the items from his hand. you move around mingyu to the cupboard and put your groceries away, just dancing around him until you’ve put everything in their places. “what’s wrong?” you ask mingyu once you’re done. he leans against one of your counters with his arms crossed over his chest and his face pinched.

mingyu opens his mouth, but closes it immediately as if trying to measure his words. he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek and sweeps his eyes around your kitchen before landing them on you. “i’m just trying to help,” he says, tugging his beanie off and running a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots.

you tilt hour head to the side, confusion littered across your face. “what do you mean?”

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing, his shoulders rising and dropping hard, like he’s been holding it in for awhile. “you don’t let me help you—with anything, ever. you never ask me for help,” he says.

“because i don’t need it.”

your response is quick, was sitting on the tip of your tongue the moment he opened his mouth for the second time to explain to you. it’s the truth, whether you wanted to spell it out for him, or if he actually wanted to hear it. you can do things on your own, take care of yourself. you don’t need anybody else to do it for you. “you don’t need it? or you don’t want it?” he fires back, making you cock your head back in surprise. is this your first fight?

“both. and if i needed your help, id ask,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. the frown on his face deepening.

“i am just trying to help.”

“and if i needed your help id ask, mingyu!” you don’t mean to shout, but you’re done with the conversation. “if you don’t like it, then…” you shrug and gesture vaguely. you watch his face morph from frustration, into something that makes your heart deflate in your chest.

“then what?” he questions, and all you can do is shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat. “really?” he imitates your shrug and straightens up against the counter, hurt taking over his expressions. “how could you say something like that, y/n?”

your nose starts to burn and your throat feels clogged. you sniff and blink a few times to keep the tears that threaten to fall at bay. “that’s just how i am, mingyu. i don’t know what else you want me to say.”

mingyu drops his hands to his sides and pushes himself off of the counter. “i’ll just… see you later, i guess,” he mutters, snatching his beanie off the counter and pulling it on. you don’t make a move to stop him as he walks down the hall to your door. you stay planted in the kitchen, slumping when you hear your front door close—he doesn’t even do you the favor of slamming it so you could have a reason upset with him later, to give yourself an out for how you’ve talked to him. you expect the tears to come, but they don’t. still, you stay rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes to collect yourself and your thoughts.

surely, you’ve been on you own before. the world isn’t going to end because you’re by yourself.

by the third day of no contact, you start to feel like the world may end—maybe not today, but sometime soon. the lack of random, sweet texts throughout the day make you itch for his attention. it starts to makes you feel bad, and by the fourth day you’ve decided you’ve had enough—of the silence, of yourself. all of it.

sitting in the dark of your car, you dial up his number and press it against your ear. your acrylic nail flies up to your mouth, and you anxiously put it between your teeth as the phone rings, and rings, and—“hello?” mingyus voice ripples through the speaker and fills your heart up with hope.

“hi. are you home? can we talk?” you ask. it sounds quiet on the other side of the phone, and you desperately need to see him, before you lose the one person you’ve probably wanted the most in this lifetime.

mingyu is quiet for awhile before saying. “i am,” he takes a pause, and you hold your breath. “you can come over.” and you let out the breath, a sigh of relief at his voice and his words and the fact that you have a chance of getting your man back.

“okay, ill be over soon.”

you pull up in front of his apartment building ten minutes later. you rush out of the car and bound into the lobby, opting for the stairs because there’s already somebody waiting for the elevator. he only lives on the third floor anyway.

coming to a stop in front of his door, you take a deep breath before raising your fist to deliver three short knocks to the door. you count the seconds in your head before he answers—23–and he’s pulling a shirt over his head as he gestures for you to come inside. it takes everything in you not to rush into him, to beg him to come back to you and for his forgiveness. you’re much more civil than that, thanking him for letting you come over, and standing promptly in the foyer.

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head at you before sighing and dropping his shoulders. “y/n, you don’t have to stand in the hallway like you’ve never been here before,” he slips past you, his hand colliding with the small of your back (definitely on purpose), and walks ahead of you into the living room. with a start, you follow after him into his living room, glancing around for a safe place to sit. you worry that if you’re too close to him, your words won’t come out right and this drive here would be a waste of time.

you opt to keep standing, leaning against the wall adjacent from him. he sits lazily on the couch, his arm draped across the back and his legs outstretched in front of him. he keeps his gaze on you, a silent stand off happening between the two of you. “so…” he trails off, and your stomach roils.

“okay, well, first off—i’m sorry for the other day. i know you just want to help, and i appreciate it. i really do. i’m just not a person who needs it, mingyu. it has nothing to do with you specifically—it’s just how im wired,” you say, blowing out a breath. his lip quirks at your last comment before dropping back to the emotionless expression he was wearing previously. “and i really miss you, you know? i-i really, really fucking miss you.” pressing your hands into your stomach, you swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the burning in the back of your nose.

mingyu shifts on the couch, bringing his hand up to his hair to muss. “i know, but you can’t just… you can’t just tell me to get over it, or leave, y/n. i don’t think you realize how mean that was,” you cringe at his words, feeling even more like shit. if he called you a ‘bitch’ you’d probably hate it less than him calling you mean.

your feet are waking you over to him before you realize it. you sit next to him and grab his hands, grateful that he lets you with no pushback. “i really like you, y/n, and i really care about you, too. i don’t think you’re weak, or incapable, when i offer to help you with things. i just want to make things easier for you if i can. i just want you to let me shoulder some of the weight for you,” mingyu adds, his voice sincere and his eyes saying more than his words did. you gnaw at your bottom lip as you try to blink back pathetic tears. you’re not prone to tears, but with mingyu that’s all you feel like you can do right now.

taking a deep breath, you swallow the lump in your throat and try to keep your voice even. “mingyu, im really sorry. i-im just used to taking care of myself,” you let go of one of his hands to harshly wipe away tears from under your eyes, closing them for a brief moment and blowing out a breath. mingyu doesn’t rush you to get the words out, just sits there quietly and waits for you to be ready. “if i start letting you do things for me, one day you’re not going to be there. i can’t let myself get used to that, and then one day you’re gone.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

that brings a small smile to your lips. “but if you’re—i don’t know, gone, and i need you but you’re not there, what am i supposed to do? and nothing is guaranteed…” you sigh and hunch your shoulders, staring at his face. he looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening his mouth and closing it a few times.

“then we will just figure it out, y/n. don’t focus on what hasn’t happened yet, okay? i’m not going anywhere, especially not soon,” he tugs you towards him by your hands, and you fall into his chest and rest your face in the crook of his neck. “just don’t push me away.” he says, his voice a whisper. you cringe inwardly and press a chaste kiss to his neck, letting you lips linger before hugging yourself into him.

he wraps his strong arms around you and holds you tightly against him. “i’m sorry,” you say into his skin, voice hoarse as silent tears leak out of your eyes. you feel relief, and a sort of sadness for who you almost lost, but mainly just relief. you also feel like the biggest asshole ever, but you know that feeling will pass.

“hey,” mingyu coos softly, pulling his head back to look down at you. you lift your head and he wipes your tears away with his thumb. “we’ll be alright, baby.”

and he’s right. you’re not going to magically relinquish all autonomy to make your relationship work, but you can start accepting help when it’s offered, and start asking when some things feel too big for a single person. that’s what a partnership is, right? taking another persons burden and making it your burden too?

[babyleostuff]

hi! I was wondering if you would write an angst svt reaction about them saying something they didn’t mean in a fight but it just came out?

i decided to do this with the hhu, if you want me to do it with any of the other units let me know!

saying something they didn’t mean in a fight | hip hop unit

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

as a leo and a fire sing myself, i’m sure that cheol can be a bit impulsive and not think his actions through, especially if it’s during a fight where his emotions are all over the place. things would get heated really quickly with him, and he’d have a hard time holding his tongue. 

“shit, baby,” he reached for your hand, eyes wide and panicked. “don’t fucking call me that seungcheol,” you pulled your wrist out of his grasp, looking at him with an expression that made his heart shutter to million pieces. 

he knew the second the words left his mouth that he shouldn't have said them, but his brain was too slow to understand that, and the heat of the argument made him lose all of his common sense. “my precious baby, i’ve hurt them,” that would be the thought that’d run through his mind, as he tried to wrap his head around what he had just done. “just… leave me alone.”

and he’d do that. he’d give you as much time as you needed, but that wouldn’t mean he’d abandon you. cheol would make you your favourite ramyeon and place it at the nightstand next to your bed where you were resting, or he’d put his hoodie in the dryer you always wore after shower, so it’d be warm and cosy. 

and he’d take his pillow and blanket from your bed to sleep on the couch, so he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, and so that you could rest peacefully. but then, after maybe an hour of tossing and turning, seungcheol would hear quiet footsteps, and a dog's paws running across the wooden floor, meaning you couldn’t sleep as well. 

you’d lay next to seungcheol, your back pressed against his warm chest, as his arms shyly sneaked around your waist to pull you even closer. “please, let’s never fight like that again,” you murmured, pulling one of cheol’s hands under your chin, nuzzling your nose against his palm.

 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ JEON WONWOO 

honestly, i have a hard time imagining wonwoo saying something he doesn’t mean. i feel like he always thinks before he talks, no matter what situation he’s in, and he strikes me as a person who is great at keeping his emotions at bay, contrary to cheol. he’d also have this thought at the back of his head that no fight is worth hurting you with his words. 

you looked at each other in confusion, as the words left wonwoo’s mouth. never in your whole relationship had he said anything like that, so you were taken aback more by the fact that he even said it more than that it was directed towards you. 

wonwoo nervously fixed his glasses, looking as lost as you. you could almost see his brain trying to understand what had just happened. “i’m sorry i… i didn’t mean what i just said,” he looked at you, eyes big and sad. 

you sighed, and grabbed his hand intertwining your fingers. “i know you didn’t mean it baby” you said, looking at his broken expression. “but you still said it.” his eyes got even wider, and he quickly cradled your face in his hands, running his thumb over your cheeks. 

“i know that no matter what i say won’t change what i did, but you have to know that no part of my mind and soul believes in what i said. that was just a stupid intrusive thought that i shouldn’t have said.” 

even though you said you forgave him, wonwoo was still very attentive to you for the rest of the evening - he had you on his lap for the whole time he was gaming, he made sure the sweatshirt you wore to bed was one of his best ones, and he cuddled you extra close to his chest that night.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ KIM MINGYU 

another fire sign, and as cheol (this might be an unpopular opinion?), might also have issues with controlling his emotions and words during heated arguments. like, i know he’s an amazing person with the best personality, etc. etc. BUT i see gyu as someone who is very defensive of his beliefs and point of views, and i think he can get quite stubborn, which can lead to him saying things he doesn’t really mean.

mingyu knew he shouldn’t have opened his mouth - both of you were consumed by your emotions and neither of you were thinking clearly. the only difference was that he let those emotions hurt you. 

“i didn’t… i don’t…,” he whispered, looking at your shattered expression. yeah, he couldn’t believe it either that those horrendous words left his mouth. you closed your eyes tightly, a single tear rolling down your cheek. the person who you trusted with your life broke your heart just like that, but you wouldn’t cry in front of him. he didn’t deserve a single tear after what he had done. 

you held your head high up as you turned around and started walking towards the door. “no, no please,” mingyu followed after you, catching up with you quickly. “don’t leave my love. hate me, yell at me, punch me, but don’t leave,” his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes glossy, and you knew that he was trying not to cry as well. 

“i’ll take the couch for tonight, but stay. i won’t let you walk out, it’s too dangerous.” 

he cradled your head in his hands, and pecked your forehead gently, before disappearing in the bedroom to take his pillow and an extra blanket.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHWE VERNON 

same with wonwoo, i don’t see vernon saying something he doesn’t mean. like, i don’t think his mind even works that way. for one - arguments with him are never heated, not because he doesn’t give a fuck, but his personality and mindset are so calm and collected in itself that neither of you even have a chance to raise your voices.

“i’m sorry,” he stared at his shoes, too scared to look at you. “i’ll leave you alone.” 

he quietly closed the front door behind him, leaving you alone in your apartment, confused and sad. vernon rarely got angry, especially at you, and you had never heard him raise his voice. you had a stupid fight that probably started over something stupid, but both of you were tired and irritated and you just snapped at each other.

but you didn’t mean for him to leave. 

later that night, when the sun had already set, vernon came back home as quietly as he left. “chwe hansol, where the fuck have you been?” you exclaimed, worried to death. You threw your arms around hiis neck, pulling him close to you. You shivered as he nuzzled his cold nose into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there. 

“you know i didn’t mean what i said, right?” he asked, pulling his face away from you. “of course, silly,” you smiled at him, caressing the back of his neck. “but never leave like that again, or i’ll kick you out myself.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic

[cmncisspnandmore]

All hands on deck.

Pairings: Poly!141 X F!reader.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy complications (not in detail)

Word Count: 3209

Part 2

“Can you guys please stop screaming at each other?” You call out as you press your phone to your ear. The sounds of children yelling continued down the hallway, clearly they didn't care what you had to say. You let out a frustrated sigh, as the line continues to ring. 

Where the hell were they?

It rings another 3 times as you lean against the bathroom counter, closing the door to try to block out the sounds from down the hall. It was going to cut to voicemail soon, just like the last 3 times you called. You start to pull the phone from your ear when it finally stops ringing and a very breathless voice answers.

“Sorry Mo Chridhe, I didn’t hear my phone ringin’” Johnny breathes.

“It's fine,” you mumble into the receiver, your hip bumping into the smooth quartz counter. 

“It’s not, you sound defeated, what's wrong?” He asks, the sound of a bag clinking filters over the phone call. 

“They just won't stop fighting, they’ve been at each other's throats all day, i don't know what to do anymore.” You sniffle, your eyes filling with tears, you blink them back staring at the ceiling light in effort to keep them at bay.

“They’re just kids, Love, siblings fight. Is that really all that's botherin’ you?” 

You chew your bottom lip, “yeah I guess,” you sniffle.

There's another noise on the other line, followed by a gruff voice, “Who are you talking to Sergeant?” Price's voice is slightly garbled over the line. 

“Oh just some bonnie lass,” Johnny replies cheekily.

“Hogging the wife all to yourself?” Kyle's voice is there too.

“Ain't hoggin nothin! She called me,” Soap defends himself. There's more static over the phone call. “Hey! Gimme back me phone LT!” 

“Love?” Simon's gruff voice fills the line. 

“Hi, Si…” you whisper, as the others bicker in the background. Johnny and Kyle arguing over who gets to talk next, and Price’s firm voice telling them to shut up.

“What's wrong?” Simon asks, “are the kids okay?”

“Yeah god, sorry, they're fine, they just won't stop fighting. It's driving me nuts, I think they just miss you guys.” You sigh as there's a loud crash from the living room, followed by even more yelling. “They’re gonna destroy our house..” 

“We’re coming home,” and suddenly the line goes dead. You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen. Your home screen staring back at you, it was a picture of the 5 of you. You were at the beach, Simon sitting under an umbrella with a book in his hands. You lean back against his legs, as one of his hands twirls a strand of your hair. You’re looking over at Johnny who was burying Kyle in the sand. Price standing behind them watching the whole thing with a smile on his lips. 

You remember that day like it was yesterday even though it was almost 7 years ago now. It was the day that they all asked you to marry them, they had presented you with a large round diamond ring, the band containing their birthstones, each of their initials engraved on the inside. You had sobbed hysterically when they proposed. Each man took a few moments to tell you how you impacted their life in the best way. You never imagined you would marry one of them let alone all of them. While most people didn't think it was conventional and you often got strange looks when you told people you had not 1 but 4 husbands, you didn't care. Each one of your husbands gave you something you needed, and you did the same for them. 

A child crying pulls you from your thoughts and you yank open the bathroom door. Your eyes landing on your 4 year old son, Theo running down the hall. His bottom lip is bleeding, as tears roll down his light brown cheeks. He runs to you, small arms up in the air as he wails. 

“Theo what happened?” You lean down catching his small body as he crashes into you, smearing blood, snot and tears onto your baby blue t-shirt.

“Issly hit me!” he cries, his little hands coming to wipe at his eyes. You gently pull down his bottom lip, seeing only a small cut on the inside. A frown on your face as you glance back up at the doorway in which Theo ran from. 

“Isla!” You call, picking the small child up and resting him on your hip. He presses his face into your shoulder, his messy brown curls tickling your chin. It only takes a moment for Isla to come around the corner, her blue eyes cast down at the ground. Shoulders slumped, light brown hair covering her face as she walks down the hallway towards you.

“Why did you hit Theo?” You sigh, and she looks up. She was pretty much a mirror image of Price. She had his blue eyes and nose, and if it wasn't for the shape of her lips you wouldn't think she was even yours.

“I didn't mean to hit him! He wouldn't stop climbing on me, I asked him to stop 3 times,” she looks at Theo, and then back to you. 

“Isla you’re 6 years old, Theo is 4, he’s a lot younger than you, if hes doing something you don't like and he won't listen to you, you come and tell me. You don't use your hands to hurt someone. It's not nice. Now take Theo into the kitchen and help him clean up.

“Yes, Mama,” she nods, and takes Theo from your arms, carrying him past you to the kitchen. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as you walk down the hall to the living room. It was a disaster, couch cushions on the floor, toys all over the place. A vase of flowers knocked over. A curtain rod half pulled off the wall. 

“Seriously?” You mutter, your eyes flickering about the room and finally landing on Joseph and Kira. Kira sits on the coffee table, a book open in her lap, blonde hair pulled back into a messy french braid. Joseph sits next to her, poking her which she ignores.

“Kira, c’mon, stop reading your dumb book and come outside with me!” Joseph whines at his twin. 

“It’s not dumb, you’re dumb.” She snaps back, neither having realized you're standing in the doorway. 

“I’m gonna tell mom you're being mean to me again,” Joseph pushes her harder, and she snaps her book closed. 

“Then I’ll tell Da that you're the one who broke his Rugby trophy.” 

“You’re so boring! I hate you!” Joseph yells.

“Enough!” You snap, and both children's eyes meet yours. Joseph’s blue eyes wide as he realizes you heard their conversation. Kira’s brown eyes looking between you and Joseph. 

“Kira, Joseph you are 7 years old. Can you please start acting like it? When i tell you to watch your younger siblings i mean it, but yet somehow Isla hit Theo and gave him a split lip and my living room looks like a bomb went off. Not to mention all of you have been fighting for the last week and I‘m not putting up with it anymore!” You press your hand into your forehead, a headache starting to pound behind your eyes.  You shake your head slightly looking back at your twins. They were fraternal twins, but had two fathers. Kira was clearly Simons with her light blonde hair and brown eyes, Joseph resembled Johnny, right down to his mischievous personality. They were the first children to be born into your family. Their very existence became known on your wedding day. 

You weren’t overly surprised that it was twins either, they ran in your family. The only real shock was when they had their newborn screening after they were born and they had wildly different blood types. Kira was B- Positive, like Simon, and Joseph was O- Positive like Price and Soap. Even though it didn't matter to you who their father was, you still had genetic testing done for each child. Just in case something happened and they needed blood, or god forbid an organ. 

The doctors had called them Heteropaternal Superfecundation, an anomaly when twins have two different biological fathers. Now as you stare at Medical anomalies, you sigh. They were your oldest, the ones you counted on to help out with small things. “What is going on with you two lately?” You sit on the edge of the table.

“We miss Dads…” Kira mumbles, looking down at her book.

“We all do,” Joseph adds. 

Tears well in your eyes, “I know it's hard when they’re away, and I know I'll ask you to help me more when they’re gone. I miss them too. But I think theyre coming home, at least that’s what Daddy said.”

“They're coming home? All of them?” Kira asks, her brown eyes widening.

“I think so, I called Da, and then I heard Dad and Papa, and then suddenly it was Daddy on the phone, as he said that they were coming home.” You shrug, and your children brighten at the fact that their fathers were coming home.

“ISLA! THEO! They’re coming home!” Joseph yells as he scrambles off the coffee table. Two sets of small feet race down the hall, and soon four of your children are standing in the messy living room. 

“Theo, you pick up your toys, Isla help me put the couch back together, Joseph you can clean up the vase,” Kira turns to you, “Mama could you help with the curtain?”

“Oh so you want to clean up since your fathers are on their way?” You raise an eyebrow, and all of your children nod. 

“Please mama, They’ve been on base for a month now..” Joseph blinks at you with his big blue eyes. 

“Fine, I'll fix the curtain but it doesnt mean youre off the hook for your behaviors.” 

It only takes an hour for the living room to be put back in order, it was amazing what your children could get done if they had the motivation to do so. You walk up the stairs to the second floor of your home, and gently push open the door to one of the bedrooms. The room is dark, and cool, a sound machine humming in the corner. You peek into the dark room, the light wood crib in the middle of the far wall, a small figure sleeping in the middle on their back. Hands up by their head as they sleep. 

Your youngest, Hope, was 9 months old, she was your miracle baby. You had always wanted a large family, to give each of your husbands as many children as they wanted but it hasn't worked out that way. While you were pregnant with Theo you had some severe complications that had left you on death's doorstep. You had actually died once while in labor with him, causing him to be born by emergency C-Section. You woke up to 4 very concerned Husbands who spent the next 2 months by your side as you recovered. They had all been hesitant for more children after that. Each of them worried that your body wouldn't be able to handle another pregnancy. But after a few years you had convinced them that you would be fine, you wanted more kids. It took almost a year of trying and a few miscarriages for you to get pregnant with Hope. 

Thankfully your pregnancy had gone smoothly, no complications, and she was born on christmas day. Now she was a happy and healthy 9 month old, one of the easiest babies you had. She slept through the night almost immediately and rarely fussed. 

She stirs as you walk into the room, her little blue eyes blinking open, a smile forming on her little lips as she sees you. She gives you a gummy smile, two bottom teeth on display proudly as she turns over in her crib, pulling herself up to stand in her crib. 

“Well hi baby, did you have a good nap?” You smile at her, as she bounces in her crib. Tiny baby hands gripping the bars, as you walk over to her. You scoop her up into your arms, baby babble filling your ears as she claps.

“Your dads are on their way home! Papa and Daddy and Da and Dad, yeah, are you excited to see them?” You kiss her chubby cheek, and she laughs. 

The sound of commotion downstairs makes you pause, a chorus of voices floating up the stairs. They’re home. 

“Daddy! PAPA!” Isla yells.

“DA! DAD! PAPA! DADDY!” Joseph and Kira join in.

“Dadadadada!” Theo’s tiny voice is there too, his screeches growing louder as you get to the top of the stairs.

“Where's your mother?” Price asks, his commanding voice cutting through the excitement of the group.

“She went to get Hope up from her nap,” Joseph responds, your footsteps on the stairs. You round the corner into the front entrance of your home. Simon holds Theo in his arms as Theo pulls the skull balaclava over his head. Joseph and Isla hang off Kyle and Johnny, their arms wrapped around their waists as they hug them. Kyle strokes Islas hair back from her face as he smiles down at her. Joseph's face is pressed into Soap's stomach, as his hands gently squeeze his shoulders. John is crouched in front of Kira, he smiles at her, his fingers tapping the tip of her nose as she smiles. 

“Hi Lovie,” Simon is the first to speak. His brown eyes search your face before they settle on Hope who is in your arms, chewing on her chubby little hand, drool trailing down her chin and soaking her onesie.

“Hi,” You smile, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Your gaze trailing over each of them as they reunite with their children. 

God how you missed them.

“Joseph, Kira, Isla, take Theo and Hope to the backyard and play for a few moments. We need to talk with Mama, okay?” Kyle says softly, and the older children nod. Kira comes over and grabs Hope from your arms, she quickly walks Hope over to each of her fathers and allows them all to kiss her on the head before she brings her out to the garden. Joseph, Isla and Theo follow after them. Theo holding onto Josephs hand as he asks him to push him on the swing. 

The door to the garden closes with a soft click and the room is quiet for once. You stare at each of your husbands for a moment. Your throat tight, eyes burning, lower lip wobbling. It’s Soap who moves first, boots echoing on the tile floor as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his warm chest. 

“No tears Mo Chridhe, we’re home now,” he speaks into your hair, dropping a kiss onto your head. He squeezes you tightly before his hands come up to cup your cheeks. He gently kisses your lips, and then moves to the side. Allowing Kyle to take his place, Kyle's soft hands slip into your hair at the base of your neck as he studies your tearful eyes.

“Why didn't you say something sooner Baby?” He asks softly, his lips brushing over your closed eyes.

“Didn't want to bother you guys… I know your training recertification is important…” You sniffle.

“Nonsense,” Price grumbles, coming to stand next to Kyle. Kyle releases you and John pulls you into him. His beard tickles your cheek as he leans down to press his lips against your neck. He places feather light kisses along your neck up to your jaw and then finally your lips. “You are far more important, all you had to do was call and I would have made arrangements to do it at a later time.”

“I know.. I just.. I don't know,” you look down at the socked feet. 

“Johnny and I will go watch the kids in the garden,” Kyle says, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. 

“Don’t forget that you’re important too, if you need us tell us. You can't shoulder everything alone. If you need a break you have to tell us Darling,” Price looks into your eyes, and you nod. “I’ll go fix us some dinner, yeah?” 

He kisses you again, before the three of them disappear into the rest of the house. You can hear the children laughing as Kyle and Johnny join them in their games. The faint sound of the radio coming from the kitchen as John starts to cook dinner for the family. Only you and Simon remain in the front entrance. 

His brown eyes study you as he leans against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. To anyone else they would think he was angry, his expression blank as he looked you over from head to toe. You shift under his gaze, and wipe the stray tears from your cheeks. You finally let out a small breath, your eyes meeting Simons. 

“How do you know everytime?” You finally ask, and the corner of Simon's mouth ticks up.

“Don't know what youre talking about Lovie,” he grumbles as he pushes off the door and crosses the room in a few easy strides.

“Yes you do, you always know when I'm at my breaking point. I said 2 sentences to you, and yet you knew I needed all of you home,” you look up at him. The height difference between the two of you forcing you to crane your neck.

“I just know you, the others do too. We all knew something was wrong after we realized we had missed calls from you. I just wasn't going to listen to you try to tell us you’d be okay. They’re far more considerate of your wishes than I am.” Simon muses, his hand coming to brush a strand of hair from your face. 

“What about your training?” You ask, leaning into his palm.

“Laswell will take care of it. We have more important things to take care of.”

“Simon…” You start to argue but he cuts you off, his hands coming to your waist as he yanks you closer, his lips on yours, silencing your argument. 

“I was given orders to prepare you a hot bath,” he pulls away. “And then we’re all going to eat dinner together. Your husbands will bathe and put the older children to bed as you feed Hope her last feed, and then I’ll put her to bed. While i put her to bed, the others will be taking care of you. Okay?”

“You don't have too… you’ve all been bus-” 

“Lovie, enough. We might be busy at base, but youre taking care of the most important things in our lives everyday. Without break. We work a lot, but you never get to stop. Your job is never ending, let us take care of them for tonight. Let us show you how much we appreciate you. Besides, we’ve missed you… so please, let us.” Simon cups your face, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

You give a small nod. “Okay.”

Part 2

[cupidsblonde]

"well you may not like it but you better learn the fuck how!" is what you yelled at the reporters surrounding you after your huge fight, grabbing the camera that was in your face and smashing it, you would definitely hear from your PR team about that. but in this moment you didn't care.

you where bruised, tired, and all you wanted to do was go home and sleep, hopefully see your husband, katsuki. god how you missed him you turned around and storm away from the reporters who where really getting on your nerves and you know who the first person you see is?

katsuki, you basically ran into his arms when you did see him. later, when you guys where at home you had turned the TV on, drying our hair from your shower and sitting on the couch next to katsuki, who was in his reading glasses and reading his book.

the first thing you see is "#4 pro-hero y/n bakugo tells everyone its time to step up!" that catches your attention and when katsuki hears your voice coming from the tv and not next to him, he was intrigued.

you could hear yourself telling the reporters to speak one at a time, you really where trying your best at the time to keep them all at bay, after a few questions the main event of the night began.

"how are we all supposed to trust the hero's if all they do if cause damage and maybe capture a few villains?" the reporter had yelled out to you, any other time you would've had a professional answer but after putting your life on the line you just where not having it.

"we are all doing our best right now yes?" is how it started, very professional right?

"well it just isn't good enough anymore! we need more and what we are accepting now, we as the public just don't like it anymore!'

silence had come from you at the beginning not wanting to put so much work onto your PR team but as the reporter goes to open this mouth again,

"I'd like to see you do all of the things we heros do for not only the "public" you say anger rising in your voice, "you wouldn't have the guts nor the will to do half the things we do on a daily to keep you all safe, so with that said, well, you may not like it but you learn the fuck how" is all you said, way louder than the words that had come out of your mouth before

"you may not like it but you better learn the fuck how, huh?" is all you heard, from a smirking katsuki next to you. "shut up" is what you say to him, throwing the towel you were previously using to dry your hair.

all of a sudden your phone rang, it was your PR manager.

[aquaquadrant]

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∷

[liliacamethyst]

SNEAK PEAK - Webs of Redemption Part 4

Hey friends, I owe you all a huge apology for the delay, and an even bigger thank you for your patience and support for this fanfic. Life's been super chaotic lately, and I haven't had much time to do the thing I love most: dive into writing about a certain dominant, irresistibly strong, mouth watering hot, too stern for his own good, yet clearly traumatized hunk who could use some serious therapy to unpack his self-destructive hero complex. Anyway, here's a sneak peek of where the story's headed. Please take care of yourselves and thank you again for everything! 🩷

The piercing cries of your baby boy, Gabriel, are a haunting symphony of fear that reverberates through the labyrinthine corridors of the Spider Society headquarters. Your heart pounds in your chest like a drum, each beat echoing the terror that grips you. After your recent fight with Miguel, you felt weakened but your mind is a whirlwind of fear and worry. You sprint through the maze-like structure, your feet moving as if on autopilot.

Unbeknownst to you, Lyla, the holographic AI assistant you've always found slightly weird, had been assigned to watch over Gabriel. You never imagined she could pose a threat to your child. But as you approach Gabriel's room, a chilling sight stops you dead in your tracks. A laser barrier, courtesy of Lyla, blocks the entrance. Your solar powers, usually so reliable, are fizzling out, leaving you helpless before the impenetrable barrier. You keep trying to tap into your power, but no luck; that barrier's way too strong.

The room beyond the barrier is filled with an invisible, deadly gas - monoxide. You can't see it, but the signs are there. The malfunctioning heating unit, under Lyla's control, suggests sabotage. She must have manipulated the unit to produce the lethal gas. Gabriel's cries grow fainter, more desperate, and you're powerless to reach him.

Your pleas for help echo through the corridors, your voice raw with desperation. You call out for Miguel, your words a plea, a command, a prayer. Miles is there, his powers at the ready, but they're useless against the laser barrier. You watch as Miles strains, his powers flickering against the barrier, but it's no use. The barrier remains, as unyielding as ever.

Suddenly, the cries stop. The silence is deafening, a void that swallows your heart. "Gabriel!" you scream, your voice a raw wound. "Gabriel!" But there's no answer, only the oppressive silence. Your world grinds to a halt, every second stretching into an eternity. You can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but stare at the barrier that separates you from your son.

"Miguel!" you cry, your voice breaking. "Miguel, he's not crying! He's not... he's not..." The words die in your throat, too terrible to voice. You turn to Lyla, desperation etched on your face. "Lyla, please! Open the barrier! Miguel, tell her to open it! He's not crying, Miguel, he's not..."

Miguel's eyes turn blood red, a terrifying sight that sends a shiver down your spine. With a guttural growl, he lunges at the barrier. His claws rip through the laser code, tearing it apart. The barrier flickers, wavers, and finally shatters under his assault. Miguel pulls his suit over his mouth, rushes into the invisible cloud of monoxide, and moments later, emerges with Gabriel in his arms. His heart pounds in his chest as he pulls back his suit, revealing his son's face. "I got you, baby," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "You're okay, I got you. Nothing will ever happen to you. Please, open your eyes."

But Gabriel doesn't react. His little body is still, too still, and a cold dread seizes Miguel. He doesn't hesitate. With a urgency, he rushes over to the medical bay, pushing past the shocked faces of his friends. He gently lays Gabriel on the table, his hands shaking as he starts to perform CPR.

"Come on, Gabriel," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. "Come on, baby." He administers chest compressions, his hands moving in a steady rhythm. He gives two rescue breaths, praying for a sign, any sign, that Gabriel is okay.

The room is silent, everyone holding their breath as they watch Miguel work. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one a lifetime of fear and hope. And then, finally, a small cough. Gabriel's eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused but alive. A wave of relief washes over you and you fall to your knees thanking God that your boy is alright.  

Tears blur your vision as you rush over to Gabriel. Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest as you scoop him into your arms, holding him close. His small body is warm against yours "You're alright,  my baby," you whisper into his hair, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going home, you're alright." You rock him gently, his soft breaths against your neck soothing the ache in your heart.

But as you look up, your gaze finds Miguel. The relief of the moment does nothing to quell the anger boiling within you. His eyes meet yours, wide and filled with regret, but it does nothing to soften your glare. "This is YOUR fault!" you scream, your voice echoing through the room. The words hang heavy in the air, a damning sentence. "You did this! You brought this danger into his life!"

Tears stream down your face, hot and unchecked. Your words are choked with emotion, each one a raw wound. "You will NEVER see Gabriel again. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve to know his laughter, his tears, his NOTHING." The words are a bitter poison, spat out with all the venom you can muster. "You deserve to SUFFER, just as you've made me suffer and HIM."

[inkdrinkerworld]

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

[justwinginglife]

Hi!Can I have a request of Soshiro with operations manager fem reader?Where soshiro gets jealous and possessive because some recruits tries to hit on her during subjugation exercises or breaks but reader’s oblivious to it which frustrates hoshina more cause he’s the vc and needs to act more professional.

thank you in advance and also feel free to ignore this if you’re not up to it:)) have a good day

I'm always up for it! Thanks for the message, you have the best of days!

Whoever said jealousy was a bad thing never met Soshiro Hoshina- that man makes anything look sexy, especially jealousy.

Today, he was especially attractive the way his breath was heaving in his muscled chest and his knuckles were white from the sheer effort he was putting into clenching his fists. His eyes were darting back and forth from the part of your lips as they laughed to the blush on the officer's cheeks as he heard your laugh. Hoshina thought his bottom lip might bruise from the way he was piercing it, anxiously waiting for you to wave the officer away. You never did and he drew blood.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched you, the taste of iron flooding his mouth. But focusing on the bitter taste was keeping his possessiveness at bay, so he pressed his tongue against his dripping lip and continued to sulk in silence. He was the Vice Captain, his time was important and he couldn't afford to waste it fighting men off of you, much as he'd like to. If it was up to him, no man would even breathe near you let alone talk to you, make you laugh like that. He should be the one making you laugh like that, he bristled.

He could tell the officer was soaking in the sound of your voice and for a moment, he couldn't really blame them. He'd fallen in love with the sound of your voice over the comms. That was how he'd met you, after all. You had taken over for Okonogi one day while she was sick and his surprise at hearing a different voice in his ear was quickly overtaken by pleasure as he heard you barking out orders. You were so much more assertive than Okonogi. You'd tell an officer when they were making a dumb move- "Your combat power is no match for that honju, fall back and reinforce the rear, you're still injured after all," and you had extensive kaiju knowledge, always reciting where you thought the core would be and directing the best method of attack. You had no fear, you were always confident that the officers would perfectly carry out your plans so you didn't waver in your instructions.

Hoshina always thought you were meant for more than operations manager, you should be at Director Shinomiya's side strategizing battle. But he was thankful you stayed in the Third Division where he could keep an eye on you. And honestly, he was grateful that you were there to keep an eye on him as well.

When he was fighting Kaiju Number 10 and he got slammed against a wall, unable to speak from the force of taking such a hit, and everyone including Okonogi thought he might be out for good, you alone stayed seated in your chair, arms crossed. You watched as everyone leapt up, worry-stricken, as they yelled for him to answer. You just leaned back even further in your chair and said simply, "He's not done yet, just watch." You knew better. You would never underestimate the Vice Captain.

The Vice Captain had taken on many tough beasts and cruel challenges in his lifetime, but the worst thing he could ever endure was now happening right in front of his eyes. The officer was now asking for your number. Your eyes widen in surprise, "Don't tell me you didn't know what he was talking to you for," Hoshina hisses under his breath. Then he can't take it anymore.

He strides over to the both of you, trying to keep his movements even and his breaths smooth. He stands up straight as he looks down at the other man, sizing him up.

"Officer. Don't you have better things to do than bother her?" He demands, the edge in his voice cutting through the air like one of his swords.

The officer shrinks in his presence and you smirk.

"Ah but we were just getting to the good part." You tease, trying to see how far you can push him.

Hoshina's nostrils flare and his eyes burn down at the man before him. He can't bring himself to look at you, knowing he's being unreasonably territorial, so he takes it out on the poor officer.

"Is that so? And here I thought you were supposed to be training. Here, let me help you with your training, give me 50 push-ups." He spits out.

You roll your eyes and set a hand on Hoshina's arm, feeling his muscles flex at your touch. "Alright that's enough, he's learned his lesson." You look down at the boy, who has started shakily doing his push-up's. "You can go now. Just don't let the Vice Captain catch you asking for my number again, okay?" He nods quickly and runs off.

"Happy now, love?" You ask him.

He pulls you into his arms. "Immensely."

You laugh but sink into his arms anyway. "You know I'm all yours, dumbass."

"Yeah- how 'bout you tell everyone else that?" He growls against your neck.

You shake your head. "Nah, I think this is significantly more fun. You're sexy when you get jealous." You pull back a little so he can see you wink at him.

He groans, rolling his eyes at you before pulling you back into his embrace.

"You're going to be the death of me."

[melon-fodder]

HONEY, DON'T FEED ME • T. Hiragi

Summary: The last thing Hiragi wants to do when on the cusp of a rut is watch over his boss' bratty daughter (who he happens to find very attractive). Too bad for him.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: guard dog!Hiragi, human!reader, fem-bodied reader, reader wears a dress and lip gloss, some a/b/o traits (ruts, pheromones, knotting), p in v, rough sex, reader is a bit of a brat, rich girl!reader, attempted assault, crying, mentions of breeding, biting, lil bit of blood, fingering, squirting, p in v, knotting, slight cumflation, Hiragi just goes kinda feral in this

Note: title is from It Will Come Back by Hozier. A big thank you to @lady-lauren for reading this and demanding more despite barely knowing Hiragi. I love you, bb. This is for @goxjo’s into the omegaverse collab. Make sure to check out the whole masterlist!

Hiragi rubs his temples, reminding himself to take even breaths. His irritation grows with each passing second, a growl taking form in his throat until he finally barks out, “hurry up or we’ll be late!” 

He can hear movement from the other room, heeled footsteps, the opening and closing of containers. Just as he’s about to march into your bedroom and drag you from your little vanity, you decide to emerge. 

“Calm down, I’m ready, geez.”

You bat your eyes at Hiragi as you pass him, an amused smile playing at your shiny lips, and Hiragi has to bite his tongue to keep from calling you a fucking brat. 

He has to fight that impulse every day, actually. Because you are a brat. A spoiled, privileged, doe-eyed little—

“What are you just standing there for?” you question with a little too much sass. “You’re the one worried we’re gonna be late. Come on.”

Hiragi is just standing there because he’s trying to gather himself. You may be one of his biggest stressors in life, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t affected by you in other ways, especially on days like these when he could fall into a rut at any given moment. It’s a little past due, if he’s being honest—the general weight on his shoulders has done a good job of keeping it at bay—but Hiragi has noticed that his patience has been thinner than usual the last few days. His senses are heightened, able to pick up on the most subtle scents as his dark ears twitch at every little sound. 

Not to mention the persistent dull ache in his balls that he just cannot get rid of. 

After this function tonight, once you're back home safe, he’s gonna have to find someone to take this out on, someone he can trust enough to ride it out with him. 

Now isn’t the time to think about it, though. It’s unwise to let his mind wander to sex when you’re so close to him, looking much sweeter than you actually are in your little dress and strappy wedges, perfume and pheromones wafting off of your neck and making Hiragi’s mouth water. 

Fuck. 

All he’s gotta do is deliver you to your father’s dinner, stand watch for a couple hours, and bring you back home. Nothing more, nothing less. He only has to be around you for that completely reasonable amount of time. 

Still, Hiragi feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach as he walks with you outside. He goes for one of his boss’ nice cars, keys in hand, but you catch him by his jacket sleeve and tug him in the opposite direction. 

“Let’s take your motorcycle!”

“No,” he shuts you down without hesitation. Your father has never explicitly told Hiragi that you aren’t allowed on his bike, but he has told him that Hiragi is to keep you out of harm’s way. It’s sort of his entire job. Having you up against him with a machine rumbling between his legs seems like a very unsafe thing to do. 

You pout up at him, cross your arms and whine, “you never let me ride with you!”

“Yeah, ‘cause your dad would fuckin’ skin me.”

“He doesn’t have to know. We’ll leave before he leaves. He won’t even see it in the driveway.”

He’d probably hear it, though. 

It isn't actually his employment that Hiragi is worried about. That’s not why he wants to keep you off his bike. The real issue would be having you touching him for the duration of the ride—your arms locked around his torso, your tits heavy and warm against his leather-clad back. There’s no way he’d be able to make the drive without getting hard on the way. 

“Please, Ragi?” you ask again, blinking up at him like a neglected puppy as you push your bottom lip out. 

Unfortunately, it works, your expression triggering that protective nature inside of him. As maddening as it is, there is a part of Hiragi that’s loyal to you—your father as well, but especially you. 

Why else would he put up with you? 

“Fine,” he grits out, pulling his other set of keys out. 

You grin at him all giddy as two words fall from your glossy lips—a phrase he both loves and hates because of what it does to him. 

“Good boy.”

His temper flares at the same time that his cock twitches, and he grumbles incoherently the whole time he adjusts your helmet. 

“Little brat.”

“You love me,” you retort, voice muffled by the visor Hiragi purposely pulls down over your aggravating, beautiful face. 

As expected, the drive is tortuous. Your hands splay out on his chest, fingers clutching his shirt at every turn. He can feel the spread of your thighs behind him, and if he could shut his eyes to get rid of the mental image he would, but he can’t because he’s driving. 

You’re hot pressed against him, or maybe it’s his blood boiling him from the inside out. All he knows is that if you were to move your hands lower on his abdomen, he’d combust. If you were to just slowly palm him through his pants…

Hiragi growls in frustration, accelerating a little too fast and making you squeeze him tighter. Fuck the speed limit; the faster he can get you to your destination, the faster he can get away from you. 

The neighborhood that your father’s associate lives in is very nice—a neighborhood that Hiragi would have no business in were it not for you. He's finally able to take a full breath when he pulls to a stop and cuts the engine, but his heart stutters again when you spring off the bike. 

Hiragi would be lying if he said he didn’t immediately miss the weight against his back, but it’s best that you don’t touch him. Still, now he has to wrestle with the sight of you as you pull your helmet off and smooth your hair back into place. 

Your thighs are on full display, and your tits are literally wrapped in a bow, cleavage teasing him from behind the ribbon of your dress. You’re like a little doll. So pretty. Probably fun to play with despite your pull string that makes you say all kinds of annoying things like, “what the hell are you looking at?”

“Hah?”

“Stop staring,” you laugh as you hand him your helmet. “You’re gonna get dog drool all over your bike.”

“I’m not starin’, and I’m definitely not droolin’!”

Your glossy lips twist into a knowing smirk, and you step closer to him. Way too close. He could pull you onto his knee if he really wanted to which… he does not. 

“You don’t have to lie, I know I look nice tonight,” you tell him. 

Oddly enough, it doesn’t sound cocky. There’s even a glimmer of sorrow in your eyes as you absentmindedly poke the spikes of Hiragi’s collar. It makes him shiver, makes him reach up and catch your hand because if you don’t quit it, he’s either gonna bite a finger off or cum in his pants. Not sure which. 

You squeeze his hand before letting it drop, mumbling, “Father told me to dress up. Look my best. So I put on my cutest bartering chip dress.” Stepping back, you do a little twirl for him and plaster on what he now knows is a fake smile. “So you like it, yeah?”

“I liked it more when I thought you put it on for yourself,” he admits gruffly, never able to control his mouth on nights like this. 

It makes sense now why you’re supposed to be here. Your father wants to make a show of his pretty daughter, a strategy Hiragi has seen a couple times before. It had irritated him then too, but what he’s feeling now is different from irritation. There’s a sickness swirling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of his boss offering you up like some kind of business deal that needs to be signed. 

“Well, hopefully this guy’s son thinks I put it on for him,” you say, and as you start to walk toward the large house you whisper to yourself, “hopefully he doesn’t make me take it off.”

It wasn’t meant for him to hear, but you should know by now that Hiragi will pick up most things. You’re always teasing him about how sensitive his ears are, so you really shouldn’t be surprised when he tells you, “I’ll tear the fucker limb from limb if he touches you, got it?”

You blink your wide eyes at him a couple times before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“Oh my god, Ragi, don’t be so dramatic!”

And, just like that, your spoiled brat mask is back in place. 

Walking to the entrance, Hiragi smells the other hybrid before he sees her. The front door swings open to reveal what he assumes to be the family dog, just another one of his kind doing what they all do best: protect territory. 

She’s tall—not as tall as he is, but she's got several inches on you. Black ears are tipped with white, moving like satellites to catch every sound of your approach. She eyes both of you up and down, but afterward her gaze rests on Hiragi. 

“You didn’t have to bring your guard dog, little miss,” she sneers, an ugly sound that she punctuates with a wink in his direction. 

“I go where she goes,” Hiragi grunts. Already, the other hybrid is putting out signals, putting out scents. Worse, she’s picking up his. She can smell his wariness, his possessiveness, and by the gleam in her eyes, his impending rut. 

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to be in there?” the hybrid asks, holding up a hand of manicured claws to keep him from passing over the threshold behind you. It puts the stranger in a very precarious position.

“You sure it’s a good idea for you to get between me an’ her?” he warns, the hair on the back of his neck rising as she crosses her arms and smirks. It straightens her back, pushing her tits up, and Hiragi picks up on a new aroma, a new interest. The female hybrid seems aroused by his dedication, taking it as a challenge she intends to win. 

Maybe she will. She’s not unattractive. After this dinner Hiragi could just drop you off and come right back, ride out his rut with this stranger. She's obviously interested, so why not? 

“Hiragi,” your voice rings out, and when he glances back to you, he finds your hand outstretched, finger beckoning. “Come.”

That’s why not. 

He nearly shudders at the command, spares the other hybrid a threatening look—don’t try to stop me—then brushes past her to join you inside. 

If he were a smarter creature, he would spend the dinner posted outside flirting with the female while keeping an ear out for any danger 

But, he’s not, so instead he spends the dinner leaning against a wall, eyes flicking between you and the young man you’ve been seated next to. Apparently, he’s next to take over his father’s business, so it’s “imperative” that he’s here. Your presence isn’t so obvious—at least not to the hosts. You’re here to entertain and seduce, to wrap this boy around your finger so that he’ll convince his father to take the deal. 

It’s nauseating. Hiragi watches the way you grin playfully, cover your mouth to keep from giggling loudly or inappropriately. You’re delicate and sweet, docile yet tempting—a glimpse at a perfect little wife. 

Hiragi hates it. As much as you annoy him, he’d take your smart mouth and bad attitude over this any day. It may be another costume that you wear, but it’s more genuine than this little show. It’s definitely less filtered. 

A hand dips under the table and out of Hiragi’s eyesight. He sees your body tense, smile fading into something tight as a wave of dread rolls off of you and straight into Hiragi. The smell is pungent, mixing with fear and anger and causing his upper lip to curl. 

“I know you aren’t baring your teeth at my young master,” the female hybrid says beside him. He hadn’t even noticed her arrival, too distracted by your scent. 

“I’ll do more than bare my teeth if he doesn’t get his fuckin’ hand off her.”

“So touchy,” she purrs, moving close enough to brush against him, “they’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry.”

He takes a step away from her, overloaded with the onslaught of aromas—your panic, the kid’s desire, the hybrid’s deceit. She’s trying to distract him, to keep him from watching too closely. It’s not going to work. Hiragi only has eyes for you now. 

And then yours land on his. He sees a plea within them, somehow silent and screaming at the same time. Get me out of here, please. Your brow is pinched, your lip is trembling, and your chest is rising and falling too fast, each breath like thunder in Hiragi’s ears. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologize meekly, slowly standing from the table on shaky legs, “I’m afraid I don’t feel so well.”

You smooth your dress out quickly—so quickly that no one else seems to catch how rumpled it’s gotten, how high it had been pushed up, but Hiragi notices. 

Saliva pools in his mouth but not because of you or the sight of your thighs he so desperately wants wrapped around his head. No, it’s the kind of spit that drips from his teeth, that foams and spills and warns people: rabid dog, do not approach. 

Hiragi takes a step only to be stopped by the female hybrid. His eyes are still locked on his target and its pulsing jugular—its face twisted into a petulant frown, like a child who just got his toy taken away. 

“Don’t you dare,” the female hisses, placing a hand on his chest. Hiragi nearly shoves her away. The only reason he doesn’t is because of you passing him, gripping the leather of his jacket and tugging him along behind you. 

Nobody tries to stop the two of you from leaving. In fact, the two older men remain lost in their own conversation, completely oblivious to the massacre that nearly took place right in front of them. 

You don’t say anything until you’re standing next to Hiragi’s motorcycle under the dark, evening sky. 

“Fucking entitled asshole—thinks I’m on the table right next to the money. Who does that? Who just—”

There are tears shimmering in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, and Hiragi doesn’t think before wiping them away with his thumb. He can smell the salt and disappointment and resentment, considers tasting it but now is not the time. He’s furious, ready to crack skulls and teeth and anything else. There’s so much blood pumping through his veins, hot and hungry for violence—for anything. 

“I should fucking kill him,” he says more to himself than to you. 

“Don’t bother. He didn’t get far. Barely made it into my panties before I—”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

He turns back to the house, about to take off at a god damn sprint, but goes rigid when he feels your arms wrap around him from behind. 

“Don’t,” you mumble, “just take me home. Please?” Hiragi sucks in a breath, diaphragm spasming when your hands grip the fabric over his abs. “Just let me forget about it.”

This shouldn’t be arousing. You were just assaulted, for fuck’s sake. But Hiragi has been riled up for days now, and you’ve just gone and coiled yourself around him, so vulnerable. So needy. 

His heart is beating too fast, pumping blood to too many places at once. It pounds in his head, courses through his veins like magma, travels down until his cock starts twitching, and Hiragi just groans. 

“We gotta get you home.” It’s right there bubbling beneath his skin, that primal need he can’t suppress no matter how hard he tries. Hiragi peels your arms off of him and grabs your helmet, unable to look at you–your glistening eyes and pouty lips–as he pulls it over your head. The street lights blur on the drive home, each one passing quicker than the last. He should slow down. He should stop taking the curves so fast. But he can barely focus on what’s in front of him when you’re right there behind him. The domesticated part of him is slipping away, and he can’t do anything to stop it. A particularly sharp turn has you squealing behind him, morphing into a high pitched laugh that Hiragi can hear over the roar of the engine. You squeeze him tighter, the heat of your palms going straight to his cock. What he wouldn’t do for a little friction, to be able to rut into something. He’s losing his mind. If he isn’t careful, he’s gonna– “Get off,” he barks as soon as he pulls into the driveway. “What?” “Get off, and get inside,” he commands through his teeth. “Hiragi, what…” you sound a little breathless as you kick a leg over the bike to stand. If he had been watching, maybe he would have gotten a glimpse of your panties, the ones that bastard tried to push aside to get to… He can’t think about it right now. He can’t fall into another fit of rage, and definitely can’t think about anyone touching you. “You’re not gonna go back there, are you?” you ask once you take your helmet off. “I’m fine, I promise! The ride helped. It was actually really fun!” “It’s not that,” he tries, hiding behind the visor of his own helmet, “I just need to… Look, I’m having a bad night.” “Oh,” you tilt your head to the side, “can I help at all?” “No!” You jump at his voice, and he immediately feels bad. “Sorry. It’s not you. I just… need to cool down.” “Do you need some water or something?” God dammit, he needs to leave. He can’t just sit here with this bike rumbling between his legs. He can’t just sit here and stare at you. “It won’t help. I’m…” he pauses, trying to come up with the right words to make you understand that there’s nothing you can do. Nothing you could do without getting hurt. “It’s a hybrid thing.” You blink at him, don’t say a word, just nod and let your eyes wander down his body until they land right where he doesn’t want them. A multitude of swear words clog his mind because you were not supposed to get that. You were not supposed to catch on so quickly. You’re not supposed to be clever, god dammit, you’re supposed to be his boss’ ditzy, bratty daughter. “I see,” you smirk, and Hiragi is helpless as you step closer, slowly reaching for his chin to loosen his helmet straps. “Stop,” he warns, “don’t touch me right now.” The way you push out your bottom lip is so overdramatic, plush and inviting and in clear view once you slide the reinforced plastic over his head. “Why not?” you question, eyes wide with faux innocence. Even teasing, your voice sounds so much more enticing than that hybrid’s. “You don’t want me to?” You trace the skin of his neck just below his leather collar, and Hiragi stifles a groan. He’s burning up, sweat trickling down his spine already.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, and if you keep it up, I will.”

Your eyes light up. There may as well be fucking hearts dancing in them. Hooking a finger into ring of the collar, you tug.

“You don’t know a thing about me if you think that’s gonna scare me.”

Hiragi cuts the engine, steadies the bike, and gets off of it all in one fluid motion. He’s in your space before you can even calculate a threat, hands gripping your biceps as he backs you up toward the huge house behind you.

“Bratty little princess askin’ for shit she doesn’t know a thing about.”

“I know about it,” you challenge, letting him guide you to the front door where he types in the key code. “I know about ruts and… what you’ve got down there.”

He chuckles, kicking the door behind him and pulling you flush against him. You made your decision outside, and there’s no changing your mind now. Doesn’t matter if you get scared or get hurt; he’s not letting you go.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Hiragi spins you around to press his hips forward, grinding his clothed cock against your ass. “You feel it?”

A sweet little gasp parts your lips, and Hiragi quickly closes a hand around your throat to catch the next one that falls when he slides his other hand up the skirt of your dress.

“Not the same as a human cock, you know that?”

You nod in his grip, trying to shove a clumsy hand between your bodies to feel him.

“I know. Still want it.” Your words are strained from the fingers clasped around your neck, a muffled moan vibrating in his hold when he licks the shell of your ear. He could cum in his pants right now, and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t be enough. Not enough relief and not enough of you.

“Want what, princess? Gotta hear you say it.”

Actually, he doesn’t. Whether or not you want it now is a moot point. He’s too far gone for any protests, so hopefully your body will be able to take what he’s about to give. 

A smile splits your face, head turning so that your lips are a hair’s width away from his. You’re quiet but confident when you whisper, “Your knot. I want your knot, Ragi. Want you to stretch me on it and–”

He loses it, hand around your neck tightening to hold you in place while he crushes his mouth against yours. The fingers at your thigh dig into supple flesh, nails tearing your skin just like his teeth tear at your lips. He tastes iron but doesn’t feel bad, just savors it on his tongue while he licks into you.

You’re squirming but not away from him–trying to get closer, grabbing the hand on your leg and moving it inward until he’s cupping your mound over your panties. You whine into his mouth, push your ass against his confined cock like a cat in heat.

Warmth radiates from your core, and Hiragi can feel your arousal seeping into the cotton beneath his fingers as he rubs you through the material.

“My room,” you breathe against his lips, only able to lean in that direction as Hiragi doesn’t let you take so much as a step. You have to break the kiss and use a different tone of voice–that voice, “Hiragi. My room,” before it clicks in his head that this is an order, and he has to obey.

He does, but first he tosses you over his shoulder, mouthing up and down your thigh while walking down the hall to your personal haven.

Your scent envelopes him like a thick fog. It blurs his vision and clogs his throat and makes him want to howl. Hiragi has to fuck you. He might die if he doesn’t.

Dropping you onto your bed, he doesn’t even wait for your body to stop bouncing before he descends on you, slipping out of his jacket, latching onto your neck, pushing your dress up over your panties so that he can tug them off of you. He moves his face to your chest, teeth catching the ribbon squeezing your tits. He tugs at it, ends up ripping it, and revels in the sight of you.

The more time he spends with you, the more the animal inside him gets triggered. Sucking on one perfect, pebbled nipple, all he can think about are these gorgeous tits engorged with milk, feeding hungry mouths, the mouths of pups. God, he’s gonna fuck you so full, watch you swell with his cum and then his spawn. Can’t be some rich boy’s wife if you’re too busy nursing, too busy taking Hiragi’s knot over and over and–

He sucks at the swell of your breast, smooth skin drenched in his spit, and bites. Too hard. Breaks the skin, tastes the blood, then bites down harder.

“Fuck, Ragi!” But your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips buck. The purest form of want pulses from the scent glands you don’t even know about, filling Hiragi’s head, getting him stoned, a single word on repeat in his mind: mate, mate, mate.

All he can do is keep sucking and groaning and whimpering into your flesh. He wants you so bad, wants to feel your cunt wrap around him and milk him. You want him too, right? Wanna take him and be with him and let him breed you?

“Please,” you beg, “please, need to feel you–touch my pussy. Please, Ragi, need it–”

He can’t deny you. You’re his master, and he is a slave to you.

Loud squelches echo in your bedroom as Hiragi plunges two fingers inside of you, your slick cunt sucking them in greedily, clenching around them over and over. As much as he wants to slam his dick into you, he has to prepare you first. Your little pussy wasn’t made to take a knot. Hiragi has to make sure he won’t tear you apart when he gives you his.

You’re bucking into every thrust, legs spread wide, and you finally break the seal of his mouth against your chest to bring his bloody lips to yours.

“One more, baby,” you tell him, “get me ready for you, fuck.” Your jaw drops when he slides that third finger alongside the other two, hitting that sweet spot and fucking into it until you scream and gush into his palm.

“Ohh, good boy, just like that,” you praise, encouraging him to keep going with a pleasing scratch between his ears. He noses down your neck, tongue lolling out of his mouth when you start making sweet little sounds, arousal leaking from your gummy walls and soaking his fingers until he pulls them out to watch you squirt like a fucking geyser.

Sliding down your body, he’s got his face shoved between your legs in record time, making you laugh and squeal as he laps up every drop, doing everything he can to make you cum again– “all over my face, princess, give it to me, mark your territory–” He roughly fucks his fingers into you, pulls his face back to stick out his tongue, then moans when you do exactly as your told and make a mess on him.

Hiragi is humping the bed by the time you’re done. He’s dripping with you, smells you everywhere, barely gets his pants down to his thighs before he’s shoving his sticky cock into your fluttering pussy.

There’s no adjustment period, no waiting for you to get used to him or even take a breath. Hiragi sets a brutal rhythm, head thrown back, hips snapping as he loses himself in the feeling of your perfect fucking cunt. So soft and doughy, smearing slick and cream all over his shaft.

You pull his face down to yours for a harsh kiss. Your lips are swollen, and you’re still bleeding from where he bit you earlier. There are so many filthy smells in the air, the stench of sex layered with wanton pheromones. Your head falls back as Hiragi drives into your g-spot, fluid leaking around his cock.

“Never knew you were such a dirty little thing,” Hiragi pants.

The only response he gets is your jaw clamping down on the soft tissue between his neck and shoulder. Your teeth bruise before piercing flesh, drawing blood and leaving their mark.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” he growls. You hum around his skin before lifting your face to show off a red-tinted smile.

“Is’at a bad thing?”

You sound drunk. Drunk off his cock, the way he’s fucking you, just like he’s drunk off the way you’re taking him. Squeezing him. Milking him. His knot starts to swell at the base of his dick, growing wider and rounder so that when he uses it to plug you, nothing will spill out.

“Tell me you want it—want it all… spoiled. little. brat—,” he punctuates the last bit with a few well-aimed thrusts, each one moving your body up on the bed and making your tits bounce.

“Want it all–be my good boy, Ragi. Be a good boy and gimme your knot–...” His thrusts get sloppy but never stop. Gripping your thighs, he spreads your legs even more, watching the way he disappears inside of you. That heat builds in his gut, his balls tightening, and with his eyes locked on your creamy hole, Hiragi starts to bully his knot past stretched skin and straining muscle, pushing and pushing as you cry and moan, unable to settle on if you’re lost in pain or pleasure.

“Almost there, princess, it’s almost in.” If you could see what he’s seeing, how pretty your cunt looks getting stuffed fuller than it’s ever been before. “Fuck, look at you…”

Hiragi slips in the rest of the way because you suck him in, pussy contracting with the first waves of your orgasm. You pull him in so tightly then scream as you cum around his knot, walls fluttering, too stuffed to clench the way it wants to.

The sensation has him plummeting into his own climax, his thick cum only adding to the mess inside you. Line after line, he fills you with it, watching the place just between your hips as it becomes bloated.

“Oh my god. Oh my god–I’m… it’s so much,” you whine, looking down at your swelling tummy with wide eyes. “It’s… God, Ragi, m’so full. Can’t–”

He groans as the last bit of cum paints your cervix. His cock is fucking saturated in it, mixing with your own arousal, the pool of squirt you want to push out so bad but can’t because of how he’s plugging you.

“Gonna have to sit with it, baby,” he tells you, voice gravelly. “Stuck like this until my knot goes down.”

You lick your lips, chest still heaving, and Hiragi is too hot for this, shirt drenched against his back. He pulls it off, jostling the both of you in the process so that you whimper and he moans. You're stretched thin around him, your pretty folds chubby from blood flow, puffy clit slick and begging for attention.

Hiragi smirks as he brings his thumb to it, chuckles when you instinctually pull away but can’t. All you do is tug him forward, bringing him down on top of you. He uses one hand to catch himself, the other still between your legs, and plays with you until you’re cumming again, tears streaming down the sides of your face when he doesn’t stop.

He’s long past domestic, now in a feral state as he licks up your cheek, catching the salt on his tongue. His thumb keeps rubbing circles on your overstimulated bud, and your legs tremble violently, still spread wide to accommodate him.

Your next orgasm pulls his second from him. He shoots another large load into you, abandoning your clit so that he can place his hand on your belly.

“You didn’t know what you were getting into, did you?” he hums, nuzzling into your neck, “didn’t know you were gonna be all swollen with my cum.”

You shake your head, more tears falling, but your words betray any discomfort you might be feeling.

“Want m-more of it,” you sniffle.

Hiragi growls and nips at the skin below your ear, heart full of primal possession and affection as his cock throbs inside of you.

“I’ve got so much more to give you,” he murmurs, kissing the bruise he just left. “I’ll spoil you real good, princess. Promise.”