#like yes keep doing the huddles and all that but like stand up for the team floor some bitches

[afc-agitprop]

Look, I know we like our pretty football and technical players, but we really really really need our own Sean Dyche/Neal Maupay/Roy Keane. We complain that teams like to be physical against us with no repercussions from refs, but at that point, they won't stop. They won't stop until we start giving it back.

I've said it before, but the invincibles didn't get there just by playing pretty football. They were aggressive and asserted their presence on the field even before touching the ball. Obviously, that's not the only reason we lost today, we were shit everywhere, but the lack of aggressiveness and presence means teams are not afraid of our players, and are more comfortable playing against us. Tweet related lol:

#something i had to get off my chest #i love ødegaard but he needs to be a much more aggressive towards opponents as a captain #like yes keep doing the huddles and all that but like stand up for the team floor some bitches #arsenal fc

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous

The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.

You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.

Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.

You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.

They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.

Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.

You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.

Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.

Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-

And it only stops when your doorbell rings.

You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.

The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.

It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.

“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.

When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.

“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.

“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.

They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.

It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.

It gives you pause. It’s confusing.

“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.

Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.

He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.

“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.

“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.

“I’m fine.”

“Ye dinnae look fine.”

“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.

“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.

“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“

“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.

“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.

But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Love-“

“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.

Almost.

#peaches writes #Ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

#not sure how i feel about this one #kinda love it kinda am put off by my writing style at points #oh well #i have plans for a part 3 😈 #give me time tho and don’t spam me for it #i had a fever recently and woke up and forgot like everything about myself for a solid 20 mins #so this is a little self-indulgent #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scara #scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines

[neonovember]

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon <3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth. 

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets. 

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion. 

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face. 

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight. 

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing. 

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall. 

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies 

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of  ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done. 

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes 

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to” 

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this. 

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands". 

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!” 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen. 

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet,  confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as  you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above. 

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone” 

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you. 

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

#carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x angst #carmy berzatto x angst #neo november #the bear #the bear fx #the bear season 2 #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #the bear fanfic #the bear fanfiction #requests #requests open #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x fem!reader #carmy #carmy fluff #carmy angst #carmy berzatto masterlist

[mypoisonedvine]

Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….

You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.

YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband

warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes

"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.

He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."

"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.

"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"

You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.

"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"

"No, I--"

"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.

"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."

He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."

~

The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.

He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"

"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.

"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."

Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.

"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.

"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"

You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...

"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."

He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.

"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."

But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane fic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 25

Part 1 Part 24

“You mean blood draws this thing?” Hopper asks. He’s finally seated at the table, no longer looming over Eddie where he sits, like he’s just picked him up for possession and taken him in for questioning. Again.

“We don’t know,” Barbara  says. Nancy chimes in, “it’s just a theory.” All three of them ignore Eddie’s shouted “Yes!” As if he isn’t the only one that’s seen the thing more than once.

Hopper steeples his fingers in front of his nose, looking like he’d rather be almost anywhere else. Eddie can’t blame him. He also wants Hopper to be anywhere else. 

“We’ve got a plan,” Nancy says. “To test the theory.”

Hopper sighs, closing his eyes and pinching his brows, the same way he does when he catches Eddie selling pot outside of the high school. Or at the trailer park. Or at parties. “Let’s hear it then.” He doesn’t open his eyes. Nancy starts speaking anyway.

Eddie, having been mostly absent last time, tunes in for the conversation. She wants to jerry rig the house with bear traps. Like they’re in the Looney Tunes and she’s trying to catch the road runner. Hopper doesn’t seem all that impressed. Neither does Wayne.

“No,” Wayne says. 

Hopper still hasn’t opened his eyes. Maybe he was so shocked by the slap dash plan that he gave up and went to sleep. 

“Excuse me?” Nancy says. 

Eddie bristles at her tone, but Wayne doesn’t even twitch. “You’re kids,” he says, like that’s all there is to say. 

“But, Steve –”

Joyce jumps up from where she was still huddled with her sons to tower over the table in all her five foot nothing furry to shout, “this is not yours to fix!” It works to shut them all up. “It’s not you kid’s responsibility to save another kid.”

“But, Mom,” Will says. 

Eddie wants to echo the sentiment. Wants to beg. Steve saved their lives, and they’d left him. She wants them to just leave him there? Again? “I know, baby. We’ll get him.”

“Anyone called the boy’s parents?” Wayne asks, but it comes out barely as a question. He already knows the answer, even before Hopper scoffs.  Everyone at this table does. 

“Like anyone even knows what country they’re in,” he replies while Joyce bristles, like the thought of anyone’s child being left like that leaves her seething. 

“Enough of that,” she says, waving her ends in a cutting motion in front of her. “How are we going to get that boy back?”

Will stands up and storms out of the room. Eddie’s never seen the kid be anything but polite. Eddie stands to follow the tug at his sternum telling him to keep the kid in his line of sight. 

“Will?” Joyce calls, trying to follow as well until Jonathan tugs her back by her arm with a quiet murmur he can’t make out. 

The house isn’t large. He can hear the silence reverberating as he follows Will. The best plan they have so far is Nancy’s game of mouse trap. If it means saving Steve, Eddie’s ready to form an alliance with the devil he knows. If it means saving Steve, he’d be willing to do worse. 

“I could go back to the lab,” Hopper says, voice barely carrying down the hallway. 

Will’s sitting on a bed when Eddie finds him. It’s small with a blue comforter on it, covered in little cartoon planes. There’s a poster of Jaws on the wall, D & D minis on a bookcase. This might be the coolest kid alive.

Eddie takes a seat beside him, the mattress squeaking as he huddles into it. 

Will’s hand is dangling between his knees, cradling a walkie talkie. He doesn’t look over at Eddie, just keeps staring at it like it’ll crackle to life at any second. 

“Whatcha got there?” Eddie asks quietly as voices raise in the other room. Eddie wonders if this is what it would’ve felt if he’d had a baby brother back when voices were always raised in his house. He wants to scoop this kid up and bolt out the window. 

Will barely seems to notice the noise. He’s still just staring down. When he finally drags his eyes up, it seems like it takes effort. “I want to call Mike.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Who is Mike?”

Will’s eyes shift back down. “He’s my Steve.”

Well, Eddie has no idea what that means, but he can glean some things: Mike is important, and Will wants to talk to him. “So, call him.”

Will’s shoulders curl in. He cradles the walkie talkie to his chest like it’s a baby. “He thinks I’m dead.” It comes out of his mouth bitter. 

Eddie reaches out, clasps his shoulder gently. “Then, I bet he’d love to hear that you’re not.”

Slow as molasses, Will raises the walkie talkie up to his mouth, holds down a button and speaks. “Mike?” he asks. “Do you copy?”

He decompresses the button. The silence trickles back in as they both now stare at the walkie talkie, waiting for something to happen. “Maybe he didn’t hear yo–” Eddie starts to say, conjuling, when a frantic, prepubescent voice crackles through the little speaker.

“Will?!” A voice asks, overlapped by another saying , “–didn’t say over, Mike!” before the fuzzy sound stops abruptly. 

Will waits a second before pushing the button again, and speaking, “I’m here, over.”

“Where are you?” presumably Mike asks. “We’ll come get you!”

Will smiles, eyes brimming. “It’s okay,” he says, voice lighter than Eddie’s ever heard it. “I’m home.”

The silence lasts longer now, until a new voice filters through. “Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you’re back, Will,” attitude dripping even over the static of the line. “Now, the bad men have got us pinned down, you gotta help us.” it says, before tacking on a quick, “over.”

“Bad men?” Eddie asks, looking over at Will, hoping this is some ill-timed inner-circle game. 

But Will looks confused. Panicked. “I think we should go get Chief Hopper.” Will says.

Great. Another fucking problem. Eddie regrets ever being dragged back through that goddamn hole in the tree. 

Part 26

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic #first part where i was like wow that sucked to write and i hate it but im moving along so i don't get bogged down! lol

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello my good friend. It's been a while since I've requested but. Can I request kyojuru and mitsuri with female-child reader who likes fire, and likes to watch things burn up? They don't get burnt by it but if they do they won't cry. For kyojuru's part reader like to brush his hair with there smalls hands on tug at the bottom of his haori where the flames are. 🙏🏾💕

Hehe! Omg, this is so wholesome and cute and I can already see how both would behave! Let’s gooo! I’m totally doing this request and welcome back, darling! Also welcome back, Mitsuri

Rengoku Kyojuro

Kyojuro is naturally protective over younger ones so when he sees you, the little girl he rescued and adopted, sat in front of a stick fire. He sprints to pull you away from the flames and tell you lightly that fire is dangerous

Kyojuro is flattered with how much you like his hair. Yes, it does look like fire, doesn’t it? He will let you brush his hair all you want and the way you try pull the strands up so it will burn like real fire, has his heart exploding. You’re just so adorable with your fire fascination

Kyojuro cannot say no to you, like at all. Sure, he will take you away from fires you start and put you in front of controlled fires but that’s for protection. In every other sense, he can’t say no, so when you reach for the tips of his flame-like haori, he drapes it over you so you can play with it

“Look, Dokusha. See that fire there?” Kyojuro‘s comforting yet strong voice rolled out softly as he comfortably sat down on his knees, with you placed in his lap. His pointer directed your eager eyes to the roaring tall torch egging-on a big, beautiful orange-red-yellow mix palette flame burning with life. You immediately silenced yourself, the reflective light of the fire bouncing off your eyes as you glared in pure awe

Kyojuro didn’t want his precious adoptive daughter to be around uncontrolled and touchable fire so instead, he would set the Rengoku Family flame torches for you to gaze and admire the fire from a safe distance. You always have loved fire, ever since he met you and up to this very moment. You pulled at his fire-like coloured hair and played with the flame patterned haori draped carelessly over his shoulders

Kyojuro didn’t mind sitting in front of the torch with you, all to make you happy as he admired your gawking expression. You look simply so adorable in your nighttime Yukata and your pretty loose hair decorated by a single small ponytail. Kyojuro is over the phrase of ‘glad’ that you’re his precious baby girl, his one and only child. He will give you his flame-like haori to cuddle up in and a nice lap to fall asleep on

“What is your favourite colour of the fire, Dokusha?”

Kanroji Mitsuri

Mitsuri, as the older sister of five, knows to always be careful around danger and how to handle children with dangerous things so when you, her cute little adoptive daughter, is huddled over the Estate’s furnace fire to gawk at the colours and liveliness, she is bolting to make sure you won’t catch on fire

Mitsuri will try distract you with fire-looking items as to keep you away from real fire. The way you hawk at the red fade to yellow kimono she bought for you and play with the tips of the flame-shaped handkerchief she got made, her heart goes pitter-patter with joy

When push comes to shove, Mitsuri will let you sit by her as she sets up the Estate’s furnace fire and even let you put in wood for her to set ablaze. She won’t let you handle the lighter, all because she is protective over you and always strives to keep you safe

“Place the big log down in this spot, baby” Mitsuri chirped gently, carefully placing her hands on your little back as you lazily dump the big irritable log of wood onto the standing pile of charcoal, spreading a small gust of ash over the short metallic railing guarding the entrance to the fire’s shelter. The log was heavy and scratched at your chest, you stepped back until you bumped against Mitsuri’s torso. She took this opportunity to cuddle you closer to her as she picked up the lighter and flicked the nozzle to spark up a fire

In wonder and awe, you watched Mitsuri eventually set the big log on fire after a few attempts of hovering the dancing flame over the wood, placing down the lighter to the side and shuffling back on her knees with you firm in her grasp so the fire couldn’t touch any inch of you incase it roared to life. Her prediction was proven correct when the thick chunk of tree essence brought to life a raging fire that almost grazed over the brick roof of the furnace

Mitsuri leant her vision down to look at you after your amazed coos faded. You’re just so adorable, eyes reflecting the mixed fiery colours and in that moment, she knew she will never regret saving you from that Lower Moon and adopting you as her little one. Sure, you’re a bit reckless with fire but your excitement over it makes her heart roar in true passion. Comfortable in your comfy nighttime Yukata and cute small silky brushed braids, she planned to sit with you in front of the fire for hours. All because the colours made you so happy

“Do you feel the warmth, Dokusha? The fire is so nice”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime and manga #kny imagines #headcanons #short story #kny hashira #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kanroji mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #demon slayer kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba kyojuro #kimetsu kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro fluff #kny mitsuri #kimetsu mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji x reader #demon slayer mitsuri #mitsuri x reader #mitsuri fluff #rengoku x reader #kanroji x reader #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kanroji #flame hashira #love hashira

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 1/12)

yes i have eighty different rockstar!eddie's now, pls don't look at me, i rewatched almost famous and had a moment, k bye, enjoy!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you're a writer for rolling stone magazine and eddie hates the media so... he hates you

contains: enemies to lover trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, and eddie being an asshole <3

word count: 4.5k

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

You love your job more than anything.

You love that it allows you to travel, that it’s centered around music, and that you get to meet people and make friends and do extravagant things you would’ve never imagined you’d be doing. You love your job.

“I love my job.” It’s starting to taste like a lie when it reaches your tongue.

You mutter it to yourself again, looking around the bright hallway and searching for any fucking door with the words ‘CORRODED COFFIN’ written on it.

You glance at the watch on your wrist, teeth digging into the soft skin of your cheek as you keep walking down the corridor. 

You feel as if you’ve been walking down this hall for years, miles of white stone wall and shiny gray cement floors, equipment littered here and there with staff walking through doors and yelling commands.

You follow the echo of chatter and soft giggles, the sound getting closer and closer until a group of girls meets you. A red-headed girl lazily chews gum and stands against the wall, glaring at you from behind her blood-red shades. You take the chance to ask them your pressing question, “Do you know where I could find the dressing room for Corroded Coffin?” You ask.

The girls glare at you and giggle, eyeing you and, without a doubt judging your lack of fishnets and leather clothing. Brown leather boots, flared jeans, and a white long sleeve— you don’t belong here. “You a reporter or something?” 

You look at the redheaded girl, pursing your lips and taking a steady breath, reaching up to grasp the strap of your crossbody bag. “I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, ignoring the snickering girls on the side. You clench the leather band of your bag in your palm, “I’m doing a piece on the band.”

The girl silently studies you; a ghost of a smile passes her lips, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You shift on your feet, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah um… they’re big on music and—“ “I know what Rolling Stone Magazine is.”

You love your job.

You steadily breathe, clenching your bag once again. Your feet ache in these boots, and your jeans are teetering on the cusp of too tight after you ate a quick dinner— you want to go home. “The boys won’t speak with Rolling Stone.”

It falls silent between the two of you, and you glance at the other three girls, huddled together and passing a joint. “They don’t like watered-down shitty tabloids like yours. They won’t want to see you.” The redhead explains, silently reaching over to accept her turn with the joint.

You watch as she brings the burning paper to her lips, taking a long drag and smirking at you. She expects you to take her word and leave, but you’ve dealt with enough people like her to know she’s bullshitting you.

“Could you please point me toward their dressing room?” You ask, reconstructing your previous question because you now understand that, without a doubt, these women know where the dressing room is.

She laughs and points across the hall, some feet from where you’re all standing. You can see the first few letters of the band's name from your angle, and you internally rejoice. You thank her and walk over to the door, mentally reviewing your introduction a few times before laying a few knocks on the heavy black door.

There’s no response for a moment, and you try not to let the snickering sound of the girls tick you off. You lift your hand to knock again, but the door swings open before you can do it. A tall, muscular man glares down at you, dressed in black with a scowl. He must be security.

“Hi, I’m a writer for—“ “Groupies aren’t coming in yet; wait out in the back.” 

Your face twists in offense, glaring at the man as you, yet again, clench your fist in annoyance, “I’m not a fucking group—“ The door slams shut before you can finish your sentence. 

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter to yourself. 

You love your job.

The girls snicker behind you, and you feel your face heat in embarrassment and annoyance. Why is nearly everybody in this industry just a bunch of assholes? You figure you’ll just have to wait for the band members to come out, leaning back to press your back against the wall and patiently wait.

From outside, you can hear the chaotic noise of yelling and loud banter from inside the room— the clatter of furniture breaking and thuds against the wall. You remember when behavior like this used to shock you, but artists seem to have reckless behavior nowadays.

The group of girls chatter amongst themselves, and you busy yourself with following the cracks in the floor. You stand there with aching feet and a mental ticking clock for what feels like hours, and you almost give up until the door flies open and three boys stumble out, reeking of alcohol and weed and musk. 

You watch as they all brush past you, ignoring you for the group of girls standing across the hallway, cheering their names and draping their arms across their shoulders. 

“And who might you be?”

You turn around at the gravelly voice, locking eyes with a glazed pool of brown. The last of the group, the fourth member— and, by what you can piece together given the notorious long dark brown locks dusting his shoulders, Eddie Munson. You clear your throat, stepping forward and telling him your name. You extend a hand for him to shake and ignore how his gaze rolls over every inch of your body.

“I’m a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine,” you explain, retracting your hand when he only glances at the kind gesture. He stands before you, an uninterested smirk dancing against his lips. He’s dressed in black jeans and black leather boots that look worn to hell despite his bottomless pit of a wallet. A black sheer button-down top, fully open to expose his sweat-glistened chest, shiny chains hanging from his neck and kissing his collarbones. His ringed fingers are wrapped around the neck of a half-empty bottle of whiskey, tiny sticky streams of spilled alcohol coating the bottle.

“I’m here to interview your band.” You add. 

He laughs, spit-slick lips forming a mocking smile as he speaks, “My band?” 

You blink, “Yes, you’re all a band, right?” You motion to the boys, still chatting with the girls across from where you stand, ignoring the sight of one of the members groping a girl as she giggles. “Heavy metal band, Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie snickers, “Yeah, toots, we’re a band,” he lifts the bottle to his lips, speaking over the rim, “But this isn’t my band.” He tips the drink back and gulps down the bitter drink.

You watch as he takes it down without a single twitch of displeasure. You take a deep breath, shifting on your feet as you ignore his smart response, “Okay, well, it won’t be long,” you try to reason, reaching for your bag to dig out your notepad.

“Just a few questions; I won’t take much of your time—” Eddie cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “Listen, princess,” he presses his hand against the wall beside you, using the hand wrapped around the whiskey to gesture as he speaks. “While I’d love to sit and chitchat like a couple of teenage girls, we’ve got two issues here, sweetheart.”

“One,” he raises his index finger, “We don’t do interviews before shows.” He explains as if it’s common knowledge. He lifts another finger, “And two,” he steps closer, a sickening grin spreading across his lips when you step back. “We want nothing to do with your shitty dick-sucking career-crushing poor excuse of a magazine.”

You stare at him, a million different responses churning in your head, and you so badly want to read him to filth, but you really fucking love your job.

“Mr. Munson, I promise you—” “Where are you from?”

What is it with these assholes and cutting you off mid-sentence? 

You swallow your pride and answer, “Michigan.” Eddie hums, nodding his head, clicking his teeth as if tasting the state on his tongue. “I’ll tell you this, Michigan,” he bumps the bottle against your shoulder, and you grimace at the drop of liquor that seeps into your shirt. “We’re not doing your shitty piece of a story, but we’ll graciously give you a nice view of the show from the side stage.” He grins, patting your shoulder once and winking.

A staff member passes by you, alerting the band that they have less than a minute to be on stage. You open your mouth to object to his offer, but the boy is downing the rest of the bottle and shoving the bottle into your chest, “Enjoy the show, Michigan.” 

You watch in disbelief as he walks off with his band members, the other members not even glancing your way as they holler and cheer down the corridor of the venue. For the 80th time tonight, you clutch the band of your bag and curse to yourself.

Fuckin’ dipshit rockstars.

Against your better judgment, you, again, swallow your pride and watch the show from the side of the stage. You decline any drinks offers, wanting to stay as sober as possible for the interview after the show (if you can weasel one out of them). 

Corroded Coffin knows how to put on a show. Each band member works the crowd in ways you have rarely witnessed in this industry— it’s not difficult to see their appeal to the younger generation of music listeners.

None of the members outshine the other; they are all equally in the spotlight, playing their part to create a well-oiled machine of an act. Granted, most of the show is concerningly chaotic; Gareth kicked his foot into his drum set near the end, Jeff smashed the fret of his guitar over the side of an amp, Eddie made out with a fan and Gareth, and the other member you can’t seem to name for the life of you sprayed the front row with multiple bottles of liquor.

It’s chaotic, an endless list of violations without a doubt, but the fans eat it out of the palm of their hands.

You don’t even bother trying to get their attention when they run off the stage, quietly watching from afar as they’re cheered on by VIP fans, managers, and staff. Security rushes them to the green room, where a line of fans waits with various pieces of merchandise to be signed.

You follow, silently taking in the busy scene, saying nothing when you catch a few members stealthily swiping tiny bags of party favors from fans. It’s a movie of never-ending noise and movement, and you’re wondering how they put up with this every night.

You glance at your watch and grunt in annoyance, half past midnight, well past the time you’d hoped to be back in your hotel room.

You stand aside and watch the room as the squealing fans go to each boy, getting autographs and Polaroids to commemorate the moment. Gareth is a flirt, shakes every girl's hand and only lingers for the ones he fancies, gazes into their eyes like they’re the only girl in the room, and smirks when they giggle and lean into his touch. Tells them they’re pretty, compliments their dresses and tops, and gazes at their chest for too long until staff breaks the moment and tells the girls to ‘keep the line moving, ladies’. 

Jeff is almost the same, except he’s less performative with it. He’s got a hint of a gentleman in him, thanks each fan for coming, and asks how they liked the show with a sneaky glint in his eyes and a sly smirk. Winks at one of the girls and leans in to whisper something in her ear, something you can’t read from his lips, but later on, you will see them step onto the tour bus together, snickering like sneaky teenagers.

The bass player, the one whose name always slips your mind, has gone off somewhere with a groupie; you watched them slip away from the madness the second he stepped off stage. 

And Eddie— Eddie can’t stop glaring at you. Can’t stop looking at you and making you squirm because he wants you gone. He’s got an arm draped around a girl's shoulder, neck craned down to hear what she whispers, and through the chaos of the room and the pretty girl practically pawing at his chest and giggling in his ear, Eddie still manages to find the time to look at you. Curly bangs wet with sweat sticking to his forehead, cheeks rosy and flushed with adrenaline, wide eyes diminished beneath smudged black eyeliner. He looks like an animal, damp and matted, searing gaze dripping with malice. 

You almost take the bait and cower.

A hand is placed on your shoulder, breaking your silent staring contest with Eddie as a man steps into your view. He is taller than you, older with lines of age sinking into his skin, glaring down at you over the end of his cigarette as he speaks, “Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You wonder how he was able to pick you out, but your itchy jeans and suffocating boots quickly remind you that you don’t exactly fit into the crowd. You nod, sticking a hand out and telling him your name. “You must be Richie, the manager?” You assume, kindly smiling when he takes your hand with a friendly grip in greeting.

“I’m here to interview your boys. We called this morning,” you remind him. He nods, puffs out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth as he speaks, “Yeah, uh… The thing with that is,” he tilts his head to scratch at the stubble on his chin, “I’m not so sure the boys’ll be up for that.” 

You breathily laugh, glancing at the boys behind him, ignoring when Eddie glances your way, “Yeah, I gathered that already.”

The man hums, reaching up to pluck the burning paper from his lip, blowing the smoke away from your face before speaking, “Yeah, Eddie’s not too keen on big media. Bad run-in from the past.” He explains. You nod understandingly, “The Face?”

The man nods, taking another hit, “Tore ‘em to shreds.” You nod, crossing your arms over your chest with a breath, “I remember.” He offers you a hit, and you shake your head, kindly waving him off.

“Shitty, you came all this way, though. Where you from?”

You don’t look at him as you respond, too focused on the man across the room, his attention locked in on the fans now that he sees you’re being taken care of— like an unwanted intruder being exterminated. But you’re not an intruder. You’re a journalist, a writer, a listener— and you’re damn good at it. 

Before you can thoroughly think about the repercussions, your mouth is running, gaze still locked on Eddie, “I can get them on the cover.”

Richie pauses his rambling at that, pauses the lift of his cigarette to his lips, and looks at you, waiting for you to say it was a joke or something— but it’s not. Your gaze flitters to him, your expression unwavering as you wait for him to respond. “The cover?”

You nod once, watching as he takes one long drag of his cigarette. “We can do one big interview with them all,” you begin, “I’ll tag along for a few shows to gather more on the experience, get a photoshoot booked and have them on the cover for the July issue.” You’re pulling strings, tugging at what sounds enticing and will get you where you need to be. You’re good at your job, you’ve done this before, and you know how to bend things to your will because the rockstars— the rockstars are always easy to break.

Richie glances over his shoulder and grunts, rubbing a hand over his face before turning back to you, “Okay, um,” he sighs and curses under his breath, “Let me see if I can talk them into it, yeah?” He sticks the cigarette between his lips and starts searching his pockets. “We’ve got a residency tour in New York next,” he announces, finally fishing out his wallet and sifting through cards until he finds what he needs. He offers the card to you, “Think you can meet us there?”

You take the card and glance over it before glancing at the boy once again. You nod, and he smiles, “Give me a call when you land; I’ll let you know if it’s a go.”

He leaves without another word, and you stay standing for a bit, rubbing the card between your fingers as you watch the boys meet the last of their fans tonight, Eddie no longer looks your way, and you hope he does for just a split second so he can know— so he can realize that he lost.

You give up when he seems too preoccupied with the girls, stuffing the card in your purse and making your way toward the exit. You’ll have to settle for rubbing it in when you see them in New York.

You spent the better part of your week convincing Anna, your manager, to give you the benefit of the doubt and allow you to pull through with a cover story. Anna wasn’t so excited when you told her you offered them a cover, but Anna is never excited by your ideas; she’s always worried until the final product comes out like a fine piece of gold. Treasure. You create treasure, and Anna knows this, so she finally relents and lets you go through with it— “You better get me the biggest story ever made. Bigger than Madonna.”

You can do bigger than Madonna— and seeing as your subject is four young men at the peak of worldwide fame, ‘bigger than Madonna’ will be a piece of cake.

You grab the hotel phone the second you get in, dialing the number on the creased business card you’d fished out from your bag. Your knee bounces in anticipation, teeth digging into your lip as you listen to each agonizing ring, almost thinking Richie gave you a fake card before finally, the phone picks up, “Hello?” It’s groggy, like he’d just woke up.

“Hi, it’s Rolling Stone Magazine,”

He groans on the other end, and you can hear the rustling of sheets, and you assume he’s sitting up in bed, “Rolling Stone Magazine… Oh— oh, uh… are you here?” He asks. You nod before answering with a short yes. 

“Are we on for today?” You ask. He’s silent for a few moments, nothing but sleepy, distant grunts filtering through the speaker. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re on just uh,” you pick at the seam of your jeans as you wait for him to finish his thought, “Come to the garden at around three; they’ve got rehearsals, and you can try to squeeze in after.”

You thank him and end the call, placing the phone back on the stand and sighing as you glance around the room. This will be your home for the next month; Anna advised you to stay for the entire residency tour despite your reassurance that you can complete the story in a week— “A big story, birdie. A massive one. A good one. That doesn’t happen in a week.”

So, one month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie doesn’t like rehearsals. 

He thinks they’re stupid and useless and take up too much time of the day when he could spend it doing something else. Could be writing, could be out having fun with the boys and getting high as a kite, could be fucking that redheaded groupie, Lany. He could be doing so many things, but instead, he’s up on stage in an empty arena listening for feedback in the mic and testing the amps for the guitars. 

“Let’s do that last track one more time; I think I’m picking up a bit of feedback on you, Gareth.”

Eddie sits down on the edge of the drum riser, sticking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He tilts his head back and blows up toward the beaming lights, squinting at the bright rays and imagining them enveloping him. He closes his eyes and imagines it’s the sun, thinking about Hawkins and the last summers he spent with the gang. Thinks about Dustin and Lucas and Max and Mike. Steve, Nance, and Robin. Thinks about how he hasn’t called or visited in a while, even though he got their card on his birthday.

He feels shitty for not calling home; he itches to make the call now and let them know that he misses them and wishes they could fly out more often to watch the band play. They’re all busy, though; the kids are about to start college— dusted the shit out of high school, which Eddie obviously flew in to watch them walk the stage— and the older half of them are all getting jobs, looking for their next big step in life, and Eddie misses them.

His reminiscent thoughts are cut through with the sharp and loud slamming of the arena door, grasping his attention in seconds. He blinks a few times to get the light out of his eyes, squinting at where the noise came from— and Eddie’s mind is fresh off a joint, so he’s not a hundred percent sure if he’s just envisioning that journalist from the other day or she’s actually here.

He stands up from the drum riser, stepping further into the stage as he watches you walk down the rows of seats; barely acknowledges the stage manager when he asks him to play the riff from track four until Jeff walks into his line of sight, “Come on, man, I wanna get this over with.”

Eddie situates his fingers over the frets of his guitar, watching as you find a seat in the third row and settle in, settling your bag in your lap and holding it to you as you silently watch the crew work the stage. He plays the riff a few times, until they can fix that god-awful ringing noise behind the higher notes, and when they finally wrap up rehearsals, Eddie makes a beeline to the front row where Richie is standing, quietly chatting with a staff member about where he wants the road cases to go. Eddie doesn’t care much for their conversation, steps in, and promptly interrupts, “Why the fuck is that journalist here?”

Richard turns to him and raises his eyebrows, “Sir?”

The staff member leaves as Eddie leans in and points over Richard's shoulder to where you sit, still quietly watching the stage, bright lights illuminating your face like you’re some god-sent fucking angel— and you’re not. Eddie knows you’re not. He sees straight through your friendly act. “The journalist, Richie. Why is she here?” He slowly repeats.

Richie glances at you and looks back at Eddie, “She’s doing a story on the band—” “No, she’s fucking not.”

Richie stares at Eddie, blinks for a silent moment before speaking, “Son,” —and sometimes Richie reminds Eddie of Wayne, and it scares him, “She’s gonna put you on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine.” Richie points your way. Eddie falters momentarily, mindlessly blinking and shaking his head, “Cover?”

Richie laughs and pats Eddie on the shoulder, “Yeah. The fucking cover,” he says, “so, whether you like it or not, you’re doing the interview. This is what the band needs.”

Eddie shakes his head, curly strands brushing the muscles of his shoulders, “We don’t need a goddamn cover, Richie. We’re not doing a fucking story—” “Yes, you are.” Richie doesn’t mean to make his voice boom through the arena, but it attracts attention either way, and he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before clapping a hand onto the back of Eddie’s shoulder, turning both away from the stage.

“You’re putting out an album in a few months. You want it to sell, don’t you?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, teeth grinding against each other as he glances over his shoulder, annoyed when he catches you watching— almost smirks when you quickly look away as if you’d been caught red-handed. Despite Eddie’s strong will, he nods because fucking obviously he wants the album to sell— but at what cost?

Richie nods and squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, “Good. Then you’ll do the interview. She’ll be with us for all of New York, so play nice. We need a good piece.” and leaves Eddie with a pat on his shoulder. 

Eddie stands there for a moment, gathering himself and trying to cope with the fact that some fucking narc will be on their back for the next month. He doesn’t see or hear you walk up to him until you say his name. The barricade separates you, your fingers gripping the black railing as you stand before him. Eddie’s hands are on his hips, not moving an inch as he looks at you.

“I know you don’t want me here, but I… I’m just doing my job, and if you can cooperate, this will be easier for the both of us.”

And Eddie— god, Eddie can’t fucking believe the audacity.

“Did you fuck Richie?”

He watches you pull back, blinking at him as you stare silently. Eddie tilts his head, eyebrows raising to push the answer from you, “No, I didn’t—” You shake your head and blink hard in confusion, “Why would I—” “Because you want a good story.” Eddie snaps, “Right?”

Because that’s all anybody ever wants from him. A good story. A tale to tell their friends about. Tell them the secrets they pulled from Eddie Munson, tell them about the famous rockstar that fucked them backstage, tell them they know what makes him crack. A good story.

You gape at him, lost and shocked by the sudden confrontation. 

You straighten up and tilt your head, eyes growing harsh with anger as you respond, “No. I didn’t fuck Richie. I don’t fuck to get where I want, I pull strings, and I make it work,” you snap, “I treat people with the respect they deserve, and I get what I want. You could learn a few things from that.”

And with that, you’re gone. Leaving Eddie behind with a twisted face of annoyance. He watches you walk over to where Richie is and greet him, but he doesn’t stick around long enough to watch or tune in to the conversation, storming through the arena and grabbing his coat to get in the car and tell the driver to take him to his hotel.

One month. Twelve shows and thirty days. One month.

Eddie can play along, he thinks. How hard can it be?

————

part two

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #hiii heres another wip don't say anything shhhh #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader

[bluejukebox]

somewhat damaged - ghost x reader ˚₊⊹

The 141 Task Force gets their own special combat medic, one who catches the attention of Simon "Ghost" Riley. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW !! MDNI !! afab reader, blood, stitches, unsafe sex, p in v, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk ☆

They were all huddled in Captain Price’s office when he proudly uttered the words : “We’ll be expecting a new addition to the 141”. Ghost couldn’t exactly say he was happy. He especially couldn’t when the captain was being extremely vague about this ‘new addition’. It wasn’t a secret that Ghost was absolutely horrible with new people, the walls he’s built for himself standing strong and high. Maybe it was a territory thing or maybe a textbook case of trust issues, he wasn’t sure. All he knows for sure is that his ‘distrusting of people’ habit gave him a not so positive reputation around base. His intimidating figure, mannerisms and appearance scared people off, which he definitely prided himself on. He knew that the other members, specifically Gaz and Soap, would try and force information out of Price by continuously whining, so Ghost decided to sit back and observe, per usual. 

“C’mon cap, ya can give us a lil’ bit more than that can’t ya?” Soap immediately perked up from his chair.

Price shut his eyes out of annoyance. “MacTavish, don’t start.", with a deep sigh he continued “If I had more crucial information about her I would’ve already given it, don’t you think?”

“Her?” Gaz and Soap both astoundedly said. Even this little detail caught the Lieutenants attention. He’s worked with numerous women before, to him the sex of a person isn’t a problem as long as they keep to protocol and know what they’re doing. The Task Force 141 would occasionally team up with other ‘groups’, like the Shadow Company, but new members being assigned was rare. 

With yet another deep sigh the captain continued speaking. “Yes, her. She’s a very reputable combat medic. As you all know there’s been some staff shortages in the medical area around here”, he said while cutting the tip of yet another cigar. “- and trust me I know how stubborn some of you guys get about getting your injuries checked out, don’t even try to deny it. In my professional opinion I think she’ll be a valuable asset to our Task Force, you’re all dismissed”. He waved his cigar clad hand towards the boys to signal them to get out. 

Not even a second after Ghost leaves the office he hears the scot rambling on, “Ya hear that LT? A lady, I wonder what the lass is like”.

Ghost frowned beneath the mask, he had expected Soap to be more concerned with the girl’s gender and less her combat abilities and medical skills, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. All he gave in reply was a grunt while he strided back to the ‘dormitory wing’. 

As he left the area he heard the loud discussion between the members about the new mystery combat medic, but it wouldn’t be until a couple weeks later that you’d arrive. 

And god, Ghost was troubled, These complicated, strong feelings all started the second you stepped foot in the base… 

The contrast between you and him was astonishing, you were so vastly different from him. The bubbly personality, and the cute shy way you had introduced yourself to the Task Force really caught his attention. You’re a proper pretty woman, with a very nice physique that was obviously trained hard for. Safe to say he was interested, though he’d never admit this outloud. The man isn’t known for being in touch with his feelings and definitely isn’t known for accepting intimacy, but that’s somehow exactly what you got him to do.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was a rough mission, bad intel all around, your ears still ringing from all the shooting, explosives, the deafening sound of jet fighters flying close to the ground and projectiles. But the numerous injuries needed tending, the severity of them varying was your responsibility, you needed to focus. You needed to mend their wounds and nurse them back to health. 

It was a close call but you all got to safety, hiding out in a little safe house far enough from where all the chaos was unfolding. You immediately got to work, readying your supplies and putting on some gloves to maintain the little hygiene you could. Firstly you treated the wounds that called for the most attention, which thankfully weren’t life threatening if they get proper treatment back at base. After the emergency operations on numerous bullet grazes, scrapes, cuts and bruises the group was finally able to rest their eyes for a moment. 

They all scattered off, sounding grunts and hisses of pain. That’s when you realized there was one person you hadn’t mended to, Ghost. Your eyes lifting to find his, you found him looking at you with his brown eyes, his masked head quickly turning back to observe the treeline outside the window. 

“Someone’s gotta keep watch, you can go take a break” He heavily grunted, exhaustion evident in his gruff voice. “Are you okay? I-I’m here to help, I want to help you”, You frowned, disappointment unmasked in your response. Ghost could feel his heart skip a beat, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone spoke to him the way you did, the feelings you gave him were clouding his judgement. “I’m fine love, go rest up”

That nickname always got the blood rushing to your face, time and time again. You already were a shy person, the guest free and welcoming nature of the members of 141 didn’t change how intimidating they all were to you. But hearing the endearing nickname come out of his mouth, with his extremely attractive accent and voice, it was a no-brainer that you started developing feelings (and fantasies) for the man.  You thought you hid it pretty well, the way you’d become bashful when he spoke to you, the way you’d stutter your replies back. Obviously you didn’t, the others caught on pretty fast. It quickly became a huge trend in the 141 to tease you about your schoolgirl crush. Soap calling you ‘Mrs Ghost’ when you were alone or the looks they’d send your way when the lieutenant would lift the hem of his shirt to tap away the sweat droplets at the juncture of his neck during training. Even Captain Price joined in, it positively mortified you.

It was hard not to be intrigued by the skull mask, the skull sewn onto a balaclava, white paint replacing the place where the mandible would’ve been. There was obviously a lot of thought put into it, maybe love you wondered. Ghost wasn’t one of the youngest men in the military, it was safe to assume he had a partner and family waiting at home. That's why the late night fantasizing about the lieutenant made you feel guilty and gross, and the innocent crushing foolish.

“Alright, the offer still stands. Would it be okay if I stay here, with you?” The grunt you got in response was enough affirmation for you, quickly finding a spot to settle down and silently thanking the gods for the blankets that were still stored in the safehouse. Slowly you dozed off, exhaustion from the day weighing down on you and pulling you down into a light slumber. 

You were awoken by muffled hisses of pain, lifting your head from your makeshift pillow and trying to locate the sound which you quickly found. There was Ghost, stripped from his usual heavy gear, instead sporting a grey t-shirt, awkwardly stitching up what looks like a very deep bullet graze on his left bicep. Your shifting must’ve alerted him because his head shot to where you were resting. He knew he was caught.

“Oh, Ghost.." you sighed “You could’ve told me atleast, it’s my job you know” 

“Didn’t wanna burden ya”, he muttered after a pregnant pause looking properly defeated. He dropped the needle and thread. Slowly you got up from your prone position, standing up to stretch your legs. Cautiously you sauntered over to where he was sitting. “Well you can’t possibly burden me, and definitely not when you’re hurt and in need of assistance” You smiled, your presence truly calmed him. But the way you cared, the way you talked awakened something deeply buried in him, you were so confusing to him, a mystery. 

As you got closer to him, you settled down against a nearby chair. “Can I help you now?”, to which he only nodded. Carefully you placed your hands on his forearm, your touch making him jump.

“Sorry, my hands are pretty cold”, you bashfully said. 

That’s not why he jumped, he couldn’t even feel the temperature of your hands. Calling him touch-starved would be an understatement, the simple feel of your softer hands touching his tainted skin so gently made his blood rush down south. He felt so perverted, he was getting hard from you simply doing what you were assigned to do. 

You simply took over for him, disinfecting and stitching up his wound for him. In the amount of times he’d come to you for help you both felt the tension. It was undeniable, and this time it was the exact same. Even though the safehouse was chilly, even though you could see every exhale you felt flushed. Warmth spreading over your entire body, and pooling in your lower belly. You could barely sit still while tending to him.

“I’m almost finished” You whispered, your tone coming out more breathy than you had anticipated. The arm you were tending to tensed up, in fact his whole body tensed up. Suddenly the air around you both seemed to get heavier. He couldn’t help letting his thoughts transition over to a more inappropriate side of his brain. It wasn’t the first time his mind went there (certainly not the last). On lonely nights he’d have the image of you splayed in different positions, situations, outfits-  He was sure he looked a mess; clammy hands, a tense body sporting a semi. Praying to god his hard-on isn’t as visible as it feels, he wasn’t small by any means, nothing about him was. You both sat in silence waiting for you to finish up, noticeably your movements got more jittery and shaky. He saw the way you crossed your legs over one another in the corner of his eye. How your legs were squeezing together for some form of relief. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, there could absolutely be no chance you were interested in him, no chance he was the reason you’re getting turned on. One of his specialties is observing people, there’s no way he never noticed the signs.. Now he was staring intently at your face, his body fighting against the urge to kiss you, mark you, push you to your knees- 

“All done” your cheery voice cut through his lewd train of thought. When your eyes met his, your body was uncontrollable, your hand that was patching him up slowly drifting over his bicep, over to the place where his shoulder met his neck. That was the last straw for Ghost. Gripping your waist and pulling you towards him, faces inches apart. He could feel you breathing, eyes shifting down to your plump lips, chapped from the cold. 

Suddenly your face showed uncertainty, which immediately made Ghost drop his hands from your body.

“Do you have somebody waiting for you at home? Please be honest with me”

“Oh love, I don’t, I promise I don’t”

You’ve never heard his voice sound so desperate, so warm and needy. With the vulnerability he’s showing to you right now there’s no way he’s lying. All you could do was give him your signature infectious smile, that was his queue to touch you again. When he started lifting up his mask, placing the hem of it on the bridge of his nose, you were absolutely mesmerized. His strong jaw with a slight stubble and plump lips were on display, all and only for you. 

Your hands sneaked from the juncture of his neck to his jaw, eyes flicking down to his lips and then back to his eyes. Faces inching closer, lips slightly touching but neither of you giving in.  Before your lips finally met, he grabbed a hold of the sides of your face and ground his lips on yours. He grunted into your lips which made you whine back into his. The kiss became more and more needy, hints of nips and licks. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he’s become insatiable. He doesn’t even want to imagine never feeling your lips on his again, you were intoxicating. The position you both were in wasn’t comfortable anymore, he manhandled you and made you sit on his left knee, your back to his chest and his knee resting comfortably between your legs. His lips now working his way down the right side of your neck, hands moving from your hips to your thighs. His touch was light, hands moving from your outer thigh to your inner, before gripping lightly and spreading them for you. Your thighs felt so sensitive, his touch made your body light aflame, nobody has ever had this effect on you.  

“Is this okay darlin’?” He spoke against your neck, if his accent didn’t make you crazy before, it definitely made you crazy now. 

“Yes, please don’t stop” you whispered, unfortunately you weren’t alone in the safehouse and you definitely weren’t hidden. All you got in response was a chuckle. His hands kept teasing you, noticing how sensitive you got when he caressed the insides of your thighs, when he got closer to where you needed him most. Slowly his hand inched towards your tactical belt. But you beat him to it, desperately unbuckling and removing it. Ghost could only watch in amusement.

He helped you with the button on your pants, he couldn’t wait to feel what a mess he turned you into. He’s been dreaming about this for weeks now, the way you feel, your taste, the sounds you’d make, all of it. His brain already working overtime to tuck the memories of your warmth, the sound of your voice and the taste of your lips safely tucked away in his brain. It’s something only for him. 

The zipper of your pants being pulled down sent your brain into overdrive. You were so horny, your clit throbbing, positively drenching your underwear. Without thinking you shifted your hips backwards, your butt being driven into Ghost’s arousal as well as your clit making contact with the surface of his thigh. Bunching the fabric of his pants up in your hands while barely being able to contain your whine. What you both were doing was taboo, him being your superior and all. If anybody found out there could be drastic consequences for the both of you, but he obviously couldn’t care less about that now, and honestly neither could you. 

“Take what you need love, god- you’re so beautiful, I can feel you through my pants”

Slowly you started rocking your hips back and forth, the friction and pressure just enough to relieve you even a little bit. Breath hitching at every pleasurable rock against him, he started helping you thrust your hips by guiding you with his hands on your hips. You swear you could cum from this, you were so sensitive. All the pent up energy and all the fantasies you’ve had about him weren’t helping. 

“I-I’m close”, you whimpered, fisting his pants even harder than before, positively stretching the material out. 

"Already? You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, won’t ya?” Your brain was clouded by lust. You couldn’t even detect the humorous mocking in his voice. Him praising you is what set you off, hips starting to rock in a frenzied rhythm trying to reach the climax heavily burning in your core. Ghost started rocking his hips into your ass, simultaneously pleasuring you even more, his mouth so close to your ear, licking and biting on the lobe. His heavenly moans, grunts and heavy breathing pushed you impossibly closer to the edge. 

The fire in your core burned brighter with every thrust of your hips against his thigh. Letting go of your hold on his jeans you stabilised yourself against his hands holding your hips. Your body tensed, you threw your head back against his shoulder and moaned a lot louder than you should’ve when the pressure finally released, the pleasure kept building and building in intensity, every muscle in your lower region tightening in a delicious rhythm. “Good girl,” he breathed out, you were moaning so prettily, he wanted to save every octave and tone you were making in his brain so he’ll never be able to forget. The slow grinding of your throbbing clit against him brought you back to earth from the best orgasm you’ve had in your life. When he saw you came down he started to rub your arms soothingly up and down. He started pulling you even closer to him, the pressure and warmth of his body on yours helped you come back to your senses.

“I-I’ve- nobody has ever done that to me”, you giggled, turning to look at him. Who would’ve thought his touch would be like magic. Your body felt like jelly, but somehow you still wanted more. “You’re so beautiful when you cum”, He said while brushing loose strands away from your face, his eyes staring into yours. It was so incredibly intimate, his touch so tender it was making you melt. His hand yet again wandering to your core, brushing over your shirt clad breasts and travelling down to your open zipper. His fingers found their way inside your pants, he could feel the warmth radiating off of you. The way his fingers immediately felt wet simply just touching you outside of the fabric of your underwear, you had to be dripping. Even the insides of your thighs were a little slick.

“God, doll, you’re so fucking wet”, he groaned out. All you gave back in response was a high pitched ‘mhm’ muffled by your lips. His cock throbbing at this discovery, the fact you were affected by him so badly was making him feel so self-assured, his ego positively growing. Everything about you was perfect to him. 

After caressing you for a while through your underwear he finally decided to put his hand in your underwear, the uncensored feeling of his skin on your sensitive flesh was better than you could’ve imagined. With no fabric in the way it felt twice as good as it did before, you felt him spread your labia with his fore- and middle finger, making you clench, another drop of wetness dripping out of you. His now lubricated fingers moved upwards and circled your clit, you whined and moaned at his actions.

“I want to fuck you so badly but I need to get you ready for me love, fuck- I’ll take care of you”

That’s all he said before his middle and ring finger dipped down to your opening, making sure they were covered plenty in your slick before sliding inside you. You were tight due to your recent orgasm. He stopped halfway, his hands being huge compared to yours, he knew you’d need some time to recover. 

You’ve never felt so desperate for somebody, it was consuming you. Every fiber of your being needed him, you needed him to go faster, to go deeper. You wanted him to mark you, for him to be yours, and you his. 

Your hands grabbed onto the arm that was busy pleasuring you, one palm slipping from his forearm to his hand, trying to push him deeper inside you. He hadn’t even touched you for 2 minutes and you were already close. He was going to be the death of you.

“Ghost- fffuck, go deeper, I need you”, you were shamelessly moaning now, the thought of the other members being inside the building pushed out of your brain by the mind blowing pleasure Ghost was gifting your body. 

“Call me Simon, love”

You chanted his name, feeling yourself yet again get closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach unraveling faster than you ever anticipated. You were gradually getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, it felt even better. The rhythmic rocking sent you into yet another overwhelming orgasm. 

Ghost felt you gush around him, the sound of your slick with every thrust was deafening. He had to do everything in his power not to cum in his pants. You were truly a dream come true to him. 

When you calmed down and he felt your walls around his fingers relax, they slipped out of you. Strings of wetness tied his index finger to his middle, even his palm was wet. He started working on getting you both undressed, quickly pulling off his hoodie and shirt. Seeing him strip had put you into action as well, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt. As you sat there, tits clad with a very tight and uncomfortable sports bra, you gawked at his physique. He was crafted by the gods, muscles so defined and sharp. The broadness of his shoulders were twice, maybe even triple, the size of yours. 

Reaching up to caress his gorgeous chest your hand accidentally slid over his nipple, making him let out a muffled moan. You wanted to make him moan like that more, you’d do anything to hear it again. Hands drifting to the line of hair that disappeared into his cargo pants, slipping even lower and caressing his bulge through the thick fabric. Your pupils dilated at the reactions he gave at every touch you gave him. He looked like a god so you wanted to worship him like one. 

Standing up with shaky legs you pushed your pants that were hanging low on your hips down to your feet. Now standing only in your undergarments in front of him. He wasted no time in ridding himself of his own pants. Relieving some of the pressure on his hard, throbbing cock. 

He was sporting a tent in his boxers, which was now very visible with the fabric of his thick pants gone. You just stared at it, you’ve been with men before but it’s been a while. He certainly was above average, a fact that matched the rest of his physique. You caressed your hands down his sculpted body, ghosting over his pecs down to the hem of his boxers. Wasting no more time you gently pulled the boxers down. He was uncut and leaking onto the fabric of his underpants, which made your mouth water. Everything about him was just painfully attractive, the sight of him sweating, legs spread with his cock out and head thrown slightly back to gaze at you was something you’d never forget. 

“We have to be quick love, it’s already dawn”, Ghost said. His left hand gripping the base of his cock and the other gliding from your waist to your ass, gripping and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. Both of his hands were now working on pulling your underwear down your legs with desperation. You knew he needed you on him, around his cock as much as you needed him. 

You wasted no more time and sat on his thighs, the air between you two heavy. Ghost gripped the base of his cock and rubbed the tip of him on your clit, before finally positioning it near the opening of your hole. His mouth was open, the man breathing heavily in anticipation.

“Love, ffffuck I need you. You still want me right?”, the arousal was dripping off of his words.

“Mhm, yes-yes please put it in me, I can’t wait any longer”,

His tip slid in slowly, you felt the muscles of your pussy accommodate him. The stretch brought a slight sting with it, you’re not used to fucking men with cocks as girthy and big as Simons. You moved your hips closer to Ghost’s, you felt the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be as close and connected with him as humanly possible. At your motions he let out a symphony of grunts and moans while squeezing your hips to contain his excitement, trying to hold himself back. 

“Please don’t hold back, I need you to fuck me dumb- Simon please”, and the second your words processed in Simons brain he broke. Pulling you completely on his cock until he was balls deep inside you, hips angling upwards so that you’d somehow feel even fuller than before. Gripping his shoulder and nape you started your movements with him, hips moving in sync. 

“Doll, you’re fucking made for me. Born to be my fuck toy, how -fuuckkk is it possible for you to feel this good?”, Ghost said with a strained voice. Hearing his words made your pussy clench even tighter around him, “Hah- you like that? Being mine?”, all you could do was whimper and moan pathetically in response. 

Both of you wouldn’t last long, Simon was already nearing his climax after not even being 2 minutes inside of you. His masked face was pushed into your neck, making you feel the vibrations of his moans and his heavy breathing. Suddenly he let go of your hips and slid his hands under your sports bra you were still wearing, pulling the bra up to expose your chest. He positively groaned when he saw your perfect tits. Bouncing in sync with the rhythm, the cold air hardens your nipples even more. 

“Ahhh- I can’t last any longer love, where do you want me?”, 

“Don’t pull out- don’t stop”,

Your cockdrunk response triggered his orgasm, his thrusts getting slower and deeper to ensure you’re fucked full with his load. Feeling him throb so deeply inside you was fueling your own oncoming climax. You started riding him fast and deep in desperation. You grabbed his hand and started using his fingers to rub your clit, he loved seeing you get off with everything he had to offer. 

Your hips got wilder and wilder, until finally your body shuddered. Gasping and moaning was all you could do, the orgasm seemingly never ending. The soothing motions of Simon caressing your back and him still circling your clit in slow circles helped you come back down to earth. 

Now the only noises in the room were the heavy breathing of you both recovering. Your head falling down on Simon’s shoulders while he soothingly pet your hair, his softening cock still inside you. He kissed you long and soft, you felt him still breathing heavily out of his nose. Finally departing from the sweet kiss, he pulled you close. His face was in your hair. Giving you kisses on top of your head. “Thank you, love. I really needed this”, he whispered.

“I- it was my pleasure, Simon”, you said bashfully.

“My cock is inside you and you’re still this shy?”, Simon laughed. You couldn’t help but join in, all the chaos that took place only a couple hours before momentarily forgotten. 

Simon felt truly at peace. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, nevermind this mind-numbingly powerful. After having a taste of you and all that you’ve made his cold heart feel, he wasn’t going to let you go easily. Not that you wanted him to anyways.. <3

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this is my first fanfic! i'm european so i'm very sorry about my possible grammar mistakes :')) i also posted this on AO3 !

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #masked men #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #i love masked men

[aquaquadrant]

from eden, part IX (act I)

Word count: 11,504 Warnings: Blood/injury, violence, death, animal death, temporary dismemberment, dissociation, self-deprecating thoughts (not really, Jimmy’s just a listener and doesn’t know it), strong language, fictional racism/xenophobia, panic attacks Summary: The Double Lifers have successfully thwarted the invasion by Hels Tek, but not unscathed. Now that Tango’s been outed as Bravo’s doppelgänger, the remaining threads are starting to unravel, and Jimmy suddenly finds himself fighting to save Tango from his own inner demons. Can their love survive the fallout?

A/N: This took a ridiculously long time to write and got way longer than I’d originally intended so uhhh happy belated holidays? There’s a lot in this one that I’m excited to show y’all so I really hope u enjoy it, pls reblog/comment if u do, it means a lot.

Also this chapter has been split into two parts bc Tumblr is a hoe with a paragraph limit, link to the second half at the end. And as always, this is part of a series, so the previous chapters can be found on my au directory here. - Aqua

~*~

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

~*~

Somewhere in Double Life, a player kneels in a bloody wheat field.

Jimmy’s senses are flooded with iron. He’s regenerated enough health that his nose isn’t actively bleeding anymore, but he’s sure it’s still all over his face. As he finally pulls away from Tango, he realizes he’s smeared plenty of it on Tango’s shoulder. The blood on Tango’s chin and claws hasn’t fully dried yet, either. And through his slightly parted mouth, Jimmy can see it’s stained his teeth.

(Did you see what he did back there?)

(He was like an animal.)

(How long do you think he’s been keeping that in?)

Jimmy pushes the thoughts away. Focus on the here and now.

To be fair, though, the ‘here and now’ is a horrible place. The ranch is burning behind them. His eyes are burning from the tears and the smoke in the air. His throat feels tight and scratchy. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted, the weight of it dragging him down, sinking into the trampled soil beneath him. The singed edges of his wings are still stinging, but it’s an easily forgotten pain among everything else.

Jimmy hates crying. Especially in public. Really, nothing makes him feel more useless and pathetic than crying. But he has to admit, he’s at least a little calmer and more clear-headed. Now that he’s cried himself out, his awareness is gradually returning to the conversation going on around him.

“What in’a world was that about?!” Bdubs cries out, sounding absolutely flabbergasted.

“Yeah, who were those guys, anyway?” Etho asks, knitting his brows together. “How’d they get here?”

Joel makes a distressed noise. “They shouldn’t be able to open a portal here, this is a private world!”

“I know, I know, okay,” Grian gripes, “I’m workin’ on it. Hang on-”

“And what was all that nonsense about doggelpangers?” Scar pauses. “Uh, dop- doppabang-”

“Doppelgängers?” Cleo calls over wryly.

Scar hangs his head. “Dang it. Yes, that.”

“I dunno, but what if they come back?” Joel asks nervously. “What should we do?”

Isn’t that the question?

Jimmy takes quick stock of his surroundings. Grian is standing a little way’s off from Jimmy’s huddle, head bent down as he furiously scrolls through his communicator, the screen reflecting in his tinted glasses. Scar is hovering next to Grian, peering keenly over his shoulder, his bow held limply at his side. Both of them look a little roughed up from the battle, but alright for the time being.

Etho, still crouched at the spot where Bravo died, is searching through the dropped items. Joel is pacing in front of the broken portal frame and casting anxious glances at it, one hand gripping his sword while the other rakes through his hair, antennae twitching with agitation. There are a few scrapes and gashes between them- mostly superficial and likely to heal on their own.

Pearl’s wolf pack has been considerably thinned out- something Jimmy notes with a pang of guilt- but there’s still plenty of them milling about the place. With blood-matted fur and tucked tails, it’s clear they took a beating. Pearl herself must’ve gone, from the way they sniff and look around aimlessly, giving plaintive yips and whines. Scott is conspicuously absent as well, another hint as to the bonded pair’s fate. Jimmy’s sure they’ll be along soon.

Bigb and Ren are also nowhere to be seen- likely more casualties of the battle. Ren makes for a rather large target when in wolf mode; he probably drew a lot of enemy fire. And of course, Bigb would’ve gone with him. Box is quite a way from the ranch, Jimmy recalls, so it’ll take them a few minutes to get back.

Martyn is busy mining up the rest of the portal frame, seeming none the worse for wear. Cleo sits a couple yards away, one leg stretched out in front of her. The other one has been chopped clean off at the knee, and is clenched in their hand- but wait, it does that sometimes, Jimmy reminds himself before he can panic. The detached limb isn’t even bleeding, and she’s already pulling some string from her inventory to stitch it back on, seeming more inconvenienced than anything else.

Bdubs, across the field, looks no more beat-up than he always does. He’s fussing over his horse, snatching up stray bits of wheat to heal as it struggles to get its legs under it. Impulse’s horse, devoid of rider, has wandered off towards the barn- perhaps hearing the other horses inside. Impulse himself is crouched beside Jimmy and Tango, his golden eyes intently studying the collar that’s been locked around Tango’s neck.

Tango is still completely silent. He doesn’t move or give any indication that he’s at all mentally present, just kneeling idly in the dirt, expression blank, eyes distant. Nothing but static through their soul bond. He doesn’t seem to be seriously injured- most of the blood stains aren’t his. That realization isn’t as relieving as Jimmy wants it to be.

Grian clears his throat. “Right. First thing’s first, are we all still here?” he asks, scanning his communicator. “No one went through the portal?”

“Nah, all good,” Martyn calls over his shoulder as the final obsidian block pops onto the ground.

Etho has his communicator pulled up too. “Yeah, uh, just looks like Scott and Pearl got killed,” he reports. “Ren and Bigb, too. I’ll shoot ‘em a message, see if they’re alright.”

“Right, okay.” Grian chews his lip, wings ruffling. “And all the other fellas are gone?”

Etho nods. “Yep.”

“Okay-”

“G,” Scar cuts in, tugging on Grian’s sleeve, “you gotta respawn before that injury sets in.”

Grian shrugs him off. Only now does Jimmy realize he’s holding one of his wings closer to his body than the others, the one that took an arrow during the fight. “Gimme a second-”

”Um, guys?” Martyn says suddenly, pointing at the ranch. “Fire tick is on, yeah?”

Grian looks up at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Hoo boy. Yeah, we need’ta get a ditch around the ranch, okay, or else the whole forest’ll go.” He casts a sidelong look at Jimmy, expression apologetic. “Tim, do you mind…?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely, “no, no, by all means. Whatever you need to… oh gosh, it’s all gonna go. It’s gone, isn’t it? It’s-” His voice breaks, and he quickly looks away, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

It wasn’t much, the ranch.

Only two floors- three counting the basement- and a bit tight on space. It wasn’t the most impressive build, not by a long shot. Certainly not when compared to the other builds on this world. It was something that would’ve taken two actually competent builders nothing more than a dedicated afternoon to put together. Plainly decorated, and comprised mostly of wood and stone variants. Nothing that’s particularly hard to obtain. And in all honesty, it was just a starter base; they were going to outgrow it sooner or later, anyways.

But it was theirs. 

It was the scorch marks in the wood from Tango’s blaze rods, in the moments where his emotions got away from him. It was the rocking chair where Jimmy liked to do his embroidery, when he needed to unwind after a busy day. It was the auto-sorting storage room that Tango spent weeks fine-tuning. It was the small but cozy living room that Jimmy decorated with potted flowers. It was the kitchen that always smelled faintly of charcoal, and the wool rug in the foyer that came from their own sheep, and the bedroom that they shared with an east-facing window to let them watch the sunrise together, on the rare days when Tango was awake early enough to see it.

The ranch is burning, and there’s nothing Jimmy can do about it.

(Great. Gonna start crying again, are you?)

(What exactly is that going to accomplish?)

(Man up! Don’t be so pathetic.)

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder makes him look up. Martyn is there, sympathy glimmering in his eye. “We’ll save what we can,” he promises.

Jimmy manages a grateful smile, blinking away his tears. “Thanks.”

Martyn nods before straightening back up. “Etho, Joel, you got water buckets on ya?”

“Oh, yeah.” Etho puts his communicator away as he and Joel start toward the ranch, buckets in hand. “Yeah, here, let’s make an infinite source..”

“Right. I’ll get the ditch started, then,” Cleo chimes in, rising to their feet now that both legs are once again intact.

Grian makes an appreciative noise, still tapping away at his communicator. “Okay, so that’s done-”

“Grian,” Scar says again, more insistently. “You gotta-”

“Hang on!” Grian huffs. He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “Okay, so uh, I can’t ban them… but what I’m gonna do is lock the world down,” he explains, taking a few steps over. “No one goes in or out… not even through a backdoor portal. This is just a temporary solution, but it should do the trick for now.”

Relief washes over Jimmy. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

(Good thing Grian is here to clean up your mess, huh?)

“Hey, guys?” Impulse speaks up, making Jimmy startle. “Um, Tango… he’s not lookin’ so good.”

That’s putting it kindly. Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Right. We should prob’ly get him inside, um…” He trails off as he instinctively looks at the ranch, which is on fire.

Right.

Impulse gives him a comforting look. “C’mon, you guys can crash at our place.” He rises to his feet, calling out, “Bdubs, would you bring the horses over?”

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Bdubs shouts back. He’s finally gotten his horse standing again, glancing around for Impulse’s. “C’mere, stupid- hey! No, don’t wander off…”

“You finished, Grian?” Scar asks impatiently, notching an arrow.

“Okay, okay, hang on…” Grian presses a couple more buttons before putting his communicator away. “There, it’s done. Now, I’m gonna do some diggin’ and see what I can find out about this. But, um…” His gaze sweeps over Tango, expression pinched. “As soon as Tango is up for it… we all need to have a serious chat, okay?”

The wording immediately puts Jimmy off. He can feel his feathers bristling, his wings flaring out almost unconsciously to block Tango from view. “Wh- hey, this wasn’t his fault!” he protests.

Grian holds his hands up. “Ey, I know, I know,” he says lightly. His lower wings sweep out and flatten into a sort of fan as he crouches; an appeasing gesture. “None of us think that, okay? But clearly those guys came here for him, so we need’ta figure out why and how if we’re gonna figure out how to stop it from happenin’ again. Alright?”

Jimmy takes a breath, letting his feathers smooth over again. “Right. You’re right, sorry,” he mumbles.

(Wow, so defensive.)

(Like you could protect him, anyways.)

(Have you no faith in your own friends?)

Grian glances at Impulse. “You got them, Impulse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Impulse assures him.

Scar draws back his bow. “Any day now, Grian…”

“Okay.” Grian turns around with an exasperated sigh. “Alright, Scar-”

He disappears in a puff of respawn smoke. Scar immediately follows him, his bow clattering to the ground amidst the shower of other items.

Impulse exhales in what might’ve been a laugh, if he didn’t sound so tired. He turns to Jimmy. “Can you stand?” he asks, holding out his hand.

(Look, they all think you’re weak, too!)

Jimmy feels himself flush. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, his tone short. Ignoring Impulse’s hand, he struggles to his feet unaided, wings flapping about to help keep his balance.

And then he feels incredibly silly about it. These are his friends, for goodness sakes.

“Thanks,” Jimmy adds, to soften it. “But Tango, I dunno if he… I mean, normally I’d carry him, but right now, I think- I think I’d drop him,” he confesses. Already, the effort of just standing on his own is starting to fatigue him.

Impulse just nods, a knowing look in his eye. “Yeah, no problem.” Slowly, he crouches down next to Tango again. “Hey, Tango, buddy?” he calls softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Impulse. I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s okay?”

Tango doesn’t respond. Carefully, Impulse gathers Tango into his arms in a cradle hold- which Tango doesn’t react to besides curling in on himself a little more. His breathing quickens for a few seconds before he settles down again.

“Sorry,” Impulse whispers.

Jimmy swallows. He’s never known Tango to be so quiet, so still. It’s incredibly disturbing to see. And gosh, he knows Tango’s pale, but right now he looks about as white as quartz.

The events of this afternoon were a lot for anyone to handle. Jimmy’s still only working with bits and pieces, of course. He knows that Tango originally came from a terrible world called Hels, escaped from that creepy scientist guy Dr. Atlas, and has been hiding out on Hermitcraft ever since. So it’s not surprising that Tango got a nasty shock when his past suddenly came knocking at his door- literally, in Bravo’s case.

But Jimmy also knows that Tango is quite tough. He’s not the type to shut down in the face of hardship- in fact, he’ll often go the opposite direction, with manic bursts of frantic energy. So for a reaction this extreme… either that collar they put on him is having a more drastic effect than Jimmy realized, or there’s something more to the story he isn’t aware of.

Before the collar dampened their soul bond, the fear Jimmy felt from Tango had been damn near overwhelming. What could those Hels players have done to him to elicit such a strong reaction? Jimmy dreads to think of it.

The sound of hoofbeats pulls Jimmy out of his musings.

“Here I am!” Bdubs announces loudly, leading a horse by each hand. “Got the hawsies all ready t’go- oh, hey, waugh- what happened to him?” he gasps, his horrified gaze falling on Tango, wide eyes going even wider. “Wha’ th- is he okay?!”

Impulse gives him a tired smile. “Bdubs, I know we’re outside right now, but indoor voice, please? I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, okay!” Bdubs immediately drops into a stage whisper, ducking his head sheepishly. “Right, right, right, right, right, sorry.” He eyes Tango nervously for another moment. “Jeeze, they really… okay, okay, okay, right. Let’s go.”

With an appreciative look, Impulse moves beside one of the horses. Shifting his hold on Tango, he hikes one foot up into the stirrup and swings onto the horse’s back, forked tail lashing through the air.

Bdubs follows suit, climbing onto his own horse before glancing down at Jimmy. “Uh- you wanna ride wi’ me, Jimmy?” he asks, still whispering.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Jimmy says gratefully. Just the thought of walking or flying to their base makes him feel like all his bones have turned to slime.

His own attempt to get on the horse doesn’t go anywhere near as smoothly. With someone else already in the saddle, it’s a clumsy maneuver, his flailing wings more of a hindrance than anything. In the end, Bdubs grabs the back of Jimmy’s shirt and helps haul him up. That only makes Jimmy feel worse. Bdubs is so much smaller than him, how did he manage that?

“Okay…” Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Jimmy gets settled. “You alright back there?”

“Yep, yep, I’m good,” Jimmy says quickly. He clears his throat. “Can we- can we get goin’?” He’s anxious to leave this depressing scene behind and get Tango someplace calmer.

Bdubs nods. “Okay. Uh- hang on tight, and you’d better keep those wings folded or else you- you’ll be blown right off’a this thing!” He turns to Impulse. ��We go now!”

“Alright, let’s go.” Impulse urges his horse forward, and Bdubs swiftly follows.

The horses gallop away from the ranch.

Jimmy does as he’s told, leaning forward to put his arms around Bdubs’s shoulders and tucking his wings tightly against his back. The jostling of the horse’s stride isn’t kind to his aching muscles and bones, but he’s not about to complain. Right now he feels completely out of sorts- like a stranger in his own skin.

As exhausted as his body is, his mind is absolutely racing. He can’t stop thinking about what Bravo said, that Tango was to blame for his being in Hels. And Tango hadn’t really denied it.

From what Jimmy can recall from today’s chaotic events, Tango used to be in Hels, and then a portal appeared. He went through it to Hermitcraft, and somehow, that got Bravo sent to Hels. That seems to be the conclusion they’ve come to. And Tango didn’t know about it at first, but he’s known about it for a couple years at this point, and said nothing.

(How selfish of him.)

But it wasn’t Tango’s fault! He didn’t intentionally send Bravo there, and he only kept his knowledge secret because he was afraid he’d get sent back himself if he revealed the truth. That’s… really upsetting. If Tango didn’t trust the Hermits enough to tell them, after spending nearly a decade getting to know them, it’s no wonder he didn’t tell Jimmy.

Has Tango spent this whole time feeling like a fugitive in his own home?

And what is Hels, really? What kind of world doesn’t allow portal travel in and out? The way they’d spoken about it, it almost seemed like a prison. But created by who? And why?

What exactly is a Hels player? What does a ‘doppelgänger’ entail, exactly? Because if Tango is supposed to be an evil version of Bravo, Jimmy is clearly missing something, ‘cause he doesn’t buy that for a second.

Do all players have a Hels counterpart? Does Jimmy? Oh, now there’s a disturbing thought. Is there another Jimmy running around in a prison world somewhere, locked away from the rest of the universe?

Now that he’s aware of the possibility, he isn’t sure this is something he can just forget about.

But he knows his questions will have to wait. Tango is hardly in the condition to be discussing any of this- getting him recovered from his shock is Jimmy’s first priority. He’s about to ask how far away they are when two figures appear in the distance.

It’s Scott and Pearl, on the way back from their respawns. Pearl is preoccupied, intensely scanning her communicator as she walks. But Scott spots them immediately, nudging Pearl with his elbow and lifting a hand to wave them over.

Impulse glances over his shoulder at Bdubs and Jimmy. “Guess we’d better go see what they want,” he says as he steers his horse towards the pair, Bdubs following suit.

Pearl looks up at their approach. Her respawn must’ve taken care of any injuries she sustained from the battle, because she seems like her usual red-eyed self. But there’s an unmistakable air of anxiety about her- one that Scott seems to share, based on his terse expression.

“Impulse!” Pearl shouts, as soon as she’s within proximity hearing range. “You seen Tilly ‘round?”

Impulse eases his horse to a stop. “Oh, uh- she’s the one with the dyed collar, right?” he asks, knitting his brows together. “Yeah, yeah I’m pretty sure she was back at the wheat field.” 

Pearl exhales heavily. “Oh, thank goodness. I- I lost so many dogs, I wasn’t sure…” She puts her communicator away, looking them up and down. “So uh, is everyone alright? Are… you guys alright?” she asks uncertainly, quirking a brow.

“We’re fine,” Impulse assures her easily. He jerks his head back in the direction they came from. “The others are dealing with the ranch right now, it’s uh… it’s a pretty big fire, I’m sure they’d appreciate some help.”

Pearl follows his gaze, eyes widening at the plume of smoke still visible above the trees. “Oh gosh, yeah, we’d better get goin’, then.”

“You alright, Timmy?” Scott speaks up suddenly. 

“Huh?” Jimmy startles at being addressed. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” Scott doesn’t look convinced, his sharp eyes studying Jimmy’s face before flicking over to Tango. “Is Tango alright? Where’d tha’ thing on his neck come from?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Um…” He isn’t sure how much he should be sharing with the others, while Tango’s incapacitated like this.

Luckily for him, Impulse cuts in. “Don’t worry,” he says gently, “we’ve got it covered. You guys go check in with the others, okay?”

It’s not a very subtle hint, but Scott allows it. “Alriiiight,” he drawls, holding his hands up. “Just remember you’ve got help if y’want it.”

“I appreciate it,” Impulse hums, but Jimmy catches the flash of relief in his eyes as he turns his horse away.

“Yeah, ‘preciate ya!” Bdubs echoes as they ride off.

They ride in silence for a few moments, until they’re out of proximity range, before Impulse clears his throat. “I just think Tango would appreciate some privacy right now,” he explains quietly. “You know everyone else- they’d all want to help and see if he’s okay, but a big group would probably freak him out.”

“Ah.” Jimmy nods. “Good thinkin’.”

(Gee, Impulse is really taking charge, huh?)

(You’re basically useless.)

(He would’ve been a way better soulmate for Tango than you.)

The thoughts make Jimmy flinch. He hasn’t often felt insecure in his relationship with Tango, despite having known him for a much shorter time than the Hermits. But right now, his general lack of knowledge and experience in how best to help Tango has become glaringly obvious.

Thankfully, before he can spend any more time feeling sorry for himself, Impulse and Bdubs’s house finally comes into view.

They’ve added another floor since Jimmy was last here. Floor-to-ceiling windows made of light gray panes curl around one side of the building, continuing with the sleek mid-century modern design. The front yard has received some landscaping as well; a wide, circular path that frames a small cluster of custom trees and shrubbery before leading to the dark oak door, framed by neat flower beds on either side.

As they come up on the house, Impulse and Bdubs turn their horses along a branch of path that veers off from the main circle, taking them towards a small structure built against the house’s side. Made only out of diorite wall posts and a flat, deepslate tiled roof, it creates sort of an overhang, divided into two compartments with warped stem fence posts. Its purpose quickly becomes obvious as Bdubs hops off his horse and pulls a lead from his inventory, leashing his horse to one of the posts.

Jimmy swings his leg around to slide off the horse, dropping onto the ground with an ungraceful grunt. In the stall beside them, Impulse has carefully dismounted from his own steed, still cradling Tango in his arms.

The longer Jimmy looks, the more his chest aches with longing. So he looks away.

“Alright, let’s get inside.” Impulse’s voice is soft. He turns back towards the front of the house. “This way.”

Bdubs finishes hitching the other horse to its post. “Right behind ya!” he chirps. He pats Jimmy on the arm as he passes- an encouraging, or perhaps comforting, gesture.

Either way, Jimmy appreciates it. He knows Bdubs tends to diffuse tense situations with humor, or by maintaining an energetic demeanor. It might be mistaken as inconsiderate, in some situations, but he seems to know where the line is. Genuinely, Jimmy thinks he’d feel worse if Bdubs was suddenly walking on eggshells around him.

Pity is a suitor that won’t take a hint, no matter how many times Jimmy turns it away.

He follows Impulse and Bdubs around the front of the house. Bdubs has already scrambled ahead to open the door for Impulse, whose arms are, of course, full of Tango. He ushers Jimmy in after them with a wide sweep of his arm.

They’ve moved their bedroom upstairs at some point, it seems. The main floor is now a dedicated living space with a modest kitchen in the back, overlooked by a loft from the second floor. An L-shaped lounge made of quartz stairs is built into the conversation pit occupying the center of the room, surrounding a small fireplace. The glass panes encasing it go all the way up to the ceiling, but the sight of fire makes Jimmy flinch anyways- which he immediately kicks himself for.

(Jeeze, man, get a grip! What if Tango saw that?)

If Impulse and Bdubs noticed, they don’t comment on it. Impulse silently leads the way up a spiral quartz slab staircase, which opens up into the loft. Bdubs’s interior work is clearly showing here, with cozy seating nestled beside a custom bookshelf-console unit. Straight ahead past the loft is a short hallway with a couple doors on either side.

Impulse stops at the first one on the right. “We got a spare room here,” he says, nodding his head at the door.

“Not finished yet!” Bdubs adds hastily, though still making an effort to keep his voice low. “Or uh, heugh- furnished. I’m gonna- I was gonna do the interior, I swear.”

Somehow, the fact that Bdubs is concerned Jimmy will judge his lackluster interior decoration- despite everything else going on right now- makes Jimmy crack a smile. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, ey?” he jokes.

“Oh, very freaking funny!” Bdubs huffs, but he’s grinning, too. He opens the door for them, and Jimmy lets Impulse carry Tango inside before following.

The room is, as expected, fairly bare bones. Quartz walls and a dark oak floor carry over the mid-century modern theme from the exterior, but there’s no furniture other than a double-wide cyan bed against the wall. A couple of haphazardly-placed torches on the walls provide the room’s only lighting.

“No windows yet, either,” Bdubs mutters, clicking his tongue as his critical gaze sweeps over the room. “I need ta- I- I still gotta figure out how to place ‘em, with the exterior wall and stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Jimmy assures him. Windows would make him feel a bit too exposed right now, if he’s being honest.

Impulse carefully sets Tango down on the bed. “Okay, Tango, here we are.” He straightens up, running a hand through his hair as he exhales heavily.

Bdubs crosses quickly-but-quietly over to Impulse, wrapping him in a hug. “You okay, sweetie?” he asks softly.

Impulse smiles down at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” Bdubs goes up on his toes to kiss Impulse’s cheek- and even so, he barely makes it. “I’m gonna go check on our boys, then, and see if the others need help with th- with the uh, the ranch. D’you- is there anything you want me to tell ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Impulse says thoughtfully, “maybe just let them know that we’d like to give Tango and Jimmy some privacy right now? We’ll let them know if we need anything, and we’ll chat more once everything’s calmed down.”

“Right, okay.” Bdubs glances at Jimmy. “That- is that good? For you?”

Jimmy is taken aback by the amount of consideration he’s being given. “Oh yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

“Alright.” Bdubs casts one final look at Tango, trying but failing to hide his worry from those big eyes of his. “Alright, I- I’ll be back in a little.” 

He slips out the door, leaving them alone.

Before an awkward silence can descend, Impulse clears his throat. “So uh, looks like someone got you pretty good,” he says, gesturing to his face.

“Huh?” Confused, Jimmy brings a hand to his face- only to jerk away as his fingers brush against his nose. Now that he’s actually paying attention, there’s a dull ache of pain radiating down the bridge of his nose, and underneath the still-sticky blood, he can feel a prominent bump where there wasn’t one before.

“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Forgot about that.”

“Yeah, looks broken,” Impulse says sympathetically. “Need a respawn?”

Jimmy pauses. It’s difficult to tell when an injury will result in lasting damage- no one’s really cracked that particular scientific riddle yet. But generally, it’s understood that the sooner the respawn, the better the outcome. That’s why things like creeper explosions hardly ever leave a mark, since the death is usually instant.

More so, superficial wounds tend to be less likely to scar than deeper, more structural wounds. A simple gash will almost always go away after respawning- if it hasn’t already healed on its own- but things like broken bones can linger in the form of scars, joint deformities, and chronic pain. If he’s being smart, he really should get a quick respawn in, just to be sure.

But they’re on the Double Life world, and right now, his life isn’t just his own.

Jimmy looks Tango over. None of his wounds are serious enough to warrant a respawn, he only got a little scuffed up in the initial attack. In his current state, it’d probably do more harm than good.

“No,” Jimmy decides, “I… I can’t do that to him, not right now. He’s disoriented as it is.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s just the cartilage. Either it’ll heal on my next respawn, or it won’t, and it’ll just match the rest of my face.”

Impulse doesn’t laugh at the self-deprecating joke, simply offering a sad smile. “Alright. I’ll see if Martyn can bring some healing potions by once they finish up at the ranch, I’m pretty sure he’s got a brewing set-up.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right, thanks…” He smoothes a hand over the bed’s cover, setting his spawn anyways, before he eases himself onto the mattress. “Tango…?” he ventures. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Tango has yet to move at all from where Impulse deposited him, back against the wall with his knees tucked to his chest, arms limp at his sides. He doesn’t acknowledge Jimmy at all- which isn’t anything malicious on his part, of course, but god does it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy tries again. “Hey, Tango? It’s me, it’s Jimmy.” He puts a gentle hand on Tango’s shoulder, watching him all the while for any sign that he’ll startle or panic. “It’s over, you’re safe now. Are- are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anythin’?”

Still nothing. Somewhere behind Jimmy, Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “Jimmy, buddy, I don’t think that’s gonna work right now…”

Jimmy ignores him. “Please, Tango,” he pleads, feeling his eyes sting, “can you just…” Idly, he lifts his other hand to wipe some of the blood off Tango’s chin. “Can you look at me?”

Unexpectedly, that gets Tango’s attention. He lifts his face almost robotically to look at Jimmy, eyes and expression still devastatingly blank.

The sudden movement startles Jimmy, his hand jerking back. And as it does, Tango lets his head drop back down.

An image flashes in Jimmy’s mind; Atlas, the doctor with the blood red gloves, grabbing Tango by the chin and tilting his head up.

(Oh, that’s messed up.)

(You’ve really done it, now.)

(Brilliant, just brilliant.)

Jimmy’s stomach turns. He scrambles back, away from Tango, his heart starting to pound. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though Tango gives no indication that he’s hearing it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

A hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump. Impulse gives him an understanding look. “I… think he just needs some time to come out of it,” he says quietly. “Y’know, alone. When he shuts down like this, there’s really nothing to do but wait.”

Jimmy finds his voice again. “Wait, you’ve seen it before?” he asks, creasing his brows together.

Impulse winces. “A couple times, yeah.”

“Oh.” Jimmy swallows, glancing back at Tango. “I dunno, I- I don’t wanna just leave him like this…”

“We can stay right outside,” Impulse says reassuringly, folding his arms. “It’s just… when he gets like this, I’m not sure he’s fully processing what’s going on. It’s like a defense mechanism. So he’s not gonna come out of it until he feels safe, and um… well…”

It’s not hard to catch his meaning. Jimmy bristles. “What, are you- are you sayin’ he doesn’t feel safe with me?” he snaps, which is so unfair because Impulse has been so helpful and so kind and he’s actually sort of right, but Jimmy can’t help it.

Impulse holds his gaze. “Not if he doesn’t recognize you.”

That sobers Jimmy a little, his wings sagging. “Oh. Oh, yeah, good point. You’re right.” Ducking his head, he swings his legs off the side of the bed and rises to his feet. “I guess he’ll be okay in here,” he relents. “But um, can we- would you mind if we put out the lights? It’s just…”

“Tango feels safer in the dark,” Impulse finishes, realization dawning in his eyes. “Good call.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy fidgets with his hands as Impulse collects the torches.

(Wow, he really knows Tango, huh?)

(Thank god someone knows what to do.)

(What exactly are you even here for?)

With the room now sufficiently darkened, Impulse holds the door open for Jimmy. Jimmy gives Tango a final look-over, his blank face now lit by the dim glow of his dampened blaze rods.

“We’ll be right outside if you need us, Tango,” Jimmy says in parting.

Tango remains silent as Impulse closes the door behind them.

As soon as they’re back in the hallway, all of Jimmy’s fatigue seems to hit him at once. He sways where he stands, shoulder bumping against the wall- the dull pain is easily ignored in favor of the black spots dancing across his vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting back a groan.

Fortunately, Impulse is there to steady him. “Woah, easy there.” He quickly guides Jimmy over to the loft to sit down. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jimmy takes a few slow, deep breaths- in through the nose, out through the mouth. When he opens his eyes again, the room is no longer spinning around him, so that’s a plus.

“Here,” Impulse presses something into Jimmy’s hand, “you must’ve worked up some hunger.”

It’s a golden carrot. “Thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, immediately starting to nibble on it. He probably does have food on him, somewhere in his inventory- cooked steak, most likely- but the extra saturation helps.

Seemingly satisfied that Jimmy isn’t going to pass out, Impulse sits down in the chair next to him. “How you feelin’?”

“Better, thanks,” Jimmy murmurs, shifting to fold his wings a bit more comfortably. He feels awkward and just… so out of place here. And Impulse is a nice guy, sure, but it’s a little embarrassing to have to be taken care of like a child. If it weren’t for Tango’s sake, he probably wouldn’t have accepted Impulse’s offer of help in the first place.

“Good.” Impulse looks him up and down, brows pinching together. “Jeeze, they really did a number on you. I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner, chat was chaos and we thought they’d be at spawn ‘til we saw your SOS.”

That comforts Jimmy a little. At least he managed to do something right. “It’s alright, not your fault,” he assures Impulse. “I mean, if you guys hadn’t come when you did…”

“Yeah.” Impulse nods solemnly. “That, uh… would’ve been pretty bad.”

Jimmy studies Impulse for a moment. Now that they have a second, there’s a question that’s been nagging at him. “So…” he starts, “how much did you hear, of what Bravo said?”

“Eh, bits and pieces.” Impulse shrugs. “Something about Tango being an evil doppelgänger from Hels.”

He says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather. Jimmy’s stomach cinches. “Impulse…” he says carefully. “Did you… did you know?”

“What?” Impulse looks at him in surprise. “Oh, that Tango was from Hels? No. No, I never knew anything about before he came to Hermitcraft. But you know, I always kinda knew there was something… not great in his past. I mean, there were signs. I just figured he’d come from an anarchy server or something.” He knits his brows together. “I guess you… never saw what he was like, when he was still new, huh?”

Jimmy frowns. “Wha’d’you mean?”

Impulse makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not my place to get into all that. But let’s just say… he’s come a long way since then. So um, looking back, it kinda makes sense.”

“So then…” Jimmy hesitates. “D’you believe what Bravo was saying? About what Hels are like?”

Impulse actually laughs- though not unkindly. “Oh, no, not by a long shot,” he assures Jimmy. “Don’t worry about that. I mean, there are players who think non-humans are bad, right? Like, there are still public servers out there that’ll ban Cleo soon as she joins, just for being a zombie.” He shrugs a shoulder, his forked tail idly flicking through the air. “Or me, for being a demon.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks, feeling stupid. “Right. It’s… so easy to forget, sometimes, that some folks still feel that way.”

Impulse tilts his head. “Well, not when you have to live it,” he says lightly.

“Oh. Oh!” Jimmy smacks his forehead. “No, no, right, of course,” he adds hastily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s easy for you specifically to forget. Just, in general, I guess. ‘Cause most players don’t have that problem with avians- I mean, sometimes they think some of our traits are weird, sure, but uh- but it’s not the same thing, cause we aren’t hostile mob hybrids. Obviously. And- and none of my friends feel that way, either, so I just…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m not makin’ a lotta sense.”

Impulse gives him a gracious smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “I’ve gotten so used to Hermitcraft, sometimes it catches me by surprise when I travel to public servers and people act scared, or… distrustful of me. And that’s without even seeing me in ‘full demon’ mode. So uh, even though I don’t know anything about this Hels world, I don’t believe that just being from there would automatically make someone evil. I know Tango better than that.”

Jimmy’s throat tightens. “Right…”

Now it’s Impulse’s turn to give him a sideways look. “... you don’t believe what Bravo said, do you?” he asks, voice low.

“What?” Jimmy blanches. Despite himself, he feels his wings puff up with indignation. “Gosh no, no, that’s- not in a million years, mate, it’s utter nonsense!”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Impulse chuckles, holding his hands up. “I didn’t think you would. But you know, I just had to make sure.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighs, letting his feathers smooth down again. “You’re a good friend, Impulse,” he says, glancing away. “Seems like you know what to do, here. He’s gonna need that.”

“He’s gonna need you.” 

That makes Jimmy look up. “What?” 

Impulse’s expression softens. “I’ve known Tango a while, now, and even though there’s been plenty of fun and good times over the years… this is the first time I’ve seen him truly content. Like, he just seems at peace in a way I’ve never seen before. You do more for him than you’ll ever know- probably ‘cause he’s too scared to tell you.” There’s a knowing glint in his golden eyes. “Emotional vulnerability, uh, isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at Jimmy’s mouth. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Impulse claps him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna figure it out, okay? You guys aren’t alone in this.”

Warmth blooms in Jimmy’s chest. “Thank you, Impulse,” he says softly, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Impulse returns his smile before sitting back in his chair. “Now, how about you get some rest?”

Jimmy’s heart jolts. “Wh- no, wait,” he protests, “I’m not gonna leave-”

“You can stay right here!” Impulse assures him easily. “Just close your eyes and rest a bit. I’ll keep an eye out, and wake you up as soon as Tango comes to, okay? But right now, frankly, you look exhausted. And I’m sure you’ll wanna be well-rested for whenever Tango’s ready to talk about stuff.”

“Ah…” Chewing his lip, Jimmy glances over at the door to the spare room- mere steps away.

Since he forewent a respawn, he has to admit some shut-eye would be quite welcome at the moment. The immediate danger has passed. And right now, there’s nothing he can do to help Tango but give him some time. Might as well spend that time resting.

“I… suppose you’re right,” he relents finally. “But you gotta promise you’ll wake me if anythin’ happens, alright?”

Impulse nods. “I promise.”

“Right, then.” Jimmy settles into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He fights back a yawn. “Thanks again. I- I mean it though… any little thing…”

“I know, I know.” Impulse waves him off. “Don’t worry.”

“Famous last words,” Jimmy quips, closing his eyes.

Impulse huffs a laugh but says nothing else.

Silence settles over the room, filled only by Impulse’s steady breathing and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of him typing away on his communicator. He’s probably updating the others on the situation, so Jimmy can rest easy. He’s considerate like that.

Jimmy would’ve thought it’d be hard to fall asleep. This chair isn’t exactly built for it, and as lovely as Impulse and Bdubs’s home is, it’s not the ranch.

The loss is still fresh. He already knows it’s gonna hit him even harder in the coming days. But for right now, the post-adrenaline exhaustion is finally sinking in, and before he knows it, he’s drifted off into the inky blackness.

~*~

A gentle hand on Jimmy’s shoulder startles him awake.

“Jimmy,” Impulse whispers, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness, “wake up.”

It must’ve been quite a deep, dreamless sleep, because while it seems to Jimmy that he only just closed his eyes, he can clearly see through the window that it’s been at least several hours. The sun has long since set; a half moon is rising in the night sky. That’s alright with Jimmy- he was afraid he’d have nightmares.

Rubbing his eyes, Jimmy squints at Impulse. “What’s goin’ on? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Impulse scratches the back of his head. “I uh, I just heard a thud in Tango’s room so I went to check on him and- he’s fine, don’t worry!” he adds quickly, as Jimmy bolts upright. “He’s fine, he’s up, but he still seems kinda disoriented? Like, he’s conscious, but when I tried to go in… I guess I look a bit too intimidating,” he taps one of the curved horns poking out from his hair, “‘cause he growled at me.”

“Growled?” Jimmy repeats, raising his eyebrows.

(Well, that’s promising.)

(Round two!)

(Here we go…)

“Yeah.” Impulse gives a sad smile. “So um, I think you should go try and talk to him, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks. “Oh, right, of course.” He rises to his feet, shaking off residual soreness from his awkward sleeping position.

Impulse pulls a lantern from his inventory and holds it out to Jimmy. “Give a shout if you need anything.”

Jimmy takes the lantern. “Right, thanks.” Steeling himself, he creeps over to the spare room, knocking lightly on the door- which is slightly ajar. “Tango…?” he calls softly, poking his head into the room. “You okay?”

The bed is empty, covers strewn in disarray. Tango is crouched in the corner farthest from the door, his back pressed against the wall. Hunched over and breathing hard, he stares at Jimmy, his blood-stained face lit by the faint glow of his blaze rods. His pupils are dilated again, lips curled back to show his teeth. There’s no recognition in his expression at all.

(You cannot sleep, there are monsters nearby.)

Jimmy swallows. His heart starts to pound. “Tango,” he starts tentatively, holding the lantern up so his face is clearly illuminated as he steps forward, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tango makes a blaze noise deep in his throat; a haunting, hollow sort of growl. It’s unmistakably a warning.

Jimmy hesitates, wings shuffling uncertainly. How to get through to him? General reassurances don’t seem to be working. He needs to remind Tango of where he is, to convince him that he’s safe- in a way that only Jimmy would know.

He takes a breath. “Hey, rancher.”

Tango falls silent. Surprise flickers across his features, mouth parting, gaze sharpening. For a moment he just stares, motionless. Then he squints.

“... Jimmy?”

Oh, Jimmy could cry. “Yes, there we go!” he says encouragingly. “It’s me, it’s Jimmy. You okay, Tango?”

Tango’s breath hitches. He takes a single, careful step forward- then he halfs runs, half stumbles towards Jimmy.

Jimmy rushes to meet him, catching Tango before he falls. “Oh jeeze, okay…” Setting the lantern down on the bed, he lowers them to the floor, shifting so he can wrap Tango in his arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“Jimmy, thank god.” Tango clings to him just as tightly, face buried in Jimmy’s shirt. His claws dig into Jimmy’s skin just shy of being painful. “I- I woke up,” he gasps, “and the quartz- I thought I was…” He pulls away enough to scan Jimmy’s face, eyes wide and frightened. “Where are we? What- how long has it been?”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “Uh- we’re at Impulse and Bdubs’s place, and it’s been… several hours, I think? Half a day?”

“God.” A shudder runs through Tango. “That- that really happened, didn’t it?” He starts to breathe faster, his voice straining into that faint upper pitch that Jimmy’s come to associate with panic. “Oh god, I- I- I don’t- hhh, I c- can’t…”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Jimmy soothes, rubbing circles on Tango’s back. “I’m here, you’re safe. It’s over. Just breathe.”

They stay like that for a while, Tango curled against Jimmy as he rides out the worst of it. He shakes violently, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching as he tries to get control of it again. Jimmy’s heart aches for him- he wishes there was something more he could do to help.

But he knows from experience that just being here is enough.

It’s not terribly infrequent for Tango to have nightmares. Sometimes he simply startles awake at night, apologizes for waking Jimmy up, and goes back to sleep. If Jimmy asks about it the next morning, he brushes it off as nothing; just silly nonsense nightmares, the kind that are terrifying at the time but seem utterly ridiculous in the light of day. Nothing more than that.

And all this time, Jimmy believed him.

(What a fool.)

Jimmy’s only ever seen a couple nightmares cause a reaction as severe as this. The shaking, the shortness of breath, the panic. What helped in the past was simply holding Tango- offering a few reassurances, but mostly silent comfort. And of course, Tango never wanted to talk about those nightmares, and Jimmy didn’t want to push too hard. He’d figured that Tango would talk to him about it when he was ready.

(Fool me once, shame on you…)

Gradually, Tango calms down. His tremors cease, and his breathing starts to grow deeper. He’s still holding onto Jimmy, but it’s less desperate, now. More familiar. Jimmy curls his wings around them, as if providing another barrier, another layer of security.

After Tango’s been still and quiet for a few moments, Jimmy softly breaks the silence. “How much d’you remember?”

Tango takes a shaky breath. “All of it,” he whispers. “E- everything, I was- it was like I- I was watching everything happen to someone else, like I was outside my body…” He looks up to meet Jimmy’s gaze, eyes brimming with tears. “Jimmy, I- I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Jimmy frowns. “Tango, what on earth are you apologizing for?”

Abruptly, Tango pulls away. “I burned you,” he grits out.

“No, you-” Jimmy almost grabs him by the arm, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Tango stares at him incredulously. “Wha’ th- what do you mean? Of course it was!” He rakes his claws through his hair. “I- I lost control, I set the ranch on fire, and you got burned.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Jimmy argues. “You didn’t do it on purpose, you were just defending yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Tango throws his hands up. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten burned, true or false?”

(True!)

(He’s got a point…)

(Why are you arguing this?)

Jimmy doesn’t answer. “Look,” he says instead, “honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine!”

“Well, you don’t look fine!” Tango says bluntly. Distress flashes across his face as he looks Jimmy up and down. “Your poor wings- and oh, your face! What, did- we didn’t respawn?”

Jimmy ducks his head. “I didn’t wanna put you through that,” he explains, wincing.

He can actually see the guilt in Tango’s eyes intensify. “Ohhh no,” he breathes, dismayed. “You- why did you…” Shaking his head, he fixes Jimmy with a firm look. “Okay, you- you need to respawn, now.”

“It’s not important,” Jimmy replies, just as stubbornly. He holds a hand out, beseeching. “Tango, please, I- I’ve been worried outta my mind about you. So much happened- ”

“I’m fine,” Tango says shortly.

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy insists, working hard not to raise his voice. “I mean, honestly, I- I don’t even know what that thing ‘round your neck is doin’!”

Tango shuts his mouth with a sharp click and glances away. 

That sobers Jimmy instantly. Tentatively, he scooches a bit closer to Tango. His eyes trace the collar- it’s so deceptively simple, so innocuous at first glance. Just a ring of smooth, flat iron. But clearly, there’s a lot more going on; a single red light above the keyhole hints at a mechanism hidden within.

“Do you… know what it is?” Jimmy ventures, giving Tango a searching look.

Tango’s jaw tightens. “It’s wither rose.”

Jimmy blinks, taken aback. “What? But… we aren’t withering, we aren’t takin’ damage-”

“It’s not…” Tango makes a noncommittal noise, waving a hand in an aborted gesture. “They’ve modified it, somehow, I dunno. It- it’s not the full effect. All it’s doin’ is dampening my fire.”

“And our soulbond,” Jimmy realizes, his stomach sinking. “After he put it on you, I- I couldn’t feel your emotions anymore. It’s just… numb.”

Tango’s face is grim. “That’s what wither rose does,” he says lowly.

The certainty in his voice is… somewhat concerning. Sure, any player who’s been ‘round the block will have learned what it feels like to be withered, at some point or another. But due to the tedious and somewhat risky nature of obtaining the roses by way of a wither farm, most players don’t regularly encounter them. And as far as aesthetics are concerned, they aren’t the most appealing flower, so when they are farmed, they’re mostly used for mass-producing black dye or as the killing method in a mob farm. Not as decor or landscaping, where a player might actually touch the rose and be subjected to the wither effect.

Personally, Jimmy can’t remember the last time he touched a wither rose, as a player who doesn’t make a habit of farming withers or even taking on the boss fight. But the tone of Tango’s voice right now is the tone of someone who is horribly familiar with the sensation.

“Tango…?” Jimmy prompts quietly. “Is there… somethin’ I should know?”

Tango swallows. He’s avoiding Jimmy’s eyes. “I… I don’t wanna talk about it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Not right now?”

It’s almost a plea, and Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Okay. That’s okay,” he says gently, forcing down his disappointment; this isn’t about him. He rises to his feet, holding out his hand to Tango. “Here, come on, let’s… let’s get up on the bed, alright? It’s late, you need some proper rest.”

Tango hesitates, though he accepts Jimmy’s offered hand to help him up. “You need to respawn…”

“It can wait,” Jimmy says easily. He tries for a grin. “Honestly, I- I already knew I wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes, but I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“No,” Tango says quickly, “no, you’re not-” He makes a frustrated noise. “Your wings.”

Jimmy softens. “They’re just feathers. They’ll grow back.”

Sure, it might take a while if his follicles have been badly damaged, and his wings won’t be a pretty sight once all the burned feathers fall out. But most of his flight feathers are still intact, so in terms of places to get burned, it could’ve been much worse.

Tango huffs a breath, clearly still upset with himself. But he doesn’t protest further as Jimmy eases onto the bed, gently pulling Tango with him. After collecting the lantern so the room is properly dark again, Jimmy nestles under the covers, sweeping a wing out to lightly gather Tango beside him.

Tango settles against him, and it’s then that Jimmy realizes he isn’t as warm as he used to be.

He’s not cold, not by any means. But Tango has always run a bit hotter than the average player- a blaze hybrid trait that Jimmy’s quite fond of. It was the whole reason they first shared a bed, back in the early days of the world, and inadvertently plunged their relationship into new, terrifying depths. If it wasn’t for that moment, they likely would’ve danced around the issue for far longer, and been robbed of many precious days of happiness together. So even on warm nights, Jimmy will still cuddle up beside Tango. Even if he has to kick all the blankets off.

But with the collar dampening Tango’s fire, he’s been robbed of that, as well.

Jimmy swallows the lump in his throat and puts an arm around Tango, who curls into his side, head resting on his shoulder. Having Tango so close is immediately comforting. God, to think of how close he came to losing this, to never holding Tango again… 

It’s scary. It’s incredibly scary. There are few things in the universe that can really, truly cause lasting harm to a player. Injuries can heal upon respawn, death isn’t permanent- except for worlds where it is, then they just respawn on a different world and start again. But if those Hels people had succeeded in taking Tango through that hacked portal, into some isolated prison world that Jimmy has no way of finding… he’s afraid that would’ve destroyed him.

Jimmy turns his head to press a kiss onto Tango’s forehead, right between the dimmed blaze rods hovering around his temples. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Tango whispers back.

The room grows silent. Jimmy stares up at the dark ceiling. His earlier tiredness has up and left him, his mind racing, plagued by thoughts of what might’ve been. It’s all he can do to reassure himself that it’s over, that Tango’s safe and still here with him.

That for once, he was lucky.

(For how long, though?)

He isn’t trying to stay awake. And he isn’t pretending to be asleep, either, just laying quietly with his thoughts. But at some point Tango must think he’s nodded off, because only then does he start to cry.

It’s a quiet sound. Just the sharp inhale and exhale of breath. Jimmy might not have even known he was crying if it wasn’t for the way his shoulders shake, and the sudden dampness seeping into Jimmy’s shirt. 

It takes all of Jimmy’s willpower not to console Tango, to hold him tighter and offer hushed reassurances. There’s a reason Tango waited until he thought Jimmy was asleep- he’s very much the kind of person who prefers to show emotion on his own terms. If he knew Jimmy was awake to witness this, he’d completely shut down again. And he needs this.

So Jimmy pushes down his own emotions and does nothing as his soulmate cries, trying not to move or start crying himself as the guilt for being so useless eats him alive.

(Sweet dreams…)

~*~

Morning comes, eventually.

At least, as far as Jimmy can tell by his internal clock. The room he wakes up to is still fairly dark- just a slim beam of light coming in from the hallway through the cracked door. Impulse must’ve done that to better keep an ear out for them overnight. Thoughtful guy. Tango is sleeping deeply next to Jimmy, and the sight is quite comforting.

It seems they’ve kept with their usual sleeping habits, even without a sunrise to greet them.

Carefully, without jostling Tango, Jimmy pulls up his inventory to grab his communicator. He can’t recall hearing it go off, but he wants to make sure there isn’t anything that urgently requires his attention. He’s surprised, however, to find a potion of healing; Impulse must’ve slipped it to him while he was sleeping.

A smile tugs at Jimmy’s lips. He’s long since regenerated his health, but the potion ought to help with his lingering injury. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the cloyingly sweet note of melon. It doesn’t take long for a cooling sensation to settle over his broken nose. When he gently probes at it, he can feel it’s still a little crooked, but at least the pain is gone.

Putting the empty bottle away, Jimmy digs out his communicator, squinting against the blue light. No one’s used chat lately or sent him any whispers- it seems they’re taking the request for privacy quite seriously. But there is the backlog from yesterday waiting for him. It takes him a minute just to scroll back to where it all began.

Bravo joined the game.

<Grian> ey??

AtlasSyn joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

Phantonym joined the game.

<Grian> EYY????

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Ummm?

<Renthedog> What the heck??

CRIMETIME joined the game.

t3rr0r_b1te joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

baddomen666 joined the game.

<InTheLittleWood> WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?

staluggmite joined the game.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

<PearlescentMoon> Hello??

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

<Smajor1995> wait how is this happening

<PearlescentMoon> Raid?? D:

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

<Grian> i don;t know??

Jaffu joined the game.

<Grian> theres no one at spawn???

<Etho> woah!

<SolidarityGaming> SOS RSNCH

<Smajor1995> oh no

<Renthedog> What??

<Smallishbeans> rsnch lol

<GoodTimeWithScar> G come pick me up

Tyrannicide was slain by Tango.

staluggmite was slain by Tango.

Phantonym was slain by Tango.

<InTheLittleWood> Wait WHAT?!?!?!?!?!

<Smallishbeans> NO WAY

<BdoubleO100> OHHHHHHH

<Grian> EVERYONE TO RANCH

<ZombieCleo> what is happening???

staluggmite joined the game.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

<Smajor1995> omw cleo

Phantonym joined the game.

<impulseSV> Etho, Joel, our place?

<Renthedog> BigB where you at??

<bigbst4tz2> coming

SheHelsSeaHels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

EbonyHelmentia was shot by Smajor1995.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Renthedog.

Jaffu was doomed to fall by ZombieCleo.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Tyrannicide was slain by Renthedog.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

CRIMETIME joined the game.

Phantonym was slain by Etho.

t3rr0r_b1t3 joined the game.

ne’er_do_hels joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Renthedog.

Vexed2theMax was slain by bigbst4tz2.

Tyrannicide joined the game.

XxSLAYERxX joined the game.

Jaffu was slain by Renthedog.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

bigbst4tz2 was shot by AtlasSyn.

Renthedog died.

Phantonym joined the game.

baddomen666 was slain by Wolf.

SheHelsSeaHels joined the game.

Jaffu joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

staluggmite was slain by Smallishbeans.

Helfyre_004 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

PwrPlayz joined the game.

ApexGamer98 was slain by PearlescentMoon.

baddomen666 joined the game.

PwrPlayz was slain by Wolf.

Jaffu was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was shot by Smajor1995.

EbonyHelmentia joined the game.

Vexed2theMax was slain by InTheLittleWood.

PearlescentMoon was shot by AtlasSyn.

Smajor1995 died.

Helfyre_004 joined the game.

ApexGamer98 joined the game.

SheHelsSeaHels was slain by Wolf.

ne’er_do_hels was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 joined the game.

Vexed2theMax joined the game.

Helfyre_004 was slain by Wolf.

baddomen666 was slain by impulseSV.

CRIMETIME was slain by Smallishbeans.

Phantonym was slain by Wolf.

Vexed2theMax was slain by Wolf.

t3rr0r_b1t3 was slain by Wolf.

ApexGamer98 was slain by BdoubleO100.

Tyrannicide was slain by Wolf.

EbonyHelmentia was slain by Wolf.

AtlasSyn left the game.

XxSLAYERxX was slain by Wolf.

Bravo was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

Grian was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using [hOtgUy]

GoodTimeWithScar died.

Jimmy doesn’t know how long he spends looking at chat, reading it over and over again as he tries to make sense of it. All those Hels players came here with the express purpose of kidnapping Tango. But why? Dr. Atlas had said something about ‘getting back to work’ and a farm design, but what does that even mean? 

Speaking of that doctor fella, he seems to have been the only one to get kills on the Double Lifers- the rest of them must’ve been preoccupied with Pearl’s wolves. Gosh, to think what her chat must look like…

But that’s something worth noting. Atlas didn’t waste his time with wolves, he went for Pearl and Bigb. He must’ve realized the wolves were Pearl’s and targeted her because of it. And the fact he went for Bigb instead of Ren, who was racking up the most kills... that means he was able to put together that they were soulbound, and he used that to get rid of the threat more easily.

Out of these Hels players, Atlas is clearly the one to watch out for.

Well, him and Bravo, of course. Though Bravo technically isn’t a Hels, if Jimmy’s understood it properly. But he’s certainly just as cruel and bloodthirsty as those other guys were, and he’s got it out for Tango the most. Jimmy can’t recall the last time he saw such hate in a player’s eyes, for any reason. And this is the guy claiming he should’ve been Jimmy’s soulmate? Unbelievable.

As if Jimmy would ever go for such a dense, hateful, entitled piece of-

“Honey,” Tango says suddenly, sitting up on his elbows, “you okay?”

Jimmy jolts in surprise; he must’ve been looking quite cross with his communicator. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assures Tango softly, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry if I woke you.”

It’s difficult to make out details in the scarce light from the hallway, but Tango looks much improved from yesterday. Even underneath the dried blood, the warmth has returned to his skin, replacing that sickly, pale pallor. His red eyes are sharp and alert- that’s a huge relief, as well.

“No, no, you’re good!” Tango says brightly. He leans over to press a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek. “Sleep alright?”

His tone throws Jimmy for a moment. Someone’s feeling better. Blinking, Jimmy puts his comm away. “I did, yeah,” he answers uncertainly. “You?”

“Yep!” Tango smiles at him; it seems a bit forced. “I uh- I’m all rest-ificated and ready to start the day. So, what I- well, I- I guess our first order of business, we should go take a look at the ranch, right, see what the damage is? Then we can do some resource gathering and start rebuilding, so we aren’t crashing at Impulse and Bdubs’s place forever.”

Jimmy pauses for a moment to process the words. “Umm… are you sure?” he asks tentatively. “I mean, we can go look at it if you want, but uh, are you- we should really focus on getting that collar off you first, don’t you think?”

Tango shrugs. He isn’t quite meeting Jimmy’s eyes. “Doesn’t bother me. Besides, we don’t have the key.”

Jimmy knits his brows together. “So what, we just... let it alone? Move on?”

Tango huffs a laugh- it sounds a bit faint. “Yeah, yeah exactly.” 

(What an abrupt change of character!)

(Lying again, it seems…)

(How suspicious.)

Okay, this is definitely strange behavior. Considering everything that happened yesterday, Jimmy would’ve expected Tango to still be physically and emotionally wrecked. But instead, he seems rather keen to just move on, like everything’s normal- 

Ah. Of course. Jimmy doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Tango...” he starts, “I don’t think-”

“Good morning!” Impulse hums as he pokes his head through the cracked door. “How we doin’, guys?”

Curse his timing. Tango, of course, immediately takes advantage of the distraction.

“Oh, hey Impy!” he says cheerfully. “Hey uh, sorry about earlier. You know, I uh, I was a little confused, and uh… you know...” He pulls a face; overdramatized. He’s trying to make light of it.

Impulse seems to share the same realization as Jimmy. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says easily, though he keeps his tone in a lower register- more serious. Not feeding into the fake energy. “No hard feelings. Here, I brought some food.”

Tango takes the offered food without even a second of hesitation; a stack of golden carrots. “Of course. Thank you, thank you.” He quickly starts crunching on one, conveniently busying himself so he doesn’t have to say anything else.

Oh well, at least he’s eating. Jimmy gives Impulse a tired smile. “Hey, Impulse. Thanks again for lettin’ us crash here.”

Impulse returns his smile. “Yeah, of course, no problem. So um, I’ve just got a bit of an update for you guys.” He sits down at the end of the bed, expression sobering. “The ranch situation is under control, they managed to get the fire out before it spread to anything else nearby. So your pastures, barns, and fields are safe. All your animals, too.”

It’s easy enough to pick up on what he’s left out. “But the ranch itself is gone, isn’t it?” Jimmy says quietly.

Impulse nods. “I’m sorry. Most of what’s left is just the stone. I think the basement is pretty intact, too, but everything else…”

“Yep.” Tango, finished with his carrot, shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, I figured. That’s what we get for building with wood, even though I’m super flammable and stuff.”

Jimmy gives him a sympathetic look. “It’ll be okay-”

“So,” Tango interrupts, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze as he gives Impulse an intent look, “uh- anything else?”

(Ouch! Testy…)

Impulse rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Grian wants to know if you guys are up for a chat. Nothing bad,” he adds quickly, “he’s just trying to figure out a solution and we’re just a little in the dark about everything. You can stick to the basics; if there’s something you aren’t comfortable telling us, that’s fine-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango assures him. Despite his grin, there’s a hard edge to his voice. “Let’s do it. Call everyone up, we’ll have a nice chat at spawn or something. Let’s- let’s get goin’.”

Impulse pauses. “Well, if you want, we can have just Grian come over...”

Tango huffs. “No, why- let’s just get everyone on the same page, okay? Get it all over with at once.” He spreads his hands. “No point in delaying, or- or having to explain the same thing over and over again, right? I mean, everyone’s stuck here ‘til Grian lifts the lockdown, I- I’m sure they’ll wanna know why.”

Jimmy exchanges a look with Impulse. “I… I suppose,” he says hesitantly. “But are you sure you’re-”

“Yeah,” Tango says, “yeah, it’s fine.” 

Impulse purses his lips, clearly fighting not to let his frustration show. 

The sentiment is one that Jimmy shares. It’s obvious Tango is trying to downplay everything- and if that’s his way of coping, fine. But it really throws a wrench into the works when moving forward requires actually addressing what happened, and having an in-depth conversation about it. And this doesn’t bode well for long-term; they can’t just pretend everything’s normal, no matter how much Tango might wish it. 

“Okay, I’ll let him know.” Impulse rises to his feet. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway if you guys wanted to wash up.”

Tango actually makes a face at that, dropping the facade for a moment. He really doesn’t like water. “Wash up..?”

Impulse winces. “You’re um. Still covered in dried blood.”

(I was wondering when he’d realize that…)

Tango blinks. “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” Absently, he reaches a hand up to scratch at his chin. “I should probably wash that off, yeah. I mean, everyone knows I’m a vicious monster but I don’t have to look it, right?” he laughs.

Jimmy’s heart tightens. “Hey, Tango…”

“No,” Impulse protests, “that’s not-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tango says shortly. “Thanks, Impulse.”

“Alright.” Impulse lets the matter drop, turning to leave. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

As soon as Impulse is gone, Jimmy turns to Tango. “Hey, so-”

But Tango has already hopped out of bed and crossed to the door, calling, “Hang on, be right back!” over his shoulder.

Down the hall, Jimmy hears the bathroom door open and close. He sighs.

This is gonna be a fun conversation.

~*~

CONTINUED IN PART IX, ACT II

#hels to pay au #HTP fic #hermitcraft #double life smp #my writing #man tumblr really threw a wrench in the works #i know this chapter got long and i use line breaks excessively but DAMN

[peachhcs]

will surprising sam and coming out to visit her at mich and going to her game

something other than hockey

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

ugh yes she has no idea he's coming until she wins the game and sees him after. later that night, they go out together getting somehwat drunk and then cuddling up togther on the couch.

2k words

warnings: underage drinking but that's really it

au masterlist

michigan led the score 3-2 with two minutes left in the final half. the crowd in the stands were on their feet going crazy and cheering on the lady wolverines to keep up their lead. the ohio state women played dity earning themselves and the michigan red and yellow cards left and right. samy scaled the field with her teammates trying to recapture the ball while trying to watch her back after getting herself a yellow card ten minutes earlier for pushing one of the other girls over. 

ellen and jim were on their feet watching the game in anticipation with nearly every single men's hockey player scattered across the stands watching their favorite hughes play. ethan and mark stood at the front of it all making their section the most rowdiest. the two convinced their teammates to come out since it was the final home game and if they won this game, the girls advanced the elite eight—so much closer to the national championships. 

"let's go! run it up the field!" ethan hardly had a voice left as it rasped in his throat. 

the timer quickly itself down now with only 90 seconds left in the game. samy yelled things to her teammates as they started running towards the goal with the ball in their clutch. 

"take the shot! you've got time!" mark's voice was hardly there either. 

anytime the two went to samy's games they came back with a lot less voice than they started with. sometimes samy thought they were crazy for screaming at every game because a lot of the times they were the only ones screaming at the top of their lungs. 

one of the ref's whistles blew making a sign for a time out from ohio's side. everyone let out a collective, half annoyed sigh as the teams huddled together. 

"dunno why they're calling a time out. there's a minuet left and we have the ball. there's no way they're gonna score," ethan mumbled with a shake of his head. 

"osu's gonna dig for every chance they can get. i doubt they're gonna give it up that easily," jim mentioned. 

ethan and mark took the small break as an opportunity to rehydrate and hopefully make their throats less dry. "how you doing, smitty?" ethan shifted his attention to samy's boyfriend sitting to his right. 

the girl actually had zero idea will was in town for the weekend. it was his mission to finally surprise her and with this weekend being game less, of course he'd never pass up the opportunity to see his girl. 

was he missing all the practices this weekend? yes. would his coaches kill him for not being there? probably. would he sit bench at the next game? most likely. 

did will care? no. not at all. 

for once in his near 18-year playing career, he finally had something other than hockey to think about. hockey wasn't his number one anymore, nor would it ever be as long as samy was in life. 

"i'm good. getting worked up about this game," the blonde responded to ethan's question.

th older boy quickly nodded in agreement, "osu's playing like shit, yet we're getting all the cards." 

"the coach knows what he's doing. i think he's scared of samy knowing how well she's played this past season for only being a freshman," mark commented and the boys nodded in agreement. 

the whistle blew again and the girls got back into position. everyone's eyes were on samy as she traveled up the field alongside her teammates. something about the way she communicated and moved with four other girls reminded will a lot of his line with gabe and ryan. 

"put it in! show 'em what we got!" luca yelled from the back. 

the timer shrunk down to 40 seconds left. 

one of the girls passed the ball samy's way as she ran up the field towards the goal. osu's defense was strong, but boy was the youngest hughes stronger and smarter than them. 

"20 seconds!" ethan yelled. 

the crowd began counting down with the timer, so samy took her chances with putting it in. with her momentum from sprinting up the field, she did a near corner kick towards the goal. time slowed itself as everyone's eyes watched the ball soar through the air. 

osu's goalie jumped up, but she missed it by half an inch, so the ball scraped right past her finger tips and into the back of the net. 

screams erupted from the entire student section. the umich girls stormed the field in celebration while the boys jumped up in victory, immediately hugging one another. 

"for the first time in program history, the lady wolverines will continue on dancing to the elite eight! congratulations!" the announcer exclaimed through the speakers. 

will followed after the group of now excited hockey boys to the field to congratulate samy. he had been so wrapped up in the game that his nerves about surprising samy hadn't made themselves known until now. a crowd of students were already on the field sending their congratulations to the players it was hard keeping track of everyone. 

the blonde stuck himself close to ethan in fear that he'd get separated and lose the group. sweaty bodies hit into will almost knocking him sideways followed by a half apology that didn't really mean sorry. the boy quickly scanned people's faces hoping samy was somewhere close by and they could all leave the now crowded field. 

suddenly, someone squealed and ethan stopped walking. will's eyes flicked back over and he quickly caught sight of the girl wrapped up in mark's arms. all of the hockey boys crowded around the youngest hughes basically blocking will from her view. 

the blonde shifted on his feet waiting for her to finally notice him. his heart rate felt like it was pounding through his chest and he didn't know why. it was samy. his girlfriend. 

maybe will was freaked because this was the first time they've seen one another since summer ended and they went to college. talking over the phone and texting was one thing, but seeing one another in person was another. they only had two months of being in a relationship in person before college cut a wedge between that. 

finally, ethan stepped side, his eyes finding will's with a tiny smirk. samy followed the older boy's gaze in slight confusion before she met gazes with will. 

she stared at him for a good five seconds before jumping into his arms which almost sent both of them to the ground. 

"you're here. what are you doing here?" samy's grip was strong around will's neck. the boy smiled into her skin, breathing her in. 

"came to surprise you. got in this afternoon," he explained. 

having her in his arms and the way she held onto him eased all of the worries he had minutes before this. god, it felt so good. 

"don't you have practice? how'd you get out of it?" samy pulled back to see her boyfriend's face. he smiled a bit, putting her down, but not letting go. 

"i mean.. i didn't i just kind of left," will shrugged. 

"your coach is gonna kill you," samy couldn't believe he was skipping an entire weekend of practice for her. 

"they can do whatever they want to me if it means i get to spend a weekend with you," the blonde smiled softly. 

his words made the girl blush a deep crimson and it got even worse when he leaned down to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. the hockey players still watching smiled at the interaction along with ellen and jim. 

remembering that everyone was still watching them, samy carefully directed will's lips away from hers for the time being. he pouted some. "later," the girl mumbled before stepping away from him to greet her parents. 

"i gotta change and debrief the team. i'll catch you guys in like 20 minutes if you wanna wait around," the brunette looked back at everyone. 

"you got it little hughesy," ethan threw a thumbs up in her direction. 

the girl chuckled. she kissed will's cheek one last time before running off to join her teammates as they began walking back into the sports complex. a minute later, ethan jumped onto will's shoulders, a large grin on his lips. 

"i think that definitely went well. what do you think?" the older brunette asked. 

"definitely. thanks for getting me here," will grinned. 

"anytime, smitty. you're like our little brother now," ethan looked at mark who nodded. 

the younger boy smiled to himself at the boys' words.

—

later that night, samy and will found themselves tucked away in a corner couch at the senior hoceky house. truscott threw, so of course the invite opened itself to the youngest hughes and will. it was a good way to celebrate with some of her favorite people after today's big win.

the two made their rounds saying hi to everyone, but samy found them a couch off in a side room. the alcohol buzzed through their systems—sometimes samy had a hard time saying no when someone offered her a shot. plus, she thought she deserved it, too.

will definitely wouldn't pass up free alcohol, so he followed the girl's lead. now, the couple cuddled into one another letting the party drown out around them.

"'m glad you're here. i missed you," samy mumbled with a soft smile.

will's learned that samy became extremely affectionate and talkative whenever she was drunk, but he certainly didn't mind. he'd listen to her talk for hours.

"missed you too, pretty girl. feels like it's been forever," will hummed, eyes never leaving hers.

a small frown replaced the smile, "i know. wish we didn't live so far apart now. facetime isn't the same."

"winter break is soon, though. we'll get to see each other then."

"if my parents let me go to sweden. boston and another country are two completely different things," the brunette mumbled.

will almost forgot he was going to sweden for the us world juniors. that seemed so far away and now it was almost here. he squeezed samy's thigh that was draped across his lap.

"still can't believe you skipped practice to come see me," the girl changed the subject for now. her grin returned earning a smile from will.

"well what else am i gonna do? not see you until who knows when?" the blonde playfully raised his eyebrow.

"never known you to skip hockey practice for someone, especially a girl," samy chuckled. her hands reached up to play with will's curls on the nape of his neck not covered by the hat he had on.

her touch sent sparks down his spine and a little skip in his heartbeat.

"i guess things change."

"if you could rank them, what's first?" samy kept firing her random questions.

"you," will said without hesitation.

"me?"

"yes, you," the blonde smiled.

"you're lying," a laugh escaped the girl's lips as if she didn't believe her boyfriend.

"no i'm not," this time it was will's turn to be confused.

samy read his look, gently shoving him away from her, "come on, smitty. you've been focused on hockey for..for since we were born. there's no way anything could ever replace that."

the way she called him smitty, picking it up from gabe and ryan some years ago, did something dangerous to the boy. he gently shook his head, intertwining their fingers.

"that was before i realized i've been missing what's right in front of me all along. it's always you, samy," will said softly creating another deep blush on the girl's cheeks.

"god, you're so corny," the brunette rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

will cupped her cheek, bringing her lips closer to his since their kiss earlier was cut short because of everyone watching them. they connected in another sweet kiss.

samy's lips tasted of strawberries and vodka that only made will kiss her harder wanting to get every inch of that taste off her lips.

#hughes!sister x will smith au #will smith hockey #samy x will #boston college hockey #boston college #samy hughes #umich hockey #will smith imagine #will smith x oc #uofmichigan #will smith hockey fluff #will smith fluff #bc hockey #will smith #umich soccer

[mikalame]

Fixing up

little tom, young love, reader being a lil sweety ,tom blushing, all that ushy gushy stuff

taglist: @oppopotamus @violentnewmarley @saumspam

Tom and ___ just got done finishing a movie and were now cuddling and enjoying each others company talking about stuff that's happening in their classes/ in their life.

Tom decides to wrap him arm around her back leaning in a tad bit but still leaving quite a gap, but not enough of a gap because ___ could see how bad his hair was getting and how badly it needed a re-twist.

"Tommie your hair is so outgrown you need to re-twist it" she whines tugging at one of the dreads closest to her. "I know, mum keeps on telling me too but i cant be assed" he groans taking the dread back from the girl.

"Ooo Tommie i could do it for you, pretty pleaseee" she beggs with puppy dog eyes "i promise it wont hurt cherries on top". After a few seconds he gives it to her begging and before he realises shes gone and down the hall starting the bath for him hair.

He gets up and cracks his back "my back is gonna kill me after this" thinking back to the time where him mum had his head over the sink to get his hair re-twisted when it was wet.

As he waddled to the bath room he sees a comfy chair with pillows and blankets all huddled around with bill dvd player with some movies stacked next to it.

"Ta da, do you like, i remember you telling me how it hurt when your mum did it cause of the tub so i thought this would be better, don't tell bill i have this tho he'll kill me" she giggles patting the chair in front of her.

"I could get used to this" he says a smirk on him face as he plops down on the chair taking his hair tie out of his hair, he feels soft hands rake through the dreads and he sinks into her touch, slowly drifting off.

He groggily opened his yes when he heard giggling, he looked his shoulder and saw the girl had packed all the things away and was leaning against the bench.

He still heard giggling even tho it was not coming from the girl, confused he looked towards the door and saw Bill, his mother and his step father all crowed by the door giggling.

He looked down and saw that bill had a camera in his hand he put two and two together that he had fallen asleep and bill had taken photos of him,

Him face when bright red in embarrassment and lunged forward to bill to grab the camera off of him but bill slipped away, Tom got tugged back by a soft hand on his own, he instantly knew it was the girl and didn't try to hard to pull back as he hung his face.

As the 2 adults walked away she closed the door, spewing complements that made his face even redder "stopp" he would whine but she just kept on going.

After a few minutes of this they hear a car pull up and Toms mother yells "___, your parents are here to pick you up" as she grabs the last of her things from the bath room she hugs tom goodbye whispering in his ear.

"You are such a cutie sleeper Tommie, i love you, see you at school" kissing his cheek goodbye. As he stands there shocked at what just happened he blushed again.

'Click' he hears and sees bill with his camera taking more pictures of him "Get back here BIll. UGH im gonna kill you!!" Tom yells at his Brother as he runs down the hall squealing.

Hope you enjoyed, dorry this is short im doing this before bed lol,

SEND REQUESTS PLEASE this fandom is lowkey dieing i hate it😭

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz fluff

[misc-obeyme]

If you're doing requests, can I get Solomon headcanons, theme "sightseeing in Devildom/Human World", genre is fluff or author's choice if easier.

Hello there, my friend!

Ahhh yes this is definitely fluff. And honestly I think that's the best genre for this prompt! Because imagine what a silly guy Solomon would be, taking you all over the place just to see you smile.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Solomon sightseeing in the Devildom/human world

Warnings: none

When you tell Solomon that you want to do some sightseeing, you quickly find out that there are a lot of places an immortal sorcerer can take you. Across worlds, he knows all the best places to see and things to do. If you need him to tell you where he's taking you, he will. But left to his own devices, he'll keep every destination a secret. He loves to see the look of surprise on your face when he teleports you somewhere new.

In the human world, he takes you to famous places. He insists on selfies at the Eiffel Tower and the Great Wall of China. But he also takes you to quiet, out of the way places. He shows you a field where he found a rare flower needed for magical potions. He brings you to the hill with a view of what was once his hometown. Solomon shares these pieces of his long life with you, from a time before he knew who you were.

Solomon takes you to some of his favorite restaurants in the human world, too. You're blown away by the delicious food. You're also unsurprised when one spot kicks you both out the minute the chef catches sight of Solomon. Apparently, he once tried to show them how they could improve one of their dishes and ended up making the oven explode. You let out a long suffering sigh while Solomon just takes your hand and runs, laughing the whole time.

He shows you places in the bright sunlight, but he also takes you to locations better experienced at night. Have you ever seen the aurora, MC? He knows the perfect arctic spot to huddle together and watch the bright colors on display in the sky. You may be freezing, but he keeps you warm with his own body and a little bit of magic. He can't resist adding a little magical flare of his own to the aurora's display.

Although he's spent a lot of his life in the human world, Solomon has spent considerable time in the Devildom as well. He will tell you stories about his journey through the rings of the Underworld, though he will insist that you needn't walk through them yourself. He can teleport you to any place of interest. He's more likely to take you to hidden marketplaces and tiny magic shops. You find a plethora of cursed objects and spell books. You try to talk him out of buying you an item that makes your eyes sparkle when you look at it, but it's useless. Nothing you could say will dissuade him.

Solomon shows you places in the Devildom that you never knew existed, but he also takes you to places you may have heard about already. He sneaks you into the Demon Lord's Castle in an attempt to get past Barbatos long enough to show you the rumored torture dungeon. Once again you find yourself laughing as Solomon is promptly kicked out. You're pretty sure Barbatos pretended not to notice you for a short time because you got farther in that you expected.

Although he is no fan of the ocean, Solomon also takes you to a hidden beach within the Devildom. The water is black beneath the moon and starlight. Solomon holds your hand, keeping you close as you stand upon the shore, his eyes out far across the sea. And then, slowly, small lights appear. They begin to pop up more rapidly until the edge of the water is full of bright blue and purple lights. They glimmer gently as they ripple along the waves. Solomon tells you about a Devildom sea creature that only shows up at certain times. You're so entranced, you're barely listening. But Solomon turns you to look at him in the soft light. The way it plays in his silver hair makes your breath catch.

Solomon will take you anywhere you want to go. Just say the word and he'll make it happen, whether in the Devildom or the human world. He loves to see you full of awe and wonder, the way you look at him with delight brightening your features. As long as he can stay beside you, Solomon will go wherever you might lead him.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omnb #omswd #obey me solomon #om solomon #solomon obey me #obey me solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon obey me x reader #obey me x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon headcanons #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

[hina-hina]

Hey! Please could you write an imagine where the task force are out on a mission and find a child (Maybe 7/8) And take her in? Maybe they found her watching them do their job or something? :)

This was so cute!! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy!! (★‿★)

Got a little carried away with this one but I hope you guys like it nonetheless!!

|| Task Force 141 Taking in a Orphaned Child ||

Warnings: references to child abuse and neglect

Female!Reader // Platonic

It was supposed to be a simple, in-and-out mission

But, of course, nothing ever goes as plan for Task Force 141

They were to infiltrate the base, eliminate their target and any remaining enforcements, then get out

And things were going well, Soap and Ghost being able to push up to the top of the building while Gaz and Price provided backup on the lower floors

They had managed to make it to the top where the target was, quickly eliminating him

"Price, we're all done up here, target KIA." Ghost radioed

"Copy. Almost done down here. RV at the front door."

"Copy. Out here."

He gestured for Soap to follow but he was focused on something else

"Johnny, let's go."

"Shhh!!"

Ghost paused, confused as Johnny begins creeping toward a closet pushed off to the side of the room

Then, Ghost hears it too

Something was shuffling inside the closet

Ghost nods at Soap and tightens his grip on his rifle

Soap creeps closer to the wardrobe before throwing it open

They both quickly aim their weapons but freeze again when they actually take in what's in the closet

A small child, dirty and malnourished, curled in on herself with a dingy teddy bear pressed into her chest

"Creepin' Jesus..."

Ghost's hand twitches, curling around his radio before he clicks in on, "Price, this is Ghost, we have a problem up here."

Meanwhile, Soap had kneeled down next to the girl, talking to her gently

"Hey, little one. My name's Soap and this is my buddy, Ghost. We're gonna get you out of here."

The small girl peeks out around her arms and nods reluctantly

Soap glaces behind himself and sees Ghost standing slightly behind him, obviously waiting for Soap, before nodding

"Alright, doll, I need you to cover your eyes for me."

The girl does it easily and Soap maneuvers her out of the closet and past the dead body of her father

When they got back down to Price and Gaz, the girl was huddled behind Soap's leg

"You really weren't kidding..."

They bring the kid back and she immediately gets checked out by medical, the others in Task Force 141 in a meeting with Laswell

Turns out, the girl was the daughter of her target and was at great risk of being killed by his enemy's or taken by his supporters

Because of this, she had to stay on base with the task force until the rest of the supports could be taken out

"A military base is no place for a child!" Price exclaimed

"It's all we can do until this is all taken care of."

So, Price goes back to medical to get the young girl

According to the team, she was 8 years old but extremely small for her size but despite some bruises she was generally unharmed

Price walks the kid to one of the empty barracks, "I know it's not much but, uh..."

"...It's fine."

The girl climbs onto the bed, staring at the older man while still hugging the bear to her chest, "Is my dad dead?"

Price sighed harshly, debates lying to the girl and then says back, "Yes."

"Oh," She shifts her gaze back to the floor, "He wasn't very nice."

"No," the man goes and sits next to the girl on the bed, "He wasn't."

They sit in silence for a moment before the girl looks up at him, "Will you stay with me till I fall asleep. I'm scared."

The captain softens a bit, "Of course, dear. Get some rest."

The girl falls asleep and the captain keeps his word, standing a silent vigil at her bedside

Laswell brings the girl back a large box of clean clothes and toys, offering to clean the teddy bear

The girls grip tightens, "I don't want anything to happen to him."

She smiles, "Nothing will, you can even help if you want.""

And so, they clean the bear together in a large basin of water until it comes dirt-free

The girl quietly thanks her, hugging the clean bear to her chest

The girl was quiet but well mannered, always saying please and thank you

However, she was still terrified of almost everyone and didn't like talking a lot

The guys on the task force take turns staying with her

The first to stay with her is Gaz

He was incredibly nervous, never having interacted with children and especially not a traumatized one

So, he asks her if she wants to play cards

So he teaches her some games and how to cheat

"Isn't cheating bad?" "Well, yeah, most of the time. But, trust me on this one."

So they bring Price in and when she starts wiping the floor with him, he's so confused

"What the hell..."

It's the first time they get the girl to laugh and the two men just melt

Next is Captain Price

He usually just sits with her in his office and on this particular day he had been smoking a cigar just before she came in, the thing still lit and laying on his desk in an ashtray

The girl scrunches her nose, "I don't like those. They smell bad. Dad would use them too. When I was bad, he would burn me with them."

Price never smokes in front of her again and always makes sure to have a mint or brush his teeth after he does

Next is Soap

When he comes to her, she's sitting at a table in the rec room, paper and brightly colored crayons spread across the table

"You like to draw? I do too!" "...Really? Can I see some?"

He would show her his journal with his sketches, commenting on pictures she likes

"That dog looks scary!" "I'm not too fond of dogs, lass. Lots of bad experiences."

He would end up ripping a page out of the journal to give to her

She hangs it up in her room

And lastly we have Ghost

He would down right refuse to watch her at first

It's not that he has anything against the girl, he just doesn't want to scare her

or get attached

But, when he does, he is completely out of his element

They sit in silence for a moment before she suddenly asks

"Can you teach me how to fight."

He's taken back for a moment before grumbling, "Your a little young for that."

But he entertains her for a moment, lets her throw some punches into his hands and shows her how to properly make a fist

"Don't hold your hand like that, you'll break your fingers."

Additionally, he would let her color in his arm tattoo with markers

Eventually, they would take down the last of the supporters and it would be safe for the girl to return to civilian life

Laswell and her wife would adopt her

However, she would be very reluctant to leave at this point

She would plant her feet and become an unmovable object

Soap would try to convince her:

"I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you and Mr. Price and Gaz and Ghost!"

Soap would sigh, "I know, lass, but it's just not possible. You'll like it with Laswell and her wife. You'll get to go to school and meet other kids. They even have a dog."

"...You don't like dogs, Soap."

He laughs around the stinging in his eyes, ruffling her hair, "Yeah, I don't, Lass."

Price would place a heavy but gentle hand on her small shoulder, "You be good, alright? Don't cause too much trouble." "Of course, Mr. Price."

He would wrap her up in a big bear hug, burying his face into her hair

Gaz would hug her, pulling back to ask "You keep practicing cards, alright? I swear, you'll be able to beat me in no time."

She would nod enthusiastically, reaching a hand out to get a fist bump from Gaz (something he had taught her after her clear confusion on the gesture.)

And finally Ghost

He would kneel down to her height, "You remember what I taught you, right? Don't take anyone's shit."

"I promise, Ghost!"

He ruffled her hair, breathing out a chuckle, "That's my girl."

And so, she would go to live in the suburbs with Laswell and her wife and go to school where she makes friends but doesn't take anyone's shit, just as Ghost said

She still sends letters and has video calls with the boys and looks forward to their visits every time they can find a moment to get away

She loves her new family, as unconventional as it is and she's happy

#cod mw2 imagine #cod mw2 ghost #soap mw2 #mw2 headcannons #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #mw2022 #cod #cod mw22 #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw 2022 #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod soap #soap mactavish

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Logan Smut! 7 minutes in Heaven with Logan- He’s dared to choose someone in the group to play with and he picks you! He’s so sweet and nervous but also frat boy coded I imagine he’d be cocky as hell when he’s in the group and choosing you, but as soon as you’re alone he reassures you that you don’t have to do anything at all if you don’t want to, you ask him what he’d want to do if you’d say yes to anything and you spend all 7 minutes making out and whispering in each others ears everything you would do to the other, coming back out of the closet he’s hard and you’re both scarlet red and clearly dishevelled from making out with your hands in each others hair and all over your bodies but manage to somewhat keep your cool until you can subtly leave the party and act on your desires

!! logan weekend requests are now closed !!

i love frat boy logan so much. and i know literally nothing about fraternities so please don’t come for me. this turned out longer than i meant it to

Logan Sargeant was your typical frat boy. He had the blonde hair, the toned body, hell, he was even from Florida. You had a few classes with him here and there, all of which he chose to sit in the back with his friends while you sat further towards the front.

He was constantly hanging out with the other guys in his frat, all equally athletic and equally popular.

You friend had begged you to go with her to one of their parties. She suggested that maybe you meet one of the guys and hook up, let loose a little before midterms. You agreed to go, only to get her to stop begging you.

The house was crowded. Multicolored lights flashed in the living room area, making it seem like more of a rave than a party. You make your way to the kitchen in search of something to drink when you see Logan. Like usual he’s got his group surrounding him. He looks up to make eye contact with you and gives you a nod and a small smile.

You feel yourself flush, turning away and taking a drink. You keep near the edge of the party for most of the night, just people watching, until your friend grabs your arm. She’s definitely tipsy, her eyes glazed over and her balance slightly off.

“Come on, we’re going upstairs to play seven minutes in heaven!” She shouts over the music.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You tell her.

“Fine then. I’ll go by myself.” She huffs as she stomps upstairs.

You follow her, afraid to leave her alone. When you get upstairs you see a group of people in one of the bedrooms, almost huddled together in a circle. You recognize Logan and a few of his fraternity brothers.

“Two more players!” One of the guys shouts.

Everyone takes a seat on the ground as the rules are explained. A bottle sits in the middle of the circle and gets spun. Whoever it lands on has to pick who they want their seven minutes in heaven with, and the two of them will be locked in the closet for those seven minutes.

The game starts off as expected. The bottle lands on someone and they pick to go with their boyfriend/girlfriend, then come out of the closet giggling and blushing.

You’re not too surprised when Logan’s fraternity brother Oscar ends up picking your friend. They’d been seeing each other on and off for the past few months.

When they come back brandishing unruly hair and lipstick marks down Oscar’s neck, everyone cheers.

When Oscar spins the bottle after returning, it lands on Logan. Various girls in the group all give him a flirty smile, hoping to advance their chances on him choosing them. His choice however, comes as a surprise to everyone in the group.

“Y/n.” He says, smirking.

Oscar looks surprised, but a grin rests on his face.

You slowly stand up and walk to the closet, Logan following you with a hand on the small of your back. Someone closes the door behind you, and sudden you’re trapped in dark, close quarters with Logan.

He reaches up to pull the string connected to the light, illuminating the room in a warm orange glow.

He looks almost nervous, holding his hands behind his back. “We don’t have to do anything.” He tells you softly.

“Why did you pick me?”

“What?” He asks.

“Why did you pick me?” You repeat your question. “I didn’t even think you knew my name, and there were a lot of other girls who would’ve killed at the chance to be in here with you.”

“I know your name…” He says, with almost a defeated tone in his voice. “I know a lot about you, actually. I know what songs you like because you tap them on your desk with your pencil. I know what kind of books you like to read because you’re constantly reading up until class starts. I know what classes you like, and which ones you don’t based on how you interact with the professors.”

“Wow.” You’re shocked. You didn’t think you were even noticeable to Logan.

“And I know you don’t want to be here at this party, so I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” He says.

You look up into his pretty green eyes and feel a pull towards him.

“What would you do though? If I let you?” You ask him quietly.

He takes a deep breath, then answers. “I would hold you close, like this,” he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. “Then I would guide you to hold me.” He slowly lifts your arms to rest them over his shoulders. “And then I would study your face, try to memorize every little detail.” His eyes travel around your face, back and forth between your eyes, then to your nose, then to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours. He bumps your nose softly with his, then looks down at your lips. “And then I’d kiss you.”

It’s like he’s put you under a spell. You glance down at his lips. “Kiss me.”

He tilts his head forward, capturing your lips with his. The kisses start soft but get needier and needier as you keep going. His tongue slips into your mouth tangling with yours as you tangle your hands in his hair. He steps forward, making you back up against the wall, and presses his hips against yours.

Just as you reach a hand down to slip under his shirt against his abs you hear a knocking on the door.

“Times up!” A voice you recognize as Oscar’s shouts.

You pull away from Logan and attempt to catch your breath. He does the same, a pink blush covering his cheeks.

“We should go out there.” He says, a small smile on his face.

“How are you planning on hiding that?” You laugh as you point at the very obvious tent in his pants.

“I don’t need to, you will babe.” He pulls you to him so that your back is flush against his chest before opening the door.

Cheers and wolf whistles greet you as you exit. Everyone stares at your swollen lips and messy hair, but mostly Logan’s hands, which hold onto your waist, and pull you down so that you’re sitting on his lap.

#logan sargeant x reader #ls2 x reader #formula one x reader #logan weekend

[jihyoruri]

CHANEL SWEATER: huh yunjin

WARNINGS: mentions dieting, fluff, comfort

is it bad to say yunjin didn’t even know chaewon had a little sister?

the first time yunjin ever heard the name kim yn was

July 22nd 2022.

obviously she knew her label was debuting a new girl group, but they were very secretive about it, none of them really knew what the girls looked like until attention dropped.

July 22nd 2022. past

the girls jumped, startled when chaewon runs into the room with a squeal, she stands in front of the tv with a big smile on her face. kazuha groaning at the action.

"have you guys seen it yet ?" the raven haired girl asks her smile growing even bigger if that's possible.

"seen what ?" yunjin asks slowly, very confused, she flinches when sakura sits up quickly form beside her.

"it's today?" skaura exclaimed looking at chaewon.

"yes it's today!" chaewon responded back.

"what's today?" yunjin asks still very confused.

what the hell is going on

"chaewon's little sister's group drop their single today duh." Sakura replies like it's the most obvious thing ever. "chaewon unnie has a little sister ?" eunchae looks up surprised. "since when ?" kazuha follows up.

"uh since 2003." chaewon laughs. "she's my age and you've never introduced me to her ?" kazuha asks offended.

chaewon unnie has a sister?

"who cares put it on put it on!" sakura yells at chaewon as chaewon struggles to find the controller to put it one youtube.

thanking kazuha who hands it to her, chaewon types in attention new jeans into the search bar.

yunjin rises an eyebrow as she sees hybe labels so this is the new girl group.

the girls watch the music video, the girls in the video seem to be at a concert.

the song starts, yunjin heart stops for a second as she looks at a very pretty girl in middle dancing in the intro of the song.

she flinches at chaewon and sakura's squeal. "MY BABYYY.” sakura yells.

that's unnie's sister ? she's pretty.

"your sister is pretty unnie." eunchae says to chaewon leaning into her shoulder. "very." yunjin adds on.

just as the music video ends, chaewon gets a facetime, chaewon's phone being beside yunjin, she looks at the name "ynnie 🐰."

chaewon grabs her phone answering the call, all the girls huddling around her, and that's when the very pretty girl from the video popped up on the screen.

"unnie!" she exclaims with a big smile, her voice sounds very soft yunjin even when she's not singing yunjin notices.

"I just watched it for the second time with my members, you do so good l'm proud of you." chaewon says to her little sister, who now notices the people surrounding her sister one person catching her eyes, her whole face lights up.

"sakura unnie!" she yells, skaura snatching the phone out of chaewon's hand. " yn! you did so good, how are you ?”

"I'm good, I just got off the phone with yujin and wonyoung, they called to congratulate me."

sakura and yn continue to talk, chaewon rolling her eyes at sakura for hogging yn, she hasn't been able to talk to her sister much since yn has been busy preparing for her debut.

as kazuha and eunchae watch the music video again, being obsessed with the song, yunjin listens to yours and sakura's conversation being completely entranced with your soft voice.

but that soft voice turns into a high pitched scream.

"HYEIN STOP PULLING AT MY ANKLES !”yunjin hears multiple giggles in the background and a strong australian accent. "no keep pulling at unnies ankles."

that must be her members, they seem to tease her like how we tease chaewon unnie.

"sorry unnie I gotta go." more laughter is heard in the background and with that you hang up.

"well that's kim yn for you guys." chaewon laughs looking at the girls, taking back her phone from sakura.

kim yn …

July 25th, 2022.

it's been a couple days since attention dropped and new jeans popularity just keeps getting higher.

yunjin walks into the practice room, stopping when she sees a girl crying on the floor.

not just any girl.

kim yn.

"hey are you okay?" she asks sitting beside the crying girl on the floor.

the girl looks up surprised to see her sisters group mate. "yea.. the girl trails off. "it's just my manager put me on this extreme diet to keep my weight the same, after fans started talking about how much they like my body." yunjin's face scrunches up, yea she saw some posts about your body but was it really that serious for them to put you on a diet to keep it the same?

“oh..”

"yea, and like I don't even know why I'm crying, I knew what I was gonna get into when I started becoming a trainee, chaewon unnie even warned me." you said to the older girl, invalidating your own feelings.

"hey." yunjin puts her hand on your arm. "don't invalidate your feelings, you have a reason to be crying this industry is fucked." you giggle softly at her last comment and yunjin knows from now on that's her favourite sound.

"I don't know what I can do with your dieting situation, but I can be with you along the way and be the person you can talk to when you have problems."

you look at her with a smile. "I'd like that, thank you unnie." yunjin heart melts.

"do you wanna see the full hype boy choreo? that's what I was working on before.." you trail off. "you know."

"I'd like that." yunjin replies, looking up at you as you stand up walking to your phone to play the song that dropped two days ago. "maybe you can even teach me it."

"if you'd like." you smile at the girl. and you guys spent the rest of day dancing.

present time

yn's popularity has spiked since the last time yunjin and yn danced together in the practice room, both girls have stayed in touch with each other, but haven't talked much with both of their busy schedules.

it sorta makes yunijn sad to think about.

yn is now a chanel global house ambassador, has the title of korea's sweetheart and has been going viral for her visuals in the girls recent comeback OMG.

it's crazy how much someone can achieve in just a couple months.

yunjin sits up from her bed as kazuha opens her door without knocking, closing her laptop quick she puts her hand on her chest startle.(she she was watching one of your hype boy fancams, oh she loves how you looked in the vivienne westwood outfit.)

"it's for you unnie, it was just at the door." kazuha dropped a box on yunjin's floor, exiting the room she shuts yunjin's door surprisingly all the way.

yunjin sits on the floor looking at the box, it doesn't say who it's from it just says her name, curious she grabs scissors from her her desk and cuts the box open.

once the box is open she looks inside to see another box, but this time it has the expensive lettering of chanel on it, and right then and there she knew who the box was from.

yunjin picks up the flat chanel box and takes the card from the ribbon around it.

we haven't talked much cause of our schedules but I just wanted to give you a little gift as a thank you for being there and still being there for me when I need to talk, hope you think of me as a person that you can talk to as well:)

yunjin feels her face heating up, a big smile appearing in her face.

she gently takes off the ribbon and opens the package, her heart thumping seeing a black hoodie and white chanel lettering and logo, just like the one she saw you wearing in the hallways a couple days ago but yours is white with black lettering and logo.

she feels her face heating up even more if that's even possible at the realization that you guys are matching now. gosh I'm so down bad.

she hangs up the sweater in her closet, planning in her mind to call you in early mornings, the only time hyein and hanni aren't teasing you.

NEW JEANS YN AND LESSERAFIMS YUNJIN MATCHING? in both idols fansite photos today, both girls are seen wearing the same chanel hoodie from chanel's new couple collection.

yunjin looks at her phone is shock. COUPLES COLLECTION?!?!

"YUNJIN?!" she hears chaewon's voice from outside her room.

shit.

★☆ wow yn ur so sneaky



#le sserafim #yunjin #yunjin x reader #chaewon #lesserafim x reader #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin