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aquaquadrant · 2 days

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from eden, part X

Word count: 10,825 Warnings: Language, violence, blood/injury, victim blaming, self-deprecation, fictional racism, discussion of past abuse, temporary death Summary: After an unwise decision, Tango and Jimmy find themselves in Hels, at odds, and up against an old foe seeking revenge. But as everything comes to a boil, Tango realizes he must finally confront his past if he has any hope of saving his future.

A/N: Hey y’all, thanks so much for ur patience. Didn’t mean for this to take so long, I’ve been dealing w some health issues, but I’m doing way better now and on break from school so here we are. I hope u enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

from eden, part X - no ‘who cares,’ no vacant stares, no time for me

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player stares at his soulmate in shock.

Tango could’ve sworn Jimmy was asleep. He checked, he checked multiple times to make sure Jimmy was well and truly unconscious before slipping out of bed. And he’d been so careful about it, moving so slowly and quietly to ensure Jimmy wasn’t woken up. All he’d needed was for Jimmy to keep sleeping for not even five minutes- just long enough for Tango to sneak downstairs, grab the supplies he’d secretly prepared earlier, go through the portal, and break it from the other side.

Yet here they are.

The abrupt silence after their mutual outburst is blanching. There’s almost a static feeling to it, like electricity gathering in the air before a lightning strike. All of Tango’s previous thoughts have flown clean out of his brain. He can only stare at Jimmy, forehead stinging, mouth slightly parted as he struggles to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Jimmy looks similarly disoriented. He sits in a heap in front of the portal, bathed in the green-yellow-red light, his wings splayed out around him. His nose is scrunched up- still wincing from the pain of Tango’s forehead smacking into his chin, most likely. The recently-obtained scar across the newly-formed bump on the bridge of his nose stands out in sharp contrast against his other, more familiar, features. He said it didn’t bother him, but Tango feels a stab of guilt every time he looks at it. Even now, it’s a reminder of the pain Tango’s brought him. Of how Tango’s failed him.

Jimmy recovers first.

“What am I- what are you doin’ here?!” he cries, rising to his feet.

Realization dawns on Tango as he finally grasps the reality of this impossible scenario he’s found himself in.

Jimmy’s here. In Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Jimmy is in Hels. Oh. Oh no, oh that’s the opposite of what Tango wants. This is bad. This is really, really bad. This is a whole heap of bad with extra badness on top. Jimmy can’t be in Hels, he should never be in Hels.

“Tango,” Jimmy presses, taking a step forward, “are you listenin’ to me?”

Tango jumps to his feet, heart pounding. He quickly scans their surroundings- still no players to be seen, though some of those magma cubes in the distance are getting close. He knows they’re on borrowed time; there’s at least two players in this world who are bound to notice his arrival in chat, and the clock’s ticking.

“Tango?” Jimmy says again, uncertainty leaking into his voice. “You alright?”

Adrenaline floods Tango’s body. He feels hyper aware, like all his senses are in overdrive- his skin is prickling with heat, and if it weren’t for the wither rose collar, he’s certain his blaze rods would be swirling around in a defensive inferno.

He needs to get Jimmy out of here.

Despite their difference in height, Tango’s strong enough that he could probably push Jimmy back into the portal. He’d have the element of surprise, initially. But Jimmy’s build isn’t just for show- Tango would have a hard time keeping him in the portal for the few crucial seconds required to teleport. He might even get teleported back, himself.

So instead of attempting brute force, Tango stalks forward- though not close enough to be grabbed- flattens his ears, bares his teeth, and hisses.

“Go home,” Tango hisses lowly. “Right. Now.”

That seems to take Jimmy aback. He raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “Ex-cuse me?” he demands, putting his hands on his hips. “Now, hang on-”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Tango interrupts, his voice catching somewhere between anger and desperation. “This is-”

“You shouldn’t be here! What-”

“You’re not safe here-”

“- tryin’ to- well, neither are you!”

“- and you need to go back!”

“I’m not goin’ back without you!” Jimmy gives up on trying to keep his voice down, wings flaring out in agitation. “I thought we were in this together! I- god, Tango, we want to help you, we all just wanna help-”

“It’s not your problem!” Tango snaps, his temper rising. “Alright? It was my mistake that brought Bravo and Hels Tek to our door, you- why should you have to deal with it? What, just ‘cause we got randomly assigned to be soulmates? You didn’t sign up for all this!”

Jimmy’s expression darkens. “Yes, I did, that’s what it means to be a partner.” He reaches for Tango’s arm. “Tango, I love you-”

“I know!” Tango jerks away. “I know that, okay? But you- did it ever occur to you that maybe I love you, too? Maybe I don’t want you to put yourself at risk fighting my battles for me? Because I love you?” He rakes his claws through his hair, a mirthless laugh escaping him. “Is that- did that happen to cross your mind? That maybe for once I- I did something ‘cause I love you and not ‘cause I hate myself? Maybe I could do the selfless act of love every now and then? I mean, is that- is that so hard to believe?”

Jimmy stares at him for a moment, brown eyes blown wide. Even in the absence of their soulbond, Tango can tell he’s hurt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jimmy says finally, voice quiet. “I know you love me. Of course I know you love me. But Tango, honestly- can you honestly tell me that this decision wasn’t- that- that it had absolutely nothing to do with feelin’ like you deserve to be here?” he asks desperately. “No influence on your decision at all? Not a- a single part of you that thinks it’d be okay if you got trapped here again, suffering forever? Not even the slightest bit?”

Shit.

Tango sets his jaw. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Jimmy repeats, disbelieving. “Of course it does-”

“No, I don’t- you need to leave!”

“I’m not leavin’ you, I mean it!”

“I already told you, I don’t want-”

“Tango, please.” Jimmy holds out his hand. He looks close to tears. “Let’s go home. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Tango swallows back a frustrated whine; he doesn’t have time for this. Atlas has no doubt already noticed his arrival, and he still needs to find Bravo. And the longer they stand here loudly arguing in front of an active portal, the greater the risk of discovery. It’s already a miraculous stroke of luck that the portal spawned in an uninhabited area.

Jimmy can’t force Tango back through the portal any more than Tango can force him. Besides, starting a physical fight with Jimmy would probably be his breaking point. This is hard enough already. He spends a precious second to take in Jimmy’s face; the thin line his mouth has pressed into, the tears brimming in his eyes, the scar across his crooked nose.

Then Tango turns on his heel and sprints away.

It’s a last-ditch effort kind of gambit. He’s hoping that if he loses Jimmy in the basalt delta, Jimmy won’t know what else to do but go back through the portal for help. And once he does, Tango can swoop in and break it. Problem solved.

There’s a surprised shout behind him. Wing beats fill the air as Jimmy takes flight. But Tango’s head start has already allowed him to reach the first outcropping of basalt, pock-marked with pools of lava. Without breaking stride, he leaps up onto the ledge of stone-

Only for his foot to catch on a tripwire.

Pistons go off while he’s still mid-jump. The ground opens up into a black pit beneath him. His claws scrape uselessly against the lip of basalt and suddenly he’s falling, stomach lurching, too shocked to even call out as wind whistles by his ears and he plummets into the darkness below, Jimmy’s voice screaming after him.

“Tango!”

Traps. He forgot to look for traps.

Weightless, Tango struggles to right himself. The hole is pitch black and it’s disorienting, wavering light from his dim blaze rods flickering against the walls. His mind races frantically. Even if he could pull a block from his inventory and place it down under him- and he’s not sure that he could, at the speed he’s falling- the damage would kill him anyways. No, better to see how this ends. If he’s dumb enough to fall for a trap, he should at least give it the satisfaction of killing him as intended.

Although, Tango’s been falling for more than a couple seconds and he hasn’t hit anything yet. That’s unusual. Few trappers care to dig holes this deep when a shallow pit of lava will have the same result. Maybe death isn’t the goal here. Maybe-

Light, somewhere down below. As it gets closer, Tango thinks he can see the walls of the hole open up into a larger room. But the bottom still goes down- into a pit of cobwebs. So that’s it. The trap was designed to capture players, not kill them. But why-

“Tango!”

Jimmy’s voice echoes wildly in the tunnel. Tango glances back over his shoulder to see Jimmy diving towards him, arms stretched forward and wings flattened, body straight as an arrow.

Tango doesn’t currently have the breath to call out to him. If he did, it’d probably be something along the lines of, ‘No no no no no, why did you follow me, you idiot!’ and that wouldn’t be very constructive.

Jimmy hooks his arms underneath Tango’s, snaps his wings out, and takes them sailing out through the gap in the tunnel.

The abrupt swerve makes Tango’s stomach drop. Jimmy barely manages to avoid taking them directly into a wall, wings flaring, wind whipping around them. They tumble into an ungraceful- but not deadly- landing, tangled up in a pile of limbs.

The room they’ve flown into is large but rather crude, carved out of the netherrack and deepslate that make up the deepest levels of Hels- more of a cavern, really. A few scattered torches along the walls provide the room’s only lighting, and they’ve landed among a collection of haphazardly-placed chests- a chest monster to rival Scar’s. The center of the room is occupied by the hole at the bottom of the dropchute. Beyond it is something that makes Tango’s blood run cold.

Half of the room is covered in elaborate redstone circuitry, feeding into an empty portal frame. It’s an eerily similar setup to their own portal, and Tango is at once certain he knows who this base belongs to.

He processes this all in the couple seconds it takes him to get on his feet. Jimmy’s still crumpled beside him, uninjured but disoriented. Shit. He hadn’t planned to have Jimmy with him for this confrontation and it has him on edge, his skin crawling. The room’s empty right now, but he can’t see another way out except back up through the dropchute- it’s a precarious place to be in. He doesn’t like what being backed into a corner does to him.

“Ugh,” Jimmy groans softly, pushing himself upright. “Not one’a my better landin’s…”

“Shh,” Tango hisses.

Jimmy frowns at him, rising to his feet. “Tango, can you just-”

“Quiet!” Tango urges, gaze flicking around the room. Their sudden presence doesn’t seem to have set off any alarms, but there’s no telling what the trap was hooked up to-

Ca-clunk.

Tango’s ears prick at the sound of more pistons. He whirls around, hackles rising, to see part of the adjacent wall open up.

“Well,” Bravo says, stepping into the room, “isn’t this convenient?”

Tango had been mentally preparing himself to see his doppelgänger again, but he’s still taken aback at the state Bravo’s in. His hair and clothes are wild and unkempt, the stains on his shirt indistinguishable between redstone and blood. There’s a weariness about him, like he hasn’t slept in days, yet every muscle in his body is tense, his bruised knuckles gripping a netherite sword. Most striking, however, is his face; his green eyes are so bloodshot they’re almost red, and heavily lined with dark circles that- in a bizarre way- resemble wither stains.

So for a moment, it’s like Tango’s looking in a mirror.

It passes quickly. Tango forces the tension from his body, holding up his hands. “Take it easy, alright, I just wanna talk.”

“I?” Bravo tilts his head to the side, taking another step forward as the wall closes up behind him. “Uh, it looks like- looks to me like there’s two of you, pal.” His gaze cuts over to Jimmy, and his mouth quirks into a grin- hard and humorless. “Good to see ya, Jimmy.”

Tango bristles. “Leave him out of this,” he says lowly, stepping in front of Jimmy. “He wasn’t supposed to come.”

Jimmy makes a noise of protest. “Hang on-”

“Ohh, oh okay,” Bravo says, nodding slowly, “I- I see what this is. This is- hah, wow, this is kinda perfect.” He begins to pace in front of them, idly twirling his sword in his hand; there’s an unsettling air about him. “Lemme guess, you uh- you intended to come here alone, but your soulmate had other ideas?”

He spits the word like an insult. Tango feels his lip curl. “None of your business.”

“Oh? It’s not?” Bravo barks out a laugh- a sharp contrast to the enraged look in his eyes. “Well, you’re in my fucking house, so, you know. Forgive my curiosity.”

Anger flares inside Tango; he pushes it down. “Look, I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot-”

“You fucking think?”

“Enough!” Jimmy shouts, wings flaring as he throws an arm out in front of Tango. “Bravo, listen to me. I don’t like you, alright, but we aren’t here to fight.”

“Obviously.” Bravo actually rolls his eyes. “I can- I can piece it together well enough, okay. You figured that you could come rescue me from Hels, and then I- everything will be peachy-keen, right? I mean, if- if you wanted me to stay here, you wouldn’t have opened a portal. Except this one,” he stops his pacing, leveling his sword at Tango, “got it in his thick head that it was somethin’ he needed ‘to do alone.’ So he snuck off by himself, on a solo mission of noble, stupid self-sacrifice, in the hopes that it’d make up for what he did-”

“Shut up,” Tango growls.

“- and that it’d keep you safe. Right?” Bravo’s voice drips with malice. “Except poor Jimmy’s too good to let you take the fall alone so he followed you here, right into my trap.”

“So what?” Tango demands with a bravado he doesn’t feel. Truthfully, Bravo’s words have opened a pit in his stomach; he hates that Bravo has seen through him so clearly. “What, I mean- you want a trophy for figuring it out? And- and why set a trap for us if your plan was clearly to get out through a portal of your own?”

Bravo scowls. “That trap wasn’t for you, actually. It’s for the damn mercenaries that’ve been comin’ after us since I split from Hels Tek.”

Jimmy frowns. “Us?”

Bravo’s face twitches. “Wh- me. Whatever.”

“You split from Hels Tek?” Tango asks, furrowing his brows. He knew Atlas and Bravo had fought back on Double Life, but he wasn’t sure if that’d be enough to make Bravo willingly take on Hels by himself.

Bravo snorts. “Yeah, I- I uh, I don’t take kindly to bein’ stabbed in the back, but Atlas still wanted a portal and wasn’t gonna take no for an answer, so.”

Tango would laugh at the irony, if he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach. “Wow,” he drawls, still unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, “so it turned out Atlas only cared about you as far as he could exploit you? Imagine that.”

Clearly, he’s touched a nerve. “Shut up,” Bravo snaps.

“Watch it,” Jimmy snaps back.

Unbothered, Tango glances around the cavern. “So wait, you- it’s only been like, what, a- a couple weeks since you respawned here, how- where did you get all these supplies?”

“Eh, found a new sponsor.” Bravo shrugs. “You know, I was probably only a few more days away from gettin’ my portal up and running ‘til you guys showed up. But it worked out nice this way, right?” There’s a manic light in his eyes. “I- I was gonna get my vengeance on you once I got back to the overworld, but instead, we can do it right now.”

That’s all the warning he gives before he attacks.

He’s fast, faster than Tango’s expecting. It’s all he can do to shove Jimmy out of the way, diving into a roll that brings him quickly back to his feet. He only brought one sword; he pulls it from his inventory and throws it to Jimmy without a second thought, because he doubts Jimmy prepared at all before coming through the portal and swords have always felt clumsy in his hands. There’s a reason traditional PVP has never been his strong suit.

The sword has barely left his grasp before Bravo’s springing at him again.

Screech!

Tango brings his claws up in time to catch Bravo’s blade between them. The force of the blow shudders through his arms. Bravo’s strong, too- stronger than Tango would think for a non-hybrid version of himself.

“Stop it!” Tango huffs. “We don’t wanna fight you!”

“Too bad!” Bravo sneers.

Well, if that’s what he wants. Tango ducks under the sword and brings a hand up to slash at Bravo’s face. Bravo disengages, darting backwards, out of reach- he readjusts his grip for another swing.

“Hey, lay off!”

Jimmy charges into the fray; Bravo pivots mid-swing to block Jimmy’s blade, the clang of metal reverberating through the cavern. He leans into the movement, bringing his leg up to deliver a swift kick to Jimmy’s side.

With a pained grunt, Jimmy stumbles, off-balance. Bravo raises his sword to slash again- but Tango rushes him, forcing him back. Claws swipe through empty air.

“Gotta do better than that,” Bravo tuts, flicking his sword out to nick Tango’s cheek.

The sharp pain and sudden scent of blood is disorienting. Tango lunges forward almost blindly, a snarl catching in the back of his throat. Rage bubbles inside him, and he can feel his fire trying to respond- but with the wither rose in his system, it’s like throwing a match into a well.

Bravo deftly steps around him. “There’s that famous Tango temper again!” he taunts. “Go on, show us exactly how much of a monster you are.”

The words sober Tango instantly. He swallows back his rage; the last thing he wants to do is lose control like he did back at the ranch, especially when Jimmy could get hurt. His fire may be dampened, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.

Then his ears twitch at a furious shout- Jimmy surges into the air, wings beating, and swoops down at Bravo. “Don’t you dare call him that!”

In the same moment, Tango moves to block Bravo’s escape route, aiming for his hands in an attempt to disarm him.

But Bravo’s ready for them both.

He ducks beneath Tango’s claws and side-steps Jimmy’s attack, jabbing the pommel of his sword into Tango’s gut as a parting blow. Wings flailing, Jimmy pulls up short to avoid slamming into Tango- and yelps as Bravo’s sword cleaves a handful of feathers into the air.

“Come on!” Bravo goads them. “That the best you can do?”

Tango hadn’t gotten much of a chance to actually observe Bravo fight during the Hels Tek invasion, and he’s sorely regretting it now. It’s clear Bravo’s got more experience with PVP than either of them. And not the type of casual sparring between friends, but genuine life-or-death fighting- fast, messy, and brutal. Even being two against one isn’t helping them much; Bravo keeps on the move, twisting through and around them with a practiced ease that leaves them struggling not to accidentally hit each other.

A detached part of Tango’s mind runs through their options. Being killed and ending up at the world spawn would be the worst-case scenario; they’d basically be gift-wrapped for Atlas to come snatch up. But he doesn’t think joining through a hacked portal would reset their spawns; after all, the Hels Tek invaders wound up back in Hels after they were killed. Of course, he’d rather not find out for certain. And if he ends up respawning back to Double Life, his entire goal in coming here alone goes up in smoke. He won’t get another chance at this- the other Double Lifers will insist on putting themselves in danger to help him, ‘cause they’re annoyingly kind like that, and everything will turn into a big flaming ball of disaster.

So it’s really in his best interest not to get killed right now.

Except, he can’t help but notice that Bravo actually doesn’t seem to be trying to kill them. Most of what he’s aiming for are non-vital structures- arms, legs, Jimmy’s wings. When he does land an attack above the belt, it almost seems like he’s holding back, leaving only shallow gashes or a blunt hit with a skillfully thrown fist, knee, or elbow.

And despite clearly being the superior fighter, he’s mainly staying on the defensive. He isn’t taking nearly as many swings as he could. It’s an endurance game, Tango realizes- he’s trying to tire them out. But why? He’s on his own, it’s not like he’s stalling for reinforcements. There’s nowhere for them to go. That is, nowhere except-

Tango’s gaze falls on the pit at the bottom of the dropchute.

Oh. Oh, that’s-

Wham!

Pain explodes through Tango’s skull.

Bravo’s taken advantage of Tango’s brief lapse in concentration, landing a solid punch on the side of his face. It’s enough to make him black out for a moment, every thought in his brain screeching to a halt. When he comes back to himself, his cheek is pressed against the floor, made warm and sticky with his pooling blood. There’s a faint ringing in his ears- above it, he can barely make out the sound of swords clashing somewhere in front of him.

Tango manages to lift his head, blinking spots from his vision.

Bravo is driving Jimmy back- back towards the center of the room where the pit is. Tango opens his mouth to scream a warning, but he’s too late. As they near the edge of the pit, Bravo suddenly steps under Jimmy’s guard, hooking a leg behind Jimmy’s foot as one hand comes up to twist his sword out of his grip. Bravo’s other arm slams against Jimmy’s chest, knocking him off-balance.

Jimmy falls backwards with a shout, into the pit of cobwebs. He doesn’t fall very deep, of course- that’s not how cobwebs work. But he is immediately stuck, wings and limbs straining as he slowly begins to sink.

“Jimmy!” Tango cries, his heart jolting.

Oh, this is bad. Getting out of cobwebs without a sword, while slowly falling through them, will be almost impossible. Especially since Jimmy’s feathers are particularly prone to sticking to that stuff and every movement will cause him pain as he pulls on them.

“There.” Satisfied, Bravo stows Jimmy’s sword in his inventory before turning back to Tango. “Now we can finally finish this.”

“No!” Jimmy pleads desperately from the pit, already disappearing from view. “Leave ‘em alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill him,” Bravo tuts as he approaches Tango. “That- I mean, that’d just send you back home, right? Hacked portals don’t do the whole spawn reset-ification thing, as it turns out.” He shakes his head. “No, I- what I’m gonna do is arrange a little meeting with our old buddy Atlas to come pick you up, okay, and- and then I’ll finally get him off my back and be able to leave this fucking place for good.”

Terror shoots through Tango. If Atlas comes here, with Jimmy trapped like this…

Head pounding, Tango struggles to get to his feet. “Y- you don’t have to do this,” he says weakly. “I know I messed up, a- and I’m sorry, okay? But Jimmy had nothin’ to do with it, he- you have to let him go, please.”

Bravo’s lip curls. “I’m not gonna let Atlas get him. Believe it or not, I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let another overworlder get trapped here.”

Despite the severity of the situation, the offended disdain in his tone makes Tango snort. “Oh, sorry, uh- excuse me for thinkin’ you’d ever do such a terrible thing,” he rasps. “I- I mean, you can’t blame me, right? You- it’s not like you’ve made a great impression.”

Bravo’s eyes darken with anger, and then his fist is in Tango’s stomach. The punch makes Tango double over, gasping for breath- then a well-placed kick throws him back against the wall, pain crashing through his ribs.

“What’re you doin’?!” Jimmy’s panicked voice sounds from the pit- he’s sunken far enough down that he can’t see them anymore. “Don’t hurt him!”

Bravo ignores him, stalking forward to grab Tango by the front of his shirt. “You’re one to talk, you piece of shit,” he hisses in Tango’s face, reeling back for another hit.

Crack.

This one lands the hilt of his sword against Tango’s jaw. Bravo drops him to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Tango!” Jimmy’s scream sounds far away.

Everything is pain. With no small amount of effort, Tango pushes himself upright, breathing raggedly through his nose. He can feel blood trickling down his chin from his split lip, can taste it stained against his teeth. His head aches. His body is shaking. There’s a cold pit of dread in his stomach, and he knows that he’s lost this fight.

But more than that, deep down, there’s the realization that maybe… he always expected to.

(It’s not like coming here without Jimmy would’ve changed the outcome. No matter what Tango said or did, Bravo was always going to react this way- why would Tango think anything different? Despite his intention to extend the olive branch, he knows Bravo wouldn’t have been satisfied to just let bygones be bygones.

Truthfully, Tango had been prepared for this the moment he saw that red light fill their portal. Bravo had nailed it right at the start; this was always going to be a mission of self-sacrifice. If giving himself up meant placating Bravo and Hels Tek, if it meant that the people he cared about would be safe, then Tango had been willing to accept it. Even if it meant going back to the farm for the rest of his life.

He’s already had ten years in the sun. That’s more than anyone else in Hels got.)

Bravo looms over him, a mad, triumphant grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna spend the rest of your days in that farm where you belong,” he says lowly, “and out of the life you stole from me. You’re nothin’ but an evil monster, and it’s what you deserve.”

A strange feeling settles over Tango.

It’s like déjà vu, to sit here and listen to his doppelgänger repeat all the horrible things Tango’s believed about himself almost his entire life, all the things he’s told himself in the mirror time and time again. It’s his words spoken in his voice out of an eerily similar face, as if all his deepest insecurities have taken form.

It’s achingly, hauntingly familiar. Like a knife tracing over old scars.

And yet, there’s something odd about hearing it from another person. To hear such hatred and conviction in that voice, to see it so plainly in his eyes. Tango’s well aware that there are plenty of players who feel the same way- not just about him, but other hostile mob hybrids, too. He’s no stranger to prejudice; he’s noticed the wary looks and distrustful glares he’s gotten on public multiplayer worlds before.

Hell, Atlas is attempting to build an empire on the very concept of oppressing hybrids, and he’s had plenty of help to do it. Not just his fellow redstone scientists, but sponsors and buyers, too. Lots of players have reason to want Tango in a farm, to exploit and degrade him. But only because they would profit from it- otherwise they wouldn’t bother wasting so much time and energy on him. Sure, Atlas probably hates him to some degree, and is indifferent at best to all the pain he’s been caused. But Tango’s also certain that if he weren’t useful, then Atlas wouldn’t give him a second thought. If he couldn’t be farmed, Atlas would never have come after him in the first place. It’s all about ambition with Atlas; he wouldn’t waste time on petty revenge schemes.

Bravo, on the other hand, stands to gain absolutely nothing from this except the satisfaction of knowing Tango is suffering. How strange, that the only player to ever really demonstrate that desire isn’t even from Hels.

And with that thought, everything falls into place.

Tango wheezes out a laugh, though he immediately regrets it- fuck, his ribs. “So that’s where I get my sadism from! Good to know, good to know.”

The smirk drops off Bravo’s face. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Tango wipes the blood from his face. “I mean, I- we- we’ve established that I’m just a uh, a physical manifestation of all the evil parts of you, yeah? That’s what Hels are? Well, if that’s true, then every bad thing about me is somethin’ I got from you.” He grins, despite the pain of his split lip. “Can’t pour from an empty bottle, right?”

Bravo balks at him. “No, that’s not- it’s different,” he argues. “It’s- this is justified, you took everything from me-”

“So now you’re gonna do the same?” Tango raises his eyebrows. Bracing a hand against the wall, he slowly rises to his feet. “Funny, I- I thought that you were supposed to be a better person than me.”

“I am!” Bravo insists angrily.

Tango shrugs. “Well, you sure ain’t actin’ like it, skippy.”

That seems to take Bravo aback. “I- I don’t-” He rakes a hand through his hair, his breathing quickening. “It’s- it’s you, it’s this fucking place, it’s- I don’t know, it’s every-fucking-thing that’s happened in the last ten years! I- I didn’t deserve this, I didn’t do anything to deserve getting sent here!”

“Hold on, what makes you think I did anything to deserve gettin’ sent here?” Tango asks, genuinely curious. “I was spawned here as a child, I mean, what- what could a child possibly do to ‘deserve’ spawning here? What could any of us have done to deserve this?”

Ooh, Bravo doesn’t like that question. “I don’t know,” he splutters, “I didn’t make you spawn here! That was the universe, it- it must know that you- all you Hels- you’re just destined to be bad.”

Tango tilts his head. “Yeah? If that’s the case, then uh, why did the universe send you here?”

Bravo makes a sound like he’s been punched. “What?”

“I didn’t make that portal. You didn’t make that portal. We all know that the universe makes portals to Hermitcraft so why-”

“Stop it! It was a mistake! A glitch! I- I was never meant to come to Hels, you-”

“Then how has every other Hermit joined without having the same problem? Huh? Why you? Why us?”

“Shut up!” Bravo cries, almost desperate. “I’m the one in the right, here!”

“Says who?” Tango asks.

“I just- I have to be in the right!” Bravo protests, throwing an arm out. “I- I’m not like you, I’m not a Hels, I’m supposed to be the good one. If I’m mad, if I wanna hurt someone, it has to be justified, ‘cause I’m not- I’m not cruel.”

Tango just looks at him.

Bravo seems to recognize the irony in his words. It hits him almost like a physical attack; he staggers, eyes widening, face twisting with rage. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me!” he shouts as he raises his sword accusingly at Tango, voice echoing off the cavern walls. “I’m just- I did what I had to do to survive, and- and it ruined me. This world ruined me, and it’s all your fault, you bastard!”

They’re hollow accusations, built from hurt and deflected blame. But it doesn’t occur to Tango to defend himself against them. He couldn’t if he wanted to; all he can do is watch Bravo in stunned silence.

Even without the ability to set himself ablaze, Bravo’s rage is a terrible thing to behold. Tears stream down his reddened face; a mixture of fury and despair, raw and ugly. “It’s not fair!” he wails, almost a breathless scream. “Why did you get to be saved? Why did I have to take your place? What- what did I do?”

He takes another step closer, drawing his sword back, and Tango is suddenly struck by the very real possibility that Bravo is about to kill him.

“You did this to me!” Bravo snarls, wild-eyed and heaving for breath. “You and e- everyone else in th- this fucking hellscape, you- you did this, you-!”

Bravo lifts his sword for the killing blow-

And then he pauses. He stares at Tango, and Tango stares back.

“... fuck. What am I doing?”

Bravo stumbles back from Tango, lowering his sword. He clutches his head with his free hand, a few stray tears streaking down his face as he struggles to control his breathing. His anger seems to have extinguished, finally letting the pain seep through- an expression that Tango knows as intimately as his own reflection.

Tango blinks.

It’s a complicated rush of emotions. Bravo represents the worst part of Tango’s life coming back to haunt him; his skeleton in the closet. Fueled by prejudice and misplaced blame, he fought tooth and nail to destroy the life Tango had built for himself, brought pain and hardship to a world of strangers who’d done nothing to deserve it. He made a deal with a devil to get what he wanted and didn’t care who got caught up in the crossfire. Most of all, despite having a viable way to escape Hels peacefully, he doggedly pursued revenge out of nothing but spite and a twisted sense of justice.

Logically, Tango should hate Bravo as much as Bravo hates him.

But for the first time, Tango tries to imagine what it must’ve been like to be trapped in Hels for ten years and not knowing why.

What Bravo went through is exactly what Tango’s always feared since he escaped; that one day his luck would run out, and he’d lose everything. His peaceful life in the overworld. His freedom. His friends, and the love he found with Jimmy- maybe Bravo had people he cared about before, too. Worst of all, Bravo had already experienced the wonders of the wider universe before having it abruptly taken from him.

Tango had been spawned into cruelty and suffering. He hadn’t known anything different, hadn’t known there was anything beyond Hels that he was missing out on. But Bravo did. Bravo knew what it was to travel between worlds, to explore untainted horizons, to live under the warmth of the sun. He knew cooperation and goodwill between players, the comfort and safety of solo worlds. And then suddenly, he’d been deprived of it all, with no way of knowing if he’d ever get it back.

So if Atlas told him that it wasn’t his fault, that he could blame it all on some mysterious, evil doppelgänger… Tango understands why he’d cling to the notion so fiercely.

It’s an easy thing to blame someone else. Accepting that Tango isn’t to blame for what he’s become means accepting that maybe his understanding of Hels players is flawed, and that he might not have been as good of a player as he thought to begin with. Accepting that Tango wasn’t to blame for stranding him in Hels in the first place would mean accepting that maybe… there wasn’t a reason at all. And that kind of acceptance is paramount to altering his entire worldview.

Tango’s been through that himself, once. It wasn’t a fun process. So right now, watching Bravo fall apart in front of him, he finds that all he can feel is sympathy.

So Tango summons enough strength to step forward and wrap Bravo in a hug.

Bravo recoils at first; the kind of instinctive flinch that Tango knows all too well. A noise catches in his throat- part alarm, part disgust. “What’re you-” He tries to push away, but Tango holds fast.

“I’m sorry,” Tango whispers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

Bravo freezes.

The air is still and silent around them, filled with nothing but the faint flickering of torches and Bravo’s shrill breathing. He’s as rigid as stone in Tango’s embrace- his muscles are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. After a few moments, he inhales sharply, and Tango is almost certain he’s about to receive a sword in the gut but he doesn’t let go, because he remembers what it’s like to live in this world and if he can’t even show his own doppelgänger kindness then he really hasn’t learned anything at all-

The sword clatters to the ground. And Bravo breaks.

He folds into the embrace and begins to sob. He sobs hard, shaking and gasping for breath in between, clinging to Tango like his life depends on it. Tears quickly dampen the collar of Tango’s shirt. It’s different from his earlier furious cries- this is absolute devastation, heart-wrenching and all-consuming. It’s a flood ten years in the making, finally spilling over all the careful walls that Bravo’s built around himself. And now that it’s here, there’s no stopping it.

Tango doesn’t speak. He simply eases them down to sit on the floor- he can’t support both his and Bravo’s weight right now. Bravo practically collapses, body limp, legs curled awkwardly beneath him but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. He sags against Tango and cries, and Tango lets him.

It’s slightly bizarre, holding his doppelgänger while he cries. Especially when he was attacking Tango not even two minutes ago. In many ways, it’s a disturbing echo of his own past breakdowns- he can hear himself so clearly in Bravo’s voice, the raw ache of it.

But he’s glad for it. New growth can only happen once the old is torn down. It’s a messy, unpleasant process. It won’t be quick or easy. Bravo has only just taken the first step- he’s still got a long, difficult journey ahead of him. But Tango knows how beautiful it’ll be, to come out through the other side.

And he thinks maybe he needed this, too.

Tango isn’t sure how much time they spend like that. Only when Bravo has finally grown silent, just the occasional sniffle or shaky breath, does Tango sit back enough to meet Bravo’s teary gaze.

“And neither did I,” he continues quietly. “And neither did anyone else who’s ever spawned here, that- that’s the point.”

Bravo sniffs, wiping his face on his sleeve. “But… the universe has to spawn you here for a reason,” he insists, his voice small and confused. Like a child.

Tango’s mildly surprised to find he feels no anger- just pity. “Maybe the universe is wrong.”

Distress flashes across Bravo’s face; clearly, he’s never considered that before. He pulls away from Tango but he doesn’t go far, tucking his knees to his chest. “So then... all this pain, all this struggle... was for nothing,” he says miserably. “Everything I went through... a- and everything I did... I- I was so sure there had to be a reason, that I was different from the players here, that I didn’t belong here. But I- I’m fucked up. I used to be a nice person, but…”

“Nice isn’t the same thing as good,” Tango says simply. “And I would know.”

Bravo swallows. “… how did you do it?” he asks hoarsely. “You’re a Hels, why… how come this world didn’t ruin you, too? How did you end up being the good one?”

It’s an exceedingly vulnerable question, without a hint of reproach. Tango hums, leaning back on his arms. “Y’know, I spent a long time in this world. I- I grew up where it’s kill or be killed, murder first ask questions later, everyone’ll sell you out for a piece of rotten flesh. That was just normal. That was expected. If you’d known me back then, I- I would’ve been no different from any other Hels. I set horrible traps for fun. I cost random players, people I didn’t even know, their resources and their lives in an already harsh world, I mean- it wasn’t pretty. But I was a kid.” He glances sidelong at Bravo. “I was just a teenager when Atlas took me in, did you- did he ever tell you that?”

Bravo’s surprised expression is all the answer Tango needs.

“Nah, I guess he wouldn’t,” Tango sighs ruefully. “But the first person I thought was different- the first person who I thought saw more in me than the capacity for chaos, who offered me a home, a sense of belonging, a purpose... it turned out to be a trick. All of it, a lie. Just to get me into a horrible farm for the rest of my life, suffering constant withering and being harvested for my resources, like- like I was nothin’ more than a mob.” He gives Bravo a half-hearted grin. “You’d think that’d seal it, right? Like, that would just totally destroy any remaining faith I had in playerkind. And uh, it came pretty close, actually. But then I got out.”

He tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “The universe created a portal, and I escaped to a world where players were kind. And generous, and… gave you the benefit of the doubt. They didn’t assume the worst, they didn’t judge you based on what you looked like. It was… completely foreign. I took advantage of it at first, I mean, I- I was a total jerk. I’m just lucky they thought it was all in good fun, jokes and pranks and stuff- or, or uh, maybe they did know, and still chose to show me grace, I dunno. What I do know is that after enough time had passed… I changed. My wants, my goals, my- my entire outlook on life changed. Suddenly I wanted to be good, I- I tried so hard to be good. And that only happened ‘cause I got the chance.”

He meets Bravo’s gaze, raising his eyebrows. “And- and I was an adult at that point, I’d grown up in Hels. I mean, imagine what I might’ve been like if I’d spawned on a normal world, grown up in the normal way. Hell, imagine if any other Hels kid got that chance. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many differences between us. Like, maybe even someone like Atlas could’ve been better.” He shrugs. “And maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he always would’ve grown up to be an asshole. Either way, there’s no way of knowing if they never have the chance.”

Bravo looks pensive, his brows knitted together. “I guess I… never thought of that.”

Tango dares to reach out and put a hand on Bravo’s arm. “I’m sorry you got sent here. If I’d known about it when it happened... well, I- I probably still wouldn’t have said anything, if I’m honest,” he admits. “Like you said, I did what I had to do to survive. But I’m sorry for what you went through, and for what my role in that was. If I’d been brave enough to speak up, maybe we could’a helped you sooner, I dunno.”

Bravo glances away. “I… understand,” he says haltingly. “It, uh… it doesn’t excuse the way I’ve been actin’, so. You know.”

Tango makes a noncommittal noise. “For what it’s worth, I- I don’t think ‘being good’ is somethin’ that’s like… intrinsically handed to us, just by virtue of where we spawn. I think good is a choice that we make, every second of every day of our lives. And y’know, deciding not to choose good in one moment doesn’t mean we can never choose good again.” He huffs a soft laugh. “I mean, if you ask me, that’s way more important than the world we spawn in.”

Bravo looks at him for a moment. His expression is impossible to read. Then determination settles over him, his eyes hardening, before he abruptly gets to his feet. Without a word, he marches over to one of the chests on the floor and rummages through it. Before Tango can say anything, Bravo pulls out an item and tosses it over to him.

Tango catches it, mostly on reflex; it’s a potion of instant health.

“You take that,” Bravo says briskly, stooping over to pick his sword off the ground, “while I go help Jimmy out of there.”

Then he jumps into the pit, slashing through cobwebs on his way down.

Tango blinks. Well, then. Guess that’s decided. He downs the potion quickly, grimacing at the sweet aftertaste of glistering melon, and rises to his feet. It hasn’t fully restored him, but it’s taken the edge off his fresh injuries and given him enough strength to be a functional player again, and he’s quite satisfied with that for now.

Putting away the empty bottle, he wanders over to the edge of the pit, catching the tail end of Jimmy snapping at Bravo as he approaches.

“- where you’re swingin’ that thing!”

“I’m tryin’ to help! Just hold still-”

“Don’t you tell me to- ouch!”

“You’re makin’ it worse! Hang on…”

Tango’s only just leaned over to look when Jimmy flies out of the pit. His wings are ruffled and there are a few places where it’s obvious that some feathers were pulled out, a few stray bits of cobweb still clinging here and there. But aside from the scrapes and bruises he received during their fight with Bravo, he looks none the worse for wear. He’s been gracious enough to carry Bravo out with him, though he’s quick to dump Bravo back on the ground once they’re clear of the pit.

“Tango!” Jimmy swoops over and nearly knocks Tango over, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, I- I was so worried, are you alright?”

Despite the ache in his bones, Tango hugs him back just as fiercely. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, hun,” he reassures Jimmy, voice muffled in the crook of his shoulder.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to curl up in Jimmy’s embrace and fall asleep. Between the fight and his unexpected heart-to-heart with Bravo, he’s physically and emotionally worn out. But even though the immediate threat has been nullified, he knows they aren’t done yet.

Tango pulls back just enough to meet Jimmy’s gaze. “I’m sorry for all this,” he murmurs, reaching a hand up to cup Jimmy’s face. “I thought… if I came here by myself, I’d be protecting you- protecting everyone- from suffering the consequences of my mistake.”

Jimmy covers Tango’s hand with his own. “Did you… did you come here with the intent of givin’ yourself up?” he asks quietly.

Tango winces. “Well, I didn’t- that wasn’t my main goal, no, but uh- I- I knew it was a possibility,” he confesses. “I mean, ideally I would’ve patched things up with Bravo and- and somehow gotten the key from Atlas on my own, but… I was prepared to fail, yeah. I’d accepted it.”

Jimmy looks sad, but not surprised. “Y’know,” he starts softly, “you- you always talk about, uh… not wantin’ to hurt us, not wantin’ us to suffer for your mistakes. But I don’t think you realize that for us, the thought of losin’ you is far worse than whatever else might happen. I mean, I- I’d go through that battle with Hels Tek a hundred times over if it meant not losin’ you. And I know the others feel the same way.”

“Oh.” Tango’s throat tightens. “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“I know.” A bittersweet smile spreads across Jimmy’s face. “I know it’s hard for you to believe sometimes, alright, but you- we’re rather fond of you, mate. So, um… d’you think you could give the self-sacrificial nonsense a rest?”

Despite everything, Tango feels himself grin. “I can try, yeah,” he says, leaning up to give Jimmy a kiss.

(On the inside, Tango is still terrified at how this might turn out. Hels is a dangerous world, and tangling with Atlas and the rest of Hels Tek is no small order. A horrible painful death is the least of his concerns- if Jimmy or any of the other Double Lifers ended up in a farm, Tango would never forgive himself.

But if today taught him anything, it’s that the people he cares about are just as stubborn as he is. No matter what he says or does, they’re going to be determined to help him, because that’s just the kind of players they are. And he could continue to try and fight it, to try and go it alone, but he’s sure they’ll still somehow put themselves in harm’s way.

So rather than fight it, maybe he can accept that they’re able to make their own decisions and take their own risks. And that working with them, rather than against them, might give them all the best chance of having a favorable outcome. They’ll certainly have an easier time dealing with Atlas if they don’t have to worry about Tango pulling another dirty, reckless move like this.)

Behind them, Bravo coughs into his fist. “Uh, hey, are you two done…?”

Jimmy breaks away with a huff of annoyance. “What?” he demands, keeping an arm around Tango’s waist.

“Just thinkin’ out loud here,” Bravo says, holding his hands up, “but uh, you- there’s no way you two are gonna be able to take on Hels Tek alone. I mean, you’ve already lost the element of surprise, I- he’s probably noticed your arrival in chat by now. And Hels Tek is several days away on foot, how- what, are you just- are you just gonna walk there? You’d barely make it a hundred blocks before gettin’ killed, what with your abysmal PVP skills.”

Jimmy scowls at the slight against them, but Tango frowns. “You’re right,” he amends. “I uh, I honestly didn’t have much of a plan besides ‘winging it’ when I came through, I- I was on a bit of a time crunch.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Jimmy asks Bravo pointedly.

Bravo rolls his eyes. “I mean, I just wanna get the fuck out of here. But if you guys are tryin’ to get the key to that collar skadoodler from Atlas, you’re gonna need help.”

“From you?” Jimmy’s distrust is evident in his voice. “Why?”

Bravo crosses his arms, shoulders hunched defensively. “I dunno, I- maybe I feel bad about the part I played in all this and feel like I owe you guys one?”

Jimmy scoffs. “Doubtful.”

Bravo opens his mouth to retort, but Tango intervenes. “Hey, I know you probably couldn’t hear everything from the bottom of that pit,” he tells Jimmy, “but uh, I- I really think we’ve worked it out, now.” He glances over at Bravo, smiling. “I think we can trust him.”

Shock flares in Bravo’s eyes, his expression sobering. He gives a slight nod.

Jimmy purses his lips. “Fine, but I still don’t like it-”

Ca-clunk.

Pistons activate, making all three of them whirl around to face the wall. Tango’s mind is already racing through the different possibilities- maybe Bravo was actually just stalling until backup came, or maybe Atlas was able to track them down on his own, or maybe it’s even a completely random player who stumbled across the base- but that all comes screeching to a halt as soon as he sees the player who steps out into the room.

Because that’s Jimmy.

Or- well- not exactly. It’s obviously not Jimmy because he’s still standing next to Tango. But it’s immediately apparent that, despite the several major differences between them, this is Jimmy’s doppelgänger, his Hels counterpart.

It seems impossible. Or at least, highly improbable, that Jimmy’s doppelgänger would be here, of all places, and now, of all times, when Hels is a massive, infinite world full of nearly infinite players.

But there’s no one else he could be.

“Bravo!” the player calls in Jimmy’s voice. “Did you- oh.” He draws up short when he sees them, seeming just as thrown by this turn of events as they are.

The first thing that jumps out at Tango is how skinny the player is. He’s practically emaciated; despite his tall frame, his limbs are no thicker than Tango’s, his big, watery eyes sunken into a hollow face- a face that, aside from the lack of a crooked nose, is almost identical to Jimmy’s. The large wings that trail behind him are black in color and poorly kept. He’s a lot paler than Jimmy is, too, almost a sickly sort of complexion. His ratty hair is a dull black, and- based on the sharp angles of the ends- was cut short very recently.

Now Tango knows how Jimmy must’ve been feeling this whole time. It’s fucking weird.

Beside him, Jimmy’s breath catches. He takes a single, tentative step forward- though Tango is quick to throw an arm out in front of him. The player doesn’t look very threatening. He’s barefoot and dressed in rags, carrying no weapon or armor. But Tango’s still on guard. This is an unknown Hels player, after all.

The player stares at Jimmy, entranced. “Oh,” he breathes, a trembling hand coming up to tug on a strand of hair. A jumble of emotions flash across his face, too fast to read. “I see… you must be Jimmy.”

“And you’re Timmy,” Jimmy says softly, dawning realization settling over his features. “Aren’t you? Gosh…”

Tango recognizes the tone of their voices; they’re experiencing the same strange sensation he did, the first time he laid eyes on Bravo. That abrupt and absolute recognition of the self in the other. Despite meeting for the first time, there hadn’t been a doubt in Tango’s mind that Bravo was his doppelgänger. He’d known it as surely as his own name. It was something instinctual, almost primal- grounding and disorienting all at once.

Timmy. That’s the nickname that Grian and some of the other guys call Jimmy. A practical joke played on them by the universe, no doubt, to have spawned with the names they did.

Bravo finally unfreezes. “Timmy! I told you to wait for me to come get you!” he hisses, but Tango can see the guilt and shame on his face.

“Sorry…” Timmy murmurs distantly, still fixated on Jimmy. “I was just… gosh, I- everythin’ makes sense now…” He finally turns to look at Bravo, and the faint, knowing smile on his face is devastatingly sad. “I… get why I wasn’t good enough.”

Bravo flinches. “No, no I- I didn’t mean-”

“Ey,” Jimmy cuts in, voice gentle but firm as he moves past Tango to approach Timmy. “C’mere, mate, it’s alright. Ignore him a second, hey?” He fans out a wing to block Bravo from view, nonverbally conveying that he’d like a private moment with his doppelgänger.

“Yeah, come on.” Tango takes the cue to grab Bravo by the arm, leading him to the other side of the room. “You- you wanna explain him?” he asks lowly, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, how- where did you even find him?”

Bravo exhales heavily. “At spawn. Actually, I- we met the first time I ended up at world spawn, all those years ago. Go figure. He- he’d been livin’ there for god knows how long, just… starving to death, over and over again, ‘cause he was too scared to leave.”

Damn.

“Huh.” Tango nods slowly. “So… what were you sayin’ about all Hels being evil monsters…?”

Bravo tenses. “Shut up. He’s different.” He glances over his shoulder at the pair of avians. “I… after I was killed on your world, and- and escaped from Hels Tek, I ended up at spawn. He was still there, and this time… he agreed to come with me, so he could leave Hels with me once I got my portal working.”

“Mhmm.” Tango’s voice is terse, even to his own ears. “You, uh... didn’t happen to keep him around just ‘cause he’s my soulmate’s doppelgänger, did you?”

Bravo winces. “... maybe at first,” he admits. “But then- I dunno, I- I didn’t- things changed, alright?”

Tango folds his arms. “That’s pretty fucked up, to use him as a- a replacement Jimmy.”

“I know, okay?” Bravo hisses, but it’s lacking its usual venom. “I- I’ve had a lotta realizations in the last few minutes, alright? Gimme a break.”

Tango snorts but says nothing else, looking over to check on Jimmy.

He’s speaking to Timmy in low tones, eyes shining with concern. His demeanor is reserved, gentle, nonthreatening- he’s matching Timmy’s curled-in posture, just with less of the anxiety, more reassuring. And it seems to be working; even from this distance, it’s apparent Timmy’s slowly growing more comfortable, less afraid.

Sudden warmth swells in Tango’s chest. It’s overwhelming, meeting your doppelgänger, but Jimmy’s put all those complicated feelings aside to help a player who seems to sorely need it. His experience with Hels players thus far has been nothing but flat-out terrible, and yet it didn’t even occur to him to be wary of Timmy. Some might view that as foolish naivety or ignorance, maybe even stupidity. But to Tango, it’s a testament to Jimmy’s incredible kindness.

He couldn’t be more proud of his soulmate.

Eventually, Jimmy waves them over. “Hey, so uh, you got somethin’ to say to Timmy?” he asks Bravo, one hand resting protectively on Timmy’s bony shoulder.

Taken back, Bravo looks at Tango, who simply raises an eyebrow.

Bravo swallows. “Look,” he starts hesitantly, “I- I uh, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you, alright? It… wasn’t fair for me to compare you to Jimmy.”

Timmy’s avoiding his gaze, fidgeting with his hands, but there’s a hopeful light in his eyes. “Thanks,” he says softly.

Satisfied for the moment, Jimmy turns to Tango. “We can’t leave him here,” he says, completely resolute. “I- I think we should head back through the portal for now, regroup with the others and come up with a- with an actual plan? So long as we don’t break the portal, we’ll still be able to come back through. Even if he,” he nods at Bravo, “is with us.”

Tango rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Right, right, yeah. I’m- the others are bound to notice we’re gone soon, so we should probably-”

“Oh!” Timmy gasps suddenly, smacking his forehead. “The others, right! Right, sorry, I uh- the reason I came to find you, Bravo, is that a- a whole buncha players just joined the world.” He cringes, apologetic. “I- I think it’s those guys you were tellin’ me about.”

“What?!” Bravo demands, sounding alarmed.

Tango whips out his communicator, eyes widening at the chat.

The entire Double Life server has joined Hels. Which means they’re probably up by the portal right now, wandering around and looking for him in a dangerous world they’re entirely unfamiliar with, full of hostile mobs, hidden traps, and certain ruthless scientists who’d love to add a few hybrids to their collection.

Shit.

~*~

Somewhere in Hels, a player types furiously on a communicator.

“No,” Atlas calls over his shoulder distractedly, “they won’t be at world spawn. Get me the last coordinates searched by Alisker’s mercenaries, we’ll start from there.”

“Yes, sir,” the scientist says quickly before rushing off.

It’s only been a few minutes since Atlas was alerted to Tango’s arrival in chat- him and one other player. The avian, he thinks. Obviously, this development necessitated that they drop everything and immediately pivot towards an effort to recapture Tango. Amidst giving orders to prepare the flying machines and gather weapons and armor, he’s been frantically trying to reach Alisker via whispers- without looking like he’s too desperate, of course, but he knows that having Alisker’s support in this endeavor will be critical to its success.

All the while, part of his mind is dedicated to puzzling out Tango’s motive.

He had a feeling they’d return to Hels eventually, to try and get the key for Tango’s collar from him. No doubt Tango’s finding its properties rather disruptive to normal life. The only question was whether or not Alisker’s mercenaries would find Bravo before then, allowing them to open a new portal and strike first. The latter option would’ve certainly been ideal, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He’s confident they’ll succeed this way, too.

(Failure isn’t an option. Not again.)

What’s most confusing, however, is that Tango seems to have come without any real backup. The other players from his world were quite formidable as a group; Tango must know that leaving them behind will considerably lower his chances of success. So perhaps he doesn’t intend to confront Atlas at all, and is simply content to live with the collar. After all, he’s still wearing the cuffs, all these years later.

The only way to open a portal to Hels- that they know of, at least- is by using a player’s data to lock onto their counterpart’s coordinates. So Tango must’ve opened a portal to Bravo. Perhaps that’s all his goal is- an attempt to make amends with his doppelgänger and provide an escape from Hels. If that’s the case, then they’re working with a limited time frame.

Because if Bravo leaves Hels with Tango, then Atlas is truly out of viable options. All he’ll be able to do is open random portals to any of Hels Tek’s counterparts in the overworld, giving them access to random worlds that Tango is highly unlikely to inhabit. That won’t satisfy Alisker, and Atlas is already on thin ice as it is. No, they need to move now if they have any chance of-

Chat is suddenly jumping with join messages, and some very familiar usernames.

Ah, there’s the rest of them.

Atlas’s runaway train of thought screeches to a halt. If the other members of that world are here now, then it seems like they’ll be going for the key, after all. Which means he can breathe again. They’ve got a difficult conflict ahead of them, sure, but he rather likes their chances here in Hels. And he’s got a much better idea of what they’re up against this time- they won’t be defeated again so easily.

Oh, and Alisker’s finally returned his message. Yes, things are shaping up quite nicely, indeed.

Atlas quickly makes the arrangements, rising from his chair and heading out of his office. The halls of Hels Tek are bustling with activity as everyone scrambles to get ready. Anticipation bubbles in Atlas’s chest. This is his last chance to be victorious; he won’t rest until Tango is locked back in that farm. And, if he plays this right, he’ll have several new additions to his hybrid-farming initiative as well. Already his mind is racing with ideas..

The minutes pass in a blur. Atlas is standing before the flying machines and barking orders, his voice echoing off the garage’s high ceiling, when his communicator beeps again. He glances down, expecting to see another message from Alisker, and draws up short.

Grian tried to swim in lava.

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BdoubleO100 tried to swim in lava.

Renthedog tried to swim in lava.

Atlas blinks in surprise. The messages are almost simultaneous; a massive die-off like this can’t be anything other than a trap. How curious... he knows Bravo is rather fond of setting traps, as Alisker’s mercenaries have discovered firsthand. And if the portal they came through was spawned near Bravo’s location… perhaps this was accidental friendly fire?

Another message flashes.

SolidarityGaming was slain by Bravo.

Oh. Nevermind.

Atlas watches chat with bated breath. It hasn’t escaped his notice that, as of right now, Tango is still alive. And if his hunch is correct…

<Bravo whispered to you> hey. I’ve got an offer for you.

Atlas grins.

~*~

#hermitcraft #life series smp #double life smp #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #hels to pay AU #HTP fic #my writing

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annabtg · 3 days

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Anna, you’re so right(i love you). It’s so annoying that all these woke yaoi-shipping sjws have taken over the fandom. You cannot put characters like James and Sev through modern lenses(“Snape was a child abuser” teachers were allowed to hit students with rulers at 90s british schools but being a little mean to a troublemaker makes you satan🙄) and understand them fully. You also cannot make James Potter into a bisexual adhd-having MOC and keep true to his character(everything about him relays on him being very privileged in society)

Love, an old man.

I don't know how you can read this post and conclude that my problem is "woke, yaoi-shipping sjws"? My problem is, like I said, the complete lack of reading comprehension skills, of creative and analytical thought and of the ability to empathize with the characters.

Indeed, modern social media seems to favour performative activism, but that's not what fanfic suffers from. I've engaged with fandom enough to understand that the prevalence of non-nuanced takes comes from younger fans who have grown up in a world massively different from the one I grew up in as a millennial with boomer parents.

Nevertheless, I don't think you're doing it right either, my love. Teachers might have been allowed to hit students with rulers in the 70s (they weren't allowed in 90s Greece, though, and I have been informed neither were they in the UK) - and an example of a strict but good teacher in the books is Minerva McGonagall, who would dole out harsh punishments and use her sharp tongue on students, but still gives you the feeling that she cared about them and loved them. That kind of "tough love" was how boomers took care of their kids. Not Snape, who had beef with a student because he didn't like his father. That's fucked up. But the thing is that Snape is supposed to be unlikeable and mean and come off as the villain, to make his arc all the more surprising and impactful. He's supposed to be a fucked up dick who works for the side of good, because the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

As for James, I don't think his portrayal as a bisexual ADHD-having MOC is inherently incompatible with his character, even if it's not the authorial intent (indeed, James is supposed to be the picture of privilege). For instance, one aspect of HP I find fascinating is how being a POC doesn't descend into racism in the books - I think there's one single instance of it, where Pansy tells Angelina she's got worms on her head, but that's obviously Pansy being a dick, and other than that there is no casual racism thrown about to people like Dean or Lee or Cho or the Patils. Whether their portrayal is nuanced or stereotypical is a different discussion, but I think it's obvious that we're supposed to take out that if you're a racist wizard, it's not colour that matters, it's blood. James Potter could reasonably be a POC and it wouldn't matter at all in the world he lived in.

That he would struggle with ADHD or sexuality is also not implausible, and in fact I think it makes for very compelling portrayals of him to be going through that in an era-adequate way. Have people around him be annoyed because he just won't sit still, show him confused by his attraction to Sirius and downplaying it with semi-homophobic remarks. I'm personally not so much a fan of a Hogwarts that reads like you're at Pride, but it was the era of hippies, after all?? I think that Hogwarts would be on the conservative side of things, but at the end of the day it *was* the time when queerness started to gain visibility and I understand how people feel at liberty to use that. Everyone seeks to connect to these characters through fic to some degree; for me, who grew up as a gifted (and probably undiagnosed autistic?) kid in a conservative society, the canon portrayal of people like James and Lily and Sirius at Hogwarts resonates enough to keep me intrigued.

I don't lament people trying to project their own struggles with queerness or mental illness or idk just the fun conversations they have with their friends on the Marauders and Hogwarts; what bugs me is when it's being done in a way that cancels canon aphoristically, and you're suddenly idk toxic for shipping Jily because "James was an abuser and Lily had Stockholm Syndrome" - that's not what happened. Showing off like a peacock was the men's standard flirting technique, and playing hard to get was the women's standard flirting technique, and even with that Jily contains a LOT of nuance - and frankly, even through a modern lens I find it very difficult to miss if you have the first idea of reading between the lines. Which is why I keep saying: lack of reading comprehension skills and critical thinking beyond understanding straightforward text messages and cheap quips is the bane of these readers' existence (or, you know, our existence, for having to put up with it).

#answered ask #anon ask

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lani-heart · 19 hours

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|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> riki nishimura x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> neglectment / rejection word count -> 1.9k

abstract -> all humans are the same... aren't they?

niki perspective

I can’t believe I let those stupid people make me doubt her.

That was very stupid. But it was now the second day and she reassured me that I could quit anytime. I heard several whispers when I entered. They thought I would be punished and didn’t expect me to come back here unscathed.

“Doesn’t it make sense though? His owner never punishes him” I soon heard. Oh, how I loved her. “You're here?!” the dog hybrid said. “I was worried your owner must return or punish you,” he said and I smiled. “She isn’t like that. She said I did the right thing” I said happily and he was shocked.

“That's not how you’re supposed to act though! You’re supposed–” “Yeah I know but I promised her I wouldn't change because of these lessons. I'm just here to act properly at parties, that's it. Not because she’s forcing me, don’t have to impress anybody” I said and he was confused.

I know everyone would be different. I’m an exception. I have the best owner out of everyone.

“You’re lucky,” he said and I smiled. “I know”

I learned his name was Jake. He was recently rescued from the streets when he was abandoned very young. I don’t remember much of my life on the streets or prior. All I know is my life with her.

The class was finished without anything wrong this time. Maybe I can convince her to go to the convenience store today.

“Niki!” I heard and I scoffed. “Yah! It's Riki” I said as I saw the Hawk hybrid approach me. He was wearing designer clothes with a jeweled collar. “What do you want?” I asked and he scoffed. “I’m older than you. You should show me more respect,” he said and I rolled my eyes. “Hmm. What year are you Riki?” Jake asked and I answered with ‘2005’.

“I’m older than you too!!” he said and I scoffed. “Our owners want us to be friends,” he said and I laughed. “Yeah right. y/n knows I’m not interested in making friends” I said and he clicked his tongue before grabbing the back of my collar.

“Hey!!” I said as I tried pushing him off. “How do you get away with everything? I heard stories of what you’ve done and she still keeps you around?” he said and I scoffed.

“She’s not like your owner!” I corrected and I would’ve had the nerve to scratch him away but… he was from that girl who seemed to have a good status that would get y/n in trouble.

“Yah! Let him go” I heard and I saw the familiar overgrown tiger. “Who are you?” I heard him ask and he scoffed. “Someone who isn't scared to hurt the pretty little bird,” he said while the Hawk let me go. “Come on you’ve kept her waiting long enough,” he said and I followed Hongjoong.

“There's no way you’re forcing me here,” the tiger told his owner and y/n laughed.

“Hongjoong was sick of waiting,” she sighed and I chuckled. “Oh, Jay! e/n asked me to watch you for today. She’ll pick you up tomorrow,” she said and I was confused. “What?!” I yelled and she smiled softly.

“She’s on a trip right now. Her dad asked mine and here we are” she explained and I sighed. It was a request from him.

“No trouble today?” she asked me and I shook my head. “The black cat is bad luck y/nnie,” Hongjoong said and I glared. “It was worth a try,” Seonghwa said to her and she smiled. “Trust me Hongjoong. If Niki didn’t want to attend I wouldn't have him do it” she said and he smiled. “I know, he’s just stupid, '' he said and I glared at him.

“Remember, for dinner you can’t say no,” Seonghwa said. Today was her monthly dinner with her friends AND she was babysitting the stupid hawk?!

“y/n I wanted to go to the convenience store today,” I said, still wanting to stock up on snacks… especially if he's gonna be with us. “Niki, you should eat a proper meal tonight,” she said and I pouted. “You’re not even gonna be here which means the chef won't come by tonight,” I said and she sighed.

“Fine you win”

jay’s perspective

Riki was a strange hybrid. He was wild and crazy… and had so many horror stories that the two were the talk of hybrid talk in gatherings.

y/n was just as maybe even more strange. She was the only child of a very wealthy businessman. Everyone wanted to be in her good graces… but the hybrid she owns doesn't match her personality. He’s too much trouble.

Seeing her outside of the fancy clothes and jewelry though… She was the same as him. Both are childish despite their status.

“That's not true, take it back!” he said as she shook her head trying not to laugh as they argued which is the best kimbap flavor.

They already had a full basket and are now on their second. “Jay do you want anything?” she asked me and I shook my head. “Then starve tonight,” Riki said and y/n hit him playfully. “I’m going out tonight and there isn't much food at my apartment so please choose something,” she said. I had never eaten this kind of food before.

Ramyeon… tteokbokki… frozen chicken? This is bad for my diet.

“You’ve never had this type of food before have you?” Riki asked as y/n looked over the candy. “It's not a part of my food plan,” I said and he rolled his eyes. “Just get a ramyeon, kimbap, and ice cream and you're set, '' he said as I picked out one called buldak, a random kimbap flavor, and ice cream. I haven't had ice cream since I was in America.

When she paid Riki still asked if we could get street food. She said yes and I was shocked at just how badly of a diet they had. Or that she even went along with his requests… he asked so carelessly.

“I've been craving spicy fish cake,” y/n said “Ooh how about Mandu?” Riki suggested. “Ooh! And some chicken skewers!” y/n said and they grinned happily.

What was this?

“Remember not too eat much. You still have to go to dinner” Riki said and she groaned. “I need street food. They’re planning on drinking” she said and he chuckled. “Be careful, okay?” he asked and she smiled softly and nodded.

So he did care for her too?

“Jay, are you sure you don’t want anything?” she asked and I shook my head. She looked disappointed with my response, causing the overgrown cat to roll his eyes. “Eat it, it'll be rude if you don’t,” he said as he handed me a chicken skewer.

I've never tried Korean street food before… it was famous though amongst tourists and locals. I tried it and was surprised at how good it was. I regret not asking for one now…

Too bad it'll probably be my last time trying it…

We arrived when they dumped all the bags on the counter… they didn't even put it away. He didn’t even offer to help nor did she ask.“Niki showed Jay the guest room,” she said and he nodded as I followed him. It was a very spacious apartment… I don’t think it should even be called an apartment.

I saw my duffel bag. I’m glad she didn’t forget it this time…

I didn’t know what to do now… stare at another wall I guess? Maybe sleep?

I heard laughing though… I left my room to see the two putting stuff away. She was in a hoodie and sweatpants with a hair roller on her bangs. Riki is now in a shirt and sweats.

“Oh, Jay! You can use the TV by the way; it has many games. You can ask Niki how to use it” she said. Luckily, I have a PS5 for my entertainment at home. I wasn’t allowed to play certain games though…

“Buldak?” she said as I saw the ramen I chose. “That's Jay’s … he chose it,” Riki said and she nodded while putting it on the counter with the kimbap I chose. “We need to go grocery shopping,” she said and I was confused. “Why don't you have someone do that for you?” I asked and she chuckled. “Cause it's fun!” she said with a grin. “They won’t get us snacks otherwise,” Riki said.

“Too many snacks are bad for you” I muttered. “y/n, he’s no fun” he whined and she chuckled. “Come on, quit being grumpy,” she said and he playfully huffed.

“How long have you had Riki?” I asked and she smiled. “Uhm well I was seven and you were eight right Riki?” she asked and he nodded. “So twelve years! We celebrate every December 9 since we don’t know Niki’s exact birthday” she said.

Twelve years? That's such a long time… and only with each other?

“How about you?” she asked and I sighed. “Six months,” I said and she nodded. “Who’s been your longest owner?” she asked… so she did know how people like her were. “Two years,” I said and she sighed.

“I hope you find a forever home,” she said with a sad smile. “Do you think if you didn’t meet Riki when he was young you’d keep him the way you do now?” I asked and she sighed. “Niki is my number one companion and my best friend. He’s not an object to be sold” she said, a little angry.

Did I anger her?

“I can finish. Go get ready, yome-chan” he said and she nodded while she left. “Did I offend her?” I asked and he shook his head. “She’s just defensive on the topic,” he said as he put things away for her now.

“That dog hybrid is right. You’re lucky to have her” I said and he looked at me with possessive eyes. “I’ll be given away soon,” I said and he sighed. “I know I am. She’s stuck with me whether she likes it or not” he muttered. “I think she likes it,” I said and he chuckled.

There was silence afterward.

I hate you, Riki. You have a life I would kill for.

I soon noticed the strong scent of perfume that had faded before. She was in a red dress with the white fur coat she had the other day.

“You forgot this,” he said while pulling out her hair roller. “I’ll be out with Seonghwa, Wonyoung, NingNing, Chenle, and Yeosang,” she said and he nodded. “Pace yourself and eat well, okay?” he asked and she smiled.

“Bye Nik, Bye Jay!!” she said while Niki helped put her heels and coat on while she left. “Is a bodyguard or a maid coming?” I asked and he shook his head. “No, we wait for when she comes back,” he said as he sat on the couch.

“You look confused,” he said and I chuckled. “You’re like her friend… you're not even a hybrid for her,” I said and he shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll finally get someone to keep me like she does with you,” I said and he sighed when he paused his game.

“You won’t have that. Not with the social status you’ve been stamped with. Every one of those stuck-up kids does it to collect, brag, and dump you. They’ll repeat the cycle over and over again” he said now showing his distaste for humans. “What about y/n?” I asked.

“I don't know… one day she might do the same”

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgf

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

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delicatebarness · 2 days

Text

bring him home | chapter three

Summary: How has it been a whole year already?

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Mentions of Grief. Violence. Knives. Injury.

Word Count: 1376

Spotify Playlist

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I love Rocket, okay?

The first anniversary of the Snap, the second most difficult day of your life. Standing before the ‘Wall of the Vanished’ in Brooklyn, your eyes locked on a single name that meant everything to you. ‘James “Bucky” Barnes’. His name began to blur as tears welled up in your eyes, every letter was a reminder of the loss you were still struggling to accept.

You woke up that morning with a heavy heart, the weight of the anniversary pressed down on you. As if you remind you of the silence that had followed that day, the city seemed quieter.

The journey to Brooklyn was blurred as your memories of Bucky, his laugh, his smile, his stare, replayed in your mind.

The ‘Wall of the Vanished’ was a structure, a monument of collective grief. Every city and county had built their own, a testament to the billions who had disappeared without a trace. As you approached, others were standing, some in silent reflection, others weeping as their fringers traced the names of their loved ones.

It felt like a punch from The Hulk as you reached Bucky’s name, whispering it under your breath. As if saying it softly enough could somehow bring him home. Reaching out to touch the cold stone, you felt the roughness under your fingertips. You couldn’t believe that a year had passed since your world changed forever.

The memory of his tortured cries haunted your dreams, even into your teenage years. Some years had passed since that harrowing day, and you were not allowed to be trained by him afterward. As time went by, you knew you had to escape. You bided your time with your older sister Natasha, feigning obedience while secretly plotting. You seized the moment as soon as the opportunity arose, slipping through the cracks of their iron grip and disappearing into the shadows.

You managed to build a new life away from their horrors and your past. Living in hiding in a quiet town, trying to blend in. You began to attend a public high school and tried to reclaim something of a normal life. The world now only saw an ordinary girl, but you were always on guard, waiting for them to come.

After a long day at school, you decided to walk home through the park, basking in the setting sun. The air was crisp, and the scent of the spring flowers beginning to bloom provided a fleeting comfort.

You barely noticed a figure approaching as you got lost in thought. It wasn’t until he was right in front of you, that you noticed him.

“Soldat,” you whispered, the name catching in your throat as your heart stopped. He didn’t look different, his hair was the same length as you remembered and his eyes were still that intense blue.

There was no response, he lunged at you with a knife. It grazed your arm as you barely managed to dodge it, indifference over his features.

“Don’t you recognize me, Soldat?” you pleaded, your voice trembling as the memories flashed in your mind, you continued to dodge.

He stared blankly at you while not backing down, his movements were as mechanical as you remembered. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“It’s me, your Spiderling,” you said desperately, hoping to reach the side of him they would try to erase.

For a moment, he paused, his gaze scanned you up and down. You saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. You had grown, and aged since the last time you saw him.

“Liar,” he hissed, his voice was cold and detached.

He began lunging at you again. Summoning all your strength, you accepted that the brief hesitation was all you were going to get. You prepared yourself for the hardest fight in your life. One against him.

His knife came at you again, but this time, you deflected it was a swift motion you learned from him. Knocking the knife out of his hand, his response was immediate; launching a barrage of punches. You countered and dodged, drawing on every bit of training you’d received from him.

“Soldat, please!” you shouted between strikes, testing your hope again. “It’s me!”

He didn’t respond, he was relentless. The initial adrenaline rush you had began to fade as you tired quickly. The sound of HYDRA agents filled the previously deserted park, they were closing in. You could only imagine they were tracking him to ensure he completed his mission. You.

You darted into the woods, him hot on your heels as the agents followed. Their shouts echoed through the trees. The only chance was to lose him in the woods, hoping that his memories of you, however buried, would slow him.

As branches whipped your face, and the ground became uneven, you heard him behind you. And, he was gaining ground. Your small frame began to feel as though it couldn’t go any further, yet a shot rang out. A searing pain rushed from your leg, and you stumbled, falling to the ground.

He was on you in an instant, and fear began to rise within you. Yet, he hesitated again, instead of completing the mission, he looked down at you. Your eyes pleaded with his as you met his gaze.

“You don’t have to do this, please.”

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flickering with confusion and pain. The voices from the distance grew louder. A sudden burst of strength came over you, wrenching you free from his grasp. You tried to stand but your injury caused you to collapse once more.

“Finish it!” An agent demanded as they reached you, roughly pulling you to your feet. A piercing scream escaped you as the pain through your arm.

His eyes locked onto yours again, for a moment, you didn’t see the soldier. You saw the same man you did as a child. But then, the cold mask returned. You struggled against the agent as darkness closed in around you.

The last you saw was him being led away in the opposite direction.

When you woke up, you were in a dimly lit room. Bandages covered your wounds, and you recognized the faint hum of medical equipment. Leaning over you, a kind-faced nurse began speaking to you.

“You’re safe now,” she said softly, relief washing over her features as she saw you waking up. “We found you just in time.”

The days quickly turned into weeks as you recovered, the emotional wounds taking longer to heal than the physical. At night, the memories haunted you, the sight of him being taken away scared into your mind.

You had lost him once again.

That evening, back in the quiet solitude of your room, you found yourself surrounded by a blue glow, a small hologram appearing on your table. Natasha had given it to you, as a way to keep in touch with those still fighting. With a deep breath, you accepted it, and a tiny shimmering figure of Rocket appeared.

“Hey, kid,” his voice crackled through the device, his sarcastic tone was surprisingly soothing. “How ya holding up?”

His expression softened as you sat down, the weight of the day continuing to press. “Not great. Saw Buck’s name on one of the walls they built today.”

He let out a small sigh, “Yeah, I guessed it might be a tough day.” he took a moment to pause, no doubt thinking about the family he lost a year ago too. “Look, I know it ain’t much, but we’re out here, doing everything we can to fix it.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only this time there was a small flicker of hope. “Thanks, Rocket.” you sniffled. “It means a lot to know you’re out there, still.”

“We’ll get them back,” another pause from him. “All of them.” his voice became full of determination. “And, when we do… we’ll all have a big, stupid celebration.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Rocket chuckled. “I might finally get that arm.”

The weight of your grief lifted, for only a moment, replaced by the warmth of Rocket’s humor and the promise of a fight not yet over.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#bring him home series #bring him home #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x romanoff!reader

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pretentiousgayguyidk · 2 days

Note

Hey Hi Hello!

I saw your requests are open so here I am!

I was thinking about Ran, Rindou, Hakkai and Mitsuya with an slavic reader? Male preferably could be gn!

Also could I be the 🥟 anon If your making a list?

Feel free to ignore this!

Pre writing thoughts - Yes!! I absolutely can, I've studied a small amount of Russian and Icelandic - but it probably won't be accurate as I'll have to use Google translate to fill the gaps. I hope you enjoy this 🥟 Anon!

Post writing thoughts- Okay... Well, I wasn't expecting to write so much, so I'll have to make other parts for the other characters 😭 but I hope this is good enough considering how long it took. (Also sorry it wasn't gender neutral, I completely blanked on it)

(Name) stuck out like a sore thumb, having moved to Japan half way into the school year; it wasn't often that foreigners moved to the area. The peculiar student had certainly caught Mitsuya's attention, piquing Takashi's curiosity... Well, (Name)'s caught the eyes of everyone not just Mitsuya.

One thing that stood out was (Name)'s accent, the mix of Japanese words with the addition of deep and throaty annociations strange yet amusing; the rolling of his r's and the emphasis of the ch's and k's pointed towards Slavic origins. That note inspired Mitsuya, and in an attempt to make (Name) more comfortable he started researching traditional Slavic clothing.

"What is that?" Yasuda questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion and slight judgement - as the current piece Mitsuya was working on was out of character for him. The red, black, white, and blue fabric stood out against his usual more casual colour choices - and the sketches of geometric embroidery patterns weren't at all like the usual Kanji he used.

Mitsuya sticks his pencil behind his ear, leaning back in his chair earning satisfying pops from his spine; he had honestly been expecting this question and was expecting it to be asked sooner. He gives Yasuda a tired smile, his arms lax as they hang by his sides.

"It's a uh..." He trails off, unsure how to properly pronounce the word - as it was either Russian or Ukrainian, he couldn't tell the difference even with the little research he did - all he knew was that it was a more traditional Slavic outfit. "Byshibanka?"

He felt a tad guilty, even though the certain Slavic student was nowhere near to hear his horrendous mispronunciation; it felt like a dishonor of sorts. Yasuda raises a brow, her hands on her hips as she looks down at her club captain.

"A what?" She asks, knowing for a fact that - one: Mitsuya mispronounced it - and that two: she would never remember to look it up later when she got home.

Mitsuya sits up, running a hand over his short silver hair; his expression filled with exasperation, not at Yasuda but himself.

"It's this like- traditional Russian or... Whatever... Outfit? I wanted to give it to the new guy." He explains, earning a knowing nod from Yasuda - who knew from her first meeting with Mitsuya that he liked guys... Even if Mitsuya didn't know it himself yet.

"Oh... So you like him?"

Mitsuya shrugs, not getting the implication - as it wasn't exactly the norm for guys to date other guys. He had no idea if he liked the new kid, he just wanted to do something nice... It wasn't like he found (Name) interesting or cute.

"I don't know, he seems like a chill guy - I've never talked to him." The teens nonchalant answer only furthered Yasuda's suspicions, she wasn't going to spell it out for Mitsuya just yet; but she was certainly coming up with a scheme.

"Well, I hope he likes it... And hopefully he's actually Russian... You do know there's other countries like that, right?" She narrows her eyes, doubting that Mitsuya actually did enough research; not surprising, many teenagers weren't all that informed of nations outside of Japan and the major powers.

Takashi's eyes widen, shifting away nervously as he realizes that he completely glossed over the fact that there are other Slavic countries; he didn't bother looking at a map or anything, just looked up some traditional clothing.

"I mean- I..." He trails off, glancing down towards the pile of cloth in front of him; he didn't consider looking beyond Russia, and he didn't even know for a fact that the Vyshyvanka was Russian or not. He shrugs, attempting to wash away his own mild concern over what could be a massive mishap. "I'm sure it'll be fine... Right? Maybe he'll appreciate the sentiment?"

"I'm sure he will... Whatever, I'll leave you to finish your little gift." She states, turning to pay attention to some of the other club members.

Mitsuya felt strangely nervous, holding a box in his lap as he waited for (Name) to enter the school gardens, a place where (Name) often stayed for lunch - since he didn't exactly have many people to talk to. Soon enough, the Slavic man rounded the corner; entering the school gardens, taking his place in the corner with his lunch. (Name) didn't even notice Mitsuya, far too focused on his hunger to realize he wasn't alone like usual.

The Japanese teen finally gains his confidence, standing from his spot on one of the benches. His steps were steady, and his expression showed a lack of interest - or rather calm despite his slight anxiety.

"Hey." Mitsuya calls out casually, causing (Name) to jump as he looks up from his food. It probably wasn't a good idea to interrupt someone in the middle of their lunch, but Mitsuya's mind was oddly scrambled when it came to (Name); his usual calm and collected self thrown out the window.

"Eh? Hi?" (Name) replies, glancing away as he rubs his throat; conscious of how he spoke. His accent has always been a problem, especially with the Japanese language; it's earned more than a few strange looks from locals - as if him being visibly not Japanese wasn't enough to earn strange looks on occasion. Yet, Mitsuya didn't seem to mind his accent, in fact - Mitsuya found it endearing.

"So uh... I just wanted to give this to you." Mitsuya states awkwardly, gesturing down to the thin box in his hands; which had his name written on it, which helped (Name) - as he didn't know Mitsuya's name till reading it on the box.

"Yeah? What's the reason?" The Slavic teen questions, shifting in his seat as he sets aside his lunch box; pulling one leg up in an attempt to seem casual - even though he was very confused and suspicious. Mitsuya glances away nervously, rocking back and forth on his heels; a nervous habit he rarely ever felt the need to do.

"It... It's just a little something I made- I just uh... Wanted to... I don't know-" Mitsuya chokes on his words, feeling his heartbeat speed up as his cheeks warm; he felt strangely embarrassed by his reasoning. "I just wanted to help you feel more welcome."

"Ah... Makes sense... I guess." (Name) mumbles, glancing down to the box as he accepts it; his mind racing for any sort of clue as to what this gift could be.

The silence that falls between them grows more and more awkward and uncomfortable by the minute, neither of them knowing what to say in the moment. Finally, Mitsuya mumbles a small goodbye before turning on his heel to leave the garden.

Once Mitsuya was gone, (Name) hesitantly opened the box - his eyes widening at the sight of familiar clothing. He can't help but smile, setting the lid aside as he runs his hand over the embroidered fabric; he wasn't Ukrainian, but he had childhood friends who were - they always leaned towards traditionalism. They often wore vyshyvankas, and some other clothing that (Name) couldn't remember for the life of him... But either way, the sight of the clothes brought back fond memories.

Lifting the clothing from the box (Name) notices something, there wasn't any sort of tag or label printed onto the fabric... Did Mitsuya make this just for him? There was a note at the bottom of the box, which (Name) quickly turned his attention to.

Hey, I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable and welcome here - we Japanese aren't always the nicest to foreigners or whatever. So I did some research and made you this, I hope you like it.

It was such a simple note, but it made (Name)'s heart skip a beat. It wasn't as if Mitsuya had bought him a gift, which would have been greatly appreciated as well... But the fact that Mitsuya made it - well that was a whole other level.

"I'll have to thank him later..."

#male reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #fluff #mitsuya x male reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x slavic male reader

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makemeimmortalwithahug · 13 hours

Text

I can't stop thinking about dead boy detectives and Emily Dickinson ever since I saw Edwin and Charles' relationship unfold, these two boys whose deaths were covered up and "did not matter," as Edwin put it, and who have kept running from Death together for thirty years and counting; these two boys who would do anything to stay together. And I can't get

"I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you - Nobody - too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! They'd advertise - you know!"

out of my mind. Edwin and Charles as EdwinandCharles, together against everything that might separate them, looking into the world of the living from the outside but glad to do it together. They keep to themselves because, as long as they have each other's backs, it's always going to turn out at least okay.

Edwin and Charles cannot picture a world - an afterlife - in which they might lose each other, this bond they share of trust, harmony and loyalty. Emily herself wrote to her love Susan that she (I'm paraphrasing) that she might as well lose any other world, but she wants to continue living in the one in which she's together with her love. It's this utter devotion that we see in Edwin and Charles.

But also imagine Edwin reading Emily Dickinson's poems. I am not entirely sure when her poems might have been available in England, but I know that "I measure every Grief I meet" was first published in 1896.

I imagine him reading this poem during his time in school. He read it only once because this is the most he could bear, too real for him back then. He had suffered even before he went to Hell. He was bullied. His classmates would isolate him and cause him pain - they were the reason he eventually died, after all -, installed fear in him. The environment of the boarding school didn't give him any opportunity of respite, he couldn't get away and I doubt his parents would've been much of a help, if they had cared at all.

So, I imagine him quietly suffering, closing himself off because no-one seemingly cared enough to get to know him. Him barely talking, rather listening and watching what is going on around him, questioning whether everyone felt that way, so hollow and invisible at the same time, as if one wrong look would either go right through him or break him.

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes - I wonder if It weighs like Mine - Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long - Or did it just begin - I could not tell the Date of Mine - It feels so old a pain -

He has always felt this way, an ache he would tell himself he could barely feel anymore. Maybe he wondered as well how other people do it, living with a weight that drags you down and keeps you down, this dry sorrow that no tears flow anymore.

I wonder if it hurts to live - And if They have to try - And whether - could They choose between - It would not be - to die -

The encounter between Despair and Edwin is the reason why I thought of this poem in the first place. There are different kinds of grief, and despair is one of them, maybe that's why she might call upon Edwin someday.

There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold - A sort they call "Despair" -

Mostly I wonder what he would've thought, reading the last two lines:

Still fascinated to presume That Some - are like My Own -

Would he have been fascinated or would he have thought how unbelievably tragic this was? What would he think reading this after he met Charles? After he saw Simon again in Hell? Would it make him feel calm to see this written or sad?

No matter what it would be, I think him finding his way out of Hell (twice!) and Charles by his side have shown him that this pain does not define him, that there is always hope. And

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

after all.

quoted:

"I'm Nobody! Who are you?" by Emily Dickinson

"I measure every Grief I meet" by Emily Dickinson

"'Hope' is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #edwin paine #painland #chedwin #edwin x charles #poetry #emily dickinson #hell #dead boy detectives spoilers #dbda #dead boy detective agency

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bellasprettywords · 2 days

Note

Ok, i totally understand that you get a lot of requests but i literally couldn’t live without asking…Could you do a part two to the spencer reid loml fic where he goes to san francisco and makes up with the reader? Tysm 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

(btw so high school is my fav fic ever i love it sm)

Hi love!! Thank you so so so much for your kind words; I hope this is to your liking, because I wanted to keep the angsty mood long enough to answer the questions from the first part; but ending with a little fluff

Btw, I have a pendidng Hotch request I'm currently working on, so I wanted to remind you that requests are always open🥰

y/n – your name

Warnings: A little angst, bad words and just Sad Boy Spence with a sprinkle of fluff at the end

Word count: 6,395 (is bc there are emojis)

My Masterlist

Almost a month had gone by since you left the BAU in Quantico; and even if you tried to see the bright side of things, since Spencer had called off your engagement, life felt like walking around with a hole pierced where your heart used to be. Although, it is important to note, things for Spencer weren’t much better on the other side of the country.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Reid, but I think you should really consider taking some time off work” Emily told Spencer as they were exiting the jet recently landed jet

“I’m alright Prentiss, what happened in the field won’t happen ever again” Spencer scoffed, almost sounding petulant, and exhausted after days with little to no sleep and a complicated case that took an enormous toll on him

“This is not a question Reid, you put your life, the victim’s and your team’s life on the line for what? Because you had a hunch? I’m sorry but in this line of work you can’t just risk it all just because you think so, and you should know that, specially by now” Emily replied, this time with a firm tone that send a shiver trough Spencer’s back; he knew Emily was right, but he really couldn’t admit it, even to himself, that the past month had been hell on earth without you

“I… I’m sorry, I was so sure I could catch the unsub” Spencer tried arguing, but he knew no matter what he said, Emily was right, his head wasn’t in the right place and he ended up jeopardizing the case, and almost letting the unsub walk freely

“I’ll take advantage of the gunshot you received to have you on medical leave for at least two weeks, and hopefully when you come back, your head is clear and you’ll stop doing rookie mistakes” Emily said, trying her best to gift Spencer a compassionate smile

“Alright boss, see you in a fortnight” Spencer said, with a forced smile carrying his go bag, ready to go home; except that, home wasn’t home anymore. “Home” was room 313 of a crappy hotel; even if the mortgage payments for the apartment you two used to share were currently being taken off his bank account. Spencer Reid did not have the heart to step into the apartment he had impulsively bought hoping you’d come back to him.

When Spencer thought about coming home, all he could think about was coming back to you. Your soft embrace, your sparkling eyes, and the way you had to make life better just by being present. Until this day, Spencer could not understand, nor explain, the effect you had on people: you were like a ray of sunlight after a week of rain; whenever he thought of you, he got the same excitement you get when the first flowers of the spring start blooming. Even if he wanted to be stubborn and hold on to his decision of breaking off the engagement, it took every fiber of his being to not drive his car all the way to San Francisco to get you back. But then again, his logical side kicked in and reminded him of all the reasons you couldn’t be together:

He was way older than you, Spencer Reid was convinced that the eight-year difference would take a toll on the relationship, sooner or later

He knew schizophrenia was almost likely to be hereditary, and he didn’t want to put you thought the hell he lived with his mom when he was younger

Your career was just taking off at the FBI, while his was somehow was marked permanently by his time in prison and more than a couple of disciplinary issues; and he wanted nothing to do with your reputation being stained by associating with him

While you were a hell of a profiler, after years at the BAU he knew what the job could do to you, and he did not want to risk you losing your spark with all the trauma the job inflicted

Every single person he has ever loved ended up either death, kidnapped or extremely harmed by being close to him. This was a particularly painful reason, especially because he is not a man of faith, but sometimes, late at night Doctor Spencer Reid wonders if he’s somehow the victim of a prophecy, or a cruel joke of fate considering every single person he has ever loved suffers when they’re around him; and of course, he could not let you suffer, nor put you in any danger because of his ill luck

Sure, whenever he thought of these reasons he called bullshit on himself, but at the end of the day, the decision was made, and you were perfectly safe from him (and his curse) at the other side of the country.

Since the day he called off the engagement, Spencer felt that he was living his life in autopilot. Most of the time, he wasn’t even present at the moment because he was too immersed into his own head, spinning and replaying the dreadful day he broke your heart; which ended up with him making huge mistakes at work, and disappointing René Descartes: as he was not thinking.

Without even noticing, he arrived into his hotel room, sighted, and decided he was too tired to even eat, so he just went to bed.

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After a couple of days of bed rotting, Spencer received an unexpected knock on his hotel door, and it was his dear friend Penelope Garcia.

“How are we doing, boy genius?” the bubbly blonde asked as she came into the messy hotel room. Spencer was known to be a pretty organized person, some would even dare to say he had a small OCD, but from the state of this hotel room, Penelope was both perplexed and alarmed

“I guess you heard about my medical leave” Spencer said taking a seat on the bed with a voice that almost sounded like a grunt

“Yeah… I was pretty surprised when you didn’t show up to the jet, I mean, I knew the injury of the bullet you took in Arkansas wasn’t that devastating” she said, clearly nervous about the topic

“The bullet just grazed my shoulder, I really didn’t need the medical leave” Spencer scoffed rolling his eyes, “So why are you here? Prentiss send you to check up on me?” the young Doctor said facing his friend

“I was just… worried about you… I know… I know things have been difficult since y/n left Virginia” Penelope said, almost rambling, and worried that her words would shake up Spencer.

Everyone at the BAU, knew Spencer Reid was a yapper, nonetheless and since he came back from prison, it was like something inside Spencer died. He was still a genius who held on his mind almost every single piece of information he has ever read, or learn, but something was totally different. He stopped his rambles, he became more reserved, and he built these walls around him and his personal life. Of course, some of this changed when he was with you, once again he had opened up his heart to trust, and his old friends like García, Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss sometimes even felt like they could catch a glimpse of the old Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Spencer went back to his avoiding and reserved ways once you left the BAU; it almost seemed like you left, and took his heart with you.

“I’m alright, the wound is healing properly, and soon I’ll be back on the field” Spencer rushed to answer, avoiding commenting on you

“What’s wrong with you, Spence?” Penelope dared to ask directly seeing how avoidant he had been lately

“Nothing’s wrong, okay? Prentiss is just exaggerating, and that’s why she made me leave” Spencer said, rolling his eyes at his concerned friend

“You are one of my closest friends, I even dare to call you family Spence, and I know when something is wrong with my family” Penelope said taking a step closer to Spencer “I’ve been giving you your space with the whole y/n situation, I even refrained from asking the juicy details, but something is seriously wrong if you are running toward the unsubs, taking bullets just because, and pushing away the people who care about you” Penelope said, and Spencer realized how much of an ass he was being to his friends, but of course, he knew this was nowhere close to how much of an ass he had been towards you

“I fucked up” Spencer said with a strain of voice, as his eyes were covered by a soft mist of tears

“I know you did Spence, but you can make things better” Penelope said holding her friend in her arms as he silently cried over her shoulder

“y/n hates me… I… I screwed thing up and there’s no coming back from there” Spencer cried as Penelope streaked his hair reassuringly

“I’m sure y/n doesn’t hate you” she said after a pause “Whatever happened between the two of you was probably a misunderstanding that can be resolved” Penelope added with a string of hope on her voice. Nobody knew exactly what had gone on between the two of you; one day you were happily engaged, and the next Monday you had asked for your transfer to the other side of the country, with no explanation or goodbyes

“I… I got scared… I just love y/n so much I didn’t want to drag her down with me. I know I’m screwed up, and complicated to deal with… Also… It may sound stupid, but you know how every single person I’ve loved either dies or leaves? I was so scared out of my mind that something horrible would happen to her, I decided to end the engagement right there on the spot” Spencer admitted put loud for the first time, as tears rolled down his cheeks “You know the worst part? When y/n left town I even bought our apartment, just in case that she wanted to come back, but as days go back, I guess her decision was final, and she’s not coming back” Spencer continued his rant

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve kept tabs on her, since she left Virginia” Penelope said and Spencer’s eyes lit up at the possibility of learning something about you and your whereabouts

“Is she okay? Is she happy? How’s she doing in San Francisco?” Spencer rushed to ask, eager with anticipation

“She’s okay, she’s mostly working with children victims of human trafficking, so he’s been really busy, but overall her performance is alright” Penelope said, debating internally of she should give Spencer the envelope with your information she was caring on her purse

“y/n always enjoyed working with children” Spencer said with a small smile forming into his lips as the image of you popped on his head. He could see you, smiling brightly after solving the pieces that made the cases, the way you’d sight in relief after catching an unsub, and how dedicated you were to your work, he was so proud of you that the thought of you killing it on your new job made his heart flutter with excitement, but ache because the prospect of you coming back, somehow became even more distant

“I… there’s something else… she’s seen somebody new” Penelope said, and Spencer’s heart shattered at the idea of you with someone else. He could barely manage to stand, as his knees grew weak and his throat suddenly got dry “She’s dating an Assistant District Attorney, it’s something fairly new but I thought you should know” the blonde added, deciding she was going to facilitate Spencer all the information she had on you

“I hope he treats her right” Spencer said with a strain of voice as Penelope handed him the envelope she retrieved from her purse

“This is all the info I’ve gathered on y/n, I don’t know what you should do, but I… I hate seeing you like this, and honestly, the two of you were so happy together. I don’t know what happened or of it’s salvageable, but I know in my heart you love her, and she loves you, even if she’s forcing herself to move on, so just… follow your heart Reid, I know it’s hard and scary, but I promise you it’s worth it” Penelope said, cupping her friend’s cheek on her hand

“I don’t know what to say, I mean, of course I love her, but because I love her I have to let her go, I’m dangerous for her” Spencer said, with his eyes lingering from the envelope to his friend

“If that’s your final say, it’s okay, I brought this here for you, so I’m leaving it whether you want it or not, but please Spencer, I need you back, the whole team needs you” Penelope said cupping her friend’s cheek as she left the hotel room, leaving Reid with a messy web of thoughts that revolved around you.

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Another couple of days went by since Penelope’s visit, Spencer still hadn’t peaked through the envelope, but he was burning with anticipation to do so.

Spencer decided that he would make the best of this time off, and he could visit his mother. He bought a plane ticked for that same day, packed a bag with the envelope Penelope had left behind, and without letting anyone know, he left for Las Vegas, to see the only human being who could understand what he was going through.

“Hi mom” Spencer said entering the common room of the sanatorium Diana was on

“Spencer! How are you my honey” Diana greeted him with a warm hug, which he gladly accepted

“It’s been quite a while, but I’m alright” Spencer said, trying to hide the sadness on his eyes with a forced smile

“You should know better than to lie to your mother” Diana said, reading right through Spencer’s expression

“Everything’s messy mom, I… I broke off the engagement with y/n” Spencer spilled embarrassed of the whole situation, but confident his mom would have something wise to say

“You remember Mr. Knightley’s love confession to Emma?” Diana asked with a furrowed brow after a long pause, to take in her son’s words

“I cannot make speeches, Emma...If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.” Spencer recited by heart; after all, he had read that novel at least ten times as it was your favorite. You didn’t know this, but the reason Spencer kept rereading the novel was to take inspiration and make references only for you and a handful of Jane Austen fans could catch in your wedding vows

“That’s right my brilliant boy, you want to know why those simple words have so much impact?” Diana said, getting ready to lecture her son in both literature, and love “Because when you love someone so much, it doesn’t matter how many layers and walls they build, at the end you know the right way to unfold them. As well, loving someone isn’t just loving when it’s easy, or when it seems right, it also means holding on through tick, thin, fears, complications and messiness. May I add, words are unnecesary when there is so much love in between” Diana said offering her son a kind smile

“I don’t think she can forgive me, mom, I really screwed up this time… I’m sure she thinks I don’t love her, damn, I wouldn’t be surprised if she thinks I never loved her in the first place” Spencer rambles exasperated by the whole situation his insecurities caused

“I’m sure she knows its bullshit, at the end of the day you love her; she’s a smart girl, she’ll figure it out just as I could tell you were trying to lie to my face” Diana said with a chuckle

“I’m sure she’s over me, she’s already dating a hot shot lawyer in San Francisco” Spencer said biting his lower lip

“It takes a lifetime to forget a great love, and lucky for you, that’s what you had; I’m sure you can get her back if you let go of your fears and put your heart on the line” Diana added cupping her son’s cheek

“I wouldn’t bet on it mom, I mean, I’ve put her through hell” Spencer said biting nervously the inside of his cheek

“Then bring her back from hell, just like Orpheus was supposed to bring Eurydice back” Diana said encouraging her son to follow his heart

“Do you believe I’m hard to love?” Spencer asked his mother in a serious tone, in hope she could calm down all his fears, and put to rest the voices in his head telling him it was not worth it

“I believe you are extraordinary, and that loving you is one of the greatest pleasure in life, of course, life comes with its ups and downs, but love is worth every single bump you encounter on the way” Diana said, convincing Spencer that he should fight for the one he loved, even if he was scared to death of doing so

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Spencer took another plane, this time it was bound to San Francisco; and he spent the whole plane ride studying obsessively the envelope Garcia had put together of you and your life in Frisco, as she had previously referred.

The transition made a toll on you, and you seemed to be putting on extra hours in the field just for the sake of it, but Spencer couldn’t shake away the feeling of pride that fluttered all around his chest as he reviewed your accomplishments. You seemed to be living on the bay area, and Spencer couldn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering as the pilot announced they were about to land in the airport. Suddenly, everything seemed real: the losing you, the never-ending love he still harvest on his heart for you, how much he had screwed up, the anxiety building over as the chance of rejection became a possibility. Sure, Spencer had come out of jail a changed man, but right now, he felt as anxious and vulnerable as the lanky Doctor with glasses he used to be when he first entered the BAU. What was he even supposed to do? Spencer Reid wasn’t used to winging things, but for the first time in his life, he boarded a plane without having an actual plan of what to do when he landed, and that was freaking scary.

He decided it would be creepy to just show up at your door, considering he knew your address by the information Penelope had given him when she visited, and he did not want to freak you out. Maybe he could hang nearby where you lived, until he either worked up the courage to talk to you, or he came up with an excuse that wasn’t pathetic to explain why he was so many miles away from home. A hotel! Suddenly Spencer thought he also needed to book a hotel or at least, find a place where he could spend the night. After reading a more than a couple of yelp reviews, the young Doctor found a hotel close enough to your home that he could get there by walking, but with enough distance to be considered respectful, or at least he thought so.

“For fucks sake, Spencer, you really need to come up with a hell of an excuse to be in San Francisco” Spencer muttered to himself as he was getting installed into the hotel room. After a couple of hours of pacing around in the room thinking, crafting, and tossing at the trash at least fifty excuses for him being in California, he decided it was about time to get something to eat.

He settled on a Thai place that was a couple of blocks away from his hotel, and as he was devouring his Tom Yum Goong, and suddenly he felt like he was about to choke on his soup: he heard your laugh. The same laugh that had been haunting his dreams for the past month, that one laugh he could recognize in a room full of noise, the laugh he would trade his lat breath of air, just to be able to hear at least one more time. The room started spinning and Spencer, a known rambler, suddenly was at a loss of words.

“Spencer?” he heard you calling him from the other side of the room, and for a second, Spencer Reid knew exactly why sailors found their death as soon as they heard the mermaid’s lullabies; but while he was thinking about drowning on the dulcet sound of your voice, a naughty piece of shrimp decided to block his airways and he started coughing

“Oh my god! Spencer, are you okay?” you rushed over to his side trying to help him, oblivious that your presence only made it harder for him to breath

“Excuse me, honey, let me handle this” Dylan, your new… situationship (?) said, holding Spencer and practicing the Heimlich Maneuver on the Doctor

If Spencer was struggling to find a good excuse for being in San Francisco, he better come up with something good, because this was deficiently the most embarrassing moment of his life; it was official, he has reached a new low point and he couldn’t wait for the earth to shatter under his feet and just swallow him.

“Hello y/n” Spencer said with a raspy voice as soon as he could breath

“Spencer! Hi, hello” you said, completely confused and shaken up by the situation that you just witnessed

“Are you okay, bro?” Dylan intervened, taking you out of the trance of what was going on in front of you

“Yes, I’m alright, thank you…” Spencer said, with his eyes glued to you

“I’m Dylan, Dylan Brown” Dylan said offering his hand to Spencer

“Spencer doesn’t…” you started speaking when you were interrupted

“I don’t shake hands, with the amount of pathogens you could get from a handshake is actually safer to jut kiss” Spencer cut you off “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid, nice to meet you” he said holding his hand up and waving a little

“Oh… I didn’t know we were in official business” Dylan said with a chuckle “District Attorney Dylan Brown, at your service” he continued flashing his winning smile, giving Spencer a weird feeling, maybe… jealousy? Whatever it was, definitely was the reason Spencer couldn’t spare a laugh for the person who pretty much just saved his life

“What are you… Why’re you here? I mean… Are you here on a case or something?” you asked, noticing how uncomfortable both Dylan and Spencer where with the situation

“I… I’m here to… yes! Actually I’m here consulting on a case” Spencer decided to lie, in order to preserve his last shred of dignity, little did he know…

“Oh really? That’s so weird, considering you’re on medical leave” you said cutting through his bullshit, okay, he didn’t know was it was possible, but somehow Spencer Reid started from the bottom, just to somehow sink even deeper

“How did you? How do you even know about the medical leave?” Spencer said, taking you off from the higher horse you pretended to be

“I didn’t… I mean… Garcia happened to mention something” you stuttered, as you refused to admit you had been checking up with Penelope, just to know how Spencer was doing

“Honey, we should go back to our table” Dylan once more intervened the staring contest that was going down between Spencer and you

“You should join me, actually, let me invite the two of you dinner, after all, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Dylan’s amazing technique of the Heimlich Maneuver” Spencer said with a hint of sarcasm, and you knew this night was bound to end in disaster

“We don’t want to impose” you rushed to reply

“Please, I insist, I’m just so shaken up by everything that went down” Spencer decided to play the victim, and you knew you were screwed

“Come on y/n, we can’t leave him all alone after his brush with death” Dylan said, unknowingly sealing the night’s fate, as he was taking a seat

“Thank you so much, to the both of you” Spencer started speaking, with his eyes piercing fierily into your own

“So you guys know each other?” Dylan tried to make sense of the situation

“Oh, yes, we used to work together, back in Virginia” you rapidly intervened to avoid Spencer giving away too much information

The dinner proceeded uneventful, but you couldn’t put your finger quite on it. There was something off with Spencer; the vibes weren’t vibing, and as much as you wanted to focus on Dylan, there was something magnetic pulling you towards Spencer, or maybe it was those damn profiler skills you couldn’t just push to the back or your mind, either way, you knew you had to stop it.

“I’m sorry for cutting this short, but I was just called into the office, apparently there’s an emergency” Dylan said checking his phone after ordering dessert

“Oh, let me come with you, maybe I can help” you said, thanking God, the universe or something for the way out

“Please don’t, you guys should really catch up, but I’ll text you when I get to the office, just so you don’t worry” Dylan said placing a kiss on the top of your head, making Spencer’s stomach flip “It was lovely to meet you Spencer, I hope this isn´t the last we see of each other” he added taking his coat, gifting the doctor a kind smile and walking away from the table

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked angrily as soon as Dylan went through the door

“I needed to talk to you” Spencer replied with a calm tone that was making your blood boil

“What do you want to talk about Reid? I think enough was said in Virginia” you scoffed

Spencer was a man of many words, unfortunately, at this very moment his brain was a mush and even if he wanted to, he was unable to string two sentences together. Seeing you made quite a number on him: his hands were sweaty, his head was spinning, his back was shivering, his pupils couldn’t focus, his stomach was in knots, and he was almost certain this is what a stroke feels like.

“So? Why are you really here?” you asked once more with an exasperated expression

“I…I…” he was choking again, this time just tripping with his own words

“Whatever you are playing, I want no part on it, I already lost enough with you” you said with a sober tone

“I’m in love with you, I fucked up, but I’m here to promise I’ll do everything in my power, actually I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you” Spencer rambled and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation

“You’re a madman if you think you can just come here out of the blue, say that you love me and everything will be forgiven” you said, this time taking your own coat and leaving Spencer alone in the restaurant

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What the hell was wrong with Spencer Reid

That sentence was all you could think of on your way back home.

Did he really think he could show up in San Francisco, declare his love to you and what? You were supposed to come back to him? Even if your heart lowkey fluttered when your eyes first met his at the restaurant, he was being a complet ass and it was totally unacceptable. As you were getting ready to go to bed, your head was spinning, thinking about Spencer was not an option, but somehow the whole encounter kept poping into your head.

You tossed and turned on your bed, untill the clock on your bedside marked 2:20 am, and you knew there was only one person in the whole world who could help apeace your mind; the very same person that was the reason of your sleepless night.

“Hey, it’s me” you whispered as soon as Spencer picked up the phone

“Hello y/n, having a rough time sleeping?” you could hear Spencer’s husky voice on the other side of the line

“I think I’m ready to talk, and I’m guessing you already know where I live, so please come” you said, hanging up the call without giving him enough time to give you an answer

Fifteen minutes after the short phone call, Spencer was buzzing on the intercom of your apartment bulding; and no more than five minutes after that he was already knocking on your door.

“Please come in” you said, opening the door for him

“Thank you so much for having me over, I really need to talk to you” Spencer rambled as he was closely inspecting your apartment. There was something about the place, that somehow made it all feel like home even if it was on the opposite end of the country, althought deep down, he knew it wasn’t something, it was someone

“Please take a sit, and you better have a hell of an explanation to be here in San Francisco, because I’m not buying the idea that you’re here because you love me” you said, sitting on the couch across from where Spencer was standing

“I made a mistake, when we were in Quantico” Spencer started and you couldn’t help but cut him off with a sour smile, as your eyes starterd to accumulate tears. Sure, you had done everything in your power to just shove down the feelings to the bottom of your heart, and somewhow you were succedeing, but having the man you once loved, speaking about the most painful day of your life wasn’t easy

“If you’ve come here to state the obvious, you can just save your breath” you scoffed, trying to avoid his gaze

“I need you to hear me out, please” Spencer pleaded, and your heart couldn’t help but shatter a little with the amount of hurt that was accumulated both in his eyes, and his voice

“Alright, you got the floor to speak, but you can’t blame me for thinking this is riddiculous Spencer, you broke me, you had me all for yourself, and you decided to just… leave me” you said, feeling the tears roll down your eyes

“I got scared” Spencer said quietly, almost as a whisper

“Why were you afraid? I loved you with everything in me and more! There was no reason for you to doubt me!” you said, feeling both the pain and the anger building up in your throat

“I never doubted you! I was just… I was so afraid of something terrible happening to you… I just thought it’d be best to keep you away from me” Spencer replied, lowering his gaze

“What are you even talking about? You were afraid of something terrible happening to me? That’s why you decided it would be a good idea to just break my heart? Shatter all my dreams? Destroy the life we had planeed together?” you asked and Spencer couldn’t help but run his hands trough his hair in exasperation

“I don’t know how to explain this to you without sounding like a madman, or a religious freak; specially because I’m a man of science, but, please undertand me, statistically, all the people that I’ve loved either end up dead or terribly hurt” Spencer said and a chukle left your mouth before you could even realize

“Are you kidding me Spencer? Are you seriously telling me that you left me because you were somehow scared that you are cursed?” you asked in disbelief

“I’m not saying that I’m cursed! All I’m saying is that… I don’t know what I’m saying but I was trying to protect you! I love you so much, I’d hate myself if something happens to you because of me” Spencer pleaded. Sure, you knew it was wrong to laugh about people’s fears, and that everyone copes individually as they can, but this was just riddiculous to you

“Spencer, I work on the FBI with children and human traficking, I’m aware, actually, I’m certain that my name figures in more than one hit list, but that doesn’t stop me from living my life” you said, and you couldn’t help but feel that maybe if Spencer had the guts to talk about his feelings and fears out loud before, you wouldn’t be in this messy situation, hell, you’d probably even still be engaged

“I… I know that, and I’m so proud of you, and of your work but I… I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you, and just not being able to protect you” Spencer added

“Let me get this straigth, you were so afraid of losing me, you decided to just leave me?” you asked with an ironic tone as another laugh scaped your lips

“I mean… if you put it like that, I guess I did” he said, with a small chuckle

“Besides, how dare you think is romantic leaving me safe and stranded? Do you have any idea how much I cried over you? How many days I couldn��t sleep just wondering where did we go wrong? My God, Spencer! We almost had it all, I love you with everything in me and you just… let me go” you added with a bitter tone, as you tried to comprehend the Doctor’s train of thought

“I genuenly believed I was doing what was best for you” Spencer said without meeting your eyes

“Spence, you can’t live with the constant fear that something terrible is just going to happen, I understand that with our line of work sometimes even existing is complicated, but, you have to be brave” you said with a softer tone, trying to get Spencer to understand how out of pocket hhis fears were

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, if I could just somehow take it back, I would, I… I guess my anxiety got the best of me” Spencer said, this time with an embarrased tone

“Yeah, I imagine, but, as you know, that’s just not possible you” you added with a small smile, almost a pitty smile, because you counldn’t believe how unserious Spencer’s reason to call off the engagement was

“If you let me, I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life, I don’t care how much time I have to wait, I don’t even care if I have to move to San Francisco just to be with you! I’ll do anything, I’ll even marry you right here, right now, but please, give me another chance. Not a day goes by that I don’t love you! Hell, I even think I love you more today than I loved you yesterday, altough it’s not gonna be as much as I’ll love you tomorrow of the day after that” Spencer rambled, and you could feel your heart ache, for a whole month all you wanted, all you wished for was Spencer saying those words to you, but hearing them, now you were scared out of your mind

“I… I don’t think I can do this again, Spence” you said with a low voice

“Please y/n, I’ll do anything, I know deep down you still love me, maybe not as much as I love you, but it’s okay because I have so much love, I’ll just love you for the two of us” Spencer said with his eyes filling with tears

“I’m scared Spencer, how do I know you won’t jump ship again as easily as you did it last time?” you asked almost with a whispered. You figured out that if you were going to break his heart, at least you’d be straighfordward and honest

“I understand that you don’t trust me, or that’s scary, but you just told me that I can’t let my fears control my life… please, take a leap of faith with me” Spencer said stepping closer to the couch were you were sitting

“I don’t… I don’t know how, I already gave you my all once” you said, curling up on your couch like a wounded puppy

“Then let me prove to you that I mean it when I say I’ll give you my all, let me show you how serious I’m about spending the rest of my life with you” Spencer pleaded, taking your hand into his “I love you so much, I vow I won’t let anything come between us again, I don’t care if I have to fight a curse, a thousand unsubs, hitmen or whatever life throws at our way, I promise I’ll always stand by you… If you need to cry, I’ll be your shoulder, if you need protection, I’ll be your shelter, if you need to lean on, I’ll be your rock, but please, let me be everything and anyrthing you need” he added with teary eyes

“You get one chance, and we have a shit ton of things to figure out, but I swear if you screw up one more time, I’ll personally make sure to destroy you” you said with a teassing smile, and Spencer coulnd’t help but chuckle and plant a swee kiss on your lips

“I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I don’t screw up again” he said, and you gave hijm another kiss

You knew it would be messy, and even a little embarrasing to anounce, but your heart somehow intertwined perfectly with Spencer’s. You knew you loved him with everything in you and somehow, you were convinced by his words aboout how much he loved you. At the end of the day, love is a bet, and you knew Spencer Reid was banned from every casino in Vegas because he was an expert on statistics, so maybe, with his head and your gut, the two of you’d find a way for your love to work out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid

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losergirlcrowley · 11 hours

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I think we, DPS fans, don't talk about Charlie during the school's tribute to Neil enough.

He's not singing.

Meeks, Pitts and Knox are singing, letting all their feelings out.

Cameron is singing a little calmer. You can see the sadness in him though.

Todd is stuttering words, not even singing—but he's trying.

Charlie does not sing.

I'm sorry for the picture's quality.

At first I thought he didn't sing because he was angry at Neil for leaving all of them; the Dead Poets, Keating and his dreams of becoming an actor. We saw at the beginning of the film how Charlie tried to convince Neil to speak up to his parents. I think he really wanted Neil to be happy, and he knew he wouldn't be if he stayed silent and pursued being a doctor because of his father.

During Neil and Mr. Keating's talk in the office, Neil mentioned Charlie: "We are not a rich family like Charlie's" (quoted by memory). Charlie tried to make Neil pursue acting when they had different social backgrounds; Charlie could go against his parents and not ruin everything. But Neil was an only child from a family that was mantained by his father and no one else... and not particularly wealthy either.

Even if they had those differences, they didn't separate them. And both of them were boys with dreams they couldn't follow easily. Charlie was more rebellious (especially when it came to school's authorities). Neil was more of the type to go with whatever people wanted. Charlie was more risk-taking. Neil's risk in the whole movie was participating in the play (yes, the club wasn't a Neil risk; it was all of the poets').

Charlie was really proud of Neil for finally following his dreams.

"He's good. He's really good."

Sounds familiar?

"I was good. I was really good."

This parallel makes sense to me, especially if we analyze the very first scene of Charlie and Neil in the movie. As I said, Charlie wanted Neil to speak up to his father. And when he did and it all broke apart; Neil said words Charlie had said about him during the play.

Obviously, Charlie disliked Neil's dad. We can be sure about that, definitely.

The school's tribute to Neil was either Mr. Perry's idea or he gave the permission to do it. The authorities thought of Neil's death as the institution's problem. Keating was suspicious from the beginning because of his unconventional teaching methods (plus Mr. Perry thought Keating told Neil to keep his place in the performance, which he did—but he made it look like it was a real problem... 1950s, let's go).

Charlie didn't think this event of singing words of grief and so on was for Neil. Neil didn't die to be missed. Neil died because he would miss out on what he wanted to do. But that reasoning didn't even come across the authorities' heads.

I think of Charlie as a person who has an internal philosophy, a reasoning that most people wouldn't think of. So, when every single one of his friends are singing because they miss Neil; Charlie does not sing because this is a way to pay respects to Mr. Perry for losing his son. A way to say the authorities are right. A way to say "Neil... poor boy." Neil was miserable because he wasn't free. And his only way to be free was... not living.

I believe this "Charlie wasn't singing" thing can be interpreted in many, many ways. I probably overanalyzed it because 6 years of DPS make someone go insane eventually. What I do think is clear is that Neil and Charlie's friendship was very obvious from the start. And yes, the not singing thing is something to observe and think about... but their whole friendship isn't very talked about in the fandom! And I had the idea to write about not only the movie's scenes that have both of them, but also how I perceive it (hence why I would describe this post as a theory rather than facts).

I would love to see other people's takes on this subject too !!

#dead poets society #dps #dps boys #dps fandom #charlie dalton #neil perry #grae's old interests<3 #grae blogging era

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 20 hours

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Love is a killer that never dies (part 1)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. NSFW!! Discussion of dub-con.

Sex Pollen!AU for the short series that began with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). Can be read as a standalone.

This is part one of four.

Title taken by another song by Beast in Black -Born Again- since it's not part of the main continuity. Kuraigana Island is Mihawk's home in the manga/anime.

Shanks being in a relationship with his crew's doctor is an allusion to this headcanon list and then to this fic, even though they take place in a different continuity.

*****

Dracule Mihawk was in a conundrum.

That was more than a little unusual for him, since as a rule there was very little that had the power to actually catch his interest, and when that happened he was inevitably powerful, well-connected and, on occasion, intimidating enough to get what he wanted without too much hassle. Most of the time he was content, even happy with his life, and with what he owned, and he rarely found himself wanting for more.

Well, it appeared life still had the power to surprise him, because at his age, after years in which no opponent had been able to seriously trouble him and he had grown bored with his occupation as one of the Seven Warlords, he suddenly found himself highly interested in a certain matter, something he deeply desired, that he craved, even that he physically needed, and that at least for the time being was not only outside his reach, but Mihawk had not the faintest idea of how to make it his.

Well. He said something, and it, but somebody, and she, would have been more appropriate; a she who had a lovely smile, and very pretty hair, and a particular way of walking that made her hips and backside sway in such an enticing way…

“What are you thinking about?” (name) asked, looking curiously at Mihawk and unknowingly distracting him from thoughts that not only concerned her, but she had a protagonist role in “I’m sorry, I’m boring you…”

“Not at all.” he rushed to reassure her, forcing himself to swallow and act normally; he had not made a fool of himself in front of a lady when he was a hormone-prone teenager and surely he would not start now that he was decades older “I just… got distracted. I’m very impressed by all of this; you and your mother must be very proud of yourselves.”

It was the third day of his permanence on (name)’s island, and the woman had brought him to visit the site of her newest project: a museum, which was going to be inaugurated soon in a large building that had previously housed the island’s chamber of commerce. Once the organisation had moved to a new headquarter, closer to the centre of the city, (name) and her mother had decided to repurpose the old location, destining it to the preservation and display of works of arts and other culturally significant pieces.

“There are excellent schools on the island, and libraries, and even an astronomical observatory.” (name) explained as they crossed one of the still half-furnished rooms, that according to the panel hanging out of the door was destined to house archaeological artefacts “But no museums. I got the idea reading about the inauguration of an art gallery on the paper; I have visited quite a few, as well as botanical gardens and other institutions, when on holiday with my parents as a girl or on my own; but not everyone here can travel freely as I can, and I want my people, especially children, to learn to appreciate art, and that learning doesn’t necessarily happens inside a classroom.”

Mihawk nodded; he admired how dedicated his friend was to the well-being of her island, and of the people she would one day rule over. “What about the collections? How did you acquire the pieces to fill all these rooms?”

“Well, the art section will mainly house paintings owned by my family; they will look better here than in rooms that no one but me and my mother have visited in years. Some others have been donated, or lent, by larger institutions my mother has written to; and a few… well, my latest two bounties were particularly high, and after I bought a new dress there was more than enough for a few antiquities.” she answered proudly “I can’t wait for this place to open, I was thinking about inviting the lords and ladies of a few other feuds to the inauguration…”

The two spent a while walking around; they were alone, the construction workers having left an hour before. Mihawk did his best not to look uninterested in the project the woman next to him clearly cared so much about, but as he listened to her talk, and saw her proud smile as (name) described the way the artefacts would be arranged in the various rooms, and how she had invited the kingdom’s leading archaeologist to attend the museum’s inauguration, all he could think about was how pleasant would it be to take advantage of that solitude to press her back against one of the building’s unpainted walls, rest his hands on her deliciously feminine hips, and kiss her long and hard enough to leave both of them breathless. She would taste heavenly, he was sure of it, but what he wanted the most, what he would give half of his blood to experience just once, was to hear her say his name in the throes of passion, their bodies pressed against each other, his mouth avidly swallowing her moans as her lovely hands, that Mihawk had seen delicately holding a fork or a pen, and then confidently clench around the butt of a gun, caressing and stimulating his skin under his clothes.

“M-Mihawk… don’t stop… oh, Mihawk, I want you so much…”

Gods. He could get hard just by thinking about it; what was happening to him? How could he manage his urges… and, more importantly, the feelings that had aroused them?

“I’m sorry if all this feels dull to you.” (name) said later as they, sitting in the small but elegant horse-drawn carriage, looked at the people and building of the city pass in front of them on the way to the fortress; Mihawk saw many passers-by respectfully bow their heads at the vehicle’s passage, no doubt imagining who was riding inside “I love my island, but there is not much to do, especially for a guest who is used to a more… active lifestyle; also, I have so little time…”

Mihawk smiled - briefly, and only for a moment, but sincerely. “You have nothing to apologise for; I don’t need to be entertained every waking moment, and I understand you have duties to attend to.”

(name) smiled, relieved and almost shy; Mihawk saw her bit her lip -her lovely, rouge-tinted lips, that he recently had found himself dreaming of more than once- and briefly move the hand resting on her lap, apparently without a reason… or maybe, Mihawk allowed himself to believe for a moment, to touch his, only a few inches away.

“Still, you are my personal guest; it is my duty to make sure you are well looked after, and do not regret accepting my invitation.”

“You don’t need to fear in that regard; you are an excellent host.” he reassured her. “I am actually enjoying my stay more than I expected.”

“I’m very happy to hear you say so.”

The two of them spent the rest of the ride home in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence as they always did - with each other, and few other people besides. When the carriage stopped in front of the fortress’s main gate, Mihawk allowed a servant in livery to open the door, stepped out and then offered his hand to (name) to help her descend, receiving another smile as a reward. Gods, her smile, he thought; that alone could be enough to make his self-control crumble.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“It was my pleasure, my lady.”

They were about to walk inside when the servant cleared his voice. “Apologies, my lady, but the lady Veressa asked me to inform you that lord Theon has honoured us with a visit.”

Looking at (name), Mihawk thought the woman didn’t seem to feel particularly honoured; rather, she had the face of someone who had been told they would never celebrate their birthday again. “You mean today? Now?” she asked “He was supposed to come for my mother’s birthday, next month.”

“Yes, my lady; he arrived less than an hour ago. He is in the banquet hall with your mother.”

“Alone? I mean, are his wife and son with him?”

“No, my lady. He came alone.”

(name) frowned. “Which means he could want to stay a while. Just what I need.” she muttered, clearly unhappy; realising she had actually uttered those words instead of simply thinking them, she rushed to dismiss the servant, who bowed low and left.

“I gather this guest is not of your liking.”

“He really isn’t. He… well, Theon is my cousin. If unpleasantness were a sport, he would be a world champion, but since he is one of my closest relatives besides my mother I can’t always avoid him. He has the unspoken right to come visit whenever he pleases, a privilege he makes large use of with the sole purpose of vexing me, even though he doesn’t enjoy my company any more than I enjoy his.”

“Why has he come visiting, then?” Mihawk wondered; he thought the question harmless, but he saw the woman in front of him frown, the good mood of the afternoon spent together disappearing like snow at the coming of spring.

“Well… you remember I told you I can’t have children?” she said in the end, not even attempting to hide how painful it was for her to discuss that topic. It had been unintentional, but Mihawk mentally kicked himself for leading their conversation towards such a difficult topic.

“Of course.”

“Theon is not simply a close relative of mine… he is the closest, obviously after my mother, which technically makes him my heir. He’s two years older than me, which means he’s probably not going to enjoy being the lord long, but five years ago he had a son, and since I was still unmarried and childless, he formally asked my mother to exclude me from the line of succession, naming him her heir. My mother obviously refused, which only helped exacerbating Theon’s resentment against us both.”

Mihawk tensed. “You think he could attempt to depose her? Or hurt one of the two?” he inquired, and (name) actually considered his hypothesis for a moment before shaking her head.

“Theon is an idiot, but he’s not a fool; he knows the people of this island would never accept him if he took power by force.” she reasoned “He only wants to check whether my mother is in good health, clearly hoping she is not… and if I have a partner who could get me pregnant, since we have kept the fact that I am now infertile secret. He’s becoming more insufferable every passing year…”

She looked decidedly unhappy, an unusual circumstance for a normally self-assured woman, her eyes downcast as her hand almost unconsciously brushed against her stomach - against her womb, that would never grow heavy with a child.

For a moment, Mihawk seriously considered offering to tell (name)’s cousin she did have a partner - him, a powerful and menacing pirate with a six foot four sword hanging from his back, who would have no qualms defending her from any unpleasant comment or insinuation; the woman could take care of and stand up for herself, but she might be forced to be polite to her cousin, while he would happily introduce the fool to Yoru’s cutting side to save her the torment.

“I’ll have to ask him to dine with us.” (name) muttered as they both set off towards the inside of the fortress “I’m so sorry, Mihawk.”

“I don’t mind.” he lied “To be honest, I can’t wait to meet your cousin.”

His desire was fulfilled only a few minutes later when, crossing the banquet hall to reach their quarters, they met the lady Veressa, deep in conversation with a tall, well-dressed man. The older woman smiled seeing them come in, but her gaze grew tense a moment later; she clearly did not appreciate Theon’s visit any more than her daughter did.

“Hello, my love; Mihawk. Was your afternoon pleasant?”

“It was, mother, thank you.”

“Good. Look who came to visit us.”

There was a vague resemblance between Theon and his cousin and aunt, Mihawk found, even though the man’s face was devoid of the beauty they had been blessed with; he was tall and broad-shouldered, but a weak chin was visible under his well-kept beard.

“Theon. We were not expecting you.” (name) pointed out without a smile, fake or otherwise.

“I’m returning home from a trip abroad, and I thought I would pay my family a visit before returning home.” Theon explained “Good to see you, (name);”

“And you. How are your wife and child?

At the mention of his family, a touch of sincere affection coloured the man’s voice.

“Very well, thanking all the Gods. My son has just started his classes with a tutor, the man says he has never had a cleverer pupil.” he said, before smiling sweetly at his cousin - the sort of smile one could expect from a snake ready to gape its jaws “And what about you, dear cousin? No man in your life… and no child in your womb?”

“Not for the time being, no.”

“You should hurry. After all you’re no longer a girl, am I wrong? I thought you’d be more interested in the future of your feud… even though I understand it’s not always easy to find the right person, when one is not exactly… well, of course there’s nothing wrong with having high standards…”

(name)’s expression had turned to ice; clearly she was used to her cousin’s subtle cruelty, but Mihawk could see the hurt in her eyes.

“Did you spend your afternoon working in a construction site?” Theon insisted, before (name) could utter an equally biting answer.

The dress the woman had chosen that day was one Mihawk had seen her wearing more than once; she looked lovely -and oh, how deliciously she filled it, the shape of her body caressed by the fabric- but neither her nor Mihawk had noticed there were traces of plaster dust on her skirt and sleeves, no doubt a residue picked up at the museum’s site.

“Let’s say that is my new hobby. To be honest, I’m quite busy these days; unfortunately not all of us can spend our time hunting in the woods and playing chess.” she answered sweetly, without even attempting to hide or clean the dirt on her dress “Duties of the heir, you will understand. Or maybe not.”

Mihawk felt a smile tug at his lips; meeting the lady Veressa’s eyes, he saw the older woman hide her own amusement behind a hand. Theon, on his part, went red in the face; like all cowards, Mihawk thought, he enjoyed making fun of others, but was unable to defend his own honour when he was the one attacked.

“Theon, I don’t think you’ve ever met our guest.” the lady Veressa intervened, stepping closer to rest a reassuring hand on her daughter’s back “Meet Dracule Mihawk.”

Theon blinked; only then he seemed to notice the presence of the tall, menacing man in black next to his cousin. “Dracule Mihawk? That Dracule Mihawk?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice “One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea?”

“I am not aware of another man with my name.” Mihawk replied, his tone icy. Theon gulped; both Mihawk and the two women saw him eye the man in front of him, and then the huge black sword hanging from his back.

“What… what are you doing here? Don’t tell me the Marines sent you…”

“I am not here on business; I am (name)’s guest.”

“Mihawk and I have known each other for many years.” the woman interjected, moving in turn marginally closer to the man; Mihawk felt her fingers brush against his “He’s a good friend.”

“R-really? I… had no idea…”

“I admire your cousin’s ability with a gun; I have seen her shooting a man between his eyes from a hundred and twenty feet away. Do you remember, (name)?”

“I most certainly do. It wasn’t a criminal I had been assigned to capture by the Marines.” she replied innocently, her hand now brushing against her faithful derringer, hanging from her waist in its holster “It was just someone who was irritating me and should have minded his own business.”

Theon gulped. He looked at (name) as if he was seeing her for the first time, seriously wondering if the woman would actually shoot him, rules of hospitality and familiar bond be damned; then his gaze moved to Mihawk, and even though he had just met him Theon did not doubt for a second the pirate would happily slice him without a moment of hesitation.

“W-well, that’s interesting. I hope we’ll have time to talk some more at dinner… now, if you excuse me, I need to… you know…”

He quickly retreated towards the door; (name) almost didn’t wait for him to be out of earshot before laughing. “What an asshole!”

“(name), language.”

“I’m sorry, mother. But Theon really deserved it; one day I’ll use him for target practice!”

The lady Veressa giggled; she smiled gratefully at Mihawk, who silently bowed his head in response, and took her leave.

“Before I forget; your cousin has brought you a gift.” she added before departing, nodding in the direction of a large box placed on a nearby table “I don’t ask you to like it, but you should at least see what it is.”

(name) promised she would; she waited for her mother to leave, then she smiled at Mihawk, and after a moment of hesitation she took both of his hands in hers - a chaste, completely uncompromising contact, that nonetheless filled the swordsman’s heart with a feeling he struggled to find a name for.

“Thank you.” she murmured “I’m sorry you had to deal with my cousin, but… thank you for supporting me.”

“You seemed perfectly capable of putting him in his place by yourself.”

“I am; I have been practising since I was maybe six. But having you near… made me feel stronger; safer, even. I’m sorry, you’ll think I’m an idiot, a weak woman who needs a man to protect her…”

Mihawk huffed. “I could never consider you weak, (name).” he murmured as he delicately caressed the back of her left hand with his thumb; his heart was pounding, hard enough it almost hurt “Nor could anyone who knows you. You must be one of the strongest people I know.”

Again that shy, grateful smile and Gods, Mihawk was this close to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. “Well, that is a great compliment, coming from one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.” she said “Anyway, I’m happy you are here, Mihawk.”

“I’m happy as well. Truly.” Mihawk answered softly. For a whole minute neither of the two moved, or spoke; they both looked down at their clasped hands, and then their eyes met.

The world stopped turning.

(name) was the first to look away; Mihawk was almost sure she had blushed. “Well, I should take a look at this gift; I bet Theon has chosen the least tasteful thing he could find.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… baby clothes, maybe? In the hope you’ll soon need these…”

“If he has done that I swear I’ll carve his heart out with Yoru.” Mihawk promised; Theon didn’t know (name) couldn’t have children, but still he had to have realised how painful the fact that she was yet to give an heir to her feud was for her “And I’ll offer it to you on a silver plate.”

The woman grinned as she left his hands to walk to the small table the box had been placed on. “Now that is a gift I would appreciate… oh. Oh, would you look at this…”

This was the content of the box, that (name) had quickly opened; a vase, its upper lip roughly as wide as a serving dish, from which a single tall flower rose on a long, thin stem, surrounded by a bed of tiny green leaves. The flower was closed, its bright pink petals secured around the central head; Mihawk knew vaguely the process had the purpose to protect the flower at times when pollinating insects were dormant.

“It is… nice.” (name) almost reluctantly admitted “I mean, I don’t particularly like flowers, but… what’s wrong?” she added, seeing that Mihawk had frowned “What’s so weird about gifting flowers to a woman?”

“Nothing, I assume. It’s just… I think I have seen this flower already.”

“Where?”

“It was an illustration on a book; it was Shanks’, I saw it the last time we met. I can’t remember what it said, but there was something strange about this flower.”

“Is it dangerous?” (name) asked, clearly intrigued “Is it one of those carnivorous plants that eat any creature that comes close to them? Maybe Theon hopes I will keep it on my nightstand, and at night as I sleep the plant will come alive and devour me…”

The flower, still and barely a foot tall, didn’t look particularly threatening, but Mihawk wasn’t convinced; (name) seemed sure her cousin, unpleasant and resentful as he was, would not try to seriously hurt her, but he decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

As usual, he was wearing the Kogatana on his neck, the deceptively small knife resting against his chest; Mihawk took it out of his sheath. “Stand back.”

“What are you doing? Mihawk, it’s a flower, you don’t seriously think…?”

“Stand back, please.” he insisted, and (name), clearly perplexed, obeyed. Mihawk slowly extended the knife towards the plant; he didn’t dare thinking about how ridiculous he had to look in that moment, pointing his weapon against an opponent whose kind was routinely cut to be made into bouquets and wreaths, but his instinct said he better be on his guard, if only to avoid (name) or the lady Veressa to fall into some kind of danger. If only he could remember what that book had to say about this flower…

Nothing happened as Mihawk let the blade of the Kogatana slowly approach the flower; then, when the tip of the blade was half a foot from it, the small plant seemed to quiver, as if it had perceived the presence of a threat. Slowly, its petals opened, and Mihawk and (name) found themselves staring at what looked like a pale yellow eye, surrounded by pink lashes.

“It’s lovely.” the woman murmured “I can’t believe Theon would gift me something like this…”

A moment later two things happened in rapid succession, too fast for the two to be able to react. First, the tip of the dagger -tiny, but sharp enough to cut through a person’s body, if handled with sufficient strength- touched the flower head, that trembled again, as if in pain, and then, lighting fast, a shower of pollen erupted out of it, hitting Mihawk in the face.

“What the…?”

“Oh, Gods!” (name) cried; she quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, and used it to clean the grains from the swordsman’s face “Mihawk, I’m so sorry… are you alright?”

He thought about it for a moment, gently taking the handkerchief from her hand to clean himself; the smell of the pollen was too intense for his liking, unpleasant after he had breathed some of it, but the sensation was not painful… even if it did make him sneeze.

“I’m fine.” he reassured her in the end “That had to be the flower’s defence strategy, a way to ward off predators. Curious…”

(name) frowned. “Clearly this is what Theon wanted; to pull a stupid prank on me, like that time when he was fourteen that he hid a lizard in my jewel case to scare me. He clearly hasn’t matured since then… I’m sorry you got involved…”

“No harm done, truly.”

A moment of embarrassment passed through them; Mihawk felt his fingers touch (name)’s as he returned the handkerchief to her. “Maybe your cousin should remember that, just like this flower, you also know how to defend yourself when someone threatens you.” he said, more gently than most people had ever heard him talk.

“Yes; maybe he should…”

A moment later, a valet entered, to announce (name) was expected at an audience she had granted to a few members of the court; the woman sighed, clearly unhappy she had to leave.

“I’ll see you at dinner, alright?” she asked Mihawk “Thank you for being with me today, I spent a lovely afternoon.”

“As I said, you are an excellent hostess.”

“Such a flatterer…!”

She smiled at him, now neither shy nor embarrassed, before leaving, stopping just to tell the valet to make sure her guest was well looked after in her absence; Mihawk couldn’t help following the movement of her hips, the delicate fabric of her skirt hugging her curves, as the woman walked away.

The valet bowed. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” he asked; a moment of reflection, and Mihawk shook his head in response.

“No.” he answered softly, more to himself than to the man in livery in front of him “I have everything I need already.”

Mihawk’s feelings for (name) had succeeded in what no opponent had been able to do in his life since he was maybe seventeen: they had snuck up on him, slowly growing in his heart unnoticed, and then revealing themselves once they had been too intense for the swordsman to be able to deny or suppress them.

The realisation had caught him off guard, since he had never given too much thought to love and feelings in general; he had never had a serious relationship in his life, and since he had reached adulthood the occasional night spent with a woman whose name he promptly forgot -or never cared to learn- had been enough to satisfy his needs. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, because he did; he simply had never found one interesting enough to attract his attention for more than a few hours spent in an inn room.

In hindsight, he should have imagined (name) would be the one to break down his defences, if only because she had no idea she had done so, nor had she even tried to endear herself to him beyond mere friendship.

But she had. Gods, she had, and for months now Mihawk had felt his heartbeat accelerate every time (name) smiled at him. There hadn’t been a specific moment his feelings had grown beyond the pleasant, firm and deep friendship he and the woman had built in so many years to indisputably, irrevocably fall in the realm of romanticism. It had simply happened that one morning Mihawk had woken up in his bedroom at home on Kuraigana Island, and instead of getting out of it to quickly begin his day as he usually did, he had lingered for a while, looking at the other half of the double mattress and thinking how lovely, how right, it would have been if (name) had been there, sleeping soundly with her hair spread on the pillow or already awake, about to smile at him and wish him good morning with a kiss. That had been enough to make him realise he was lost already, completely and utterly enamoured, and for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do.

While he hadn’t expected his feelings for her to change, Mihawk wasn’t surprised (name) had been the one his heart had turned to. They had been good friends -she was maybe the only one he had apart from Shanks, which was two friends beyond what Mihawk expected to have or felt the need for- for so long, and the swordsman sincerely respected her: (name) was clever, strong-willed, determined in pursuing her goals and didn’t let anyone doubt or demean her on account of her gender or origins. She could have lived a tranquil, privileged life on her island, far from danger and surrounded by the comforts she was entitled to as the lady’s daughter; instead, she had spent her youth learning to shoot, first taught by her grandfather and later on her own, and then she had become a mercenary and bounty-hunter -and an exceptionally capable one at that- spending her time tracking down pirates and other criminals to bring back to the Marines. Most of the berry she earned with the bounties were spent for the good of her home and people; she didn’t do it for the money, rather to prove how capable and resilient she was and could be, not only a noblewoman destined to rule over a small but wealthy feud, but a capable markswoman no one could afford to underestimate or challenge lightly. Mihawk admired her for that; he respected her intelligence, the quiet strength anyone who met her couldn’t help perceiving, and the way she had to fight for what she believed in and considered important, be it refusing to back off in an argument or pointing the barrel of her derringer against the temple of a killer and telling them to plan their first move carefully if they didn’t want to end up with a bullet in their head.

And she was beautiful. He had thought that since their first meeting, how could he have not? (name) was simply gorgeous, even not considering the practical elegance she dressed with, the comfortable but refined dresses she liked to wear that only accentuated her natural charm, even though Mihawk was sure he would find her enchanting whatever she wore - or didn’t wear. He wasn’t the only one to find her good-looking; while (name) had confided him she felt completely incapable of flirting or making romantic advances, many victims had fallen prey to her captivating smile, not imagining that the pretty woman who looked so interested in what they had to say was already clenching the butt of a gun under the table, and Mihawk had once heard Garp mention that in the years of her collaboration with the Marines at least two officers had -unsuccessfully- asked her out.

Yes, he had always thought she was attractive, but since he had become aware of his own feelings for her, Mihawk found he couldn’t stop looking at (name), and that his appreciation no longer stopped at the beauty of her smile or her elegance, but had started drifting towards other parts of her body. The morbid curve of her chest under her corset, the way her hips swayed while she walked, and the way her shapely -he had no way to know for sure, but he was sure they were; they had to be harmonious and well-proportioned, nothing that was part of her couldn’t not be- legs peeked out from under her skirt when a gust of wind lifted it… She was just so lovely, so exquisite in her natural sensuality, and every simple touch between them, even just his hand holding hers when he helped her dismount from the carriage, was enough to give him palpitations.

He couldn’t take it anymore; that situation was driving him crazy, worst of all because (name) had no idea of the effect she had on him. The fact that the woman had invited him on her island for a few days -or more, if you want; you can stay as long as you wish, you know I like having you here- had pleased Mihawk immensely, since it meant spending plenty of time with her, alone, but keeping his emotions in check in her presence got harder by the hour. (name) had already asked him if he was alright twice, which meant she had noticed his behaviour was somehow odd or unnatural; if he didn’t do something soon, Mihawk reflected, he would end up making a fool of himself, a problem for which he could see only one solution…

He had to declare his feelings for (name); he had to confess how much he cared for her, how special and beautiful and precious he thought she was. He had to tell her he was in love with her, that there was not a moment in which she was not in his thoughts, and in his heart, and that while he had always felt content and satisfied alone, with few people he tolerated and even fewer that he enjoyed spending time with, he had come to wish she would share her days, perhaps even her life, with him, an exclusive bond made of loyalty and affection and respect and yes, pleasure as well. He could make her happy, Mihawk was sure of it, and if he were lucky enough to discover his feelings were reciprocated, he would make sure the woman forgot any other man she had ever met or been with.

The problem was, he had no idea whether (name) cared for him like he did for her, and in that case, if she would actually be interested in a relationship. She was clearly fond of him, and enjoyed their time spent together, but that didn’t necessarily mean she could see him as a potential partner - as a lover. Like Mihawk the woman mostly kept to herself, at least while on the island, mainly to maintain her good name and avoid gossip about her love life, and occasionally took a lover while away on vacation or travelling around for her mercenary assignments, relationships she invariably abandoned after a few days at most. The arrangement seemed to suit her just fine; who knew if she would be interested in something else, in a more committed relationship? Maybe she was, just not with him, because she did only see him as a friend and wasn’t attracted to him at all…

Also, there were (name)’s duties towards her feud and people to consider. The lady Veressa was in excellent health, but sooner or later she would have to take her place as lady of the island, which would mean abandoning her activity as a mercenary and remain at the fortress to take care of her people and land. Children were regrettably something she didn’t have to worry about, but who knew if she would approve of him as her consort? (name) was not the sort of woman who judged people on their origins and he knew she valued his intelligence and strength of character, but perhaps she wanted someone different to share her responsibilities, someone who was born on the same island as her or at least who knew what it meant caring for a family of more than a thousand people. Mihawk himself wasn’t sure he could see himself in that role, given his intense preference for solitude and relative disinterest for what happened for most other people.

Maybe they, or at least their inclinations and ambitions in life, were too different for him and (name) to be compatible as a couple; maybe the woman was not, and would never be, attracted to him. Simply considering that hypothesis was painful, especially because Mihawk knew finding out they wanted different things from their rapport would most likely mean the end of their friendship.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t remain silent; his feelings were too intense, too encompassing, too deep and real to keep them secret. He was already happy with (name) in his life, but what he really wanted, what he craved, was to have her by his side, to share his feelings with her as well as his thoughts and his time; he wanted to know no other man existed for her, because no other woman could ever exist for him. Perhaps his friend expected he would confess his feelings first, as was tradition for men to do, perhaps she had simply never thought about him as a potential partner and lover; that was fine, and he was confident he could change her mind. All he needed was a chance, just one, to show her how happy he could make her, how much pleasure and joy and empathy they could create and feel together…

Mihawk sighed as he closed the door behind him and contemplated the spacious chamber he had slept in for the last two nights. The bedroom his host had had prepared for him was almost as large as the one he slept in at his home, elegant and comfortable, with a lovely view of the city’s harbour out of the thickly curtained window; Mihawk had even heard a servant mention that (name) had requested the furniture moved to better suit his tastes, a consideration that had flattered the swordsman - even though he could not avoid thinking how even more pleasant it would have been to share that ridiculously large bed -but the mattress was firm, just like he liked it; he wondered if his friend had thought about that as well- with her, or to sleep in hers.

Nevertheless, not even the simple opulence of his apartment could comfort Mihawk at the moment; he had made a fool of himself in front of (name) with that stupid flower, and while she wasn’t the sort of person who would make fun of him, he could have taken advantage of that moment of intimacy after her mother had left to tell her about his feelings. He hadn’t thought about that -something he felt he would reproach himself for a long time- and this was already the third day of his sojourn on the island; even though (name) had told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wanted, he had decided he would confess his feelings for her before leaving, and the time at his disposal was starting to run short.

But how? Could he start by asking her if there was someone important in her life, or if she ever thought about settling down with a partner who would one day help her rule over her island? Or was it better to invite her for a walk, make sure they were alone, and tell her he couldn’t stop thinking about her and he would give half of his blood just to know she cared for him as well? Or perhaps the right thing to do was to knock at her door at night, pick her up to carry her to her bed, and prove (name) beyond any reasonable doubt she was his already and he was his as he made her scream his name…?

He had no idea. Still a reasonably young man, Mihawk had done and seen more in his life than many people could even dream, but this was completely new for him - a veritable leap in the dark, and while the word fear simply didn’t exist in his vocabulary, he had to admit he felt… anxious at the prospect of discovering whether (name) shared his feelings or not, a mix of trepidation and worry he had never felt before…

A small but elegant desk was positioned in front of the window, with a set of writing instruments neatly placed on the wooden surface in the event the lady’s guest wanted to pass a message or leave a request for the servants. Looking at the small stack of white sheets, Mihawk felt more foolish than ever; writing a love letter was something shy boys did, which he was not, or men whose ladylove was physically distant from them, while his slept no more than a dozen paces from him. Furthermore, (name) deserved better than that; she deserved a declaration she would remember for the rest of her life, a confession that made her feel as special, precious and splendid as he thought she was, and he would give it to her; he would give her everything she needed and wanted, and the only thing he wanted in return was her heart.

He felt strangely tired all of a sudden, but not exactly the way he did at the end of a long training session; rather, it was a weird, uncomfortable drowsiness that had fallen on him like a wet blanket, making it hard for the swordsman to focus. Was he coming down with a fever? He had no reason to believe that, but he was sure he would feel better after he had rested for a while; he had plenty of time before dinner… but there was something else he wanted to do first.

Mihawk was sincerely glad no one could see him as he retrieved three sheets of paper and a pen from the desk and brought them to the bed, together with a book to use as a support. He would not confess his feelings to the woman he loved in writing, but perhaps it could help him to decide how to… address the issue.

My darling (name)

(name), there is something important I need to

Since the day I met you, I have known you were special

I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you

Mihawk sighed; all those words, and the feelings they described, corresponded to the truth, but at the same time they felt reductive, because not even the greatest poet in the world could describe the depth and intensity of his love for (name); he sighed, partly discouraged but still determined to find the right words.

I love you. I have loved you for a long time, and if you gave me a chance to

I dream to hold you in my arms and kiss you until we both can’t breathe

I want to worship your beautiful body and to make you scream my name

I need to fuck you senseless and feel your wet pussy clench around me

Mihawk blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the piece of paper in front of him - specifically, at the last lines written in the elegant cursive his older sister had taught him to write in, a lifetime ago. Yes, that was without a doubt his calligraphy, and the pen was still in his hand, but he couldn’t believe he had actually written those words. Embarrassed, irrationally fearing (name) could somehow find and read them, he looked at the empty fireplace in the room and tore the sheet of paper into tiny pieces, making it impossible for anyone to read his incriminating desires.

What in the world was he thinking? Yes, he was attracted to (name) and he had fantasised about them together -what man worthy of the name wouldn’t? How could he look at her, at the shape of her beautiful body under her dress and not wish he could ravish her, feel her writhe under his body and stimulate her with his mouth?- but this was not how he wanted her to know! Mihawk was in love with her, a much deeper and more lasting feeling than a passing infatuation or the simple impulse to find relief between her legs; sensible and mature as she was, (name) was not the sort of woman who would faint or react running away if a man propositioned her, and he did plan on showing her how irresistibly arousing he found her body. But to convince her of his feelings, and that they could be happy together, was Mihawk’s first and foremost goal.

And he would accomplish it soon. But first he did need to rest for a while, the swordsman reflected as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite the pleasant breeze coming in through the open window he felt uncomfortably hot, his head swimming to the point the furniture of the room appeared blurred to his eyes; all of a sudden he felt as if he had been awake for five days.

I’ll tell her soon. Today, if I can; but not now. Now, I have to sleep.

He left Yoru propped against the wall, and the Kogatana on the table next to the paper and pens; he quickly got rid of his coat and boots, for once not caring where he left them. Mihawk sighed as his head fell into the pillow - not too soft just like he liked it; he heard the birds sing on the branches of the trees in the garden.

He fell asleep with her name on his lips.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

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