#I WISH I COULD DO SOMETHING BIGGER WITH THIS AND GIVE YOU SOME FOOD BUT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

temis-de-leon · 24 days

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MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel.

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

“Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

“Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

@ourfinalisation

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skzdarlings · 5 days

Text

bodyguard: the first guard | part three | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

part one | part two | part three | tba

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture. mentions of past sexual abuse, detailed descriptions of needles. chapter word count: 12,525 words.

B E F O R E

“Happy fourteenth birthday.”

Felix looks up from his work. He underperformed in training today and landed himself a punishment. His good record spared him anything too painful, but he has been assigned cleaning duty. Taking apart, cleaning, and reassembling weapons is not difficult work – he could do it in his sleep – but it is tedious.

Tedium is its own kind of torture, especially these days with his mind in a state of tumult. He has grown closer to Chris with each passing day. Felix knows they are not meant to think of each other as friends, just fellow soldiers, but that is the word Felix uses.

My friend.

That is who stands over Felix now. Chris is smiling and holding something wrapped in what looks like a kitchen napkin. Felix blinks at it, then furrows his brow.

“Huh?” Felix says. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Could be!” Chris says.

Felix supposes Chris has a point. Felix does not actually know his own birthday because he bounced around foster care before he found himself in Miroh’s program. If his birthday was recorded anywhere, no one told him what it was. So it could be his birthday. The odds are not great but not impossible.

“Um,” Felix says, because no one has ever wished him a happy – or happy possible – birthday. He guesses the best reply is, “Thanks?”

“It’s not a trick, man,” Chris says, smiling. He laughs at Felix, though it doesn’t feel cruel, and ruffles his hair before shoving the little wrapped item at him. “Here,” Chris says. “Got it especially for you.”

Felix unfolds the napkin and finds a cookie. It’s not the kind of food that is served at the regiment because their diet is so strict. Food is a sustenance and not a pleasure.

“Wow,” Felix says. It is a genuine surprise. Chris had to go out of his way to get this.

Felix feels embarrassed. He still struggles to cope with feeling in general. He almost yearns for a simpler, more naïve time, when he didn’t have to think or feel, just trust and follow. Now he is a flustered knot of embarrassment because Chris is giving him presents just because Felix mentioned he had never received one. It was an off-handed remark a few days ago, that he didn’t know his birthday and had never received a present but that it didn’t matter because he didn’t deserve it.

And he didn’t, he doesn’t, deserve any of it. Not a birthday wish or a thoughtful gift or Chris’s friendship. Felix has so much blood on his hands and he doesn’t how much of it is innocent. He never counted his kills like some other agents, stupid kids bragging to seem bigger and more powerful than their circumstances. Felix never did it for glory. He knew his place. Now he doesn’t count them because it doesn’t matter. It all comes back to him when he closes his eyes. He remembers what they were wearing, what they said before they died, the things they begged to a naïve, indifferent child.

He doesn’t count them because he doesn’t need a number to know it’s too much and he will never be able to take it back. He doesn’t deserve birthdays and friendships and Chris. He never will.

He doesn’t say this out loud. He knows Chris will argue with him, belligerent in his kindness and reassurance. Felix won’t listen in turn. The conversation would be useless. Rather than bother, Felix asks, “Where did you get it?”

“Hey, I know I’m trouble,” Chris says, still smiling, “but I got connections too, you know?”

Felix guesses he means Miroh’s daughter as she is the only agent with outside connections. They seem to have a tenuous understanding because she and Chris get in the most trouble. Chris, because he still bristles at commands and steps out of line. Her, because she’s Miroh’s daughter and held to a higher standard than the rest of them.

Chris can befriend almost anyone, garnering admiration in his peers if nothing else. His rebellious streak means no one wants visible association with him, but in the quietest of corners there is a whispered respect for the First Guard. He is as notorious as he is skilled and he has a natural leadership.

Felix supposes it is not outside the realm of possibility that even Miroh’s daughter would consider Chris a friend – but only somewhere even quieter than most.

Felix does not consider Miroh’s daughter a friend and he doubts he ever will. Her proximity to Miroh makes her an even bigger liability than Chris. Felix would never get close to someone like that, born into their position and too close to power for his liking.

“Miroh’s daughter, you mean,” Felix says.

Felix might keep his musings close to his heart, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t read them anyway. Chris is a soldier by instinct if not choice. He is always one step ahead. It’s like he is inside Felix’s head. He seems to know what Felix will do before Felix does.

“Yeah,” Chris says. He rubs the back of his neck, breathing deeply. He looks almost sheepish, as if admitting he knows better. “She’s not that bad when you get to know her. Really.”

Felix is certain he looks unconvinced. It makes Chris laugh.

“You look worried,” Chris says.

“I do worry about you,” Felix says. He looks down at the cookie in his hand. It is hard to say out loud, but he manages a weak, “You’re my friend.”

Chris is suspiciously quiet. When Felix looks up, Chris has a determination to his countenance.

“Find me when you’re done here,” Chris says. “I wanna show you something.”

Felix, as usual, does as he is told. When his punishment ends, he tracks Chris to the barracks where the older boy is patiently waiting. He claps Felix on the shoulder but otherwise doesn’t stop to greet him. He is a little skittish as he leads Felix to their mysterious destination.

It is not so extraordinary in the end. Nothing around here is. Everything is cold chrome and sleek silver, one room much like the next, branded by Miroh as surely as its occupants.

Chris knocks out a ventilation panel then leads Felix to what looks like an unused crawl space, forgotten and collecting dust.

“Welcome to my office,” Chris jokes, still with that nervous laughter. It is putting Felix on edge.

“Is everything all right?” Felix asks.

“Well, no, Felix,” Chris says. “It isn’t. You know that now, don’t you?”

A couple years of shared assignments between the best and second best, the rebellious and the reluctant. A couple years of watching Miroh bludgeon his way through the world. A couple years of regret.

A couple years of friendship to change everything.

“Yeah,” Felix says. It is all he needs to say.

“Sit,” Chris says. There is a corner of the room that has been cleared of dust, this part of the hideaway evidently well-used. “Let’s talk.”

Whatever conversation Felix expects to have, it is not the one he gets. He sits and watches Chris, watches him breathe and measure his words. Chris is usually confident in what he has to say, even when staring down a barrel of a gun. This is more than disconcerting.

“I’ve been talking to some others in the program,” Chris says. “We’re all growing up. I’ll be eighteen soon. If we’re already strong, we’re just gonna get stronger. Miroh has complete control over us. I’m scared that if we don’t do something about it soon, then everything is going to get worse. A lot, lot worse.”

“Do something,” Felix says, his mind going a mile a minute. “What do you mean? Who else have you told about this?”

“People I consider friends,” Chris says. He puts a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “People like you, Felix.”

He thinks of the cookie in his pocket. His heart punches up with alarm.

“Miroh’s daughter?” Felix asks and this time he knows for certain his thoughts are very clear. He says her name – not even her name, her position, the daughter and heir of the very thing Chris wants to fight – and he says it with the obvious inflection of what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking?

“She’s a friend,” Chris says in a voice he usually reserves for an enemy. It startles Felix into silence. Seeing that, Chris smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to trust her,” Chris says. “Just trust me. Felix, I want to get us out, all of us. I don’t want that man or any other man like him to hurt anyone else. Not kids, not adults, not anyone. I won’t put you in more danger, I swear. That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m gonna protect you, okay? I’m gonna protect all of you. When the time comes to take a stand, I just want you to be ready. If something happens, if it all goes wrong…”

Felix looks at him, alarm and worry plain on his young face. Chris squeezes his shoulder again.

“If…” Chris swallows then continues, “If it is all goes wrong, I’ll pay the price alone. But I’d rather die trying to save all of you than live another day hurting innocent people for Miroh.”

“Chris—” Felix starts, an argument on his tongue.

“Don’t,” Chris says firmly. “If there was anything worth dying for, Felix, then it’s this. I’m gonna get you out. I’m gonna get you all out. I swear. Just be ready for when I say. Just trust me. Just be my friend.”

Felix spends a week after that in a state of restless turmoil. He sleeps poorly and fights worse and even spends a night in the Cell for his mistakes.

He doesn’t know what to think about Chris and his intentions. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But if it worked…

It wouldn’t take the blood off Felix’s hands, but it would be a start to something better. Felix has little thought for his own fate, undeserving as he is, but he thinks about Chris. Chris, the First Guard, who has been here the longest, who has watched the most people die, who has been punished the worst.

Chris deserves better.

Felix believes in Chris. He believes if Chris made an effort, then he would have what it takes to make a difference. Felix knows Chris is capable. He could do what he sets out to do.

It is not Chris that Felix worries about.

Felix observes Miroh’s daughter, studying her more closely than ever before. Felix trusts Chris’s general discretion but he worries Chris has a blind spot concerning her. They are the only two in their age category and they share a small barrack, the forced proximity undoubtedly creating a semblance of intimacy. Chris might trust her but Felix is not so biased. All he sees is Miroh.

Felix watches her. She doesn’t spend much time with Chris in public, her only close relationship with Seo Changbin. They are a bit notorious together. Felix would not call them the best fighters but they are tricky. He is pretty sure they throw their fights with each other and embellish more than necessary. Both like a good skull crash, more brutal than efficient. The trickery and brutality makes Felix more wary of her.

At the same time, her obvious friendship with Changbin shows she can care about someone else. The pair throw a mean punch but always patch each other up after.

Chris catches Felix watching them. They are having a go in the ring, punching and flipping, grinning when they think no one is watching. They have smiles just for each other.

“You look really deep in thought, mate,” Chris says, laughing. He hands Felix a water bottle while toweling down his own sweaty neck.

“Huh?” Felix finally breaks his concentration. He takes the water and smiles one of his instinctive but fake smiles – the kind he uses on a mission, when he is trying to convince an adversary that he is an innocent, unassuming kid.

Chris sees through it, of course. He lifts an eyebrow at Felix then follows his line of sight to the ring.

“What?” Chris says, laughing again. His own ears turn a little red as he teases, “You got a crush on her or something?”

“Ew, shut up,” Felix says, throwing his own towel at him. He feels flushed despite the fact it is vehemently untrue. He is not used to being provoked with that line of teasing. “No,” he says certainly. “I have no feelings for anyone. But I think they might.”

“Huh?” Chris looks between Felix and the ring. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at them,” Felix says. “They’re a little too close, don’t you think?”

Presently, Miroh’s daughter has Changbin pinned to the mat. She is on top of him and whispering something that makes them both snicker.

Chris stares at them. After a beat of contemplative silence, he laughs. Felix recognizes the fake sound, the same disarming humour Felix uses when conning someone.

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?”

Felix watches Chris amble over. He says something to the duo and Changbin retaliates with some non-descript shouting and flailing. Miroh’s daughter rolls her eyes. She grabs Chris by the collar and yanks him into a fight.

The rest of the day progresses without much fuss or bother. Miroh has no jobs for them today so the schedule is just training and recuperation.

Felix manages to avoid punishment today. He tries expelling his anxiety in a fight but it does not fully work. Felix has come to realize he is not very good at letting go. Belief, emotion, the good, the bad: all of gets clutched in his fists and held to his heart.

Fighting tires him but it is not a satisfying tired, of exerted muscles and a pumping heart. He feels weary and everything everywhere is so loud, the chrome and steel of the Miroh facilities like an echoing dome. It cycles all that noise in an agonizing reverberation. It feels inescapable. He goes to the barracks which are smaller but it makes the claustrophobia worse.

Laying in his bunk, rubbing his temples, Felix dreams of a quiet room of his own.

It is then he remembers Chris’s hideaway. Chris miraculously dodged punishment today so he retreated to the barracks a while ago. Felix doesn’t want to disturb him but he figures Chris won’t mind him using the hideaway on his own if he’s careful.

They are permitted access to the training room for the few hours between work and mandatory repose. The hideaway is en route so it is easy for Felix to stealthily retrace his steps without raising suspicion. He disappears in the security blind spot the way Chris showed him.

Felix is in the tunnel when he hears a noise. He worries he was followed despite being so careful, but then he realizes the noise is ahead of him, not behind him.

He freezes in the crawl tunnel, trying to discern the sound. It doesn’t sound like talking, more like… breathing? Heavy breathing.

Then he hears a laugh that he recognizes as Chris. And he is not alone. The other noise is a sigh, a lighter, more feminine sound.

Oh.

Apparently, Chris’s hideaway is not just for talking to friends. The sound of kissing and sighing is more friendly than his conversation with Felix, that’s for sure.

Felix is frozen for a minute, too stunned and embarrassed to think of moving. He has to shuffle backwards to escape because he can’t turn in that part of the crawl space. If this was a mission, he could do it, but this is personal. He doesn’t want to get caught but it’s not because it will compromise any job; it’s because it will be awkward.

He scuffs his shoe in his backwards shuffle. It clangs, a subtle sound, but one that makes him wince.

It goes quiet around the corner. Felix knows he was heard and there is no time to escape. Seconds later, a frantic looking Chris is in the tunnel, red-faced with a line of sweat on his brow. His uniform is clearly dishevelled and Felix gets even more embarrassed.

Those feelings need somewhere to go. It comes out of him in a burst of frustration.

“What are you doing?” Felix demands, his voice breaking.

“Nothing!” Chris says, clearly a knee-jerk reaction. Then he takes a breath and says, “Look, I can explain—”

“It’s not Miroh’s daughter,” Felix says. He can’t even pose it as a question because he refuses to believe Chris could genuinely be that reckless and stupid. Befriending her is one thing – a stupid thing – but fooling around with the daughter of the powerful man who owns them is begging for tragedy.

“I’m not stupid,” Chris says.

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix says. “Whoever it is, you need to stop.”

“Look—”

“Seriously, Chris!”

“Felix—”

“It’s not worth it!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Chris snaps. “You’re not normal and you don’t understand what it means to care about someone like that.”

It is obviously thoughtless, blurted in the head of the moment. It hurts anyway. Felix wonders if Chris can see the pain on his face because Chris looks immediately remorseful.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that—” Chris starts.

“It’s fine,” Felix says. “You’re right.”

“Felix—”

Felix pushes backwards and leaves without waiting for any protest. He does not stop, marching all the way back to this bunk. Anger and embarrassment have finally dissipated by the time he returns. It has been replaced with determination.

Chris is the best, but he has been compromised whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. He feels too much, for everyone and everything, and it will get him in even more trouble than he is already in. if he retaliates with thoughtless provocation when it’s just Felix confronting him, then what will he do when it’s Miroh and the stakes are even higher?

Chris said he would protect them all. He swore to succeed at any cost, including his own life. There is no one swearing the same for him. No one has ever protected him.

Felix is the second best. He has never left a job unfinished and for that he is not deserving of the protection Chris is offering.

It won’t clean the blood on his hands, but if Felix can save a life worth more than his own, then maybe it will start to justify all of this, all of him.

Chris was right. Felix is not normal. But he was wrong say that Felix doesn’t know what it means to care about someone. Because of Chris, Felix knows how to care. He knows what he has to do.

Chris can try and save them all.

Felix is going to save Chris.

P R E S E N T D A Y

Miroh��s main facility has fallen.

It sounds so dramatic for something so anticlimactic, like you are describing the collapse of a kingdom and not the shutdown of his main office operation.

It feels like an apocalyptic demise.

You and Chan fight your way out of the building, taking on the people who fight in your name. Your father’s name. Miroh.

Miroh is dead. Irrefutably broken, little more than a heap of meat on the tarmac. With him gone and the only named heir on the run – you – this facility will shut down to maintain security.

Miroh ran a meticulously compartmentalized business. There is protocol for everything so even if one part of his operation fell, the rest could continue unimpeded. Miroh tried to establish a legacy that could rival old money like his enemy, going so far as to predict his own demise. Miroh has long braced for the eventuality of his end, so he made sure his business could fracture and run without him.

He did everything in his power to make you just like him, a little broken fracture of himself to ensure that legacy. But then he could not actually face what he created. He could not actually let go. He was the only one with the perspective and power and he had to keep it that way.

Miroh would not have accounted for your rebellion, not for the sake of someone else. For a friend.

Flashes of the last twenty four hours play in your mind. You can hardly pinpoint the change in yourself. It feels like this was somehow inevitable, despite how much you would have balked at the idea before. But now it is all that matters. It’s all that makes sense in this chaos.

You have to find your friend. This facility will be empty in a matter of hours, but there are others. Changbin is in one of them. You have no idea where to start.

One thing at a time, you tell yourself. Before you can ruminate on anything behind or in front of you, you need to fight. You do not have time for introspection or planning. You need to get away. Away from this place, away from your dead father.

Away from his soldier, the First Guard, Bang Chan, who for some reason is helping you escape.

You don’t know why. You seriously doubt your barely coherent pleading broke the conditioning and literal torture that made him into this thing.

You don’t have time to find out. At the first opportunity, you break away, leaving him with a handful of operatives to fight. It should keep them all occupied while you escape.

You do not want to risk trapping yourself in an enclosed space, so you do not venture to the parking garage where the company vehicles are stored. Some of them will be programmed and bugged. You feel bad targeting a civilian, but stealing one of their cars is the safest bet. There are some administrative employees who complete menial tasks for the company, those with next to no clearance level. They park their personal cars around the facility. You pick one that is easy to reconfigure without a key to boot.

Minutes later, you are driving for an exit. Your whole body is aching but you push through it. There will be time to recuperate when you are in the clear.

Sirens wail and alarms blare, every security measure in action. Your escape is certainly not a clean one but it doesn’t matter. You just need to get away.

If you can get off the facility grounds, you can lose any adversaries in the back country roads. The route to the facility was intentionally designed to be a convoluted labyrinth, making it difficult for enemies to approach without giving the facility ample preparation time. You know the paths better than anyone. You can get away.

A soldier marches right into the middle of your escape path.

It is too brazen for a regular agent. They would not be so stupid to try that, knowing you would just barrel into them.

You speed closer and recognize the First Guard. Chan is unflinching as ever, standing in the middle of the road as if he intends to stop your car with his body. He is strong but not that strong. You know that. But he looks like an inhuman phantom, looming there in his combat gear and mask, unphased and unharmed despite the hour of nonstop violence.

But that’s not the reason you stop. You think about him in that van. You could only see his eyes but they were expressive, the tilt of his head inquisitive.

You slam on the brakes. The car stops inches from his body but he doesn’t even blink.

Your heart is racing, breath bursting in gasps. He strolls around the car as if he was just waiting for his ride.

Soldiering instinct propels your hands. You draw a gun as he opens the passenger-side door. He bends down and looks at you, his brow quirked with a silent question. Your hand shakes and he is too good not to notice. You know that, but a regular person would never guess because he does not take his eyes off yours.

He disarms you, faster than a blink. He drops into the passenger seat, then slams the door and shoves the gun in its storage compartment.

You stare at him. Your gaze follows the line of his stark profile. His hairline is a little sweaty but he doesn’t look out of breath.

You don’t know what to think.

This is the longest you have been in his company since you were kids in training. Your memory of him is insubstantial, having spent little to no time with him personally. But it hardly matters what he was. Now he’s a soldier above all soldiers, a shadow filling this small civilian car. He’s not the biggest man in the world but he’s overwhelming all the same, partially because of his uniform and partially because of his posture. He feels too big for this little human space. His knee hits the gear shift, his thighs bulky in the small seat, his shoulders broad where he leans back.

He looks across the car and meets your eyes. You think about how many people have met this gaze, maybe in a moment just like this, sitting across from Miroh’s asset in a little civilian vehicle before he put a bullet between their eyes or snapped their neck. You have seen the results of his missions even if you were not involved in them. The statistics and numbers speak for themselves. Those eyes have seen more death than life and right now they are resolutely focussed on you.

You jump when he lifts his hand. He says nothing but turns the rearview mirror in your direction. You reluctantly peel your gaze away from him. You see what he sees: a vehicle in rapid pursuit of your own.

“Shit,” you say. You shove the mirror back into place. Your hands collide for a split second.

You can’t linger on the weirdness of this moment, that the First Guard is your ally, sitting in the passenger seat and helping you escape.

You drive. The other vehicle chases you down. You get past the easy security measures, blowing past gates and guards. When you approach the last gate, Chan rolls down the window and twists his body. He pulls the stashed gun and aims somewhere. Your eyes are on the road so you don’t see exactly what he does, but the gate slams shut between you and the pursuing vehicle, trapping them on the other side.

Then it is just you, him, and the road.

He puts the gun away. He sits back. He rolls up the window. He makes it seem like a routine, still unphased while your heart pounds with adrenaline.

You do not look at him. You do not speak. You focus on escape, taking a convoluted path through the countryside just in case. When the facility is far, far behind you, you take a back road and pull into a shadowed space between some trees.

You slam to a stop, shift the gear to park, but keep the engine running. You clutch the steering so hard, you imagine it cracking beneath the force of your grip.

Chan still does not speak. The last time he spoke was on that rooftop. What now?

A damn good question.

You look at him. He is not sitting the way you would expect a machine of a man to be sitting. You would have thought the First Guard would sit straight-backed and braced for confrontation, but his slouch is almost insouciant. He sits with his knees apart, his body slanted where his elbow rests on the door. One gloved hand strums the door and the other is draped over his thigh. He looks at you without any expression you can interpret.

You are tired. Your body hurts. Your father is dead and the operation is changing and your only friend is suffering and you can’t do anything about any of it. This morning you held a modicum of control over your life – or you thought you did – and now everything has spiralled.

You know logically that Chan is a victim of Miroh, but right now it does not matter. He is an infuriating figure of composure, not to mention your father’s greatest weapon, and that combination snaps the elastic thread of your patience, already stretched to its limits.

“Take off the fucking mask,” you say.

He stares at you, his expression still unreadable. You are tempted to reach across and rip the mask off his face. You would definitely not succeed, no match for his reflexes on a good day, but logic is inconsequential in the face of your emotions.

He doesn’t test you. He stares for another moment then raises one gloved hand. He unhooks the mask and peels it off. He runs the other hand over his face and through his hair.

You are not sure what you were expecting. The same brown eyes stare back at you, lined with a smudged shadow to look as dark and intimidating as possible. His brows are thick and dark, his hair as black, sweat loosening the slick style so a single curly tuft falls over his forehead.

You follow the slope of his nose down to his mouth. His mouth is closed and he is not smiling. He has full lips, almost too pretty for what he is. Glancing at that mouth on that too-pretty face, you picture a dimple smiled. The memory is almost a blur, a smear of an image over his face. You blink and it’s gone, his stoic face staring back at you.

“What is it?” he says. His voice is like the rest of him, too big in this small space. You swear it shakes the car and the earth under it, though that is ridiculous. It’s just a voice. He’s just a man.

Except he’s not. He’s something else, something that should not have done what he did. You have a million questions. You need those answers before you can continue but it all jumbles together in your head. It’s all too much, the flashes of today, of the past, of an uncertain future full of even more violence.

You finally turn off the engine and get out of the car. You have no intention of going anywhere, but you need space.

You pace in a long line, breathing in and out, using every trick in the book to ease your racing heart. After a minute, you hear the passenger door open. You look over your shoulder at Chan.

You can’t help the instinctive reaction to measure him like an adversary. It doesn’t help he has pummelled you twice in the last few months, not to mention his horrid reputation in an already horrid place. It would be stupid not to brace yourself.

He approaches you cautiously. He has the gall to raise a hand like you are the wild thing and he is the tamer.

“Easy,” he says. His voice is not so booming out here. Other than the dark combat uniform, he almost looks normal, his whole face open to you, eyes narrowed with intense focus.

It makes you breathe harder, the exhale shaky. He notices because he tries to placate you.

He smiles.

It is forced and unpracticed, but there are those dimples, just like you thought. You would have been less startled if he bared his teeth like an animal. The smile unnerves you, undoing all the calming work of your exercises.

“It’s all right,” he says in a frighteningly gentle voice. He tilts his head as he looks at you. “It’s just me, yeah?”

Just him. Like that should comfort you. You suppose you can marginally see things from his perspective, that maybe he has proved himself. After all, he helped you escape. It is obvious he is not doing this for your father or he would not have let you kill him. This is not part of a grand plan. There is no strategy. It’s all over.

It’s just you and him.

It does not comfort you the way he evidently thinks it should. Now is the time to ask those million questions, but you are beyond words. You are a live wire and that pitiful attempt at a truce ignites a flare of angry sparks.

You were built to fight. It punches out of you. Literally.

Chan is faster than you. He dodges your swing with ease, fast as an electric current himself.

“Hey now,” he says, holding out both hands. “Don’t—”

You know you can’t win this fight. You know it’s stupid to try. But each swing flies out of you, instinctive as breathing. He catches every blow, bats your hands out of the way, but he doesn’t swing back. His refusal to fight infuriates you. It makes you feel as helpless as you are.

An aggravated cry spills out of you, a strain behind your eyes as you take another swing.

“Stop it,” he snaps, his smile gone.

He finally goes on the offense, catching your hands and pinning them down. There is a moment of struggle before you feel the driver door at your backside, his body caging you in. You rear up against him but he holds you down, hip to hip, hand to hand.

“I said stop it,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you ask, voice breaking. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your chest is pressed against his, moving with your breath while he stands like an ungiving wall. You glare at him and he stares back. His brow furrows in seeming confusion. He closes both eyes and breathes out, a steadying breath.

You thought seeing him lose composure would make you feel better, but you feel worse, more unnerved than before.

He looks at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering when he clenches it. You stare at it as he releases you.

“You must know I can’t trust you,” you say.

You make the mistake of lifting your hands to shove him away. You do not intend to punch him again, the worst of that aggression gone, but he doesn’t know that. You suppose you can’t blame him for his instincts after your demonstration.

When you lift your hands, he grabs your wrists. Swiftly and effortlessly, he pins your hands by your head.

“Oh,” he says. His eyebrows lift and his face is far more expressive than you expected. “I’m the one who can’t be trusted, right?”

“Excuse me?” you snap.

“I’m doing my job, yeah,” he says. “Yesterday you were running jobs for Daddy and today you shot him dead. Wanna talk about erratic behaviour? Wanna talk about who’s unpredictable? About who can trust who here?”

Your mouth parts with a useless, breathless rebuttal, stammering and empty. You didn’t expect that many words from him, not when he has been a silent shadow for so long. Never mind the easy, casual speech, every colloquialism and the taunting hurl of daddy. It makes you think of that scathing, troublesome boy he once was, as sharp with his tongue as everything else. But he is not that boy. You know for a fact he was broken. He has done all those jobs for Miroh without causing any strife in the operation. He is a weapon and nothing more. He exists to follow orders.

Until today. Until you.

“So?” you finally say, because what else can you say?

“So?” he repeats.

“So.” You have those million questions, but there is only one that really matters. “What are we? Soldiers without a general? Because right now it seems like we’re two people who have no reason to trust each other and no reason to work together.”

Your gazes are locked and you measure each other. Not that you are much of a threat to him. He has you pinned with very little effort. If you were at your fighting best, you like to think it would be a little challenge, but right now you stand no chance against him.

But he doesn’t want to hurt you or he would have done it already.

He drops your hands. He doesn’t step away, still regarding you with that scrutinous eye, but it is a menial demonstration of trust.

You drop your arms. You stare back at him, refusing to show the depth of your weakness. You think his body might be keeping yours upright, your legs so weak. You do everything in your power to keep your wild emotions in check, to keep the tears in the back of your eyes. You breathe deeply.

“I’ll help you find your friend,” Chan says, the last thing you expect him to say. You can only watch as he sighs and speaks. “You were my last mission,” he says. “Miroh told me to bring you in. I did. He wanted me to watch you. I am. He wanted me to be your—” He laughs but it is not a happy sound, dry and devoid of pleasure. “Your bodyguard, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Consider this me following orders,” he says. “That’s what I do, yeah? I follow orders. And I don’t leave a job unfinished. Ever.”

“And Miroh?” you say tentatively. “The fact I killed him?”

He shrugs dramatically, hands open in surrender.

“Miroh didn’t make me his bodyguard,” Chan says. “He made me yours.”

It is such preposterously simple logic that you laugh, a disbelieving bark of a sound. You look around at nothing, like the answer to your ridiculous circumstance is in the trees or the road.

When you look at Chan, he is still looking at you, his brow quirked inquisitively.

“Well?” he says. “Is that enough? Can we work together to finish this last job?”

“Your job,” you say slowly. You meet his eyes. “So that’s what I am to you?”

It’s meant to be an easy question with a reassuring answer. He is a soldier. You are his job. He will do what you ask. It’s as simple as that.

He tilts his head as he looks at you. His contemplation is too heavy. It was a simple question for a simple soldier who should speak no language outside of missions and reports.

His gaze is searing and it makes your heart skip a startled beat.

“Yes,” he says. He speaks the word like it’s exhausting to say out loud. It lands with a thud on an exhale. “My job.”

His forearm is planted by your head. His other hand grips your bicep. He is keeping you in place with his hips and thighs. You can feel the tension in his body.

You have no idea why you do what you do. It comes from the same place as those desperate punches. You know it’s useless, you know nothing will come of it, but you ride the propulsion of adrenaline. Your body, on the brink of desperation, has been pushed to its utmost capabilities in the last couple hours. What does it want? What do you want?

What did you ever really want?

You kiss him.

It shocks you both. Unlike the punch, he does not know how to retaliate. He stands there, breathing into your mouth. He is neither encouraging nor withdrawing.

You stop quickly and wipe your mouth. Mortification sets in.

None of this is like you. You blame stress. Your body is confused and hurt. You need recuperation. Whether you like it or not, you need comfort too. It is a deep internal call, only human. But you won’t be getting that from the solid, inhuman wall around you.

You push at that wall and it finally gives. Chan steps back. You doubt a punch would have moved him so easily as that kiss.

“Ignore that,” you say. “Adrenaline. I’m still – not right.”

He just stares, once more a silent shadow. You breathe out in a huff.

“Okay,” you say. “And we’re back to the staring. At least I know you’re still working.”

You turn to open the car door, effectively ending the tense exchange. Chan walks away. He silently circles the car to reach the passenger door. You look at his face, once more stoic and expressionless. He doesn’t look at you, dropping into the vehicle without another glance or sound.

You close your eyes. You take another deep breath of fresh air.

Maybe this is good. Maybe Chan is the ally you need right now. Someone level, someone only concerned with mission parameters. Someone who will not become compromised because of emotion.

Because you are very compromised.

You are not thinking clearly. You need a plan and some water and rest.

You get in the car. You start the engine. You don’t speak another word.

You drive for hours, wanting distance between you and the destruction.

The silence in the car is piercing, your head aching after the first hour. The little space acts like an echo chamber for your tumultuous thoughts. You keep replaying the day, every death and cry. You think about your security team strewn across those stairs, just another casualty in Miroh’s game. You think about your father, the unplanned murder but the utter lack of regret in your heart.

You think about Changbin. Your reckless side wants to look for him right now. You cannot stand to waste another second. Based on your father’s words, he could be anywhere, subject to any number of horrors. But despite the whirlwind tempest of your mind, there is a soldier inside you and she is more pragmatic. You are in no condition to fight. Even if you knew Changbin’s exact location, you would be no use to him. You need to rest, formulate a legitimate plan, then attack.

You can’t afford to make any mistakes. Better than anyone, you know the forces you are up against.

You pull into a highway fill-up station at dusk. The car needs fuel and so do you. There is a little shop near the fuel pumps, the place deserted other than the bored cashier behind the counter.

There was some cash in the glove box, enough for necessities. You will inevitably need to steal or manipulate, but you prefer to lay low tonight. You were careful to avoid traffic cameras and security tv as you exited the previous city. By the time the car is reported and Miroh’s operation works out your connection, you will be off the grid.

You turn off the engine and reach for the wallet. Chan snatches it first.

“What are you doing?” is spoken in unison.

“I’m going to buy us some fucking water and food,” you say.

“Are you? Really?” He gives you a pointed up-and-down look. “You gonna do that looking like you just played cannonball with a cement wall?”

You have not gotten a good look at yourself, just a flash in the rearview mirror, but he is probably right. You feel like utter shit so you must look it too.

“Well, you can’t go in there either,” you say. Even without the mask, he is clearly in an unusual uniform. A bored clerk will remember a terrifying soldier in combat clothes marching through his shop.

Chan flashes you a dimpled smile, frighteningly charming.

“Sure I can,” he says. “Just have to blend in.”

Your eyes widen as he discards both gloves then opens the neck of his shirt. You stare as he efficiently strips off his top layers.

If he looked powerful in the uniform, he looks as just as intimidating without it. He doesn’t boast gargantuan proportions but he doesn’t need it. There is lethal strength to the rolling musculature of his sturdy body.

You shouldn’t care. Soldiers strip all the time, long assignments and shared compartments making it an inevitability. But Chan is not just another soldier. In your head, he is that living shadow, covered all the way up to his eyes in the Miroh black and blue. Seeing all that skin is a startling reminder of the man under the mask.

You find Chan watching you, amused. That stupid eyebrow is quirked again.

“What?” you snap.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Be right back. Don’t miss me too bad.”

You roll your eyes, slumping in your seat as he gets out of the car. You have half a mind to drive away but you are pretty sure he would find a way to manifest at your destination anyway.

You watch as he enters the shop in a nonchalant stroll, wearing just his pants and boots. He waves at the cashier and says something that makes him laugh.

To his credit, Chan looks like a regular guy on a hot day, casually perusing a gas station shop. He makes small talk with the cashier and they laugh some more.

You knew Chan was a good soldier but you didn’t expect him to be such a good agent too. He is probably better at the civilian act than you. You are standoffish and opt for a quiet demeanour, blending in through invisibility rather than a persona.

Chan walks in and out, the cashier unaware of the nature of his customer. You return to the road with a full of tank of gas and some sustenance.

“Are you going to put your shirt back on?” you ask.

He gives you a side-eye as he shrugs the outermost layer back on. He doesn’t do it up. You refuse to act like a glimpse of his bare chest means anything to you.

Except it does. When he sits there with his knee against the console and his skin showing and a tuft of hair over his forehead, he looks like a person. He is a person, one who has been subject to some of the worst horrors of Miroh’s operation.

There is no denying Chan is a complicated figure, unwillingly complicit in atrocities. He acts like a normal person with a fully cognizant mind, but you just witnessed for yourself how easily he can fake that. You do not know how much of the real Bang Chan is actually inside him.

“Chan,” you say after a long time. The sun has almost fully set, the sky in its navy gloaming.

“Yeah?” he says.

There are no words that suffice. You could give an entire speech and it would be virtually meaningless.

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaving the breadth of the apology up to his interpretation. You keep your eyes on the endless miles of highway that stretch ahead. There is a long journey in front of you. There is a longer road behind you.

The car is illuminated with golden light from passing cars and overhead lamps. It flashes over his face in the deepening darkness.

“Don’t be,” Chan says. He crosses his arms in a protective position, looking out his window though there is nothing to see but the highway and passing cars. “None of this was your fault,” he says.

You laugh, a similar humourless sound to his earlier laughter.

“That’s not entirely true,” you say, thinking of all the missions you deliberately ran for Miroh. You thought you could make it mean something. You were just like your father, believing the ends would justify the means. You never tortured Chan yourself, but you were part of the operation that kept him in chains. There was nothing you could do to save him, but you certainly never tried.

He looks at you. You hear him move, the crinkle of his clothes, the water bottle he twists in his grip.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” he says. “Seriously. Today was crazy. Everything’s crazy. You’re not responsible for it.”

“I’m not not responsible,” you say. “My team is dead. My friend is gone. My dad – well, you can’t say I didn’t do that.”

“He had that one coming,” Chan says, his laugh a little more real. “No offense, but your dad kinda sucked.”

You find yourself laughing more genuinely too.

“Yeah,” you say. “I think we can agree on that.”

You fall into silence but it is more comfortable than before. There has been an undeniable tension since the moment he climbed in this car, looking at you with questioning confusion as you pointed a gun at him. You were panicking but he must have been equally bewildered. To him, you were a mission. He lives by his orders.

“I should apologize to you,” he says.

You look at him with obvious surprise. He meets your gaze, his expression sincere if not a little chagrined. His dimples show with a faint smile but it is not very happy.

“I’ve been an ass,” he says. “Today was – well.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Trust me,” you say. You try to lighten the mood with your tone. “I’m a Miroh. You will never have to apologize to me for as long as you live.”

He doesn’t laugh or even force that pretend sound. He stares ahead, his gaze sorrowful and faraway.

“Sorry, that was—” you begin.

He forces a smile and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Truce?”

Smiling feels awkward and your injuries probably make you a terrifying sight. But he accepts it, nodding at you. The car does not feel like such a claustrophobic space after that. The air is clear as it can be, considering who you are.

Neither of you has an identity right now. You were tethered to the same monstrosity and now it is gone. Everything is different.

You are too tired for another late-night heart-to-heart. It is time for rest.

There is enough cash for a cheap motel room. You find a quiet inn off the highway, sequestered beyond trees and countryside fields. You finally look at yourself properly in the bathroom mirror. You decide Chan’s earlier remarks were a severe understatement. You look like a battleground more than a soldier.

You injures will repair themselves with time, but it is a grisly sight. You shower for now. The soap and water helps.

You don the same shirt and underwear. New clothes will be a necessity. You mentally plan tomorrow, everything you will need to accrue before you formulate an attack. You have already mentally plotted the closest facilities, but you will need to verify their function and security protocol before striking.

You are mentally strategize as you exit the bathroom. You are distracted, thinking nothing of the fact you are wearing underwear and a shirt.

Chan already showered because you insisted, knowing you would take longer with your injuries. He is sitting on one of the single beds, sorting through his weapons. There is the gun you stole from Miroh plus his own array of armaments, things so well hidden you did not realize he even had them. They are laid out on the bed. He sits at the foot in his combat pants and nothing else, his dark hair damp and face bare.

You stroll past him, feeling his eyes as they lift from a gun to your bare legs. Now that you have scrubbed the worst of the brutality from your body, you feel like something of a person again. His flicker of attention ignites an undeniable spark in your belly. At first, it startles you, because the First Guard is the absolute last person you should ever think of like that.

But then you look at him. He has turned his eyes back to his work, saying nothing as he reloads the gun with second-nature efficiency. He is holding a weapon but, despite his conditioning, he is just a man.

You are a grounded person. You keep your head down and go about your tasks with confident certainty. He is here, you are here, it has been a long day, and it is not unusual for soldiers to seek comfort before the dawn of a new fight. Comfort is as important in healing and recuperation as anything else.

You sit on your own bed and look at him. He is effortlessly attractive with his dark hair and dark eyes, the sloping muscle of his firm body. You trace his chest and abdomen with your eyes. He does not lift his gaze, his attention on the gun.

“Do you want to fuck?” you ask.

Bang Chan is the best soldier in the force. You are pretty sure he has never fumbled a weapon quite so spectacularly. It clatters to the floor and he kicks it under your bed.

“What!” he says. He doesn’t look at you as he retrieves the gun, laughing a comically nervous giggle. “Um… what?” he asks again. Before you can answer, he shakes his head. “That’s uh, wait. Um. No. Bad idea, right? I mean—”

“It’s just a suggestion,” you say, not really offended. “It’s been a long day. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both adults here.”

As you say it, you consider his circumstances. Chan has spent his entire life in the house of Miroh. He is not innocent but he might be inexperienced. This man has killed dozens of people and worked dozens of dangerous operations. His body is built for violence, not pleasure, and certainly not his own.

You find yourself blurting, “Have you ever…?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, brow furrowing with annoyance.

“All right, all right, just asking,” you say. You decide not to push the topic because it clearly makes him uncomfortable. You just cleared the air and you don’t want to muddy it again.

You change the topic swiftly. You make some empty remark about the weather as you turn on the small television. It’s an old contraption, buzzing with static as it flickers to life.

Chan resumes his work. He puts his head down to concentrate.

Your gaze inevitably strays to him.

His hair dries curly. It feels like an unusual thing to know about the First Guard. He looks so much younger with a clean face.

You jump when that face lifts. He looks at you.

“It wasn’t… you know…” There is a hunch to his shoulders, his eyes dropping to his work. “I just did it on missions, ya know?”

“Did it,” you say. “On missions.” It doesn’t register right away, partly because you are tired and partly because you did not expect him to continue this conversation. “You mean sex?” you ask. “You had sex on missions?”

“I had sex for missions,” he corrects, eyes on the weapon he is disassembling. He is acting like the conversation is meaningless, his attention divided, but you know his task does not require that degree of concentration. He could take that thing apart in perfect darkness.

“For missions,” you repeat. “What, like a honeypot type scheme? You?”

It seems ridiculous at first. You picture the First Guard smashing through windows and tackling you in stairwells. There is nothing seductive about that raw violence. But then you look at the man in front of you, young and handsome, the one who so easily charmed that cashier while pretending he was someone else. You picture him in a suit and tie, maybe a t-shirt and jeans. He would be devastating with the right preparation.

Chan is the best. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you he would excel regardless of the scheme.

“Something like that,” he says. He finally loads the magazine. “It wasn’t so bad, though. Seriously.” He twirls the gun with an effortless flourish. The grip finds his palm like the pistol is a part of him. “Trust me. My body was used for worse things. You get that too, yeah?”

You suppose you relate well enough. You were raised in the same program, put through the same grueling regimen. You have done things and you are not proud of them all. Your circumstances are not the same, though. You are each uniquely situated in your positions, even if you started in the same place.

We’re all that’s left.

Changbin’s voice in your head causes your mind to drift.

“What about you?” Chan asks, drawing you back to the conversation.

“Me?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “You.”

The First Guard is asking you about your sex life. You woke this morning in a safe house and put on combat gear, ready for another mundane day of field work. Somewhere in the middle of that was a cascade of violence. Now Bang Chan is asking about your sexual proclivities. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would laugh.

“I mean, nothing special,” you say, sufficing for the boring truth. “Mostly just this. Sex doesn’t really mean anything to me. It’s like exercise. Long nights on a job. You know. Fellow soldiers on a mission. Sometimes a civilian hook-up.”

You can’t parse the expression on his face. His gaze is somewhat judgemental, or maybe it is just scrutinizing, intensely focussed. It bristles your nerves. Your tone is more derisive when you say, “I’m not a romantic.” You hold his intense stare in your own. “Sex is just a bodily function to me. Sometimes the body needs the release or the pleasure or whatever, so I satisfy it and move on. That’s who I am. I work. I get the job done. That’s what I have always done.”

What you always did. You are not sure how to describe yourself anymore. You nonetheless punctuate that definitive statement. You assume that is the end of the conversation.

Then Chan asks, “So there’s… no one… for you?”

If he was any other soldier, you would think he was angling for flirtation, but he just turned down your very blatant offer. You do not know why he has any motivation to ask such personal and irrelevant questions.

It is not worth the argument. You conclude with a simple, “No.”

He nods, rocking his whole body with the force of his too-casual gesture. The tips of his ears are red, though your gaze does not stay there. You are quickly distracted by his bicep. He lifts an arm to rub the back of his neck, muscles softly rippling. His brazen questioning coupled with his awkward shyness is incongruous.

You think it is unlikely you will ever understand this man. He has been taken apart and put back together too many times. Fragments of him seem to fire all at once and in great contradiction.

“What about Changbin?” he asks. “He must be pretty special to you. Ya know, for you to have done all this for him.”

You are simultaneously struck by repulsion and sentiment. Changbin is very special and you regret not realizing it sooner. He has always been at your side, taking hits to protect you well before he became your bodyguard. He is the person who kept you smiling. You understood each other on a different level. His friendship was a rare gift and you took it for granted. Now you would do anything to have it back.

But also…

It’s Changbin. Ew. You are an only child but you feel a brotherly affection for him. Picturing him in any other context is nauseating. It just feels wrong.

You have such a visceral reaction of disgust that Chan laughs. He puts up his hands as if in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he says. “Just friends, then?”

“Yes,” you say. “Though there’s nothing just about it.”

You have replayed that rooftop exchange a hundred times, torturing yourself with every possible outcome. If only you did this, if only he did that. You rearrange every second, trying to find a version with a different ending.

You wonder how he will react when he finds out what you did. Aha, murder princess living up to her name! he might say. The old man should have seen it coming. I knew you could it, but of course I did. I’m so much smarter and better looking than everyone else here.

You smile at the idea but it fades quickly.

Changbin was with you last night. He was sitting within arm’s reach, his scar under your fingertips. Now he could be anywhere and it’s all your fault. Not just because of the rooftop mistakes, but because of every mistake you made before that.

You exhale. Your shoulders shake. Chan watches you close a fist around a pillow.

“You all right?” he asks.

“I’m ending it,” you say.

“Sorry, what?”

“I always thought Miroh was an inevitability.” You are speaking out loud but mostly to yourself. Your gaze is fixed on some distant point, your mind and heart miles away. “But he wasn’t,” you say. “No more soldiers. No more experiments. No more bribes and theft and terror. My father is dead and I am going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I am going to make sure his work dies with him.”

You look at Chan. A day ago, you both existed for Miroh. Now you are two people planning to dismantle an empire from a motel room and a stolen car.

“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask.

A part of you is braced for the worst, that he will reject it, that he will revert to some kind of conditioned programming and drag you back to a facility for condemnation.

Even while you think it, you know it won’t happen. The eyes staring back at you are as clear as your own.

“I’m just the bodyguard,” Chan says. “I go wherever you go. Always.”

You feel invigorated to start now, but you are tired beneath the burst of adrenaline. You need to let your body heal.

The room is dark and you doze in the light of the television. After a couple hours, you roll over and find Chan is still awake. He is laying on his bed, arms crossed and eyes open. He is watching the shopping channel, ad after ad after ad, with far more intensity than it merits. His mind must be somewhere else. You can only imagine what he is thinking about.

You wonder how much he knows about himself. He responded to your half-coherent treasonous pleading. Does he remember hating Miroh? Or is he truly only helping you because of mission parameters?

It is easy to forget when he is a bare-faced, curly-haired young man slouching in a motel bed, but Bang Chan is lethally competent. He knew all of Miroh’s innermost schemes. It will come in handy now, but it makes him an irrevocably dark character, whether it was willing or not.

You wonder how much Changbin would trust him.

Wait.

You were so distracted with your plans, you did not question a moment in your conversation.

Chan mentioned Changbin.

You never told Chan the identity of your friend. When you were pleading with him, you just called him a friend.

Maybe Chan heard you talking to your father. Maybe he knows about your relationships because that was his job. Maybe he just guessed because Changbin volunteered himself in the ring.

Maybe Bang Chan remembers more than he is letting on.

You fall asleep to the soft drone of the television. Your mind is walking in circles and you dream of similar rings. Nightmares of chrome cages and steel traps, a suffocating helplessness squeezing your ribcage.

In your dreams, the room fills with smoke, a charcoal smog that chokes you as quickly as the compression on your chest. You look down but you can’t see your body, only feel it. Your invisible body struggles against invisible bindings. You gasp for breath.

Your father appears. It is him holding you down, a heavy hand in the middle of your chest. You cry out. You want to move but your body is trapped.

You close your eyes. When you open them, Changbin is there. He is still a teenager. His head is bleeding – why is his head bleeding? – but he wipes the blood as if it’s nothing more than sweat, all his focus on you.

Of course it is. He’s your friend. He’s here to save you. How did you not see it before? It’s like you have been moving through the world in a fog, the same grey smoke that envelopes you now. His face is the only clear image, gawky with youth but alive and real.

The weight is lifted off your chest. Black spots swarm your vision as you suck in a lungful of air.

When you look again, Changbin is grown. He looks like he did a day ago, dark bangs in his eyes, stocky build ready for a fight.

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

Not leaving here.

His voices dances around you. You are trapped in your body, a screaming, shrieking force, watching through dead eyes as the world spins. People pass but they don’t hear you. You try to reach for someone but your body doesn’t respond to your thoughts.

A labyrinthine stretch of road unfurls then disappears. You are standing in the infirmary at the main facility. You stare at yourself, the younger version of you. You are already dead behind the eyes, resigned to your situation. There are masked doctors around you. A tray full of needles. You watch as the long point penetrates your skin. You’re just a child, arm so small in comparison.

Your child face contorts with pain, an expression your adult face cannot mimic because you cannot control your face.

You remember the pain, even if you cannot cry. It was like nothing you had ever felt. The pain meant it was working. The medicant was only administered to you when it had been thoroughly tested. The first injection killed every subject except one. The second program was a success.

The children were writhing in pain for weeks, screaming and crying, begging for parents that never came. Yours did, looming over your bedside, touching your feverish forehead and speaking through the fog of pain.

An investment, Miroh called it. You’ll thank me one day.

Changbin is there. He is a child too. They put a needle in his skinny arm. He winces but he doesn’t cry. He isn’t scared of the needles or the pain, but he isn’t eager either. He is just there, his head down.

You blink and he is grown. The needle is still in his arm, only it is not an injection but an extraction. You watch the fullness of his face wither. They are taking too much. He becomes a child again, screaming in pain.

The same pain moves inside you.

No, worse.

Worse.

You never could have imagined a worse pain. It courses through your whole body, peeling apart your insides while you lay there, helpless, watching.

Your father stands over you. You’ll thank me one day.

He disappears. For a flickering moment, you see Bang Chan. Curly-haired, dimpled cheeks. He stutters and shakes like a bad film projection. His face contorts, changes. Wide dark eyes stare at you, his face covered in rain – water – tears? Pouring down his cheeks, mouth open and a mute cry in the grey.

You want to touch him but you cannot move. His face flickers again. You feel a tiny, infinitesimal twitch in your pinky.

Then he disappears altogether. Your father is there. He grabs you by the shoulders and slams you down, straight through the earth, holding you there in the darkness where no one can find you and you cannot move.

“Hey—” comes a voice, somehow reaching you in the depths of that pit. “Hey, hey, hey, wake up.”

In your dream, your father shoves you.

In reality, you are thrashing in a motel bed.

It takes a minute to realize you are awake, that everything was just a terrible dream. Your adrenaline is a white hot heat in your chest, your voice a strangled shriek as you clamour around the twisting sheets.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Chan says. “You’re just dreaming, whoa, easy, c’mon… It’s all good. Easy now. Breathe for me, okay?”

It feels like your first breath in years. It goes down shaky, your vision blurry. You realize Chan is holding your wrist, lightly but carefully. You blink up at him. He turned on the bedside light at some point. Half his face is lit in gold as he looks at you with concern. It is such a strange expression to see on him. These were the same eyes glaring at you over that uniform mask. Now that brow is pinched with worry, his own breath a staggered thing.

“You all right?” he asks.

You are sitting upright. You look at your wrist in his hand.

“Did I try to punch you again?” you ask.

“You missed,” he says, smiling. Then he shakes his head and says more seriously, “It was my fault. You were yelling in your sleep so I woke you up. I guess it was too fast or something. Just, you know, I don’t think the walls are very thick here.”

“Right,” you say. Your heart is still stampeding. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he says. “You… you good…?”

“Yeah,” you say. You are too weary for patience, so sarcasm spills out of you. “Peachy.”

He opens his mouth but you don’t wait to hear it. You slide out of bed and land on shaky legs. Your whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat. You want to shower, wash away the nightmare and the terror.

You are a light sleeper. You never dream like that. It is a testament to your exhaustion that you fell into such a deep sleep.

You tell yourself it was a dream, but your reassurances don’t work. Because it wasn’t really a dream, was it? It was flashes of real moments, real faces, real pain.

You stand under steady stream of hot water. You watch as the heat and the torrent opens a few scrapes, the water at your feet turning red. You think of Changbin with a needle in his arm, all that red pouring out of him. Standing there, helpless to do anything, like you are right now.

You have no idea where he is. You look at the scar on your palm and think of him in the moonlight, him in the ring, him at your side. A smile, a joke, a reassurance. A hand in yours, a promise.

He knew you better than you know yourself. He predicted this exact crisis of identity.

When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…

He drew that line across his palm. You picture a chasm of a wound, gaping and red, rushing red at your feet.

Just remember me, he said. I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.

True to his word, a man of principle to the end, he is bleeding for you right now.

In all your years of training, fighting, and soldiership, of missions and schemes, tricks and plots, you have always kept composure. Now it all weighs on you at once, every single second of your life, and it’s too much.

When was the last time you cried? You can’t even remember. It pours out of you now, big ugly gasping sobs that spill into the shower. You sit down where the water is pooling in pink. You wrap your arms around your legs and draw them up to your chest like a child.

You do not know how long you sit there, crying until it feels like there is no more water left in your body. It must be a long time because the water runs from hot to lukewarm. It feels strange to heave dry sobs with the shower still pouring down on you.

The water abruptly stops. You lift your head.

Chan stands there. He doesn’t look at you directly, his expression solemn, but he turns off the water and gets you a towel.

It feels surreal. Bang Chan is moving around a small motel bathroom, helping you like he has helped you all day. You stare at him with scrunched, sore eyes, your throat too strained to speak. You drop your legs and let him wrap the towel around you. Your heart kicks with momentary fright when he scoops you up, an effortless sweep.

No one has ever done something like this for you. You wouldn’t have let them, even if they tried.

You need it. You never realized how much you needed it. You are certain you will feel embarrassed in the morning, but right now you put your arms around his neck and cling for dear life.

He says nothing. He hooks an arm around your back and the other under your legs. He carries you back into the room and lays you in your bed, adjusting the towel for your modesty before pulling the blankets over you.

You continue to sputter and hiccup, looking at him as he moves. You wonder if he looks like this on a mission, determined and swift.

No. The First Guard wouldn’t fix the pillows under your head. He wouldn’t tuck the blankets around you.

Bang Chan stands over you, wearing nothing but his combat pants, no weapons or masks or piercing stares. He has curly dark hair and a soft face. When you touch his bare shoulder, he looks at you with a heart-shattering amount of tenderness. You didn’t know anyone could look at somebody that way, never mind him, never mind at you.

There’s a person inside him. There’s a person inside you. You don’t know who either of those people are, but you want to know. You need to know.

You curl your hand into a fist and feel the scar on your palm. A day ago, none of this would have mattered, but you know why it matters now.

“We have to find him,” you say. Your rasping voice is barely above a whisper.

Chan slowly cups his hand over yours, his palm to your knuckles, holding your touch against his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers. He nods.

“We will,” he says.

“You’ll help me?” you say.

“Yeah.” His own voice is a rasp, skirting the edge of emotion too. He swallows it down and smiles at you. “Like I said. I go wherever you go. Always.”

He sits with you in the soft golden light of that small bedside lamp. You do not think you can sleep again, but then exhaustion settles over you.

You are on the cusp of sleep when he touches your forehead. Your eyes meet briefly. It wakes you with a heart flutter, similar to a dream that drops you into reality. It is the heart-racing thump of a sudden fall. The kind that feels so real, more like a memory than a dream.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

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lcvclywon · 13 days

Text

the waves and evening air

back to masterlist

synopsis .ᐟ When you and your best friend Jungwon get stranded on the beach, it might be a bigger blessing than you realise

warnings: mentions of food, denied feelings, fluff fluff fluff, not anything I can think of rn!

genre ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ; best friends to lovers

parings: best friend!Jungwon x best friend!female reader

wc ˖° around 1.2k ^^

thoughts frm yuya 💭 this was definitelyyyy based off that one scene from reply 1988 where taek and deoksun get stranded at the beach bc that's my comfort drama ^^ also thank you to my pookie @wonfilms for helping me conjure this up at 2 am, wrote this for u elle fr ><

“This is all your fault!” you cried out while slightly pushing Jungwon to the side (to which his stance sadly did not falter). To give some context, Jungwon had stupidly convinced you to stay just a little bit longer at the beach in hopes to find a few more seashells he could keep as souveniers. Which then resulted in you two missing the bus back home, meaning you would have to wait for next bus. Unfortunately said bus would only come at 8pm that night, meaning you had around 3 hours to kill.

“Hey! It’s not that bad. At least we got cute seashells,” Jungwon defended as you two walked away from the bus stop defeatedly “, and I’d say three hours goes by quick if you have fun!” You turned to his face which had a grin plastered across to accompany his hopelessly optimistic attitude.

“Yeah and how do you suppose we do that, we already did like 99% of the activities they have to do at this place.” you grumbled whilst kicking at small pebbles in your way as you walked

“Uh well…” Jungwon said before scanning around the boardwalk to see if there were any shops that you’d haven’t been to yet. Suddenly catching something from the corner of his eye his head perked up before exclaiming “Hey shaved ice! We haven’t had that yet, and besides you need a refreshment.”

“I guess…” you grumbled under your breath before Jungwon started forcefully dragging your body to the shaved ice shop. Eyes glistening with hope and steps fueled with determination.

“Hello! Uhm could we have two orders of shaved ice: one mango and one strawberry! Oh um both small sizes please, thank you.” you envied how no matter the situation, Jungwon’s voice always managed to come out calm and cheery. You also always caught onto how Jungwon knew your favourite flavours by heart, despite never telling him outwardly how much you loved mangos.

Shaved ice in hand you both made your way down near the sand to sit and watch the waves. Jungwon had mentioned earlier he hoped to catch the sunset with you before leaving, guess he got his wish you thought to yourself. You both sat in a comfortable silence while enjoying your desserts, letting the gentle sounds of the waves fill your ears.

“Hey is yours any good?” Jungwon asked breaking the silence

“Oh, yeah it’s good!” you said before scooping out a spoon of shaved ice for yourself. However before you could get to even enjoying the sweet treat Jungwon’s head dipped down and stole the bite you had crafted for himself, smirking before responding with a sly “Hm, it is good.”

You nudged him slightly before whining out “Hey, that bite was for me!”

In response Jungwon scooped out a spoonful of his shaved ice; moving the spoon closer to your mouth with a hand under to catch anything that might fall, uttering a small and simple “ahh”

Despite the blush forming across your cheeks you moved your head forward to accept his offer, the sweet strawberry flavour melting on your mouth leaving you with a satisfied smile. You have to admit, shaved ice wasn’t a horrible idea. Leaning back into your chair you sighed out, eyes wandering to the oceans waves moving back and forth with the tide, a gentle smile forming across you face. One that Jungwon seemed to notice.

“What’s on your mind hm?” he asked before spooning a mouthful of shaved ice into his mouth and tilting his head to face you. How did he always catch on to the small things?

“Hm? Oh nothing, just you know-” you answered while poking at your somewhat melted dessert “this is, nice…”

“Told you so.” Jungwon joked with a smug grin, elbowing you playfully.

“Nevermind, I take it all back, worst idea ever.” you deadpanned before turning away from him slightly.

“Kidding kidding!” he said whilst wrapping his hand around you wrist to pull you closer. God he had to stop making your heart flutter.

Suddenly a huge gust of wind blew in your direction, the bitter cold causing shivers to run down your body. Immediately your hands reached to your sides to rub them and hopefully generate some warmth, which Jungwon once again seemed to notice.

Without a word he unzipped his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Looking up in startled, you cocked your head to the side with a confused look glazing your eyes. He simply flashed a small knowing smile in response, was his smile always this pretty?

As the sun set darkness quickly engulfed the beach which led you two to heading into a small restaurant to enjoy a warm bowl of hot pot. You sat peacefully enjoying your warm bowl of soup whilst jungwon poured a bit more into your bowl. Glancing up you muttered out a small thank you in between bites.

Shortly after the old woman who had been serving your table and running the restaurant came up to you two asking “Would you and your girlfriend like more soup?”

You choked slightly on your fishcake before rushing to deny that you two were dating, however Jungwon seemed to be quicker.

“No we’re just finishing up! Thank you though, must be hard running this place yourself” he replied politely

“Oh it’s no trouble! What a gentleman you are, I’ll go and get your check then. You kids enjoy the meal” she cooed before heading off to the back.

You stared at Jungwon with puzzled eyes and mouth slightly agape before uttering “Girlfriend?”

“No point in correcting her right? Eat, eat…” he responded nonchalantly before spooning the remaining bits of fishcake into your bowl. What did he mean by that? You tried to brush it off and continued eating, but you couldn’t lie that it remained in the back of your mind even while riding the bus back home.

“I mean there kinda was a point.” you said out of the blue, obviously throwing Jungwon off guard a bit.

“Hm, what do you mean?” his face resembling confused kitten as he tilted his head to the side

“I mean, we aren’t dating. So there kinda was a point in correcting her” you reached for the hem of your skirt twiddling with it slightly.

“I mean we might as well be right?” Jungwon answered before lacing your hand with his. A bright blush formed across your face when you registered what he just said. What?

“So does that mean…” you asked expectantly, trailing off as you were too embarrassed to finish your question.

“It means exactly what you think it means.” Jungwon replied before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand “Why’d you think I made you stay and collect seashells? Obviously I don’t like seashells that much YN, I just wanted to keep hanging out with you.”

“Well it worked, today was great” you giggled out before yawning

“Are you sleepy?” Jungwon questioned attentively

“Hm just a bit…” you commented, feeling your eyelids begin to become heavier.

Before you could do anything Jungwon moved your head to rest on his shoulder before muttering a small “Sleep on me, I don’t mind”

You happily accepted his request, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber. A smile painted across your face, a smile you trusted you could always have with Jungwon.

Maybe missing the bus was worth it

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

mine

satoru gojo x f!reader

in which you decide to fake date your coworker, to get your parents off your back for a few months. can you continue on when the two of you start blurring lines between fake and real?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

“You’re going to fake date your boss?”

You smack Itadori across the back of his head, signaling him to talk quieter.

“You’re going to fake date your boss?” he asks, whispering this time.

“He’s not my boss, he’s just a coworker.”

“You’re going to fake date your coworker?”

You nod, reaching over to finish the leftover pancakes on Itadori’s plate. The three of them narrow their eyes at you, matching disapproving looks on all of their faces. You swear they practice it together when you’re not there.

“You’re in over your head. This isn’t going to fix your problem.” says Nobara, picking the strawberries off Megumi’s plate, much to his dismay.

“But, it is. My parents will lay off my back for a little bit, actually let me finish this clerkship without criticizing me every ten minutes. He gives them something to brag about in their circles, actually taking their focus off of pestering me.”

“You know they’ll just take to criticizing him instead of actually laying off of you. Be practical, Y/N” says Megumi.

“Plus, how do you know he’ll even do it?”

“Excellent question, Itadori. He needs a fake girlfriend just as much as I need a fake boyfriend. His parents won’t let him take over the firm if he doesn’t find a good match to perfect their company image. He said an aspiring lawyer matched the image, so it all works out.” you respond, finishing off the last of Itadori’s food.

“You already asked him? And he agreed?”

You nod in response, pulling out the contract you and Satoru had drafted earlier.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No romantic or sexual interactions with other people during the duration of the contract? No showing your face to the public unless both parties are present. Attendance at all firm related balls, galas, conferences. No telling other people. ”

“Contingency plans, Kugisaki. It helps make sure we both stick to our deal.”

“You just broke a rule.” deadpans Megumi.

“You guys don't count.”

Megumi and Nobara roll their eyes at you, with Itadori wishing you sincere luck in your endeavors.

You look around the room, craning to find where Satoru had run off to. He had left you at the bar, promising that he would return after he went to the bathroom. You already know he’s having diarrhea from that cheesecake he ate earlier.

You and Satoru had been fake dating for a month and a half now. Just as you predicted, your parents had gotten off your back, taking to their social circles to brag about how you were dating the son and future successor of one of the most esteemed law firms in all of Tokyo. As for Satoru’s parents, they had eased up on their criticism of him, Satoru swearing they’ll give him a real promotion any day now. You were a positive influence, they were beginning to trust him more. Your role at the firm was expanding as well, being assigned bigger projects and cases to work with as time went on.

As for the two of you, you guys were getting closer. After spending virtually every day together - driving to work together, eating lunch at the block nearby, going on dates at night - the two of you had grown close. Too close for your liking.

He was funny, unlike any other guy you had met in the past. While he seemed pretentious and immature when you first met him, you were pleasantly surprised to find out he was anything but. He was caring, compassionate, loving. You were convinced he was an angel in disguise, because no normal person could live and laugh that much.

The truth is he was growing on you. More than growing on you, you felt the presence of him being cemented into your routines, unable to go on without him. You couldn’t go to Mochicat without buying some kikufuku for him, you couldn’t go to the store without him there to reach the high shelves for you, you couldn’t go to sleep at night if he didn’t send his “goodnight beautiful fake gf :D. have a sex dream about me” text.

You feel a cold hand on the shoulder, your heart pounding at Satoru’s return.

“‘Toru, you’re back. I was wond-”

You turn to face him and realize you aren’t talking to Satoru but to Surugu, your beloved ex-boyfriend. He’s all dressed up, his hair grown out and secured into a bun at the top of his head. You put a step between the two of you, his hand falling from his place on your shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Come on, babe. Is that anyway to treat your old friends?”

“We aren’t friends, Suguru.”

“Don’t make a scene. Let’s share a drink. Old times sake.”

You glare at him, not backing down from where you were standing. You can feel an uneasy pit forming in your stomach, the sight of him bringing on a wave of nausea. Where’s Satoru when you need him?

You and Suguru dated for three years, almost four years ago now. The two of you had started off as friends, both attending university in the states, with Suguru in medical school while you were at law school.

The two of you had become close very fast, becoming closer than most friends were. You later found out there was a term for what he was doing, very cleverly named “lovebombing.” You spent almost everyday together and when you weren’t together, you were texting, calling, facetiming each other. He swore he couldn’t go a second without you.

Eventually, the two of you started dating, your friendship leading into a relationship between the two of you. You had opened up to him, telling him things you hadn’t told other people before. You swore you were in love with him, feeling like he was the only person you could be yourself with. You gave yourself to him, letting him into every little part of you.

Things changed when he moved to California to do his residency. The two of you did long distance for four months, until you realized he was no longer interested in you. After confronting him, he mentioned that his new girlfriend, Sophia, made him happy, in a way that you didn’t. You had no idea he had a new girlfriend. You didn’t even know that you had broken up.

He said he was unsure of how to break up with you, he thought you understood the situation when he left. Despite this, the two of you continued to talk for a year after that, Suguru saying that you would always be his best friend, someone who could never be replaced in his life. He would come back to New York on holidays, the two of you spending the week together.

You could have sworn he still loved you, deep down. Every time he came to see you, he’d hold you in his arms, kiss you like nothing had changed, made love to you like you were the only one. However, he’d return to Sophia at the end of the week, eventually saying your relationship with him made her uncomfortable, cutting any ties you had left. The two of you never spoke again.

Until now.

“I can’t. I have a boyfriend.”

“So I’ve heard. Sleeping your way to the top suits you well.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you got the Initech Case the other week. Quite a big case to give a junior associate. Do you really think they would have given that to you if you weren’t sucking junior Gojo’s dick? Though I suppose it’s no shock. You always did have trouble getting things on your own.”

You feel your blood rushing through your ears, clenching the wine glass in your hand so hard it shatters. The sound of the glass has everyone turning their heads, to find you fighting back your tears with a bloody hand.

You spot Satoru at the door with a concerned look plastered on his face. You can see him maneuvering through the people, trying his fastest to reach you. Before he can, you run to the closest door, moving up the stairs to exit to the balcony.

You pull up the side of your dress, placing your aching feet into the cold water of the pool. Your hand had stopped bleeding a little while ago, the red still smeared down the length of your arm. You use your uninjured hand to make ripples in the pool, the water moving through your fingertips.

“Oh, thank god. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You turn to find Satoru, unlacing his dress shoes and taking off his socks next to you. He sits at your side, placing his feet in the water. You feel him looking at you in your peripheral vision, but you refuse to meet his eye.

“Sorry. Needed a second.” you respond.

You feel his hand on the side of your cheek, lightly lifting your face up to look at him. You look up at his blue eyes, filled with concern, and can feel the tears you willed down rising up again. You see his expression tighten at the sight of your tears, it finally pushing you over the edge and bringing your tears on in full flesh.

You feel his arms wrap around you, your face tucked into his neck as he rubs small circles into your back. You can feel him whispering into your ear, shushing you as you sob against him. After a few minutes, your tears subside, your breath still shaking against him.

“What happened, bug? You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Did you give me the Initech Case just because I’m dating you?”

You see his eyes widening, a frown setting on his face.

“What? Of course not. You got the Initech Case because you’re best suited for the case. I didn’t even have a say in that decision”

You rub the back of your head against your nose, rubbing the excess tears off the side of your face.

“Do you think Yaga gave it to me because I’m dating you?”

“Bug, what is the Initech Case about?

“Abuse of power dynamics. Hana’s suing her boss, Daiki, for taking advantage of his position to make advances on her.” you respond.

“Right. Hana requested female counsel, specifically. She wanted to make sure she had someone who wouldn’t talk over her. But, Shoko’s still on leave till next month. You’re the only other girl at the firm.”

You’re quiet, turning back to face the water. You guess you were the only one who could do that case. But you can still hear Suguru in the back of your head, every horrible thing he said and did to you flooding your mind.

You feel his arm snake around you, his temple resting around yours. He stares down at the water with you, your reflections staring back at the both of you.

“Work with me here, bug. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallow hard, his blue eyes glimmering in the reflection of the water. His arm is warm, the polar opposite of Suguru’s frozen hands. You decide to jump.

“I’m tired of things not being mine.” you whisper, heart pounding.

You feel his hand reach the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“When I got into college, my parents took the credit, saying I wouldn’t have gotten there if they hadn’t tutored me and used their connections to get me there in the first place. When I got into law school, the boss I used to intern for asked me for a ‘well deserved kiss’, saying I wouldn’t have gotten in if he didn’t write me the letter he sent them. When Suguru left me, he said he was better suited to Sophia, because she owned him the second he met her. And now, I land a big case, work at an impressive law firm, but I only got here because I’m dating you. I just want something to be mine.” you say, your head in your hands.

He’s quiet, his hand still brushing across the side of your hair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, Satoru pondering over your words.

“In grade school, my first friend, Saiki, told me that he had only let me play with him because my parents had asked him to before we walked into class. In high school, I created a non-profit with my friend, meant to help incarcerated people find resources that would help them land jobs after being freed. When the non-profit took off, he took all the credit, stating that all I did was finance the project, when it was actually my idea. When I decided to work at the firm and become a lawyer, people turned down any interest I showed at other companies - they knew I was going to end up at my dad’s firm anyways. Nothing I ever do is mine either.”

You turn to him, looking into his eyes.

“But it doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“They’re going to say that about me regardless, bug. But does that really change what’s happening? Saiki will still be my friend, and play tag with me on the field. I still came up with that idea and my non-profit still helps people, even if my name isn’t on it. And I’ll still be a kick-ass lawyer, even if it’s at my parent’s firm.”

You soak in his words, letting the thoughts cross through your mind.

“I would still like to have some things to myself, Satoru. Things that are just mine.”

“And you do. Those godforsaken friends of yours, especially that grump little weirdo, that ugly ass cat, that disgusting green hoodie you own-

“Hey.”

“And me, of course. Those things are just yours.”

You smile at him for including himself in the list. You interlock your fingers with his, forgetting about the blood smeared all over your hand. He looks down, opening up your hand to tracing his fingers along the cut. He lifts your hand up, pressing his lips against the cut. You feel your skin burn at the contact, his soft lips brushing against your hand.

“Did you just try to kiss it better, Satoru?” you ask, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

“Did it work?”

“No.”

You look up at him, a smile plastered on his face. You swear your hand is shaking in his hold. He rolls his eyes, bringing his arms closer to yours, holding your face in his hands. The tips of his fingers brush through the sides of your hair, as he leans forward, his lips pressing a kiss on yours.

Every other kiss you had shared had been in the presence of other people, attempting to make your faux relationship look more realistic. But this was something else. The kiss was soft, slow, nothing like the rushed pecks the two of you had shared before. His lips are soft, warm. You swear you can taste the dessert he was eating earlier, his lips sweet. You can feel his hands lowering to rest around your neck, a smile forming on his mouth. He breaks apart, your face still in his hands.

“Did it work now?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You were flirting with her! In front of me, Satoru. And then you left me there at the table, sitting alone.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was just going to introduce me to her dad,”

“Why do you suppose that means? What else was she supposed to think when you told her you liked that dress and that you would love to be a part of the family?”

“It was a compliment! And you know what I meant, we’re trying to secure a deal with them.”

“So you admit it? You were trying to lay the moves on her as a business tactic.”

“Oh my god, Y/N. So what if I was? It helps the company if they share their cases with us.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you? You know your parents would love it if you got some big case with Soyin Paradigm.”

You pause, realizing you and Satoru aren’t arguing about the same thing. You knew the lines had been blurring recently, ever since the night you had spent at the pool and every date afterwards, but you never realized how far apart the two of you were standing. He was still focused on the promotion, the cases he could get. He didn’t care about you. You turn your back to him, running out the door and down the stairs to the street.

You hear him behind you, calling out your name to come back. You make it halfway across the street before he catches up, him blocking you from walking any further.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You pinch yourself for what you’re about to say next, bracing yourself for the goodbye.

“I think we’ve both fulfilled the terms of our contract. Your parents trust you and gave you a bigger role at the company like you said they would. My parents have enough to brag about for a few years. I think we should call it quits.”

You stare up at him, his eyes boring into yours.

“No.”

“What?”

“Why are you running away from me? What did I say?” he says, his grip on hands intensing.

“Nothing. This day was bound to come anyways, Satoru. We couldn’t go on like this forever.”

“Why not?”

“It’s fake, Satoru. I mean hell, you’re still flirting with other girls for goodness sake. You don’t even like me.”

You see anger flash in his eyes, his hands moving up to your shoulders.

“I don’t like you?”

“Yes, Satoru. You don’t.”

“Do you remember that night, when we sat by the water? I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since then. Every time I look at you it’s like the first time. Your stupid jokes, your ugly ass cat, the smile you only save for me, you’re literally everywhere. I tried to get the thought of you out of my mind, but I can’t. I can’t find a thing not to love about you.”

You feel your mouth dry at his words. He can’t find a thing not to love about you. He loves you.

“Come on, now. You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, bug.”

You feel your heart glowing at his words. You grab him by the collar, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your lips once again, his arms snaking around your waist. The two of you kiss - soft, sweet, slow - your hearts beating together. He tastes sweet, the taste of the strawberry mochi he had after dinner still lingering on his lips. You break apart, your cheeks tinted pink.

He smiles at you, running his finger across your lips. You lock your hand with his, the two of you making your way back to the apartment you had just ran out of.

“You wanna know something embarrassing?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on me, bug.” he says, smirking down at you.

“Okay?”

“That’s embarrassing. You have the hots for me”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door of your apartment behind the two of you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

1K notes · View notes

aritamargarita · 4 months

Text

SOLITUDE || 001

hello and welcome to the debut of solitude. to all my current readers, you already know what’s up, but to new and curious readers, this installment is based off of climbing the food chain of wwe, taking place in mostly the modern era, so there are superstars spanning from 2013 the earliest to 2022..

just let me cook on the timeline a little bit okay, you'll like it LOL. there’s a lot of Twitter segments in this so i hope it’s not annoying, they’re going to die down for the most part later i promise

without further ado, please enjoy!

TODAY IS THE first day of your call up. The support you’ve gotten from your friends from the training center was wonderful, but you’re still feeling antsy and incredibly nervous. Hopefully, your first day on the brand goes well..

Shawn Michaels was the one to break the news that you were getting called up. You could remember it so clearly because you completely ambushed him with an excited hug once he dropped the bomb on you.

He had patted your back and told you to lighten your grip a little bit, but not without a grin on his face.

If it’s one thing you deserve, it is the chance to expand your career. You always came early, and you were always prepared to learn.

You weren’t sure how to feel when he told you that you’d be heading to the main roster.

You only started as a superstar on the indie circuit and are only used to being on much smaller channels and local shows. You couldn’t even imagine being on WWE, which was broadcast on national television!

He had seen the look on your face and quickly tried to do damage control.

“We’re soft-launching you, or however you kids say it these days,” He told you. You think he grumbled something about how social media was confusing, but you brushed him off. “As an interviewer, I mean.”

“Huh..” You give a shrug. “As long as I can wrestle sometime.”

He had assured you that you will, sooner than you think, but they just wanted to focus on your speaking. Once they (and you), were more confident, they’d allow you to be in much more opportunities.

Such is life, you guess. Get through these obstacles for a bigger reward. You gave your gratitude to Shawn as you had a lot to look forward to.

If you’re not mistaken, WWE had already posted a teaser on their twitter. For some reason, you would find yourself constantly checking the tweet.

@WWE ✓

We hear someone is entering the scene… 👀

1.2K reposts 120 quotes 14K likes

—is what it said. The flurry of tweets under it were mixed. Lots of people wanted to know what the deal was, though some were already speculating it was an old star coming back.

However, the few fans that knew of your work had their guesses. Some of the pictures you posted on Instagram were cryptic hints, but you knew how the internet was. Crazy detective work..

But anyhow, people around the training center know that you’re pretty introverted. You only came to get some work done and go home. It was hard for others to get to know you at first.

They like to call you shy, but you’ve started to hate that word the more it’s used. It holds you back too much. You won’t make it far if you’re stuck with that description for your entire life.

Fortunately, they know what you lack in words is made up for in the ring. There’s no question that you’re good, you just tend to get nervous when speaking to the public.

At heart, you knew they wanted to help you out, and they wanted you to become the best you can be! If you start practicing, you’re sure to be a star!

As motivating as it sounds, it’s still stressful. Going out of your comfort zone was nothing new. It’s a given if you want to wrestle properly, but it still makes you uneasy.

You know you’ve gotta put your best foot forward and do this despite it. This was your only chance, and you absolutely can’t mess this up.

Most of the people still training had given you their well wishes. It’s heavily appreciated; after all, you won’t see them anymore unless they’re called up there themselves.

You think you’ll miss Carmella the most. She was your training buddy, and you think she was the most excited about you getting called up. You hope that she’ll be next soon enough….

As of right now, you look tired. You damn sure feel tired.

It causes you to lie down on the floor of the locker room. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it. You’ve already made a bad decision by staying up all night out of excitement. It’s starting to come back to you.

Of course, you came to the arena a little too early. (which was an inside joke between coaches, you’re too punctual for your own good..)

You were sure most of your coworkers hadn’t arrived yet, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to see them. It’s not that you don’t want to, you’re just nervous to meet them.

Especially since you’ll probably be half asleep and may forget their names.

Much to your misfortune, a woman comes in, sunglasses on and suitcase handle clenched in hand.

She only lowers them with a finger once you’re in view. “Oooh,” She starts, then clicks her tongue. It’s apparent that she’s mocking you already. “..You look like trash.”

“Thanks,” You say with a sigh. “It’s so appreciated.”

This is not a good start. You make the move to get up off the comfortable ground and the woman puts a hand on her hip.

She’s not very amused, moving a free hand to flip her blue hair. “Did they get me a personal makeup artist? Or…are you just everyone’s stylist? Never seen you here before.”

“I’m new. An interviewer.” You say. Giving yourself that title feels much weirder than saying you were a wrestler. “Pray tell, who am I talking to?”

She’s a little taken aback by the cynical tone in your voice but takes her sunglasses off. This woman doesn’t think she’s met her match yet.

“Of course you don’t recognize a celebrity when you’re in front of one. Let me refresh your memory a bit. How does this sound? The boss, the blueprint, the standard!” She pauses for a bit for dramatic effect. “…Sasha Banks. And I better not have to repeat myself. Who exactly are you?”

“You have a pretty name.” You start off with. Honestly, you didn’t want to make an enemy out of her as much as she wanted to make one out of you. You hope she could see that. “I’m [Name], and you’re right. I am new. Maybe we can get to know each other a bit more.”

It actually seems to work because she falters for a second. “…What?”

You hold out your hand to her and she looks at it for a moment before shaking it with a scowl. Before you realize it, she’s already taking her hand back.

“I’m assuming you’re wrestling? Do you have a match?” You quickly ask, not giving her a second to recover. “I’d like to interview you after if you do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sasha drops her suitcase. She’s unsure if she could stand your bright personality for a second longer. You’re going to be a problem in the future. “Sorry, not sorry, but you’re a nobody. What’s the point?”

“It was worth a try. But if that’s what you want I won’t force you.” Sasha rolls her eyes at your response. You’re way too nice. “At least tell me, do you think it’s fun here?”

“Fun?” She repeats. “Tch, I know you didn’t just ask if it was fun. Get real. There’s nothing fun about being here. There’s only one thing that matters, and it’s the Divas Championship. Got it?”

“Got it.” You nod. Divas Championship…duly noted. You don’t think you’ll be going for it anytime soon. “Who’s got it?” You’ll have to ask if the standard Women’s Championship was still in circulation as well.

“AJ Lee.” She answers. It’s the least snarky answer she’s given you so far, but she reverts back to it. “I swear, I’m gonna drag her ass across the mat for that title. She makes me sick with her skipping around.”

You voice your thoughts. “She skips?” That’s one way to get to the ring. You’re curious now. “I wonder if I can interview her…she must have a lot to say about her reign so far.”

“What?” Sasha’s immediately offended. “Um, no. Who says you’re interviewing her first? You’re obviously going to interview me first.”

It’s contradictory to what she’s said before, but because of it, there’s a smile growing on your face. She notices and jabs her index finger toward you. “You can wipe that smile off your face, rookie.”

“So be it. I will see you afterwards.” You agree to interview her, doing your best to fight the smile off.

Sasha huffs and leaves the room for now. Your eyes follow her, and once she’s gone, you shrug to yourself. Wow.

Well, that’s one way to get an interviewee.

Almost seconds after her departure, your phone vibrates and you see it’s a notification from Twitter. After that, the tweets start to flow in.

What now?

@SashaBanksWWE ✓

I ALWAYS come first. Don’t forget that, rookie. @Officially[Name].

4.1K reposts 250 quotes 45K likes

@No1DivazStan: Wait…?

↳ @Sashabanksfan109: Literally like who is that??? What is she talking about?

Oh boy. Now people actually are getting the idea. She even went as far as tagging you. You’re already starting to have people follow you.

Including Sasha, which was a plus!

You’re confident about things for a moment until the thought of having to talk to her live circles back. Shit, you might start to freak out a little.

You hope Sasha wouldn’t be too harsh on you, even if it were wishful thinking. Sasha’s gonna come in hot, especially if she loses. You have no choice but to adjust.

A few more moments of silence pass, and suddenly the floor is calling you again.

You immediately lay back down. How long until the show? You take your phone out of your pocket and check the time. 6:45. The show starts at around 7. Maybe 8 if there are any delays.

Would it be wrong if you took a quick nap? It’ll only be 15 minutes, but it might just be enough to keep you going for the rest of the night.

You’re already closing your eyes. You know you’re going to be unable to hit any major stages of sleep, but even just laying like this is nice.

Until the door opens. You’re shooting up from your spot, almost falling over in the process.

“I WASN’T SLEEPING.” You clarify, doing your best to stand up. The woman, who’s not Sasha this time, looks at you in confusion.

She points a finger at you. “Ya’ sure about that? From the looks of it, it seemed like you were knocked out for a second.” Her accent is the first thing that catches your attention as she starts to motion towards you.

“No, no, not at all.” You try to defend. “Can’t a woman stretch on the floor in peace?”

“Seriously, you call that stretching?” Before she can make any more sarcastic comments toward you, she turns to look at you. “I’ve never seen you around before. Got a name?”

She is trying her best to identify you to no avail. You hop up to your feet, then hold your hand out to her. “[Name]. I’m just an interviewer right now, yeah. I’m new. Who are you?”

“Becky. Becky Lynch.” She introduces, taking your hand to shake it firmly. You swear you’ve seen her before, too. Probably on Twitter. Guess Becky isn't the only one with deja vu.

You pray you wouldn’t forget her or Sasha’s name for that matter. You can’t fight the urge to yawn.

“Someone’s tired. You should go get some water before you pass out. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

This is a nice change of pace from Sasha. Despite you trying to kill her with kindness, she’s just all kinds of intimidating, while this woman is…okay.

Water may do the trick. It might just be cold enough to wake you up. “Good idea. Anywhere I can get some?”

“Should be a cooler down the hall to your right.” She informs. “See, I’d offer to get it for you, but I’ve got a match to get ready for.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” But before you leave, Before you leave, you turn over to her. “This may be an assumption, but are you going against Sasha Banks?” You ask. You could be wrong, but it’s worth a shot to see.

She nods at you. “Smart girl. How’d you know?”

“I talked to her a bit earlier. She wouldn’t exactly tell me she was going in a match, but I guess it was safe to assume it was you.” You say. “If you’d like to be interviewed, I’ll be waiting backstage.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Becky says. She’s more concerned about you getting your water. “Go, I might be here when you get back. Don’t pass out.”

You make a noise to let her know you heard her. Did you make a new friend? You think so.

You’re still a bit disoriented from the lack of sleep. You only made it a few steps down the hall before forgetting the direction she told you to go. Great.

This hallway seemed horribly long. The more you walked, the more you felt like it extended somehow. You need a nap, but you don’t think you’re going to get it until retiring back to your hotel room.

A group of men dressed in what seems to be tactical clothes are sitting around nearby, and you find yourself approaching them in a sudden spur of confidence. It’s probably because you’re tired.

“Excuse me,” you call. All three of them look at you with curious looks, and you feel like you could just up and die right there.

Doesn’t exactly help that they’re all kind of attractive, either.

“Where can I get some water? It feels like I’m dying here.” You ask, using your hand to rub the side of your face.

To them, you looked like you had just completed a damn marathon run. One of them with short brown hair whispers something to another with half-blonde, half-black hair, and you look between them curiously.

You don’t have time for whispers. You want water. It makes you think about purposely passing out in front of them. Rude and manipulative, sure, but you’re not here to gossip!

The other one speaks up to you instead. He’s also got long hair, but you think the most noticeable thing was his sleeve tattoo. You may have been staring too long because he snapped his fingers to get your attention.

At least he wasn’t glaring at you. There was a handsome smile on his face. “You there? Don’t tell me we’ve lost you already. You just got here.”

“Sorry. I’m really tired.” You admit. “Really, REALLY tired. Water would be nice.”

“To your left,” He says. “Should be one over there.”

The exasperation in your voice is ever present when you say: “Thank you!”. You’re dying here. You’ll have to come back and thank your only savior after replenishing yourself. Turning away, you head in the direction he told you.

You don’t hear the snickering behind you as you leave. Too busy thinking about hydration at this point.

Going further down, you see that there still is no water cooler. You’re only met with a dead end, and though there are doors, the signs only tell you that they’re just control rooms.

You’re confused. Why would he send you that way? You turn around and head back the way you came as it must’ve been an honest mistake.

You see them still sitting there with smiles. “Hey, excuse me,” you call, waving your hand. “There’s no water over there. Are you sure it’s that way?”

“We know.” The man who gave you instruction earlier had said. “We just wanted to mess with you a bit. Go that way.” First day on the job and people are already trying to rib you? Goddamn it.

On the bright side, it seemed to be lighthearted. Or so you hope.

This time, you hope, he points the correct way. The only thing you can do is let out a sigh and move forward. You don’t even stay to listen to anything else he says.

"Don't take it to heart!" One of them yells behind you.

You scoff to yourself. This time, they redeemed themselves because you found that lovely water cooler. You immediately pick up the pace and reach out to snatch a cup.

Finally, cold water. You're sure you'll wake up this time. You're almost half tempted to pour some on your face, but you aren't THAT unhinged. Besides, you don’t want to waste it.

The moment you lift your cup and and take a refreshing sip, someone saying “hey” makes you look over, and you nearly spit your drink out.

The guy that had given you the wrong direction had come around. You cough up bits of water, holding a hand on your chest. “Why?! God, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. You’re not so sure if it’s sincere. “Stephanie McMahon told me about you. You’re [Name], right?”

It takes you a second to reply and he looks at you expectantly. You hold your hand up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” You nod.

“Roman,” He introduced himself back, setting his hands on the vest of his tactical gear. “I know it’s your first day and all, but do you know who’s in charge?”

“….Vince McMahon?” You offer with a shrug.

Roman chuckles, shaking his head. “You were close. But that’s not it. The Authority is the one in charge.” He clarifies to you. “And you’d best be on their side. Tell me, new girl. Do you plan to be on the side of justice?”

Truth be told, you’re a little intimidated. Again.

You wonder if you even had a choice right now. Before you answer him you decide to take a sip of water, this time, without coughing up a lung.

“Justice, what do you mean by that?”

“The Authority is seeking to make sure that everyone keeps in line.” He explains. “We’ve already got a hold on the men’s division, but the women’s division….”

He trails off, looking toward you expectantly.

“I’m just an interviewer.” You hold your hands up in defense. “I don’t know anything about wrestling. Like anything.”

A lie, but you don’t exactly want to get involved.

You thought it felt weird to call yourself an interviewer, but now you’re going to hold onto that title until it’s convenient enough for you….

“Don’t give me that crap. I know exactly what you are.” So much for that. Roman gets closer to you and you move back just a little. It doesn’t do much, because he’s still in your space.

You’re starting to feel cornered.

“And what I don’t appreciate is people lying to me. Listen, [Name]. Pretty girls like you are always smart. If you knew what’s good for you, you’d better—“

“Hey guys!” A new voice makes you look over Roman. “Roman…and….who’s this?” He points a finger over to you.

“[Name].” You say. This guy might be your potential savior.

He doesn’t really pester any further than that, oddly enough. “Cool. You guys wanna take a selfie?” Before you two could even answer, he’s already approaching with a phone in hand.

“Wait,” You try to stop him. “I’m not ready—“

All Roman does was glare at the camera while you were holding out your hand toward it. He’s already took it and you were caught in the worst off guard moment.

“You guys better get ready for Raw. It starts in like five minutes.” The man recommends. “Thanks for the selfie.”

He saunters off and Roman shakes his head. After the stranger had made some distance, he finally speaks to you. “I can’t stand Theory’s dumbass.”

“Theory?” You repeat. “Who?”

“Austin Theory.” He clarifies. “Won’t stop taking those stupid selfies. It’s all the goddamn time.”

You slowly nod, but take advantage of the fact Austin had said there’s only five minutes until Raw starts. “Gosh. This was such a nice meeting, but I had better get going. You know, interviews and stuff to do.”

Roman says nothing, so you take the opportunity to side-step and walk past him. However, he doesn’t let you get far before saying…

“Better think about what I said. You don’t have much time.”

You’re hoping that wasn’t a threat. And now that you think about it?

He didn’t even apologize for leading you the wrong way!

You were just trying to get ready to be on television. You did everything you could to stand out for your debut, despite some people knowing that you’d show up sometime.

You can only imagine the pre-show talks around on social media. God, you hope you weren’t sweating. You think you’re just overreacting, but you feel like you’re gonna cry.

If you weren’t awake before, you sure are now.

Your phone starts buzzing again on the vanity you were seated at. The stylist who was helping you get things together had stepped away earlier, leaving you be with your thoughts.

Until now. The moment you pick up your phone and open Twitter, you groan.

Roman was right about the selfies being stupid.

Austin had posted it on Twitter. The only thing you’re really focused on is yourself. You look a disheveled mess and you’re happy you could fix yourself up a little bit right now.

You’re reeling as you read some of the responses. Although, some were funnier than others…

@Theory_1 ✓

Roman and some new girl are here today! I caught them in their natural habitat.

1.8K reposts 130 quotes 37K likes

@annsweet_: OMG FREE HER???? WHY DOES SHE LOOK SCARED LMAO

↳ @Lilgrab$78: Nah fr they holding her hostage in there

@Biilionnsmind: Are you serious? [Name] Theory AND Roman? This has gotta be the multiverse

↳ @YourChampion0: Not gonna lie they might be an item. Guess we’ll see if they have something going on or they just were filming something.

@bellstrings: Wait not too much on [Name]…face card is still ACTIVE and ready to TAP!

Along those lines of being mentioned, Austin had followed you as well. But seeing yourself being the talk of others is just surreal. You’re happy about it.

“Hey, [Name].” A stagehand calls. “You’re on in about 2 minutes. You’ll be interviewing Sasha Banks. It’s the only person you’ll be doing, so you’re free to go home after.”

Alright then. You hop up out of your seat. You looked good enough, so you didn’t exactly need that stylist to come back. Your time to shine.

You let the stagehand lead the way to where you’re supposed to be positioned. It’s a nice set up, you think. There’s a red curtain behind you as well as a television settled with “Raw” displayed on it.

“Sasha lost because of interference.” The stagehand informs you. “She’ll go on about the details. But just ask her some questions. She should be here any second now.”

You’ll try. The camera is already settled in front of you, waiting for the go ahead. As soon as he said that, Sasha comes storming into the room. He signals toward the both of you that he’s rolling.

“Wow, Sasha..!” You exclaim, shaking your head. “That was definitely……a match.”

Sasha looks at you with a scowl. “You think?! Becky only got lucky because AJ came out all peppy. I almost had her.” She complains. “I had Becky in the Bank Statement. She was about to tap…”

She literally has to stop talking and take a breath before she loses it. Everyone, even the crowd, can tell that she’s STEAMING.

“…Uh, do you think you’ll need help in the future for AJ? It looks like she’s posing a really big threat to you.” You say. “Cause’ if you’re asking me, it looks like you may need a future tag partner.”

You’re going steady, despite the fact your hand may or may not be shaking a bit. You’re just glad that this segment wasn’t out in the ring. You tilt the mic over to Sasha.

All you had to do was pretend like the camera wasn’t there and that you were having a simple conversation. Everything’s just fine.

You had hoped she would understand that you were insinuating that you could be of assistance, but she takes it the wrong way.

“What, you think I’m not good enough?” She challenges, stepping closer to you. “You think I can’t beat AJ on my own? She’s the one that needs help. That’s why she gets Tamina to do her dirty work. Let me remind you that I’m Sasha Banks. I was the NXT Women’s Champion. The Boss can handle herself in battle and she damn sure doesn’t need someone that’s gonna hold her back.”

“I get it, jeez. I was trying to help you, Sasha.” You explain. It might be a chance to get you active in the ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job and asking me questions? I don’t need your help.” She fires back.

Whatever. You just shrug it off. “Fine. You want questions, I’ll give you questions. You tagged me on Twitter. When you tagged me on Twitter, was that you trying to put me on notice?”

It’s easy for her to bounce off of what you said.

“You clearly act like you have no idea who I am. Maybe now you’ll get a clue. As a matter of fact, you better leave that fake little sweet innocent act at the door, cause I see right through you.”

“What act? I’m just being me.” It’s true. You really are!

“Right, and Becky must be the best wrestler on the planet…hah! That’s hilarious even thinking about it.” Sasha falls into a laugh, and you fight the urge to smile at her contagious laugh. Instead, you wipe it off in order to look confused.

She takes a breath. “You know what? You wanna help me, prove it to me. You and me, a match next Monday. I know that you’re not gonna do well, but I’ll have fun destroying you anyways, rookie.”

This was your chance!! You can’t fight the excitement, so you immediately agree. “Yes! I mean, yeah. Absolutely. It’s a match, Sasha. Shake on it?”

You offer your free hand to her. Despite her gritting her teeth, she takes it.

Sasha thinks you’re too excited, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t curious to see how you’d fare against her.

Your first match is against Sasha Banks. Thinking about it seemed so surreal. You’ve got a lot to prepare for next Monday.

Sasha’s eyes seem to catch onto something behind you and she groans, snatching her hand back. “Not her—“

“I wasn’t expecting you here, Sasha!” There’s a woman who’s slightly shorter than you that comes over with a championship tucked over her arm. This must’ve been the Divas championship, if the words on the butterfly weren’t evident enough.

“You know, not after you lost. Thought you would’ve went home by now!” She holds onto it even tighter once Sasha gave her a nasty look.

“You must be AJ Lee?” You try to divert some of the tension. “It’s nice to see the divas champion face to face.”

Sasha gags, but AJ giggles at your words. She rubs a hand over the butterfly, looking at you. “Oh pssssh, this? It’s nothing major…it just means I’m the best, but seriously, nothing major. Oh, and Sasha? Sorry Tamina made you lose focus…no hard feelings?”

Sasha rears her fist back and you immediately try to jump in the middle of them. Might’ve been a dumb decision, but it made Sasha immediately freeze once you did. You’re not even sure if AJ flinched.

You’re planted firmly in between them without any plans of moving anytime soon. “Woah, woah woah, can we hold off on the fighting PLEASE?! Why don’t you guys settle it in the ring, just like me and Sasha are?”

“You guys…” AJ looks between you two. “…are wrestling each other? Huh.”

You nod at her. “Yeah. I think you should follow suit. It’s obvious you two have problems.”

“Well, you’re right. It’s not like can’t beat you again, Sasha!” AJ chimes. “Anyway, I’m going to go polish my title! Don’t wait up for me, ladies!”

And just like that, AJ skips off. Sasha slowly turns to look at you and the only thing you can do is look back at her.

“I don’t care,” She starts, pointing a finger at you. “You’re helping in whatever happens, rookie.”

“What?! Why me??” You whine. “This isn’t my issue, the only thing I’m worried about is our match.“

As she’s said earlier, she doesn’t care. “You heard me. All you’ve gotta do is be ready. When I tell you to do something, you go.”

She leaves you with that. An exasperated sigh falls from your lips.

You’ve got more than just your match to worry about now..

#RAWTonight

@WWE ✓

A nearly explosive confrontation tonight on Raw between AJ Lee, [Name], and Sasha Banks. Watch below! 👇🔥

6.7K reposts 310 quotes 67k likes

@xXHibiscus: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!???!!!

↳ @WomenofWWE: Yess! This is what we need, a strong three-way feud! The newbie, the underdog, and the champion. The storylines kind of have been getting boring. I wouldn’t mind Sasha & [Name] vs AJ, or maybe even AJ & [Name] vs Sasha.

↳ @RaeFed: [name] might’ve just saved us hold on

@RoseGambler: [Name] trying to be a peacemaker 😭

↳ @101Mariposa: SASHA WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO ROCK AJ PLEASE. SHE NEEDS TO MOVE

↳ @ThenNowForever: Why she hit the “Sasha, this isn’t you”??

@MarkPodcast: Never heard of [Name]..…is she new?

↳ @platinumstarred: yeah she was mainly on the indies, wasn’t bad at all like she was rlly good

↳ @MarkPodcast: Hopefully she’ll stay good while she’s here!

@Feistysummer: Sasha saying she doesn’t need help…then turns around and tells [Name] that she’s going to help LOL

↳ @Divas4L: They’re definitely going to be friends, if not best friends in the future..

169 notes · View notes

ferrstappen · 1 year

Text

Taylor Swift l The Collection

this is the masterlist for a series of one shots, scenarios that have come up while listening to different Taylor Swifts albums, with different drivers from the grid <3

Back to December l Charles Leclerc

and I think about summer, all the beautiful times, I watched you laughing from the passenger side.

summary: she cursed herself every day for being scared of falling for him, because he wasn't afraid of loving her.

You Belong With Me l George Russell

if you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me.

summary: she had the worst luck because her best friend was a serial dater, but she knows him better than any of his girlfriends, and she needs him to know.

august l Lando Norris

wanting was enough, for me it was enough.

summary: every single one of her friends warned her that he was fresh out of a relationship. his friends whispered that he had been so in love just a couple of weeks ago and now he was holding hands with someone else. but she didn't care.

Enchanted l Lance Stroll

this night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck blushing all the way home

summary: forced small talk, tiny pieces of fancy finger food, and long flutes of champagne, but after they saw each other... small talk became a little bigger, laughter falling a bit more freely.

Ours l Max Verstappen

so don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.

summary: he was always in the eye of the hurricane; some days because of his talents, others because of his character, but it didn't matter when he got home and walked holding her hand.

Girl At Home l Daniel Ricciardo

don't look at me, you got a girl at home and everybody knows that.

summary: she knew he had someone back in Australia waiting for him. but she was so far away, and he needed to be comforted, now.

Begin Again l Pierre Gasly

he didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do.

summary: she was used to the bare minimum, maybe even a little less than that. and then he came in, waiting for her to order first during their first date.

Long Live l Esteban Ocon

of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines, wishing for right now.

summary: Esteban Ocon (aka the biggest Spiderman fan, according to himself) tried to bribe his girlfriend, gave her the silent treatment, he called her out during race weekends, but Marvel was just too good keeping their secrets. (actress!reader)

False God l Carlos Sainz Jr.

but we might just get away with it.

summary: it was just the third race of the calendar when he walked inside her hotel room, telling her that they could try it... and HR would never know.

Speak Now l Max Verstappen

fond gestures are exchanged, and the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march.

summary: His mind was spinning. Get up, sit down! Speak up, shut up! You already lost her, you broke up with her! Nobody would've guessed everything that was going on inside Max's head as he watched her put on her white dress.

Sparks Fly l Charles Leclerc

give me something that will haunt me when you're not around

summary: she liked telling people that she was done with love, but shit... his green eyes made her want to jump into his arms and love him to the best of her ability.

Happiness l Charles Leclerc

there'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you.

summary: they were going to be fine, relationships come to an end eventually... but he was focused on his job, and she was watching him through the screen.

illicit affairs l Carlos Sainz Jr.

and you know damn well, for you I'd ruin myself.

summary: it wasn't fair that he made her fall in love with him, not when he took her heart for granted and his heart started beating for some other girl.

#charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #esteban ocon x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lance stroll x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #daniel ricciardo imagine #max verstappen imagine #esteban ocon imagine #carlos sainz imagine #lance stroll imagine #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #lando norris imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine

459 notes · View notes

twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 10 months

Text

Twisted Monsterland: Messy Toddlers

Little kids can always cause a mess, whether it’s with paint, markers, food, or dirt and mud. It’s a fact of life, and while a hassle to clean up, it can be fun!

So what happens when you have a tiny human living amongst the monsters in Twisted Wonderland who tends to get messy? How about we take a look at some of the dorms and see!

//At Savanaclaw//

Mini!Yuu: *playing in a mud puddle, singing random things as they smoosh and stir the mud with their hands*

Grim: “What’cha doin’, Yuu?”

Mini!Yuu: “Makin’ mud pies for everyone!” *pulls out clumps of grass before sprinkling it over the mud pile* “Time to add the sprinkles~!”

Grim: “What a waste of perfectly good grass…”

Ruggie: *walking up to the two* “There you are, Bugaboo. What’cha playing with this time?”

Mini!Yuu: “I made a mud pie!” *scoops up the pile, globs falling onto their clothing as they hold it up to him* “Try some!”

Ruggie: “Oooh, looks pretty tasty.” *pretends to get a piece and chews, grinning as he gives a thumbs up*”"Mmm…perfect blend of flavors, though you might wanna ease up on the seasoning. Shishishishi~!”

Mini!Yuu: “Hooray!”

Ruggie: “Wouldja look at the time? It’s almost time for you to head back to the teachers, and you’re a mess.” *hoists them into his arms* “Come on, it’s bath time.”

//At Diasomnia//

Mini!Yuu: *playing with finger paints on a canvas*

Lilia: “I’ll be right back, little one. Silver? Would you keep an eye on the little one while I’m gone?”

Silver: “Of course, father.”

*ten minutes later*

Lilia: “I’m back.” *pauses before snorting, smiling at the sight of Silver asleep on the couch with paint on his face and tusks* “My, my. Had I known you needed a bigger canvas, I could have gotten a white tarp for the floor.” *glances over at Malleus before bursting out laughing* “Oh! It looks like you two are having fun.”

Malleus: *sitting nearby with mini!Yuu standing on his lap, painting his horns with bright colorful flowers* “The Child of Man wished to do face painting.”

Mini!Yuu: *has paint on their face that looks like scales and sticky fake stones on their forehead like Malleus’* “I’m making Mr. Horns feel pretty!”

Lilia: “So you are, little one. And what are you supposed to be?”

Mini!Yuu: “Silver made me look like a dragon, just like Mr. Horns! Rawr!”

Lilia: “And a mighty little dragon you are~!”

//At Pomefiore//

Mini!Yuu: *scribbling on a wall in the hallway with a pen they found, singing a happy song as they’re drawing swirls*

Epel: *comes across Yuu and yelps* “Yuu, no! What are you doing?!”

Mini!Yuu: *startled* “Drawing?”

Epel: “Oh no…oh no, Vil is going to throw a fit if he sees this!”

Vil: “If I see…what?”

Epel: “Ack!?”

Rook: “Ooh, it looks like mon chou is showing their creative spirit!”

Mini!Yuu: *nervously looks between the wall and Vil’s stern stare* “Am…I in trouble?”

Vil: *hums for a moment before kneeling down, pulling out his own pen* “Your form is good, though perhaps we can add a little something to this one.”

Mini!Yuu: “What?”

Vil: “I’m thinking…leaves would be a good start.” *begins drawing, creating beautiful shapes following the swirl that get bigger and bigger* “What else should we add to it?”

Mini!Yuu: “Mmm…flowers!”

Vil: “Very well. Will you help me draw them?”

Epel: *staring wide eyed between them and Rook as the two continue drawing, leaning in to whisper to Rook* “Am…am I dreaming? Vil would have gone bonkers if any of us ruined the walls!”

Rook: “Ah, but why stifle the creativity of our little mon chu when they are clearly expressing their individuality? Even Roi du Poison sees the beauty in this.” *goes to kneel next to them, pulling out his own pen* “May I join in?”

Epel: “…huh.”

(Later, the art is still on the wall, a mix of child-like drawings mixed with elegant and fun pictures depicting rabbits, apples, and a peacock)

//At Heartslabyul//

Mini!Yuu: *sitting on a stool, watching Trey mixing dough into balls for bread and trying to mimic him with their own ball of dough*

Trey: “Oh, I need to get the butter out of the fridge. Sit tight, okay?” *dusts hands off and goes over to the fridge*

Mini!Yuu: *hums as they look at the one they’re working on* “Mmm…needs more flour!” *reaches for the bag of flour, trying to lift it up*

POMF!!

Mini!Yuu: *coughs as they’re covered in flour, the bag on the ground and the counter coated in flour*

Trey: “Huh?? Pfft…I should have known something like this would happen.” *reaches out to pat away some of the dusty flour* “Guess when we’re finished baking, it’s bath time again.”

//----------//

That’s all I can think of off the top of my head, but these are just some cute things that came to mind~

The Pomefiore part was actually based on this one post I came across, though I could only find the pictures. While I had initially thought of it happening at Heartslabyul or even Scarabia…I just got soft thinking of Vil indulging mini!Yuu and helping to create good art QvQ/)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #savanaclaw #diasomnia #pomefiore #heartslabyul

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 3 months

Text

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 8

A/N: So sorry this chapter is coming so late into January. I hope everyone is doing well. Let's get this chapter rolling!

Summary: Love comes with many sacrifices.

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Chapter 8

He’s up all night as if consumed by grief all over again.

Adrian is familiar with the feeling, the ache within his chest, which devours him whole.

It stings in his body and mind when he rises with the sun, clouded and forgetting the previous night’s memories. He tells himself he will never be vulnerable with another, over and over, but his time spent with you draws that closeness he needs. He was craving more and more of your closeness and it grew easier and easier to feel it with you.

He was sure that if the consumption of wine continued, he would’ve done something he regretted, unravelling all the work to form an attachment and friendship that took so long to create.

It was the wine, he told himself. It causes anyone to do stupid things.

But it’s not the wine, he knows it. He knows it’s an excuse – a poor one to use when facing something far more lethal than a friendship on the line. He knew it had to be wrong, to put you in a position that made you downright uncomfortable, and the soft touches the two of you shared brought him far bigger feelings than he’d ever felt before.

It wasn’t far from trusting someone anyone, he knew it was something that could’ve been done long ago to betray him. And despite it, Adrian fears it could come any day, no matter how much his emotions grow.

He feels like a boy with a childish crush, not fully understanding the entire complexity of it all. It feels far more real than a simple crush: Adrian yearns for it, begs for its stay, to flourish and build into something much more. It’s a desire, a wish to anyone who would listen.

No, it would never happen. He told himself over and over again, cold in the bed as if there had been another beside him. It was far different to that fateful night, and the ghost of arms around him felt more tender than they had ever been. She is my friend, my closest friend.

Adrian had never felt colder.

When the sun reached his eyes, he squinted, as if its heat would finally put him out and catch him ablaze. Anything to end my misery. He wondered if more wine had been left, but it would’ve started a routine he dared not start again. Not with you around.

He said he would never return to that, not when you stayed.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered into the chill of the air, awareness hitting him like a blow to the face. If he was truly wanting to remain sober for you, something was deathly wrong. “I truly am becoming a Belmont.”

He rises with the rest of the day, telling himself he will apologise if you’re still stiff with him, but he will continue as if all the previous days had been the same. Nothing to hide, except for muddled emotions.

It’s the reminder to himself when he looked over the fireplace mantel, sitting cosy above with its pretty dark curls he made by uncoiling dark thread, and brown buttons for eyes, the skin tone as close to yours as possible, that he cannot have you finding this of all things.

“Are you ready?”

You draw your eyes over to the blond, readying a chestnut mare, the two of you standing in the castle stables. Adrian tells you that the town is not too far, it may take a bit longer to get back with such a large supply he hopes for. The castle’s food supply was dwindling, and Adrian kept a list of what needed to be restocked.

Adrian was kind in giving you some spare clothes, simply because you didn’t want to get your pretty dresses dirty: simple dark pants with a pair of riding boots, a dark green vest and a white tunic shirt that was too big and you had to cinch in with a belt. You also carried on you a small satchel, a cloak and gloves in case of the cold.

“Yes,” you shuffle closer to him, wary of the large beast in front of you, its beady black eyes staring right into your soul, “it’s a beautiful creature.”

“Indeed,” Adrian answers, soothing the horse by scratching just behind the back of its neck, behind its ears, “she is a gentle soul. She will not be frightened by you.”

You warily stare ‘her’ up and down, inquisitively, “What is her name?”

“Oh,” the Dhampir seems understandably abashed for not giving her one, “I did not think that far.”

“Really?” You stare between him and the beast, surprise blooming in your voice. It only makes sense for you to give her a name now! “How about… Lady? No, no—or maybe—”

“Luna?”

His voice catches you by surprise, but it is a wonderful idea. “Luna?”

“It’s a pretty name,” Adrian strokes her snout affectionately, “I like the other name too.”

“No, I like Luna more.” You follow with a guide of Adrian’s hand in knowing where to stroke Luna; just above her snout, his hands lingering longer than you both expected in this subtle affection before he pulls back. His touch still lingers, and it comforts you the size of his hand compared to yours.

“Shall we get going?”

“Indeed.”

It takes some minutes of humbling yourself to get onto a horse- with Adrian’s help- but you’re far more ashamed of how you embarrassed yourself in front of him. It’s not graceful how you straddle, the discomfort that comes from your legs so far apart and how you’re already dreading when it moves.

Adrian is quicker than you, almost leaping on with ease as he sits behind you, his hands coming from behind to grab at the reigns.

“Easy,” you think he’s telling the horse to be at ease, but you realise it’s directed to you, his hands reassuring you, “You’re not going anywhere, little witch.”

You’re thankful he can’t see the way your face heats, the way you wish he would do what he said, but you have to stop those thoughts from occurring.

The laugh that comes from you is more of a wheeze, and you correct yourself before you can embarrass yourself further. “Are you talking to the horse or me, Adrian?”

Adrian chuckles lightly at your jab but knows it is all a tease. He guides the horse out from the stable, and almost immediately begins a sprint. The castle seems like a speck in the distance the further you travel, trees whipping past like shadows of figures you thought were human.

Animals could be heard within the trees as if they surrounded you, but instead of fear, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and across your face. You imagined this was what it felt like to be a bird, or the fastest horse free in a field. It was in some way what you imagined what a vampire felt like hidden and part of wildlife.

With the speed and wind on your side, you arrived in the town by the time the sun was highest in the sky. You forgot how lively a town could be: bustling with life. People of all ages, genders and skin tones wandered the market. Mothers with their babes and young children playing around her skirts. Those who came to sell and trade within the markets. Couples of old and young fill the streets with tender displays of affection for one another.

It made you blush when you looked around, realising that some could maybe say the same about you and Adrian looking like a couple. Would Adrian notice this too? Would he feel ashamed to be associated with you?

You didn’t realise you had been distracted by your thoughts when you felt a tender hand shaking you gently out of your thoughts. Blinking owlishly, Adrian stood before you, his golden eyes were wrought with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Overwhelmed, but I’ll survive,” you told him, puffing your chest out to show you weren’t feeling all sorts of worries. “Have you got the list?”

Adrian doesn’t want to shake away his concerns for you, but he unravels the crumpled note from inside his coat pocket to hand to you. You scan over it quickly before you nod. “See you back at the carriage?”

“I must hire one first,” Adrian chortles, “but yes, I shall see you then… be safe.”

Be safe.

It’s enough to make your heart swoon, and you nod, fleeing like a lovesick teenager who just said hi to her crush. You absorb yourself by finding the necessary things, trying your best to not get engrossed by the things around you.

You get mostly through your list before something catches your gaze.

An array of jewels of different sizes and colours greet you: some attached to bracelets, necklaces and brooches, others gaudy and lavish and sitting for all to see. It doesn’t take you long to fully stop and be standing in front of the older woman’s stall, looking over them carefully.

If only I had enough money.

“The peridot would suit you nicely, young lady,” you look up to catch the warm gaze of the woman, her crow’s eyes wrinkled. “Or alexandrite. Very pretty, will catch anyone’s eye.”

“They are very pretty,” you muse, though you already know you won’t be buying anything from her, it is always nice to look around. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Light colours would suit your skin tone,” she begins as she points to different items, holding them as if for you to compare until the next thing to come from her mouth leaves you practically gasping, “I’m sure your husband would agree.”

“Husband?”

“There you are.”

The first thing you notice is the arm that snakes its way around your waist, a body leaning in closely to you as you feel your body freeze on the spot. Adrian is looking over the jewels with you with interest, softly musing to himself, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You’re gawking now, no words are coming to you and it’s only when the old woman brings up impatiently that you’re buying anything that Adrian pulls a bag from his pocket, casually handing the woman the change as if it's nothing. “The peridot I think would look lovely on you.”

He’s moving away, back to the wagon with you following behind like a lost puppy.

“What was that?” You whisper when it’s just the two of you, watching the world go by.

“What do you mean?” He asks as he pulls out the necklace to inspect himself. “I thought this colour would look nice on you.”

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with the hem of your gloves. “It’s just—”

Adrian seems to read you easily, and he knows when you’re showing some discomfort. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“Far from it,” you laugh it off, though your heart hammers to great lengths, “She had been the one to say I had a husband.”

Your laugh leaves Adrian silent, quieter than he normally is, and it leaves you spiralling. What was he thinking? Was he too uncomfortable with the choice of words?

“Turn round for me?”

You blink thoughtlessly at the question, slowly following as you turn your back on him. You have to stop yourself from gasping aloud when his gloved fingers graze over the back of your neck, pulling back your curls to give him a proper view.

You’re shivering, and you realise what state you’re in, crumbling just from a singular touch, but you try your best to keep your cool. Adrian steps close behind you, his scent is strong in your nostrils as he collects the links of the necklace, putting it around your neck before securing it.

“It suits you.” He quips, knowing that his words are having an impact on you, before he turns away to the cart, you follow hot on his heels to nag him for making you feel so unsteady.

It's sometime later on the cart on your way back when Adrian suddenly touches your hand.

Even when he wears his leather gloves, you can feel the warmth that resonates within him, the raw strength and power that comes from him. He’s a killer, a killer who could’ve overpowered you a long time ago, but who you put your undying trust in.

Your shock freezes you as you look over at him, his gaze on the road ahead, but you know for a fact, that he’s aware you’re staring. “Is something the matter?” He draws softly, looking at you through his peripheral.

“You’re…” You can’t find the right words, but you direct your gaze to his free hand occupied in holding yours, and he follows. “My hand,” he states coolly, though you feel as if there is a hidden motive to this. “You were cold.”

Right, you tell yourself that, and a harsh chill bristles through you before you have time to think it through. He’s smart, too smart.

“Oh." You don’t consider he’s telling the whole truth, but you don’t shake away the way he’s holding your hand. It brings a great comfort to you. You’re still side-eyeing him as he continues on the road, the silence that envelops you is calming and quaint.

You’re very aware that your heart is hammering, the necklace wrapped around your neck is being twirled as you think heavily with your thoughts. Shall you tell him now how you feel? Would that break everything you built with him? It’s only a matter of time before your feelings are split accidentally and your friendship is cursed.

You squeeze his fingers to get his attention, “Adrian, there is something I wish to tell you-”

You’re lurched forward from your seat at the front of the cart, the suddenness of it is all to not still your nerves. The horses snorted in anxiousness, and all around you stood still as if holding their breath. Adrian’s eyes were deadest on something within the trees, and you couldn’t help but feel even more nervous at what could be out there.

“Night creatures?” You whisper to Adrian, but he only gives a glance your way, a way to tell you it was way, way worse.

It was still far too early for creatures of the night to be out, but with the fading sun passing over the horizon of the trees, that was when you spotted them.

They blended with the trees at first, but you could see their silhouettes, standing as rigid as statues, ready as soldiers for war, staring down at you like vultures. They can’t be just human bandits on the road, their presence alone gave off a bad omen. You don’t know how many you count, their clothes blend as one with the growing darkness as the sun settles.

Adrian’s voice is already speaking to you, cutting the silence with a knife.

“Y/N, get to the back of the cart, do not come out until I tell you so,” it’s not a warning, but an order, and you don’t want to waste his time by stalling. His voice is serious, eyes stone cold as he glares down at the figures not far and lurking around the trees.

Adrian easily hops down from his spot as he flicks the scabbard off his longsword. You watch in a mix of wonder and dread at the scene that unfolds.

The figures draw in closer, watching and snarling as Adrian holds a solid line, almost unfazed as he holds the sword close to his face.

His sword glows suddenly as if imbued with holy light, a shocking flow of blue flames engulfs it, glowing and hissing with life. The flames flicker close to Adrian’s face as he readies his action, changing his stance before he is on the closest one.

He’s quicker than your eyes can register, a shadow of crimson shifts as he moves at lightning pace, soon in front of the hooded creature as his sword moves as one with him. He is no longer holding it, rather, the two of them move as if it is a dance, fluid and graceful.

A hiss of a cry lurches into the darkening skies, one is down on the ground, its skin hissing and bubbling as it disintegrates.

Two more are on him with a flash, but Adrian fights with valour and dances around him, swords crashing against the sound of their taloned nails. You’ve not stuck around to know what was happening, having crawled through to the back of the cart for safety.

Once huddled in a spot surrounded by crates, you can only rely on sound: clashes of silver clang loudly around you, bodies fall and you have no clue if Adrian is winning or not. You can only assume he is, from the way you can still hear the glow of his magic sword, twirling around as silent as he is.

Another noise resonates from just outside, creeping behind you and you freeze, before the sound of splattering blood and a gargled choke dies down. You look just to your left to see that the material of the cart is splattered in the thick, viscous liquid, and you shudder that Adrian is here to protect you.

You don’t know how many of them are left, and you can only think that the best thing for you to do is protect yourself if one finds you inside. You scramble to your feet, clumsily looking for any blade that could be of use. You find only a flimsy dagger, and you clutch it close to your chest as you settle in the back of the cart, trying to calm your racing heart.

Something draws in close and you stutter a gasp before you realise it’s too late. The figure pauses almost dramatically, inching closer to the back of the cart, their movement deliberately slow, trying to edge as much fear out from you.

You pray it’s Adrian coming to your rescue, to tell you the area has been cleared, but as the face emerges through the curtains of the entrance to the cart, it’s not those golden eyes you’ve grown to love staring back at you.

They’re red, crimson as the blood that will soon spill from you.

Your screams fall silent as the face erupts into a smile, wide and fanged as the rest of its vampiric kind. The dagger in your grasp feels more like a twig as you stare down, wide-eyed the vampire in front of you.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” his voice is soft yet hoarse, and his red eyes seemed unblinking as he seemed to taunt you from the entrance, blocking one of the ways you could escape. “What a delicacy you’ll be.”

Your fight or flight had kicked in and instead of either of them, you had become frozen in your spot, dreading that this would be the way you died, dying in a smelling cart as a vampire ripped at your throat.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, inching closer, a clawed hand bracing the inside of the cart as he further draws inside, “I’ll make sure I’m quick with you.”

Adrian's POV

Blood soaks through the leather of his clothing, but he is thankful it is there’s and not his.

The last of the creatures die within an inch of him, sizzling into nothingness as he stares down what remains. Ash of their bones and the burnt clothes remain, the reminder to anyone who crossed him he would do it a hundred times over.

All in the name of love.

He had once didn’t understand the meaning of love, the way it would pull at his heart and lurch within him. He needed it as if it was necessary like water or food, a hunger that he yearned for in the waking hours of the day to the late hours of twilight.

He is his father's son after all.

Dracula did it in the name of love, and he found he was killing his kind all to keep you safe.

“Y/N, it’s safe.” He calls you to, and he listens for any sound except for the sounds of nature surrounding him. It’s startling how quiet the outside world could be, and how quickly his heart could plummet in knowing something was deeply, deeply wrong.

His heightened senses could not smell blood, not the blood that came from you but what had fizzled and dried. It seemed almost deathly quiet, but Adrian’s mind was racing, the pulling of his heart meant you were not here, or worse, he had failed to keep you safe.

A scream brings his attention, and he wastes no time in hurtling towards the back of the cart, his heart racing.

No, no, no, if he's failed in doing the one thing, he's failed you and himself.

He hasn't even got his face an inch through the gap before he senses something telling him to move out of the way, an object being flung just where his face would be. His head snaps to see a dagger clatter to the dirt just behind him before it turns to what stands before him, a snarl leaving his curled lips.

You were safe, for now, though the vampire he failed to miss had his disgusting fangs inches from the base of his neck, his clawed hands wrapped around you, keeping your body locked to his chest.

“Son of Dracula, the Messiah,” the vampire greets him, observing him with a lazy smile. You continue to squirm in his grasp, eyes locked onto Adrian for any semblance of safety. “Care to take a bite of your pet first or shall I do the honour?”

His venom is bitter and his anger is boiling at the words he uses for you. How dare he call you a pet!

“Unhand her now,” his voice resonates inside him and he channels his father, the voice he would use and boom across the castle grounds, “I will not ask you again.”

“Ah, ah, one step and I spill her neck open.” The hooded vampire fusses, his movements almost consoling to Y/N as he runs a hand down her cheek, tears drying on her skin. “This one is a waste if you keep it.”

He laughs easily as he stares Adrian down, his next words bringing Adrian close to lopping his head clean off. “Though it is no surprise, you are Dracula’s son, keeping human women around as your pets. It was Dracula’s weakness,” he leant close into Y/N, drinking up her tears as he licked his tongue up the side of her face, “and it will be your undoing.”

Adrian is hunched as if ready to pounce to get him off you, but his golden eyes are never leaving you. A cry leaves your lips when his tongue licks up the side of your face, and you’re shivering, hands clutched around the tightened grip of his forearm.

There is a silent connection that only he can feel when you are close, and it comes from your eyes that stare back at him. They don’t seem as frightened as they did before, and he believes he knows you want him to be calm and not quick to action. Your eyes calm him like a storm approaching, ready to destroy all in its wake.

The vampire holding you runs a hand through the links of your necklace, the hands glimmer in the low light inside and it’s the only thing Adrian sees, trying to not imagine it coated in blood. “Such sweet, sweet blood.” The vampire says, his face drawing into your neck, but you stop him from doing anything further.

With your hands clutching his forearms tightly, Adrian watches how you shut your eyes tight, before shouting the words that resonate through you:

“Ardeo!”

It amazes him every time when you speak that spell, the way flames spill from your hands as easily as water flowing. The endless cycle of nature flows through you, and the power within your hands cries with a mighty scream that neither Adrian nor you know who it’s coming from.

The flames roar as they lick up the clothes of the vampire, and his screams join in fright as they clutch around his arm, a grip in itself that never lets him go. They take and they take, scorching the fabric as they bury deep into the skin.

The vampire is held in place as if something within an endless cycle of life and death ties him to his spot, scorched by your touch as he squirms and screams. He sounds like a pig, Adrian notes, but the sound is as annoying as the actual animal dying.

The vampire is quick though, and though his arm is distorted, blackened and charred, he shoves you away from him, his nails catching you by the skin of your arm, nicking it as you collide with the side of the cart.

Adrian is there in a flash to end it all, to end its misery, to end its hellish torment. He does it for you when his sword is a flash of lightning, quick to the bite and cold as a kiss to the vampire’s neck, coming out the other end before anyone could realise.

Your breath is caught in your throat as you’re unaware you’ve been cut, though the adrenaline dies down as quickly as the body slumps in front of you, turning to ash before your very eyes.

Adrian is beside you, a hand tending to your arm before the sting catches up with you. You hiss in pain, realising what had happened and how deep the wound is. Three long scratches reach down to your elbow, bleeding freely.

“Careful.” He’s quiet with his words, delicate as if treating you like the fine China you are. He rips part of your shirt, wrapping the open wound to stop the flow of blood. He reminds himself he needs to clean it when you return to the castle.

You’re staring at him as he does so, your eyes glazed over as if in a daze, and before he has time to register if you’re okay, he feels something press against his cheek, and he realises it’s your warm lips, chaste and sweet.

“Thank you,” you murmur, leaning into him as the silence fills the cart. Adrian is silent for what feels like forever, but his mind is screaming. You kissed him, and he’s gaping like a dead fish. You kissed him and he feels like a boy all over again.

He shakes out of his thoughts to collect himself, to calm the rush of blood that goes straight to his head, and he feels lightheaded, but he gladly accepts your embrace, cradling you to his chest.

“No... thank you.”

Latin Translation:

Ardeo - (I) burn

#castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania fanfic #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #reader x alucard #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #reader is a witch #mixed race witch #half black reader #part 8 #witch! reader #alternate universe

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rzyraffek · 8 months

Note

Platonic yandere yautja x human child reader

Aww dad yautja😊 I didn't write for yautjas in months!! Hopefully u enjoy it!! Also i used they/them for kid. No tw, only cuteness and wholesome dad figure yautja👹 request open

Dad yautja with human kid

Bro is confused ??? Tf??? Why is there a child here??

He either found them abandoned in middle of nowhere or accidentally killed their perents, by 'accidentaly' i mean ofc he wanted to kill them he just didn't know there was a child nearby and now he feels bad

Kinda finds human pups ugly😭 why are you so smol and loud wtf

Dad!yautja after he kinda adopts y/n he gets too overprotective! Like dude won't leave their side at all, especially when you guys are outside; dude will pick them up and just carry around.

Can't cook to save his life, he kinda set kitchen on fire. And humans cant eat raw meat, so now you are on fruit diet for now (and veggies)

Had this parental instinct to teach them everything, how to shoot, find food, basic self-defence, overall taking good care of themselfs. But he kinda likes that he has to provide for them, it gives him control yknow

When he carries them around everywhere! He acually lets them sit on his shoulders or just hang on his neck😓😍

Cant say no to those cute big eyes! Yes he will let them 'decorate' his armor (with glitter and stickers) and he will let them paint his nails and he will lisen to them gossip about their friends.

If his kid is a little artist and walks up to him and says "papa i drew you!" He does not care that he looks like a lizard nor that they didn't color it perfectly. Dude is purring, picking y/n up and he carries this drawing in pocket everywhere

Other yautjas say that he spoils them, but he disagrees! Your a HUMAN baby, i mean yeah your basically one of yautjas now but!!! Your tiny! And your skin is so squishy!!!

He had to learn how to comb their hair cuz at some point y/n simply refused to cut it (me too lil guy) and he respects them so much he won't just do something against them

Kinda wishes he could understand human body language more

Also about body language i can imagine kid just kinda mimicing yatuja body language and habits. Like dad!yatuja will say "child please go to bed its late" the kid will just angry respond with a hiss👹 "hsssss👽🦎" "?????" If yaujtas had eyebrows, he would rise them

If y/n is a girl, and she has her first period? Dude panics! HUHH WHAT BLOOD??? FROM WHERE!?? UHHHH????

Dude tries to be a perfect father figure, he tries to have similar intrests with his kid so they can connect more, but if y/n is totally not into hunting, collecting, nature themed stuff, Yautja is more than happy to catch up with whatever teens are into this days, but he will judge the hell out of tv shows (if they watch any)

I kinda forgot it suppose to be yandere so it turned out to be just wholesome im so sorry

Understands that kid needs privacy but he will just go invisible mode and lurk in shadows! Like what if somone attacks you??? Or worse! What if you meet some humans that he doenst like??? What if they will tell y/n all lies about what 'bad war crimes' he commited and what 'murderous' his kind is!! Those are lies pls dont lisen to humans

No boy/girlfriends!!! Nuh uh!! Your his little baby you cant go doing all those... things... with some human. ugh! this person probably can't even hunt for you!! Or give you nice treasures!! Or build a pretty nest!! Why would you like them my child?? Look at all those trophies i gathered for all those years! You should stay here!

He loves the fact that he lives in some wild ass jungle and y/n cant leave him due to all those dangers around, plus he loves that y/n will always stay tiny(in comparison obviously) and weak so be basically needs to provide for them! Right???

I used x reader tags ONLY to reach bigger audience

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #yandere yautja #yautja headcanon #yautja x reader #yautija #yautja

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jimhopperlova · 6 months

Text

- Late Night Drive (18+)

18+ MDNI!

Pairing(s): angry!hopper, trouble maker!fem reader

Summary: based on s1 hop, reader decides to mess with jim like she’s done before: speeding to get an excuse to talk to the town’s chief of police. jim hopper has finally had enough.

Warnings: explicit language, large age gap (hop is 41, reader is 19), handcuff play, public sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving)

hope you enjoy! ive had this plot in my mind for a while now!

“you’re gonna do it again? surprised you haven’t been arrested yet,” your best friend spoke at the diner the two of you always meet at. she giggled at the fact she thought you were so rebellious. staying out way past your curfew, using your fake ID for a couple drinks at the local bar (surprised no one has recognized you yet), sneaking out your dad’s house to hang out with your friends.. let’s just say, you really are surprised you haven’t been caught yet. “i mean.. why do you do it?”

“it’s fun! duh,” you replied before taking a sip of the coke. you smirked at your friend, grabbing your wallet so you can pay for you and your friend’s food. thankfully the job you had at the newspaper paid pretty well. you could afford you and your friend’s meal. “besides, the chief is.. let’s just say not bad to look at.”

“ew!” your best friend grimaced, watching as you pulled out some money. “have you heard the rumors? he’s a whore! you want sloppy seconds?” your best friend asked, and all you could do was cough on the coke you had just drank. your best friend was your best friend for a reason. she was funny when she wanted to be.

“sloppy seconds? where did you hear that?” you laughed before slapping the money and then some for a tip onto the table. you pulled the jacket on before standing, your best friend following. “i’m just saying. it’s fun seeing that man mad. i’ve been doing this for.. let’s see.. this’ll be the third time, and he hasn’t gave me a ticket. maybe i just have a pretty face.” you shrugged and smirked, your best friend following you out of the diner. the cold air hit you, and you knew that it was a good night for doing such. november was always a fun month, and with the leaves rolling down the trees, it was.. gorgeous. your favorite month by far.

“your death wish.” your best friend spoke before bidding you goodbye. you waved back and headed into your car. spiking up the ignition, you heard it purr with excitement. you smirked and patted the steering wheel, turning the music up loud.

“let’s get ‘em, girl.” you mumbled before pulling out of the diner, finding where the chief could be. ‘Detroit Rock City’ by KISS played through the speakers, your smirk emitting even bigger. this was a perfect song to get the deed done. before you knew it, after lapping the police station twice, there was the chief in tow. practically on your ass. you looked in the rearview mirror, and noticed the cold and angry stare from anywhere. ‘now let’s piss him off’ you told yourself.

you pushed down the pedal, watching as the spedometer rose. 40.. 50.. 60.. 70.. you kept your hands gripping the steering wheel, the chief’s lights now just turning on. you giggled at this.. he probably knew it was you. again. he continued to follow you through the town of hawkins, pedestrations all halting to you. they knew that car anywhere, and knew you weren’t going to stop.

adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart raced with every passing second. you laughed loudly, continuing to watch the rearview. he was speaking something in his radio, your actions not stopping. you just wanted to give him a little show before giving up. when you were on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees, you then decided to start slowing down. you watched as the spedometer went from 70 to 35 in a matter of seconds. you slowly pulled over on the side, finally parking the car. you fiddled your fingers on the steering wheel, awaiting your fate. if you weren’t nice, you would definitely lose him by going offroad. you knew your car could, but you wanted to see how red in the face the chief could get. for some reason, that just set something in you. it was fun and thrilling.. you didn’t know why a lot of things were fun, but you did them anyway.

you watched as the chief let out a long and drastic sigh from your mirror, slamming his car. you giggled softly at this, watching as he approached you. you ‘innocently’ rolled down the window so he could look at you better. when he approached, he leaned against the cold metal frame, looking down at you with probably the most angry he’s been.

“officer, honest, i didn’t know how fast i was goin’,” you said in the most southern accent and the most innocent voice you could. of course, he wasn’t buying it. you peered up at him with doe eyes, hoping you would get out of a ticket again. “please find it in your heart to forgive me. promise i’ll be a good lil girl.” you smirked up at the man, who only shook his head and peered down at you again.

“third. fuckin’. time,” the chief spoke, looking down at you with a hard line. so he was playing hard to get, huh? “what makes you think i’ll let you walk again?” the chief asked you, and you meerily smiled. a soft smirk building up.

“because you’re a good man. i’m only 19, i’ll learn my lesson.” you told the chief. you could tell he wasn’t letting you go this time. you nervously fiddled with your fingers in your lap again, hoping the punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

“your father’s a god damn cop. how does he keep letting you drive this thing?” the chief questioned you, and you could only giggle. you were a daddy’s girl, and no matter how many times you fucked up, he would still let you drive. besides, you help put groceries on the table. why would he stop you from going to work? “this ain’t gonna work for me again. shut off your vehicle,” the chief instructed you. you looked up at him with wide eyes. jail? he was going to put you in jail? you swallowed past the nerves in your throat and slowly turned the engine off. “cat’s got your tongue, i see. step out.” he instructed again, and you hesitantly obliged. when you stepped out, you were met with your body slamming against the cold metal frame of your car. your grunted softly in pain, the chief’s hands roaming you. he sure took his time, too.

“oh, come on, officer. to molest me, you gotta be a little more careful than that,” you piped back with a smirk, your head turning so you could watch him from your peripheral. the chief seemed to be enjoying this for some reason. oddly enough, you didn’t know any better, but the chief has been riled up all day. he had a long day already, and here he was at 10 in the night, dealing with the same girl that had been driving him insane. he should just shut you up with his cock. those thoughts infiltrated his mind, but did his damnest to shut up and do what he needed to. but the way you were powerless against this car, he couldn’t help himself. his hands continued to roam your body, pausing a few seconds to grasp at your breasts. with your jacket on, he really couldn’t fantasize that much. “gettin’ a little handsy, there. how’s it looking if i complain to your higher up?” you smirked again before the chief grabbed your face with one of his free ones.

“shut. the. fuck up. and i don’t have a higher up. it’s just me.. sweetheart,” the chief said lowly ss he continued to practically molest you. “you ain’t carrying anything, are ya?” he asked you again, and you could only giggle.

“if you count pepper spray to get rid of creeps like you, then yes. yes, i do. chief,” you said against the car, and finally that’s when the chief snapped. he flipped you around so now he was facing you. his hat hung low on his face, but you could still see the way he looked at you. he was angry, as if he was sick of you. if he was so sick of you, why not just let you go again? “oh, chief. did i pop a nerve or somethin’?” you smirked and that’s when he truly snapped. the chief had been battling his own thoughts. late at night when he was alone, he thought of you causing trouble. he got off to the thought of fucking you from behind against his own police car. and now.. he could probably make that happen.

“get on your fuckin’ knees.. now,” the chief ordered. you looked at him with a smirk and a brow raised. was he really..? “i said get on your fucking knees,” the chief demanded and this time, forced you down so you were on your knees. you looked up at him, lost in thought. okay, you knew you were going to get into some serious shit, but.. this? you didn’t expect this. “don’t worry princess, i ain’t gonna hurt ya. even thought you fuckin’ deserve it.” he then leaned over you, his tented crotch staring at your face. you then felt the metal cuffs against your wrists, him locking them to make sure you really weren’t getting away this time. he looked around to make sure no one was around and unbuckled his belt, you watching with desire. you didn’t think this would actually happen, but here you were. about to suck the chief’s cock.

“if i didn’t know any better, you’re askin’ me to suck your cock.” you giggled out, looking up at him. he looked down at your with those lust filled blue eyes, still too angry to function. he then grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks together.

“damn right i am. and i’m not fucking asking you. you’re going to,” the chief demanded as he continued to pull down his boxers and pants, his cock springing free. he really was hard for you? i mean, he was a man, so they get hard at fucking anything. you didn’t know that he really was hard for you, and it wasn’t just you causing trouble. it was that damn mouth and the way you sauntered around town like you owned it. chief jim hopper owned it, not you. you didn’t even have a moment to take in his thick veiny cock, he just slammed it inside your pathetic mouth. you didn’t really prepare yourself, so you were already gagging on it. “come on, baby. you were so fuckin’ mouthy.. what happened?” he smirked as he watched you gag on his cock, him staying still in your mouth. he grabbed at your hair, slightly pulling on it as he watched you pathetically whine against it.

the chief finally let his cock out of your mouth so you could prepare for it. he wanted to feel you suck it, not just him fuck your face. he wanted to feel the way your mouth accepted his cock, and the way you would truly suck it. he looked down at you, still pulling on your hair.

“i’m sure you know how to work your way around a cock. don’t fuckin’ play with me,” the chief spoke as you looked up at him, helpless. you leaned in, letting your mouth take him in now. you swirled your tongue against the head, pinching in your cheeks so you could actually feel him. he was so veiny. “that’s it.. fuck, that’s it.” the chief groaned softly at the way you took him in. he watched as he slowly thrusted into your mouth, your moans softly englufing around his thick member. your eyebrows knitted together in focusing on sucking his cock, but also you loved the way you were making him sound. before you know it, he was now thrusting at a fast pace, hitting the back of your throat. you gagged on it slightly, before the chief stayed still. he kept it inside your throat before you couldn’t breathe anymore. he thrusted out of you and watched as his cock had your saliva rolling off of his head, and your lips. he chuckled darkly before smirking softly.

“this is what happens when you cause trouble,” the chief spoke before he slapped your face lightly, leaning down at you. you flinched lightly before he pulled you up, and had you bent over against your car. it wasn’t his patrol car, but this will do. he had your head pinned against the back of your car, the cold metal against your face. the chief had then pulled down your pants just past your thighs, as well as your panties. you felt the cold air hit your soaked cunt, a small gasp escaping your throat. “look at that. someone been gettin’ off to thoughts of the chief, huh?” the chief snickered before smacking your ass. you let out a soft yelp, and realized you were in for it now.

“c-chief.. stop.. playing around. please.. i-i need you..” your shaky breaths were heard. you didn’t realize how pathetic you could really be. it just kinda rolled off your tongue, and now the chief had something against you. he snickered again, able to accept why exactly you’ve been causing trouble.

“is this why you get inta trouble? to see what the chief will do to you? huh?” the chief asked you. you swallowed past the thickness in your throat as you felt his fingertips dance around your entrance. he then slapped your soaking cunt, it hurting but feeling good. you needed more of that friction. “fuckin’ answer me.” the chief demanded and you immediately nodded.

“y-yes. fuck- yes,” you replied, and to that the chief could only chuckle. he started to rub at your folds before he found your clit. he started to roll his finger against it, creating that fiction you ever so reached for. “j-jim.. oh, yes..” you moaned out before he slapped your pussy again. you let out another yelp, and before you knew it, he was leaning against your ear.

“we aren’t friends. you don’t get to call me jim,” the chief spoke lowly before pulling back again. he danced around your entrance and added two fingers, watching as your pussy stretched around his fingers. if you had sex, it had been a while since you had any action. the way your pussy quelched around his fingers had his cock throbbing. he really felt like a teenager all over again. “shit. you fuck before?” he groaned into the cold air, you moaning softly. you gripped the trunk of your car, his fingers devouring your pussy.

“yes, i- i have. don’t worry, chief. you aren’t- popping my cherry.” you moaned out, the chief’s smirking widening. so he really could destroy your pussy if he wanted to. he watched you take his fingers and after a couple minutes, he slowly pulled them out of you, watching your juices collect on his fingers. he lapped them up with his mouth, the taste of you sweet. if he wasn’t on duty, he truly would take his time with you. but that wasn’t happening tonight.

the chief slid off his hat and placed it on top of your head, watching as it fit your head perfectly. well, maybe it was a little big, but it fit his fantasy alright.

“you’re gonna take this cock and be quiet. bite the hat if you need to,” the chief instructed and before you could react, his cock was slowly filling you up. the way your pussy tightened around his cock was something that had him really wanting to fuck you. he wasn’t going to last long, and that was good but bad. your pussy had captivated him now, his thrusts slowly going in and out of your wet cunt. “shit.. look at you. taking my cock like the trouble maker you fuckin’ are.” he groaned out, watching the way his cock slid in and out of you.

“oh, f-fuck, chief. fuck.. yes!” you blurted out, and his one hand immediately went back to your head and pinned you down. you let out a gasp and shut your eyes tight.

“i said be fucking quiet,” the chief groaned, before he finally slammed into you. you flinched from the sudden reaction. you grabbed the hat that was on top of your head and bit down onto the velvet fabric. you needed to keep yourself quiet or else this possibly couldn’t happen again. the chief continued to slowly thrust into you, taking his time. despite what he had thought of earlier, he couldn’t help but be addicted to your pussy. it was basically egging him on to cum deep inside you. and before you knew it, he was slamming deep inside you at a rapid pace. you moaned into the hat, it smelling like him. the way you were completely powerless now, and the way he was stroking your cunt.. you were getting close. moans could be heard between the both of you, as well as skin slapping skin was echoing throughout the trees. “shit, baby. i feel you gettin’ tighter. you gonna cum for me? you gonna cum for your chief?” he groaned out, and you could only nod.

“yes, y-yes.. i’m getting so close, chief.” you mumbled out. the familiar knot in your stomach was coming so close to be relieved, and the chief could tell. he chuckled deeply before his lips found your ear, breathing heavy.

“fuckin.. fuck, cum for me. cum for your chief.” the chief had managed to cough out, and with those words of endearment, you felt yourself spasm. your whole body tensed as your hand gripped the back of the car, the relief of pressure bidding off your pussy. you moaned at the feeling, and before you knew it, the chief was pounding into you. deep, hard, fast.. fuck, your pussy was over stimulated now, your body shaking with desire, but you could feel him getting closer to his own release.

“that’s it.. fuckin’ shake for me, baby. i’m gonna cum inside this pussy and make it mine. fucking.. all mine,” he groaned in your ear, and before you knew it, you felt his seed shot up into you. you moaned softly at his reaction, his seed coating your walls. “fuck.. that’s it, baby. take it all.” he managed to whisper out in your ear.

the two of you managed to stay put in this situation for a moment, and finally the chief pulled of you. you felt embrassed, disgusted, but mainly.. you felt at ease. relaxed. the way he acted, you had a feeling chief had wanted this too.

after a moment of silence, you felt a pair of hands on your wrists. you felt the cuffs fall of you, and the chief was smirking softly. he grabbed the hat from your mouth and placed it on his head, as if nothing had happened. he managed to pull up his pants and boxers, before buckling his belt back up. you pulled your own pants up, the two of you staying silent. thinking that he wasn’t going to say anything to you, the chief then turned to you with the same smirk.

“stay outta trouble, ya hear?” the chief then walked away and got into his blazer. you watched him leave you, humiliated. you looked down and thought to yourself. ‘stay outta trouble? well if that was going to happen, why the hell would i stay outta trouble?’

#stranger things #chief jim hopper #david harbour #jim hopper #jim hopper x reader

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dangopango00 · 2 months

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ABYSS RAZOR W LOVE LANGUAGES

Abyss Razor x gn reader

Pt 1 | Pt 2

A/N: I was gonna do loser so hcs but i keep getting annoyed bc i wanna improve my writing but dk what to do bye ANYWAY I JUST CAUGHT UP WITH THE ANIME AND OUEUEU 😭😭😭😭 Im down bad even more they animated the scenes so well hes so kewt

Mostly not established relationship outside of the “as you get closer” sorry im a sucker for the slowburn also oh my god i have to make this two parts why is it so long ill write part two laterrer

GIVING From best to worst (more utc)

1. Acts of Service:

This is his specialty for sure; he just feels as if he has to be useful to you and if he isn’t then you won’t want him anymore. Acts of service are the only thing he can do without stammering or messing up in some way and it’s the only one he’s confident with too. It comes naturally to him tbh he:

- Reminds you of things you need to do even if you only mentioned it to him once in passing

- Brings extra materials or snacks with him if you often forget to bring those things

- Organizes your stuff if he notices your bag and/or your room is messy

- ALWAYS asks if you need help with anything and will do that even if u just tell him to relax he’d instead start trying to help YOU relax

Even as he gets more comfortable with you, excessively partaking in acts of service is something he just can’t shake which isn’t a bad thing! Its his love language afterall, but you just wish he’d stop worrying about if he’s being useful enough and just do what comes naturally. With more reassurance and time he will eventually start to slow down more though.

2. Gift Giving:

I think his gift giving usually comes with his acts of service like bringing snacks. He also just gives you a lot of small gifts because he wants you to know how much you mean to him but he really can’t put it into his words and even if he could theres no way he could articulate it out loud. Some things he gives you includes:

- Origami— I feel like origami is sth he does when he’s bored but even so, he puts the utmost love and care into each of his creations so giving them as gifts is sth reserved for the people closest to him

- Snacks— This one is simple he just cares about u and gets concerned if it seems like u aren’t eating enough or if ur hungry but without food

- A Deck of Cards— ODDLY SPECIFIC but I feel like he’d want you to have one so you and him can play cards even if he forgets his. I think even though he usually plays for Abel he does really enjoy physical games like cards and dominoes etc. like playing cards is how he bonds with people

- Accessories— Now this is RARE bc to him this is reallll bold but under the right circumstances he will give you things like earrings if your ears are pierced or a bracelet or charm (MOST likely the far latter). He sees a lot of accessories that remind him of you and its a little ridiculous, he’ll buy them but because it’s very bold he either won’t give it to you and wait for the “right moment”, give it to someone else to give to you or just leave it somewhere in your room when he’s there

As you grow closer Abyss will get more comfortable with giving you bigger things and will lean more into the accessories when gift giving. He might even feel bold enough to give you the plush he won while koala snotting with Mash.

3. Quality Time:

I was gonna put this one at #2 but I had an epiphany. I fear in the beginning stages Abyss would definitely try to keep you at arms length because of his eye. Oh especially if you met him while he was wearing an eyepatch and didn’t know about his eye; in fact, he feels guilty because he feels like he’s tricking you by being around you at all. Not only this but he has to split his time between you and Lord Abel as well so. However he does feel a little selfish with you and he really does like you so he spends time with you when:

- In the Forest— Just being alone with you in the forest takes the weight of social pressure off of him. It’s almost like the forest is keeping a secret between you and him. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not people would avoid you seeing you with him nor does he even have to think about his eye or if you’d accept it, he can just live in the moment and enjoy reading with u

- In Classes no one else he knows attends— Similar to the forest it’s like keeping a secret but this time it’s specifically because none of his friends are here to see him acting so selfishly.

- He’s Jealous— Now he wont say anything buttt when he’s jealous Abyss will stick to you like a bad habit although still keeping you at a short distance. He just feels like he needs to be with you atm don’t mind him.

- You Reassure Him— Similarly, when you assure him that you don’t mind his reputation or eye (if you know) it makes him want to be around you more and all of that day he’ll be around you more than usual. He’s so grateful just to have met you and for you to say all that? He’s over the moon; he almost feels like he can finally breathe freely

As time goes on he definitely gets insanely good at this considering he loves being around you and the only thing holding him back is his insecurity. I def think that once you’ve been dating a long time or married he clings to you like crazy and even in the beginning stages once he’s gotten comfortable with you he’d follow you like a lost puppy even though his behavior is more catlike lol

4. Physical Touch:

He’s not very good at touch I’m ngl he can barely form words around you let alone touch you 😭. BUT. He does sometimes put the moves on you without noticing and he does try his best. This would include:

- Playing with ur hair when you’re alone or fixing it if he notices it got a bit messed up

- Fixing/Tidying up ur clothes between classes if he notices sth wrong like you tying your tie wrong or if the way you tied your bow was a little crooked (idk why I just think he’d be insanely good at tying bows/ties I bet he ties Abel’s for him too that boy can NOT tie a tie without it looking a little goofy)

- Resting his hands on your back or shoulders when you hug him. Now this seems like normal behavior but its A LOT for him ok his heart is pounding but he really does enjoy being in your arms

- Patting your head awkwardly or holding your face (if he’s feeling bold) when you’re upset bc he doesn’t know what to do but all he knows is he wants you to feel better and that he misses your smile

As time goes on he slowly gets better with physical touch but honestly he gets better VERY slowly like even if he can handle your advances I’m not sure he’ll be able to initiate things like kissing until marriage LOL ok well thats a bit much but you’ll have to have been in a relationship for a while

(Also a silly little tidbit when he initiates physical touch he gets it from you. For example he holds your face because you’ve held his face before and he never felt more at peace so he wanted to give you that same feeling)

5. Words of Affirmation:

Well. Speaking words isn’t one of his strong suits especially to someone he’s infatuated with. HOWEVER his sincerity is unmatched when he does manage to say something. Usually when he speaks words of affirmation they aren’t direct words of love like “I love you” or anything like that but it is always very sweet. He says things like:

- “Thank you.” — He never stops thanking you and apologizing 😭😭 He just needs you to know that he knows he’s so lucky to have you and that he would never EVER take you for granted

- “It’s an honor” — He says this OFTEN everything he gets to do with you is an honor because he feels as though he doesn’t deserve you; he can’t give you all that you deserve yet you stick by his side with no hesitation? He feels blessed; even wonders if The Lord (tm) Abel has something to do with this. He’s just so happy and most of all, grateful

- “I’m so glad to have met you” — This is one that he often mumbles under his breath when you’re being sweet to him; his feelings just swell in his heart at that moment and he lets it slip from his mouth

- “I need you” — He only said this like one (1) ☝️ time but im running out of words ok ANYWAY he’d say this to you only in critical moments like in the heat of the moment if you had been badly injured and you’re just barely hanging on. Besides this under normal circumstances, he’d say this while asking for your forgiveness after he had been avoiding you for a long time out of insecurity and you’re mad at him

As time goes on he gets MUCH better with words of affirmation and has been consciously making an effort to say more because he doesn’t want you to ever think that he doesn’t love you or isn’t proud of you. It’s so often in your beginning dating stage that he’ll stutter something incomprehensible and then give up and try again later going, “A-about earlier…(incomprehensible stuttering)” (he’s trying to say I love you or I’m proud of you or something similar but he couldn’t quite find the words)

#abyss razor x you #abyss razor x reader #abyss razor #mashle x you #mashle x reader #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #loserman x reader #SILLY BOY 😭😭😭😭#hes so ridiculous #i wish he had more screentime #i need to see him animated again wtf #hes so preeeety #ilysmdorklosermen

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stuffdtothemaxxarchive · 6 months

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A thought I had the other day that made me horny so here it is but with more words

Tags: weight gain, USSBBW, (nearly) immobile fat, female reader

TW: mobility issues, medical issues, light humiliation

Imagine one day, while living with your caring feeder partner, you wake up starving. Your partner is at work, so they can’t feed you. So, you realize, you need to feed yourself. But you quickly realize that this might be a problem: the last time you weighed yourself was when you were at the max for your scale, 650 lbs., and that was at least four months ago. You’d definitely gotten bigger since then. So this is going to be a challenge.

You first begin by shuffling your body along the mattress of your bed, slowly getting your fat-swollen legs off the side of the bed. Once you’re sitting, you pause to catch your breath. Even doing so much as sitting up takes tons of effort. Once you’ve caught your breath, you begin the new effort of getting to a standing position. It’s difficult to get enough momentum when you’re struggling with this much fat, but you manage to after nearly ten failed attempts. You can feel your gut slap against your blubbery legs as you stand up, and your boobs slap against your gut. You groan as you give yourself another moment to catch your breath. Getting winded this easily… you might want to invest in getting an oxygen tank.

You take hold of the cane that sits against the wall in front of you. These days, there was barely a chance that you could walk around without needing some kind of support. Unfortunately, your scooter didn’t fit into the bedroom, so until you got to the hall, your cane would suffice.

Now began the hard part: slowly taking steps toward the hallway. Well, it wasn’t really steps, it was more like a shuffled waddle forward. You only manage to get forward a few inches at a time, and your pudgy hand is holding onto your cane for dear life. The fat on your legs wobbles and slaps together, and the fat in your arms sways in time with them. The hunger in your stomach is slowly starting to worsen, especially now that you’re moving so much.

Sweat begins to bead and drop down your forehead as you continue your lumbering stride. You quietly whine to yourself, wishing that your partner was here to rush you back to the bed and get you food. But no such luck.

Finally, you reach the door, and you sigh with relief. The worst part of the journey is almost over. Knowing that there’s no way that you’d get through the door facing forward, you waddle around so that you’re exiting the door from the side. You shuffle slowly to the side into the hallway— and then you’re not moving.

You turn your head around as much as your fat neck and chin can manage to try to find the problem, and it’s immediately apparent. Your butt crack is wedged in the door. And since your stomach is already pushing into the doorframe ahead of you, it’s difficult now to move. You groan with irritation as you try to think of a plan forward. Something that’s definitely more difficult to do when you’re out of breath, sweating like a pig, and starving.

You take in as large of a breath as you can manage, and grab your belly as low as you can reach, lifting it up and back by just a few inches. But good news, it’s the few inches you need to finish getting through the door! Once you’re out on the other side, you sigh with relief. You let go of your huge gut, and it falls with a loud slap back to hanging over your legs.

Thankfully, getting into the scooter just requires you to sit in a seat and swivel to the controls. Once you’re sat down, you flick the button to the motorized scooter on.

Nothing happens.

You try again.

Nothing.

It’s still plugged in— did the battery die during the night?

At this realization, you nearly burst into tears. Just getting here was hard enough, and the distance to the kitchen isn’t that far at all! But the thought of walking more just makes your legs hurt even more. And as you contemplate your situation, your stomach gurgles to get your attention.

You’d have to just push through the pain. It was worth it to get something in your belly.

Thankfully, you still have your walker, which you used before switching over from the scooter. It’s sitting folded right next to you. With a heavy sigh, you heave yourself off of the scooter and back to your feet. You unfold the walker and set it in front of you. Your fat-swollen hands grip onto the handles for dear life, and you begin to trudge forward again.

This walk is still very similar to before— a very slow waddle forward. You can feel your hugeness with every step you take. Every part of you is constantly jiggling, constantly moving around. Sometimes you can feel your hips brush against the hallway walls, reminding you of just how much space you take up. The only sounds you can hear is your fat slapping together and your heavy, labored breathing.

Yeah, you definitely needed to invest in an oxygen tank.

After what feels like hours, you finally make it to your kitchen. You almost start crying from joy as you excitedly waddle toward the food-filled room. You stop right at the fridge, opening it and letting the cold air inside escape to cool off your skin. Your fridge is at least quadruple the size of any normal fridge, and in the door you see the holy grail: gallon tubs of ice cream.

Hastily, you grab a spoon, and you collect all the containers from the top half and drop them to the ground. You then slowly bend down and set yourself down on the cold tile floor. You pop the first lid off and begin to devour it like you haven’t eaten in days.

Time starts to go by in a blur. This ice cream is now the center of your attention. You greedily take in spoonful after spoonful, trying to get all of it in your stomach before it melts. The first tub is gone in mere minutes, though it looks like at least a third of it was covering your face and gut.

You keep eating and eating. You’ve never felt more happy to be filling your huge belly with food. The second container is finished off. Then the third. And then the fourth.

You start to come to your senses when you are halfway through your eighth tub. Discarded gallon tubs surround you, and there’s bits of ice cream smeared almost everywhere. Your stomach feels heavy, and you eat much slower than you did before.

When it’s finally empty, you simply drop the tub down you. Your stomach feels more full than it has in a while; and a quick rub with your hand confirms your fullness. You couldn’t pack anything else in there even if you wanted to. You lean against the fridge, now almost in a haze. You feel your stomach gurgle, now protesting being this full so quickly.

As you wipe some of the leftover ice cream onto your hand to lick it off your fingers, a sudden belch erupts from your mouth. It gives your stomach a bit of a relief, though, so you barely pay it any mind.

Through your haze, you hear the sound of the front door opening and footsteps approach. With half-lidded eyes, you look up to your partner and manage to mumble, “when’s….. dinner….?”

#maxx.txt #maxx.fic #wg kink #weight gain kink #wg fiction #weight gain fiction #fat kink #ussbbw #mobility.issues #medical.issues #.immobility #immobile fat #female.reader #light.humiliation

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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months

Text

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

chapter 2: how have you been? are you bored yet? also on AO3 Chapter 1 Rated E for future chapters

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“It’s totally fine. I am not panicking. I am cooking spaghetti just like I do every Saturday. Right Mia?” Eddie looked over at Mia sitting on her playmat.

Wayne had made it from an old blanket and some thrifted baby toys to save some money and she loved it. She could sit on it for hours, though Eddie was pretty sure that would only be until she actually did figure out how to crawl.

Mia ignored him, too busy trying to make her plastic keys fit into her box of shapes, her brows furrowed in the most adorable way as she twisted them around.

“It’s just a regular night,” he said to himself as he looked down at his Metallica shirt that had a hole in the shoulder and his sweatpants with a suspicious stain that could be baby food or puke. “I should change.”

Just as he considered scooping Mia up to go change, the front door opened and Steve walked in.

He looked amazing.

He always did.

Eddie hated it.

“Um, sorry. I was just going to change,” Eddie said from behind the counter, doing his best to hide whatever the hell that stain was on his pants. Maybe it was actually beer?

Steve looked him over, coming closer with his hands behind his back.

“Why? You look comfy. It’s your house. You worked all day,” Steve sounded genuinely confused as to why Eddie would want to change out of these clothes.

“I mean. You just. You’re-“ Eddie sighed. “You just look a lot nicer than I do is all. And I invited you here so I should at least look like a person.”

Steve stopped next to Mia’s playmat, smirking at Eddie before sinking down to his knees.

“Mama!” Mia exclaimed when she looked up from her toys, clapping her hands and then raising her arms like she wanted to be picked up.

“Hi princess,” Steve said, fondness seeping through his voice as he reached over with one hand to boop her nose. “I have a present for you.”

Steve looked over at Eddie, suddenly realizing he probably should have asked for permission first.

Eddie just shrugged, never one to stop someone from giving Mia a gift. Anyone who cared enough about her to get her something was fine in his book.

He ignored the thought that it was different with Steve, didn’t let himself think about how much he wished Steve would stay.

Steve placed a bag of building blocks made for babies and toddlers in front of her, smiling when her eyes went wide and she started making loud noises like she was trying to speak.

“These are blocks, Mia. You can build houses and castles and anything your imagination can come up with!” Steve started taking some of the blocks out of the bag, showing her how they went together and pulled apart. She didn’t have quite coordination for taking them apart yet, but it was still a really thoughtful gift.

“You didn’t have to get her anything,” Eddie said, trying and failing to hide his fond smile at the way Mia was banging two of the blocks together.

“I know. I wanted to.”

Steve said it so simply, like this was the thing that made him happiest.

“Mama!” Mia yelled, waving the blocks in her hands around, probably trying to ask Steve to play with her without knowing how to actually ask.

He got it, though.

Eddie fell a little bit more.

“Need any help, Eds?” Steve asked from the floor, smiling at Mia trying to put two blocks together.

“Uh. Nope. Keeping her entertained is probably a bigger help than anything else,” he admitted.

Often, if he was alone and had to do something that would take more than 5 minutes, he’d have to put her in her high chair or her bounce seat so that he knew she wouldn’t get into anything.

Wayne had spent almost an entire Saturday last month baby-proofing the entire trailer to the point where Eddie couldn’t even get into some of the cabinets. But that didn’t mean he felt comfortable leaving her on the floor with his back turned, even if they were in the same room.

He was a tiny bit overprotective.

“That’s easy enough,” Steve said as he pulled apart two blocks so she could put them together again. “But seriously, don’t worry about changing. You look good.”

Eddie would have assumed he was teasing if he didn’t sound so damn earnest.

He fought the insistent urge to at least put on some jeans and turned back to where he was prepping the sauce.

He listened to Steve talking to Mia, listened to Mia call him Mama and laugh, listened to what it would sound like if he could keep Steve around.

Jesus, Eddie. This is bad even for you.

He sighed a bit louder than he meant to and startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Steve asked him quietly.

“Yeah. Do I seem not okay?” Eddie was focusing on the sauce simmering in the pan in front of him and pasta just starting to boil in the pot next to it.

He was not going to look at Steve.

“You seem like you’re uncomfortable with me being here. I can go if you want.”

Eddie didn’t want that.

He just wanted to be able to look at Steve without his heart breaking all over again and hear him talking and playing with Mia without wishing that Steve was his.

He wasn’t uncomfortable.

Quite the opposite, actually.

He was scared that he was somehow too comfortable.

“I want you here.”

It was honest, painful to admit, but even more painful for him to try to keep contained.

He’d spent the last year holding back feelings, and not just the ones about Steve.

Maybe he should try to let some of them go.

Mia let out a loud squeal, banging the blocks in her hands against the floor, somehow almost completely off of her playmat at this point.

Steve turned to her and smiled, then looked back at Eddie.

“She’s a really happy baby. Seems like you’re doing pretty great,” Steve nudged him, finally managing to get Eddie to look at him.

“Yeah, well, she’s a good baby. Always has been. I got pretty lucky,” Eddie shrugged it off, just like he did when anyone complimented him on his parenting.

“She’s a good baby because she’s loved and has all of her needs met. That’s all you.”

Dammit.

“Yeah.” He shook his head, physically trying to clear out the thoughts rushing through his head. “Um, could you actually do me one favor?”

God, Eddie needed a minute. He needed fresh air. He needed about eight beers, maybe some weed despite the fact he hadn’t smoked at all since Mia was dropped off here.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve replied, oblivious to Eddie’s internal breakdown.

“I just need to run to the bathroom if you could keep an eye on Mia and the food for a minute?”

“I think we can manage, right Mia? You won’t try to run away?” Steve stood in front of her with his hands on his hips.

“Mama! Uh!” Mia raised her hands up in the air and Steve, who was clearly already a pushover for her, bent over and picked her up.

“Already getting everything she wants out of you,” Eddie shook his head, but couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone or on his face.

“Can’t help it. She’s got your big puppy dog eyes.”

Eddie was blushing.

He tried to hide it, but he failed miserably, the heat across his cheeks spreading down to his chest.

“Yeah, well, right now it’s just picking her up. Next it’ll be a car,” Eddie mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen towards the bathroom.

“Your daddy’s silly, isn’t he, Mia?” he could hear Steve say as he walked away.

He closed himself in the bathroom, grabbed a folded towel from under the sink, and screamed into it.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. This is okay,” he whispered into the towel.

“Eds? You okay?” Steve asked outside the door.

“Yep! Be right out!” he yelled back, putting the towel back under the sink quietly.

He heard soft footsteps walking away from the door and took in a deep breath.

“We aren’t gonna let him do this to us. Not now,” he pointed at his reflection in the mirror as he whispered. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth and he’s just gonna leave at the end of this week anyway.”

He sighed.

As if those words would actually stop what was already becoming a major problem.

He flushed and turned on the sink, going through the motions as if he’d actually used the bathroom, keeping up the facade that he was completely fine.

He wasn’t, but he was good at faking it.

He walked out to the kitchen to see Steve stirring the pasta, Mia on his hip babbling away while he rocked from foot to foot as if he were dancing.

The bathroom mirror pep talk was useless; He was in too deep.

“You guys look like you’ve got this handled. Maybe I’ll go take a nap,” Eddie joked.

“Yeah, if you want one, you should,” Steve said over his shoulder, not even taking his attention away from the food cooking in front of him or Mia in his arms.

He looked so natural.

Like he was meant to be here, to be a part of their lives.

“No, I’m good,” Eddie said, clearing his throat as he walked closer to the stove to take over from Steve.

Things seemed a bit easier when he had something to focus on, something for his hands to stay busy. Steve was more focused on entertaining Mia, so he didn’t feel like he needed to try to make any conversation.

He got lost in the background noise of Mia squealing and giggling while Steve played with her on the floor, barely even noticed the phone ringing until Steve called his name.

“Need me to get it?” he asked.

“Sorry, no. I got it.”

Eddie walked over to the phone and picked it up, pretty sure it was Wayne calling to make sure the day went okay while he was on his break.

“Hello?” Eddie answered.

“Hey, Ed. All good today?” Wayne asked.

“Yep. You?”

“Uh huh. Mia okay for you?”

Eddie looked over at where Mia was sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor, banging her blocks against the floor.

“She was a little fussy, but um. Someone helped out.”

Maybe he would get away with being vague. Maybe Wayne would just assume one of the guys was able to calm her down.

“Oh? Who?”

Shit.

“Just an old friend.”

“An old friend.” Wayne sounded like he was expecting a full explanation, but Eddie could not do that with Steve sitting right there.

“You remember Steve?”

“Harrington?” Wayne sounded pissed already and he didn’t even know the half of it.

All Wayne knew about Steve was that he was here one minute, gone the next, and that he’d left Eddie heartbroken in a way he’d never seen before.

“Yeah.”

“I remember how upset you were when he left town without a goodbye. What’s he doin’ here?”

“Mama!” Mia screeched, ending in a giggle.

“Since when does Mia know that word?” Wayne asked, nearly choking on whatever he was eating.

“I-“

“Hey, Eds? I think she needs a change. I can do it if you just tell me where her stuff is,” Steve said from the floor.

“Ed. What are you doing?” Wayne didn’t sound mad, just a bit worried, and rightfully so.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Eddie asked Wayne, desperate for this conversation to be over as soon as possible.

“We will. You’re gonna tell me what the hell is goin’ on and I’m gonna try not to wring that boy’s neck,” Wayne said. “Love you and Mia.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up and turned to Steve, who was holding Mia and looking at Eddie, patiently waiting for directions.

“I can change her. She’s a bit of a wiggle worm so it’s not easy.”

“I think I can handle it,” Steve smirked. “Does the princess have a tower?”

“We share one,” Eddie nodded towards the hall. “End of the hall, last door on the right. Changing table and crib takes up most of the room so you can’t miss it. Diapers and wipes in the top drawer.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Steve saluted and then tried to get Mia to do the same, much to everyone’s amusement.

She waved her hand, seemingly trying to copy Steve, but not quite able to.

It was a cute attempt, and Eddie couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss the top of her head, completely forgetting how close that would put him to Steve’s face.

He froze as he pulled away, letting himself breathe in the scent of Steve’s cologne, a spicy citrus that he was certain had to taste as good as it smells.

Steve was frozen too, watching him with unblinking eyes and parted lips, like he was expecting Eddie to lean in and kiss him.

He pulled away.

He fought every urge he had, and he pulled away.

Steve left the room, thankfully not commenting on anything that just happened.

Eddie tried, he really did. He tried so hard to focus on draining the pasta and mixing in the sauce.

But he could hear Steve making Mia babble and giggle, and his heart flipped in his chest.

He walked down the hall enough to hear everything Steve was saying, even though a part of his brain was telling him not to let himself.

“You’re a lucky girl, Mia. You’ve got the coolest dad. I bet he plays his guitar for you all the time,” Steve said, and Eddie could hear the drawer opening as he spoke. “You like listening to your dad play? I don’t blame you. He’s good, huh? Could be a rockstar.”

And God, did that hurt. It was bittersweet to hear Steve believing in him, especially knowing it was too late.

“Yeah, you think so too? Think he could play with Ozzy?”

Eddie’s heart was going to beat right out of his chest,

“Or maybe Metallica? He saved us with one of their songs. Did you know your daddy’s a hero?” Steve was whispering now, making it harder for him to hear.

“He risked his life so we could all beat the bad guy and get out alive. I don’t think any of us ever really thanked him for that,” Steve continued while Mia babbled on as if she was responding to him. “I don’t think he really agrees with us, though. And I know he’s not really happy with me. But maybe we could go back to being friends. Maybe- well, just maybe.”

Eddie kind of hated that he sounded defeated, like he knew Eddie was keeping an emotional distance for a reason.

Steve had always been perceptive, always got a sense of what the kids needed before they asked, usually could read Robin’s mind depending on her mood. He was good at sensing when Eddie was overstimulated.

But that was all before he left.

The anger started flooding through him again.

He walked back to the kitchen, finished making dinner, and started cutting up the plain pasta he set aside for Mia to eat.

“Fresh and clean princess ready to feast!” Steve said, dramatically holding Mia out in front of him, smiling as she kicked her legs in the air.

Eddie smiled at Mia, but avoided eye contact with Steve.

“Can you put her in her high chair please?” Eddie asked as he plated their food.

Their dining room table was designed for two people, but the high chair had been set up along the corner of the table so Mia could still feel like she was sitting with Eddie and Wayne.

Steve did as he asked, then walked over to the fridge to grab them drinks, acted as if he was right at home.

Eddie was going to die tonight. His heart would crumble into pieces.

He set that thought aside and tried to get through.

He set Mia’s plate down in front of her, smiling when her hands went straight to the noodles and grabbing a fistful to shove into her mouth.

Steve set their plates down on the table wordlessly, possibly picking up on the sudden awkwardness.

They mostly ate in silence, Mia’s noises the only thing keeping the dinner from being completely miserable.

“So-“

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.”

He felt Steve’s eyes on him, but he refused to look back at him.

“Do what?”

Eddie sighed, finally giving in and looking up.

“The whole pretending we’re okay thing. Pretending we’re friends. You made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be when you left. I don’t expect you to try just because you ended up at the place I work earlier. You can just go stay with Dustin and then leave,” Eddie knew he sounded detached, unemotional.

Nothing like himself.

“Eds-“

“Don’t. I really appreciate what you did earlier and tonight, but please don’t come back expecting to just pick up where we left off. You’re leaving again. I have to watch out for me so I can be here for Mia and I know I can’t go through what I did last time,” Eddie added.

Mia was watching him, suddenly quiet.

He didn’t want her to catch onto any negative feelings.

“Mama?” she asked, looking at Steve.

Steve softened slightly, looking over at her with a small smile.

“You need something, pretty girl?” he asked her, his voice sounding unsure.

“Mama!” Mia started waving her hand, fist still full of noodles. “Uh!”

“No, sweetheart, you have to eat first,” Steve said before Eddie could interrupt.

Eddie watched as Steve looked back down at his plate of barely eaten spaghetti.

“I think maybe I should go. I-“ Steve sighed. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. It was really great getting to see you and meet Mia. She’s amazing. You’re a great dad.”

He wasn’t looking up.

Eddie knew he was biting back tears, could hear it in the slight tremble of his voice and see it in the way his cheeks were red and his hands were clenching into fists against his thighs.

“Let me get Mia to bed and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s words, watery eyes full of a hope that Eddie couldn’t quite dash.

“You don’t owe me anything, Eddie. I-“

“No, but you owe me.”

Steve nodded and looked back down at his plate, slowly twirling some spaghetti on his fork.

“Alright, princess. Let’s finish dinner so you can get cleaned up and in bed,” Eddie poked Mia’s cheek, making her giggle and focus back on the pasta in her hand.

She shoved it into her mouth, still learning exactly where her mouth is and how to get her hand there. She was hopeless with her plastic silverware, but that was normal for babies her age.

He couldn’t help laughing when she pulled her hand away, tried to pick up another handful, and the noodles slipped out of her hands.

Steve let out a small laugh too.

Eddie looked over at him, couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach at the fond smile on Steve’s face.

————————————————————————————————

When Mia was done eating, Eddie excused himself to give her a quick bath and get her ready for her bedtime bottle.

Steve started cleaning up their dinner, shrugging Eddie’s argument off about how he didn’t have to do anything.

“You cook, I clean.”

Which is what Eddie always said to him when they would spend hours hanging out, usually ending in Steve cooking them both dinner.

He couldn’t think about it right now, needed to stay levelheaded.

He needed to get Mia to bed, and maybe have a shot of Wayne’s good whiskey so he could say what he needed to say.

“You’re gonna fall asleep easy for me tonight, right? Let me talk to Steve?” Eddie asked as he changed her into her pajamas, smiling at her long blinks and a big yawn.

“Mama.”

“Yeah, sure, Mama,” Eddie agreed.

It wasn’t Mia’s fault that she barely knew enough sounds to make even the most basic words and had somehow latched onto calling Steve the one thing that would hurt Eddie most.

Steve wouldn’t be around after tonight anyways, and she’d forget all about it, all about him.

Maybe they both could.

Mia fell asleep before she’d even finished her bottle, her fingers wrapped around Eddie’s thumb.

He smiled down at her, getting wrapped up in the peacefulness that always existed when she first fell asleep. The quiet of the room was enough to let him forget for a moment that he was about to have a really difficult conversation.

He set her down in her crib gently, keeping his hand on her chest for a moment when she started wiggling like she was waking up. She calmed immediately, sighing as she fully settled into sleep.

“Hey,” Steve whispered from the doorway.

Eddie turned his head and looked at Steve leaning in the doorway, hands crossed over his chest with a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he whispered back, pulling his hand away and walking over to the doorway.

Steve dropped his arms as he got closer, standing up straight as his his smile became more hesitant.

“We should talk,” Eddie said, nodding his head toward the living room.

“Yeah,” Steve sounded resigned, like he knew this wouldn’t go well.

Eddie waited for him to walk away, closing the door behind him, but leaving it open a crack to hear if Mia started crying.

He couldn’t sit, the nervous energy bubbling in his stomach and chest to the point that sitting would feel like holding himself back.

He couldn’t do that tonight, not with Steve.

Steve sat on the couch, his leg bouncing as he leaned forward like he was ready to run the moment things got real.

“I feel like I should apologize-“ Steve started.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for? Do you know what it was like to be so close to something and then have it ripped away without a reason, an explanation, anything? And I needed you. I needed a friend, I needed you, when Mia showed up. I needed someone who could talk to me like everything was normal, and treat me like everything was normal when everything was not normal. I couldn’t go to the kids, I couldn’t go to the guys, everyone else had left already. I thought you would be here and you weren’t.” Eddie choked on a sob. “I didn’t need you to be anything you weren’t ready for, Steve. I didn’t need you to love me the way I loved you. I didn’t need anything except your friendship. Do you know how fucking terrible it felt to find out you left from Dustin? Dustin, who called me in a panic because he thought you were hurt or worse and I couldn’t even give him an answer.”

“Eds-“

“And then the way Robin covered for you for months before you even talked to the kids? I was hurt about you not wanting to talk to me, but the kids? They practically worship the ground you walk on. The way they asked me if I’d talked to you every time they visited. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

Eddie took in a deep breath, the tears streaming down his face.

“You can’t crash into my life again, acting like you didn’t rush out of it, and expect an apology to be enough. Especially not when I have Mia. She needs me to be my best and having you coming and going is not going to put me at my best,” Eddie sat on the coffee table, looking away from Steve’s still figure.

“Eddie, I.” Steve touched his knee, grabbing his attention. “I am sorry. I don’t have an excuse and I wouldn’t try to come up with one anyway. I just…I was scared and Robin was the only person who would let me run. She didn’t want me to, but she’s my best friend so she let me. It was stupid and I was stupid, I am stupid.”

None of these words were helping Eddie feel better; In fact, he was feeling worse.

He felt like Steve was being sincere, and he was feeling like he wanted to forgive Steve, and worst of all, he was feeling like he could let Steve in in ways he’d been totally prepared to do before he left.

He couldn’t let himself do that.

He couldn’t let Steve in and get hurt again, couldn’t let himself love Steve and end up with a broken heart.

Not when Mia depended on him.

He had to let Steve go, leave Hawkins again, for good maybe, and hope he found someone so his stupid heart could repair itself quickly.

“I believe you,” Eddie whispered out, not trusting himself to speak louder.

“You do?”

Eddie hated that he sounded hopeful.

“I do.” Eddie looked up at Steve, sad smile in place. “But it doesn’t change things. You left, you’re about to leave again, and I can’t keep my expectations high with you.”

It was a low blow, poor phrasing, and Eddie could sense how much it hurt Steve from the full body flinch.

Steve sat in silence, mouth opening and closing as he searched for a response.

“I think you should go. I’m trying to be a good dad for Mia, and be responsible, and not do something stupid, so you need to go.”

Eddie heard his own voice break at the end, but hoped maybe Steve would leave him.

“Can I please just…” Steve touched his cheek. “Can I kiss you? I wanted to before. I wanted to come here before I left. I just knew it wouldn’t change anything.”

“It won’t change anything now,” Eddie stared at him wide-eyed, half wishing he would kiss him and half wishing he’d walk away.

“It would be a reminder to me. Of what I gave up because I couldn’t face what I could have had.”

Eddie blinked once.

He should say no.

He should.

But he gulps, he leans in, and he presses his lips to Steve’s.

It’s soft, softer than Steve deserves and softer than Eddie knows he can handle dealing with later.

It’s barely anything really, he only considers it a kiss because it’s everything he’d wanted with Steve from the first time he woke up to him in his hospital room after nearly being eaten alive.

It’s also long, surprisingly so for something that’s barely a kiss at all.

Steve clearly doesn’t want it to end, but doesn’t push to deepen the kiss at all.

Eddie knows he’ll have to end it.

He doesn’t want to.

He ends it.

He pulls away slowly, feels a small droplet of spit that isn’t his sticking to his bottom lip, wishes it could stay there forever.

He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, savored the feeling, the taste, the knowing.

When he opened them, Steve was staring at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Please go,” he said softly.

Steve let out a small whimper, but nodded and stood up, no longer looking at Eddie.

When he got to the door, he turned.

“I loved you, too. I do, still. And it’s not fair for me to say that, but I just need you to know that I think about what I gave up every day. And after seeing you with Mia today, I know I’m never going to find anything like what I’ve gotten to share just in a few hours with you two.” Steve huffed, clearly trying not to cry. “I don’t think there’s ever gonna be a time when I don’t love you, Eds. I’m sorry I couldn’t show that when you needed it most.”

He turned to leave.

Eddie slid to the floor and let out a sob.

He had at least four hours to cry before Mia would wake up for a bottle, and another two or three after that before Wayne would be home.

Hopefully the tears would dry up by then.

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TAG LIST: @goodolefashionedloverboi @disrespectedgoatman

Chapter 3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ao3 fic #mechanic eddie munson #single dad eddie munson #chapter 2

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