#this was supposed to be out for her birthday
Text
hallmarks of sisterhood
putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.
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Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you.
It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked.
As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily.
All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could.
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“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister.
“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.
“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.”
Alba flushed red with anger.
“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind.
“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”
“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?”
“You are such a-”
“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room.
“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed.
“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending.
“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted.
“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter.
When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried.
Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.”
“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”
“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.
“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl.
“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit.
“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.
“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-”
It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped.
“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly.
“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you.
You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously.
They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument.
You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong.
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You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often.
Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock.
Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.
“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.”
“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer.
“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos.
“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go.
“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile.
“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room.
“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics.
“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it.
As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up.
If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so.
This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you.
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The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument.
You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this.
If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it.
You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope.
Alexia had responded first.
It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.
Alba responded after that.
You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.
You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.
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You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today.
You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later.
You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later.
“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder.
You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible.
“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.
You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.”
“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look.
“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.”
Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.”
You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.
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You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included.
That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall.
The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image.
You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous.
You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically.
You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful.
You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song.
More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters.
Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly.
You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her.
They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.
You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation.
“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face.
“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?”
You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters.
Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck!
Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.
You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come.
A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt.
“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly.
“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head.
“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.”
You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others.
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Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right.
She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face.
“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly.
Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?”
Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.”
Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset.
“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.”
Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.”
Eli chuckled. “I will.”
She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that.
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You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you.
“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed.
“I know, mija, I am so sorry.”
“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.”
Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t.
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It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life.
Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.
“Mami, I-”
“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.”
“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach.
“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”
“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.”
“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were.
“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life.
Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it.
Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you.
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Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch.
Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?”
Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba.
It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said.
“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister.
“We really did.” Alba replied.
“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared.
“We really do.” Alba agreed.
“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?”
“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face.
Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.”
“New car?”
“New house?”
“Can we buy her a country?”
They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior.
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The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset.
You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face.
“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently.
“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged.
“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you.
Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands.
“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them.
“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?”
“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this.
“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly.
“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?”
Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her.
“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped.
Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that.
“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.”
Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?”
“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse.
“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety.
“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’”
“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head.
“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.”
At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot.
“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer.
With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.”
Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore.
“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments.
Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work.
-------
Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in.
Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself.
“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?”
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face.
Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes.
“Do you think that is enough?” You asked.
Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.”
Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway.
“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight.
It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you.
“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you.
You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting.
You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears.
Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters.
Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot.
Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed.
Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you.
It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special.
You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself.
You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught.
“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other.
They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction.
“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.
Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered.
“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”
And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be.
When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands.
It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get.
-------
Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands.
And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted.
“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands.
“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.”
Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded.
“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly.
“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it.
“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.”
“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-”
Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit.
“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.”
Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed.
Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be.
-------
it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.
everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.
hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#alexia putellas x reader#putellas!reader#platonic reader
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i can do it with a broken heart - f1 grid
parings: gn!driver!reader x platonic!f1!grid x ex!jacob elordi
summary: after yn and their ex break up, they carry on as best they can and no on had any idea how bad they were struggling
notes: george is in this but he does not drive for mercedes, yn does. i also used a mixture of fem and masc pictures because i couldnt decide and thought you could just imagine whatever you wish!!
notes 2: probably the longest fic ive done so far but im pretty proud of it. the time stamps above each section are semi important so i would keep an eye on them!! also i know ive been gone for so long but i do not promise ill be back. alsoooo i know i only included a bit of the grid but i kept getting distracted and then couldn’t figure out how to include everyone!!
masterlist
march 2024
twitter
charles oh my god i cant believe my cat is finally the pfp
i have been waiting for YEARS
max yes well you better enjoy it because it’ll change soon and you’ll be back to waiting again.
lando jesus max do you have to use punctuation???
alex be glad he doesnt use captials
oscar one thing at a time lando, we dont want to scare him
max ???
lando anyway
yn mate you ok?
yourname im fine? ur scaring me you never ask how i am
lando yeah but usually your not single
lewis oh no! you and jacob split?
yourname yeah, wasnt working anymore
charles ah im sorry, that must suck😣
yourname i mean it does but its been coming for a long time so its not surprising
fernando hello! yn what is wrong? you always use emotes!
yourname theyre emojis nando, and im fine just a bit lost
fernando do not worry, i will come and find you!
yourname no, i dont mean literally just..we were together for so long i dont really know what to do now you know?
lando i get it, you wanna play tarkov with me???
yourname cheers ill get on now
george let us know if you need anything!
may 2024
yourusername
liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and 814,583 others
p✌️ was just what we needed this weekend!
thank you to everyone who came out and supported myself and the team and huge thank you to the team for working so hard all weekend⭐️
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mercedesamgf1 mega job this weekend yn👊 *liked by author*
landonorris nice to share the podium with you mate
yourusername same time next race?
user33 loved seeing you back on the podium
user2 absolutely smashing it this season
user21 more podiums please🤲 *liked by author*
user3 fourth podium of the year first p✌️*liked by author*
twitter
*pretend it says after march i changed dates around last min*
august 2024
yourusername
liked by lukehemmings, charles_leclerc and 1,124,642 others
did some reading, painting and writing
baked some good food and spent time with some good people, also got a cat…not bad for summer break☀️
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user66 AHHHHHH
yourusername ahhhhhhh
user26 cats name plsplspls
yourusername norman🐱
lukehemmings nice music👍
yourusername woah arent you the guy who wrote mum?!
mercedesamgf1 ready to see you back on the podium
yourusername always!!!!
user74 have you had funnnn??
yourusername yesss!! ive been doing lots of things i enjoy, basically treating every day as my birthday😋
twitter
*was supposed to write them instead of her sorry!! was doing two stories at once and kept getting mixed up😅*
october 2024
yourusername
liked by mercedesamgf1, gracieabrams and 1,291,638 others
p☝️ for the 3rd time this season, very very pleased
huuuuuge thank you to the team, every single one of you who worked tirelessly over the summer break and every moment since then, these have been for you⭐️
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user55 what a good season to be a yn fan *liked by author*
user6 these races have been incredible to watch, so proud
yourusername ⭐️⭐️
gracieabrams woop woop!!!!
yourusername 😝😝
user2 gracie??
user41 why have we not had any personal photo dumps yet😕😕
user88 right we miss seeing you yn!!
yourusername sorry guys😣ive been suuuper busy working on something i just honestly forgot
user41 NEW PROJECT?? WHEN?? (also pls dont feel bad we love u)
yourusername soon!! (and i love u guys too)
twitter
november 2024
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 3,689,921 others
tagged: taylorswift
i cannot believe i get to say this, but my new friend taylor just released a new album and i was able to write a song on the album
im honestly not sure how this came about but i had so much fun writing this and expressing all my thoughts and feelings in a way ive never done before
i poured my life and soul into this song and im so glad taylor is the one who is singing it and really bought it to life
send some love to my friend and go and stream THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT (most importantly i can do it with a broken heart😉)
comments have been limited
taylorswift thank you for trusting me with this song, so much love🤍
yourusername NO THANK YOU!!! i will be forever grateful⭐️⭐️
twitter
yourusername added to their story
seen by taylorswift, lewishamilton and 729,282 others
charles i feel completely betrayed yn
fernando oh no😟! what did yn do?
charles THEY DIDNT TELL ME THEY WERE WRITING A SONG??
AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT HOW COULD YOU☹️☹️
yourname sorry charles, surprise?!
charles ill forgive you because its a good song
yourname thank you my life just got infinitely better!
yuki very good song yn! has been on repeat☺️
yourname thanks yuki, glad you like it!!
lando I LOVE IT TOO
but seriously are you ok?!
yourname yeahhh im better now
was just a lot to navigate
lewis glad you found an outlet! but remember you can always talk to any of us
yourname i know and i appreciate it, i really do
alex yn was that twitter thread right?
yourname mate youre going to have to elaborate
alex user56tweetlink
yourname oh pretty much yeah
some things were changed with taylor but not much
fernando just listened to the song yn! very nice👍well done!
yourname thank uu
max good song yn!
now
lando can you please tell me what you meant on your twitch stream!
oscar max is kind of scary
max dont make me talk about that interview next oscar!
#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#f1 social media au#social media au#formula 1 insta au#formula 1 social media au#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 drabble#f1 x male reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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the one where the kids go bowling II barça femeni
part of the 'pollito' universe, stuck tiny silver flash
the one where the kids go bowling II barça femeni
"-and you will message me once you finish up and get to jana's, sí?" you pushed off alexia's hands which fixed your necklace so the clasp wasn't showing with a huff.
"sí ale! por favor can i go now?" you groaned, hovering by the door with an overnight bag in hand feeling like a little kid going to a sleepover as alexia fussed over you.
it was jana's birthday and she'd invited a few of the younger girls to go bowling and out to dinner, offering for you to spend the night at hers with bruna and ona which you'd happily accepted.
with all of the girls backing you up and promising to keep an eye out for you and vicky, the captains had no choice but to agree though you knew you largely had patri to thank for that who shockingly had been the voice of reason in the scenario.
"sí, enjoy yourself but do not do anything i wouldn't do nena!" the older girl warned as you heard olga snicker from the sofa and you leaned around alexia to shoot her a grin which she returned with a wink, mouthing for you to have fun.
"don't listen to her! bad influence." alexia tutted ushering you out the door and glaring playfully at her girlfriend over her shoulder who blew her a kiss and turned back to typing away at her laptop perched on her knees.
"alexia!" you whined as she grabbed the back of your jacket to stop you racing off, following after you to bruna's car who paled at the sight of her captain gesturing for her to roll down the window which she did.
you managed to tug yourself free of the catalans iron grip, slipping into the backseat beside ona. "hola alexia." bruna swallowed nervously as the corner of the older girls mouth tugged upward a little in amusement.
"feliz cumpleaños superestrella!" bruna sighed in relief and loosened her grip on the steering wheel as alexia's stern facade melted and she gave jana a dazzling grin where she sat in the passenger seat.
"gracias ale." jana returned the grin gratefully. "no invite for me to come bowling? the disrespect for your captain chica's." alexia tutted, pushing away from the car with a wink.
"no abuela's allowed!" you called from the back with a grin, smacking bruna on the shoulder and ordering her to drive as alexia shot you a glare and opened her mouth to respond, bruna pulling out quickly from the curb before she could do.
"if she makes us run extra laps for your mouth pollito i'm gonna kill you!"
~
"hola mis chicas!" you launched yourself into the middle of the small group of girls who'd already arrived and were sat in the booth by your designated lane, groans of pain greeting you where you'd landed on them, shoved to the side as ona bonked you on the head with your bowling shoes and handed them over.
you let out a yell as no sooner did you bend down to lace them up a body slammed into you nearly taking you off the bright blue leather lounge entirely.
"lópez!" you shoved her back, the two of you wrestling around for a moment before salma stepped in to break it up and sent vicky off for her turn.
"you know you are supposed to knock the pins over bru, sí?" you teased as the girl bowled a zero and stomped back to the lounges with a scowl.
"sí its not like golf bruna, lowest score loses not wins!" jana added on sitting down beside you with a smirk as bruna flipped you both off and sat down herself with a huff.
you all cheered as vicky bowled a strike, taking a photo for your social media and squealing as janas hand moved to brush the back of your neck as she set something down behind you.
"why is your hand so cold! dios mío." you cringed at the icy tips of her fingers as jana laughed and prodded at you. "this is yours." jana tapped one of the bright red slushees she'd put down and poked your cheek before getting up to take her turn.
what she failed to mention was the utter importance that you drank only the slushee which was yours.
but too busy laughing at your friends woeful attempts at bowling you grabbed jana's without realising, frowning a little at the odd taste but unsure what flavour it really was you paid it no mind, sticking your bright red tongue out at vicky who giggled and did the same.
vicky was also too busy laughing at ona who routinely bowled gutter ball after gutter ball and swore so much that a mother on the lane over came and gave her a talking to about family friendly language, the older girl going bright red and stammering out an apology.
what your friends failed to mention was why it was so important the two of you drank the slushees that were given to you, and that was that on a perhaps poorly minded decision the older girls had snuck in a flask of vodka and spiked their slushees.
not enough to get them drunk of course just...a little pleasantly buzzed.
but with you and vicky having little to no experiences drinking, the small amount of alcohol had gone right to your heads though neither of you had tweaked the reality of your situation just yet.
which is why you weren't sure what was so funny as you stood to take your turn to bowl, or why your fingertips suddenly felt weird and your legs a little tingly, or why you couldn't work out which lane you were supposed to bowl in given you had to squint to narrow it down from three to one.
"apresúrate pequeña we have dinner reservations at eight!" jana groaned impatiently, tapping her foot with a roll of her eyes as you closed one of yours to try and stop the lanes from moving.
giving it your best go you wound up and let go of the ball, tripping over your own feet and crashing to the ground with a thump as the ball sailed up and over the gutters, landing in the lane of the group beside you who jumped in shock.
you felt hands on your body trying to help you up an voices muffled like your head was underwater but their faces were a blur and all you could do was giggle, poking at the weird blobs in front of you as a warmth spread through your body and you let out a loud and sudden peal of laughter.
"is she..." salma trailed off with wide eyes at bruna who was on your other side helping you up. "no. she can't be? hers and vickys didn't have anything in them, we made sure." bruna denied with a firm shake of her head though as vicky fell off the edge of the lounge with a giggle her certainty faded.
"what is wrong with them?" esme asked worriedly, helping vicky up as you were sat back down and went limp, closing your eyes and giggling to yourself at nothing, enjoying the feeling of the warmth sitting comfortably now in your rosy red cheeks.
with the other girls distracted arguing over who spiked what you sat up and grabbed your slushee, downing the last few mouthfuls as your elbow brushed jana's side and she turned.
"aye pollito no!" the birthday girl groaned snatching the now empty cup from your hand, vicky already having finished her own as she tried to stand up to take her turn and promptly fell right back down nearly into emse's lap.
"sniff that bruna. idiota i told you this was a bad idea!" jana seethed smacking the younger girl across the back of the head and shoving your empty slushee cup in her face which indeed smelled like vodka, esme doing the same to vickys which was the same story.
"me? this was your idea amiga its your birthday!" bruna scoffed as the two began to bicker, ona trying her best to break it up as you took the opportunity of them being distracted to sneak off, suddenly having an overwhelming urge to run away.
knocking your knee against vickys she shared your grin, the two of you dropping to your knees and crawling away to the booth beside your own lane, grabbing one anothers hands with a giggle and racing off.
"hey vuelve aquí!" salma noticed the back of your heads race off and yelled out, yanking the others up as ona stayed back to reset the lanes so you could all leave.
you and vicky didn't make it far, tripping over your own feet and grabbing out for her to steady you, instead accidentally pulling her down to the ground with you as the two of you collapsed into a pile of giggles and hiccups.
bruna apologizing quickly to the staff who wandered over to check everything was okay jana and esme hauled you up as salma grabbed vicky, ona joining her as the group made their way out of the bowling alley.
"mierda i don't feel good." vicky mumbled and salma barely turned before the younger girl threw up the entire contents of her stomach onto the asphalt, bright red bile pouring from her mouth as everyone cringed and you took the brief moment to again run off.
"chica no!" jana moaned in annoyance dragging her hands down her face, her and bruna racing off after you as the others hung back to look after vicky.
"can't catch me chica's!" you sang out with a wild grin, racing between parked cars and ducking and weaving your way to escape the two older girls chasing you down.
"i don't think we're making that dinner reservation amiga." bruna doubled over trying to catch her breath as jana just missed you, groaning tiredly as you took off again with a joyous whoop but then suddenly you stopped, careering over and vomiting up your own bright red bile making them wince in disgust.
"we need back up, now."
~
when mapi had seen jana's name and number flash on her screen she'd frowned, assuming it was just an accidental call and letting it ring out, returning to the crossword on the table in front of her.
but when it rang again curiosity got the better of her and she clicked accept and tucked it into her shoulder. "hola jana? está todo bien?" mapi had questioned with a frown.
"vale vale slow down chica, she is what?" ingrid looked up at this, sitting up from where she'd been sprawled out across their lounge reading a book, sending her girlfriend a curious look whose frown deepend.
"vale. have you called alexia? oh, i see. sí message me the address and i will leave now amiga, get them some water, small sips." mapi sighed, sending ingrid an odd look as the norwegian snapped her book shut and pushed up to her feet as mapi uttered a few more words and hung up the phone. "whats wrong amor?" ingrid asked as mapi tucked her phone into her pocket with a sigh.
"believe me mi vida, you do not want to know."
~
jana could have cried in relief when she saw mapi's car pull up, the girl parking and making her way over as bruna rubbed your back and vicky was slumped into salma mumbling nonsense with a giggle every now and then, both of you having spent the last ten minutes voilently throwing up until there was nothing at all left in your stomachs.
"what happened?" the older girl sighed at the sight in front of her, wincing as all of the girls launched off with their own recall of events. "mi dios chicas, one at a time! bruna, go." mapi rubbed her temples and waved as everyone fell silent bar yours and vickys giggles.
"we didn't mean to mapi, promesa. we just wanted to have a little fun and we only put the alcohol in our drinks. but they got mixed up and they both ended up drinking the spiked ones and now they're drunk." bruna winced at the dissapointed sigh that came from the defender stood in front of her.
"i will take pollito home and she will stay with ingrid and i. who is looking after vicky? should i call patri?" mapi asked with a raised eyebrow as a chorus of no's rang out, nobody wanting to involve any of the captains.
"she will stay with me, esme is too." salma confirmed as mapi nodded, wincing as the girl in question lurched forward and threw up again. "you might want to take a bag in the car with you." the older girl suggested pulling a face as everyone got to their feet.
"vamos pequeña, up we get!" mapi grunted grabbing your hands and pulling you to stand as you giggled and your legs gave out, jana steadying you on your other side as she and bruna helped walk you to mapi's car.
"we really are sorry mapi, it was a complete accident." bruna blushed bright red as you were buckled into the back seat and mapi slid into the drivers seat and lowered her window.
"you did the right thing by calling me amiga's. but this stays between all of us, nobody else in the team will ever never know this happened or i was here. vale?" mapi warned sternly as both younger girls nodded hastily making the defender soften and chuckle a little.
"feliz cumpleaños jana, i do not think this is a birthday you will forget anytime soon mi amiga."
~
"oh dios mío pequeña, stay still!" mapi groaned, grabbing the collar of your shirt as you tried to race off again, the car ride seemingly recharging your battery as you were giggling and babbling nonsense the entire elevator ride up.
hearing her voice on the other side of the door ingrid hurried to pull it open as mapi wrestled to get her keys from your grip where you'd snatched them.
"liten!" ingrid gasped as mapi pushed you inside her apartment and you tripped over your own feet tumbling to the floor and sprawling out on the hardwood giggling to yourself.
"is she-" ingrid realised offering you a hand up which you battered away as you rambled something inaudible in spanish and covered your face with your hands, body shaking with laughter.
"drunk? sí." mapi sighed watching you with a shake of her head before catching ingrid up on the nights events which had lead up to this. "alexia is going to flip." ingrid whistled knowingly, mapi cursing as your leg lashed out to kick her in the shin and you laughed.
"el diablo." the defender huffed, ingrid gently pushing her back as she went to advance on you, your usual love language which would have meant mapi kicking you back hardly appropriate right now.
"alexia will not know, i already messaged her from pollitos phone saying she arrived to jana's. she is a good kid, this is the first time anything like this has happened and really it was an accident." mapi sighed, a small smile curling onto her lips as you spotted bagheera wandering out of the bedroom and gasped crawling across to him on your elbows.
"maríaaa!" you sang out suddenly breaking the two older girls out of their conversation. "sí pequeña?" mapi sighed with a smile of amusement, shaking her head at the way bagheera had settled himself on your chest.
"i'm hungry make me food." you demanded, giggling at nothing as your fingers felt tingly and you ran them through bagheeras soft fur. "what have you eaten today kjære?" ingrid interrupted before mapi could.
"i made avocado toast and eggs this morning but we-oh we were supposed to go to dinner! its janas birthday!" you clapped excitedly and sat up, scaring bagheera who jumped about a foot in the air and scurried off back to the bedroom.
"they'll be picking me up soon-oh mierda!" you swore as you tried to stand and the room span, sending you tumbling right back down onto your ass with a groan of pain followed by a fit of laughter.
"vamos estúpido, we need you in one piece por favor." mapi chuckled moving to help you up, slinging your arm over her shoulder and maneuvering you to lay down on the sofa as ingrid started to make you some toast.
"maps...the room is spinning make it stop!" you whined covering your face as the defender patted you on the head with a smile. "sí pollito, you are drunk. remember this feeling the next time someone ever offers you a drink!" mapi chuckled and you let out a deep sigh, removing your hands and rubbing your eyes furiously.
"i'm not drunk!" you scoffed once the room stopped spinning, wiggling your toes which felt all tingly and electric. "sí mi amiga you are, do you remember the red drink from bowling?" mapi asked gently and you looked at her like she had three heads.
"i haven't been bowling! i tried to go and you manhandled me onto the lounge and now my legs won't work. are they broken?" you began to panic as the pins and needles spread and your eyes widened.
"no idiota, they're not broken." mapi laughed, moving to massage your knees as you sighed in relief and ingrid chuckled from the kitchen.
"maría." you started as mapi hummed still massaging some feeling back into your tingly legs. "i love you, so much." you sobbed out, mapi's head whipping sideways in shock as you started to cry.
"i know we fight and mess around but you're like a big sister to me and i love you so much!" you sobbed out, sitting up and throwing your arms around her neck as the defender bit down on her lip to stop from laughing, rubbing at your back.
"i think we've moved through the stages. from giggling, throwing up, running away, falling over to sappy mess." mapi spoke to ingrid as you cried into her shoulder and the norweigan set down a plate of toast on the coffee table.
"ingrid!" you sobbed letting go of mapi and opening your arms as the brunette stifled a laugh herself and allowed you to wrap her in a tight hug. "i love you both so-oh toast!" you spotted the plate behind their backs and wiggled free reaching out for it.
"imbécil." mapi mumbled with a chuckle as you munched away happily, eyes beginning to droop with each minute that passed as your giggles returned, both girls sitting beside you on the lounge as ingrid clicked the tv on.
"so...vamos whose dropping me to bowling?"
#woso community#woso#woso x reader#woso fanfics#barca femeni#barca femeni x reader#woso imagine#woso blurbs#mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen x reader
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Happy Birthday Shana!! Can I suggest Percy and Tonks? I hope you have a wonderful day 🌻
Tonks isn’t worried about Arthur. They’ve met, several times, and he’s always hurried and distracted and warm. She’s not sure he’s figured out that she’s dating his son yet, but Percy doesn’t really tell people things.
Case in point.
“Crouch is missing?” she frowns. “Should we do something about that? Should I do something about that? Missing people are supposed to be jurisdiction, more or less.”
He shakes his head. “The going missing is pretty standard, it’s the length that’s getting a little concerning. If he’s not back by the time the Triwizard Tournament is over it might be worth looking into. I’m just saying don’t mention my long hours to Mum.”
“Right,” she says uneasily. Percy’s mother. Who’s a Prewett and notoriously not as easy going as her husband.
“You don’t have to come to lunch with my mother if you don’t want to,” he says, and sounds like he means it. “She’s just going to criticize me for thirty minutes and not even really mean it and she might do the same to you. Don’t take it to heart. She doesn’t remember half of what she complains about.”
Tonks wonders how often Percy changed something in response to one of his mother’s throwaway comments before he realized that she hadn’t noticed and hadn’t cared. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m coming. What color should my hair be?”
She’s expecting him to say blonde or brown or even to match the infamous Weasley and Prewett red, but he kisses her cheek and says, “Her favorite color’s blue.”
She doesn’t imagine blue hair is going to endear her to Molly at all, but Percy knows she prefers something fun and vibrant and isn’t asking her to do anything else, even for meeting his mother.
Tonks locks the door to Crouch’s office with a wave of her hand and sees how long she can distract Percy from his work with something a little more than a kiss on the cheek.
Right now her personal record is eight minutes and thirteen seconds, but she has a good feeling about this one.
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Speak now
James Potter x Malfoy!Reader
Summary: If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion.
Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and a tiny bit of Angst. Arranged Marriage
CW: Forced Marriage, Familiar problems, talks about blood purity and blood traitors. Breaking into a weddig idk.
Word count: 2.2K
This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection
“So don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.
Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out”
When you were younger you saw a fair amount of weddings. They were always presented to you as big emotional events in which two people promised eternal love to each other.
Even when you didn't know anything about love as a kid, it was no wonder that you yearned to have your own wedding once you grew up. It was a dream to have your own white dress, a beautifully decorated venue and a partner you loved so deeply you’d be willing to spend your whole life with them.
Looking back maybe you should’ve known better. The first sign should’ve been your surname. A Malfoy has expectations they have to meet, keeping the bloodline pure, for starters.
The second one should’ve been your parents’ loveless marriage, when you were younger you used to wonder why they’d married at all, now it was quite obvious.
The third and most evident should’ve been when Andromeda Black was disowned. At that time you didn’t truly understand what that entailed, and why it was such a hassle that she wanted to get married. Now you understood that the problem was not the wedding, if not the groom.
All your fantasies about the commonly named ‘Big day’ were completely shattered when your 18th birthday came, and with it a letter from your parents which contained the name of your soon to be husband. You tried to fight it, which only made your parents move the date of the wedding forward and get you out of Hogwarts, your education didn’t matter anymore to them now that your future as a housewife was inevitable. And being away from Hogwarts also meant being away from the ‘bad influences’ in your life.
Now the corset of your white dress was suffocating, you felt trapped. Looking at the mirror was like looking at someone else. The girl with lifeless eyes and heavy make-up that couldn’t hide her eyebags was supposed to be you, yet it felt like a perfectly modelated version of yourself, made to impress the high class families attending the wedding.
Narcissa’s gentle hands were bradding your hair, finishing your look before the wedding. Usually her presence was able to calm you down. Ever since she married your older brother, Lucius, her presence was regular in family gatherings and you’ve always felt some kind of kinship with her, seeking shelter on her whenever the phony and pompous encounters became too overwhelming.
You could attribute your shifted feelings towards her to the fact that she was unknowingly preparing you for eternal misery, or maybe because she was replacing the ones who you would’ve chosen as bridesmaids - there was no place for muggleborns in an event celebrating the union of two pureblood heirs -. Or even because it was her little cousin the one you were to wed.
“You look beautiful” said Narcissa once she was done with your hair.
You nodded and gave her a small thank you. However, you disagreed completely, the girl she was looking at was not you, it was your parent’s perfect daughter.
“You do look lovely, father and mother are going to be delighted” your brother’s voice came from the door, where he was leaning on. “I brought you some company” he gestured behind him.
Pandora and Dorcas stormed into the room, the former embracing you into a tight hug when they spotted you. Lucius and Narcissa left the room.
“How are you holding up?” Pandora asked as soon as the door closed behind Lucius and Narcissa. Her arms were still holding you tightly, Dorcas standing behind her.
You shrugged at her, not being able to talk due the knot in your throat and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You kept your eyes glued to the mirror.
Pandora stepped out of the hug and stood next to Dorcas, who had yet to speak.
“Evan and Barty are with Regulus, I swear I never thought I would see him in a tux” said Dorcas, trying to make conversation. The thought of Regulus being in the same situation as you didn’t make you feel better, the knot in your throat was getting tighther by the second. You promised to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, to be honest you thought you had run out of tears days ago.
“Sirius is here too” Pandora was trying to distract you from the wedding. If she was being honest with herself there was nothing they could do to make you feel better. But maybe knowing that your best friend was out there could help a little.
That made you finally look away from the mirror, a small wave of hope cursing through you. If Sirius was here it meant that James could be too. In the eyes of your family his family’s name was not good enough for yours, but maybe it was enough for him to be a guest.
Maybe it was selfish to wish for him to be there when you knew how much it would hurt him, but you needed to talk to him, he was the only one who could actually comfort you right now, the only presence that would make everything feel normal again. You yearned to feel his touch against your skin and his lips against yours, even if it was for one last time, as a farewell.
“Is he… Is James here?” you spoke for the first time.
The answer was clear in the pitiful look they gave you even before Pandora replied with a soft ‘no’.
You don’t know what did it, if the look in the faces of your friends or the fact that you would never see James again, but tears started rolling down your face. In seconds you were being embraced by Pandora again, and Dorcas’ hand was wiping away your tears.
“It’s okay, you are going to be okay” Pandora didn’t believe her own words, but there was little she could do to calm you down and you both knew it.
There was a knock on the door and your dad’s voice came from the other side “Y/N, it’s time”
Pandora gave you a squeeze before letting you go from the hug. They both left the room, not without giving you a forced smile.
“Oh, merlin” you said to yourself as soon as you were left alone, going back to the mirror, you wiped the few tears that were left on your face, and tried to fix the smudged make-up around your eyes with your fingers. You didn’t want to give your parents the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected you.
Once you looked mildly presentable again you exited the room. Your father was waiting for you and he offered you his arm to lead you towards the venue.
You could see the whole venue from the end of the aisle. The green and black motives contrasted beatifully with the white flowers decorating the aisle and the top of the altar. The guests were placed in black chairs at both ends of the aisle.
You weren’t brave enough to lift your glaze from the ground, knowning that you wouldn’t see the love of your life waiting for you as you had dreamt since you were a kid. The heavy veil of your dress made your steps slow and lethargic.
It was not until you were halfway down the aisle that you gathered enough courage to finally look at the man in front of you. Instead of the boy with unruly curly brown hair and eyes filled with love, there standing was Regulus, his black hair slicked back and eyes drowned by the same defeated look you wore.
Once you reached his side everything went in a blur, all you remember is him taking your hands into his and the officiant talking.
“If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace”
You were really going insane because you swore you saw James standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a tuxedo and with his hand up in the air.
“I oppose!” His voice was loud and clear, your eyes widened.
All the guests' eyes went to his figure and several surprised gasps were heard. Maybe you were not hallucinating.
───✥───
If Fleamont Potter ever found out how James was using his inherited cloak of invisivility he’d be horrified, or maybe oddly proud of his son.
Not even James thought he would ever sneak into a highly patrolled wedding on a common Tuesday, but honestly if someone had told him a year ago he’d be doing this he wouldn’t be surprised.
Sneaking in a wedding filled with pureblood families and slytherin students was the perfect setup for a Marauders prank. However, what would have surprised him would’ve been the reason for interrupting a white veil occasion. Dating a Malfoy was something he hadn’t expected to ever do, but you had gotten past all his defenses with your kind and bright personality that proved to be so different from your family’s pretentious ways.
Therefore, he was now standing on the aisle you had walked minutes ago. He had a perfect view of you and Regulus from his stance, your white dress was gorgeous, and your hair was neatly done. If it weren’t for your puffy and bloodshot eyes, and the obvious defeated look in your face, a look that had no place in a wedding, he could almost believe this was a normal marriage ceremony.
When you had received the letter from your parents you had been inconsolable, and rightfully so. James had tried everything to stop the wedding, he even went as far as asking your parents for their blessing and to be the one you'd wed instead of the Black heir. Turned out to be useless as his family had been marked as blood traitors for eternity.
But James isn't known for giving up easily, and the Marauders were not going to let an opportunity to cause havoc pass by.
With the promise of being on his best behavior, Sirius had convinced his parents to attend the wedding as a guest, acting as a mole for his friends' plans. Remus and Lily were outside the venue with their ride home -a couple of broomsticks they borrowed from Hogwarts' supply closet.
And the last part of the plan, and its success rested on James' shoulders.
The preacher spoke 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' James smirked, that was his cue. It was on.
James took off his invisibility cloak and without a single trace of shame or shyness in his voice James stated loudly "I oppose!"
James would've loved to stop for a moment to memorize the looks of complete horror in the faces of the guests, but he had to be fast and make total use of the element of surprise.
Without hesitation James sprinted towards the altar. He could see the way your brother had stood up and pointed his wand at him, his spell being intercepted by Sirius' expelliarmus spell.
As soon as James made it to the altar chaos erupted from everyone in the venue, he could make out the shouts of your parents and some spells that were being intercepted by yours and James' friends.
At the sight of James Regulus let your hands go, he raised his arms in defeat and left the altar without much hassle.
"Gentleman" James greeted Regulus' groomsmen, Barty and Evan who were just as stunned as everyone, all they could do was nod in acknowledgement to James, not even trying to interfere.
"Hi, love" he was finally looking at you, your eyes were wide with surprise and tears were gathered in your waterline. James took your hands in one of his and the other was raised to stroke your cheek.
“James what- how-” you were completely astonished, and unable to formulate a single phrase. You knew your boyfriend loved you, and the lengths he would go to prove it, but you would have never guessed he’d be willing to break into your wedding ceremony. He was always proving you wrong.
“Hey Peter, mate, it’s your moment to shine” Following james’ words a rat came out of his pants’ pocket.
And suddenly Peter was standing in front of you. He pushed the appalled officiant slightly to the side and took his place.
Peter cleared his throat before speaking “Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Y/N Malfoy as your wife?”
“I do”
“Do you, Y/N Malfoy, take James Fleamont Potter as your husband?”
You could hardly mutter a low “I do” before Peter spoke again
“I declare you husband and wife. You might kiss the bride”
James didn’t hesitate for a moment. To add dramatism he spun you around and dipped you, holding your weight with his arm. And without waiting for another second he kissed you, sweet and slow, conveying all his love for you with that gesture.
When you became breathless you broke the kiss and looked at James straight into his beautiful eyes, which only show deep adoration. “I love you” you mouthed to him, which made his eyes sparkle with joy and a wide grin to break into face.
He took you in his arms bridal style and walked down the aisle. You coudln’t even care about the chaos and spells that were aimed your way, all you could look at was James.
And as he muttered “I love you too, Miss Potter” you knew he’d do anything to prove his love for you.
Author's note: This one is of my faves of the collection ngl, James is my soft spot
Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!!
To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3
Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo
#marauders fanfiction#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders era#james potter#marauders fic#james potter x reader#james x reader#james x you#james x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x fem!reader#james potter hurt/comfort#james potter fic#james potter x yn#james potter fanfic
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Hi Lynda! My mom is a big fan of yours, and her birthday is coming up in about a week or so. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give her a quick shout out? Her name’s Jen
(Feel free to ignore this if you want, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. I hope you have a lovely day ❤️)
Happy Birthday Mom!
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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.
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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.
Not leaving here.
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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Take A Break | V.
summary: it’s your daughter’s birthday, but Vox isn’t able to spare anytime for her.
pairing: Vox x Overlord!reader
includes: Vox has a normal head guys, fluff, HEAVY angst, family issues, arguing, mentions of sex tapes, Valentino being a weird ass uncle, over protective parents, cursing, mentions of murder (i think that’s it, tell me if i missed any!)
a/n: honestly, this request made me think of hamilton the musical, hence the title of the one-shot. 🤷♀️ (also full credits to the artist on X!)
As an Overlord in Hell, your life was somewhat easier than normal sinners. You had their souls under your belt for your own use and powers that only those ranked attained. You attended boring meetings with the other Overlords, but you didn’t think you would meet your other half during these meetings, nonetheless, marry him. As a result of the marriage, both your powers grew stronger, along with the power of his company since a new face joined.
Down the line, you somehow ended up pregnant. Was it highly impossible to have a child as a sinner? Absolutely. So the thought that you were to bear Vox’s child in Hell panicked you. However, he talked you through the entire process, ending with a healthy baby girl. She looked exactly like her father, except for the eyes. Her eyes resembled her mother’s in every shape and form.
Despite the phenomenon, you both cared for her. Well, mostly. You were the one staying in your penthouse in the Vee tower while Vox tended to his company’s needs. He worked endlessly and missed important events such as your daughter’s first steps, words, and laughter. You supposed he tried his best as he came back to you with gifts and kisses, but it never felt… right.
When your daughter’s thirteenth birthday came up, you expected him to stay home because it was a special birthday. It seemed like thirteen was your little family’s lucky number, so you thought it was an important event in his life for his only child to turn thirteen. Moreover, she finally became a teenager, which Vox deemed was old enough for him to take her out to watch the stars when she was younger.
“Happy Birthday, Vee.” You take your fingers through her black and red hair, kissing her temple. She smiled brightly up at you, pearly whites on display. “I know you’re excited, but you still have lessons to attend to.”
“I know.” She groaned, eyes flashing red for a second before settling. “Is Dad still up there?”
Your loving gaze faltered at the mention of her father, passing her the chocolate chip pancakes you made. “He’s at work already, baby. I’m sure he has something prepared for you when you get home.” You press another kiss to her head as you pull your phone out, squinting at the message Vox sent.
“Is it Dad?” Veronica murmured, twisting the fork in between her fingers.
“Don’t worry about it, yeah? It’s your birthday.” You slide your phone inside your pocket. “I’ll see you after your lessons?”
She hummed softly as you frowned, rubbing your temple. This was an important day for your daughter, and if Vox couldn’t remember the promise he made to her years ago, you weren’t prepared for the breakdown that was going to come from your new teenage daughter.
“Vox?” You enter his monitor room, blue light glasses steady on your face.
“My love?” He called back, eyes focusing on the rising and falling stocks in the industry. “What’s wrong?”
You ran your fingers through his hair, massaging when he pulled you down into his lap. You pressed a kiss to his jaw when he glared at the screen, “Do you know what day it is?”
“Uh,” He glanced back at you before muttering a curse at the stocks, aggressively typing something out on his computer. “Tax day?”
You let out a sigh, “Love, it’s Veronica’s birthday.” You tilt your head when you don't get a response. “Vox.”
“What?” He whipped his head toward you, his blue eyes swirling black and red. You steady the glasses on your face, frowning at his tone. His eyes scan your face before rubbing his forehead, “Darling, I’m sorry. But I’m really busy today. All of our shareholders decided to be assholes today and Carmilla wants a meeting about Angelic Security.”
You cup his face and press a soft kiss to his lips, “I know, I got your text message about a twelve-hour workday.” Your gaze flickered over toward the frame displayed on his desk, “But it’s our baby’s thirteenth birthday. She was looking for her dad earlier, and she didn’t—“
His phone rang out into the intensely large monitor room, causing you to look back over to him. “Look, I’ll see if I can get out of the meeting and schedule it another day. I’ll be back before the day’s over.”
“Do you promise?” You lift your pinky, the blue and red chain appearing from your wedding band connecting to his.
He lifted his pinky, locking it with yours. “I promise, gorgeous.” His phone rang out again as you leaned in to give him a kiss, raising a brow at the device. Vox chuckled at your reaction, rubbing his thumb over your lip. “I love you, but I have people to yell at, so kindly leave.” He tapped your thigh before answering his phone.
You pressed one last kiss to his cheek before stepping away from him, humming a tune while he yelled at whoever was on the other line. The link of chains connecting the two wedding bands never meant a deal was brought up, it merely signified the marriage. However, that promise meant more than just canceling a meeting and heading back home. It meant actually showing up for his daughter, saying that he didn’t forget about his promise from years ago.
“Hi, baby.” You kiss Veronica’s temple as she passes the kitchen with bags in her arms. “What’s all that?”
“Uncle Val and Aunt Velvette gave me presents.” She grinned, shoving them down on the kitchen counter.
You raise a brow at the size difference of the gifts, “And what did Aunt Vel get you?”
“She got me every single new item on her new line before she drops it.” She pulled out a t-shirt that you thought was inappropriate for a girl her age. Neatly folding it, she pulled out another article of clothing, a short skirt that would have you and Vox murdering people left and right.
“Right…” You gently take away the clothes and set them to the side, nodding your head toward the box. “What did Uncle Val get you?”
“He told me to give you this before opening the gift.” She handed you a card decorated with intricate details.
You unfold the card, eyes widening at the contents. “Can I take the movies Uncle Val gave you? I don’t think they’re for you, baby.”
“Wait what? Why not?”
“Because it’s not… don’t worry about it.” You snap your fingers, sending the box of movies to your shared bedroom with Vox. Your face was flushed from Valentino handing your daughter physical copies of the videos that were personal to you and Vox. It would have been chaos if you watched the videos together with no warning. “Never mind about that, how were your lessons?”
“Boring as usual.” She rested her head on her hand, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Did you talk to dad?”
“Yes,” You set down the dinner you were preparing, wiping your hands on a hand towel. “He’ll be back soon. He had… stuff to do.” You waved your hand in the air, face contorting in tension. “Can you set up the dining table for dinner? I’ll call your dad to see where he is.”
Veronica groaned before begrudgingly moving away, grabbing the plates and utensils. You watched her leave before leaning your arms against the counter, head tilting down in exhaustion. Not only were you running around the tower checking in on your business, but you also prepared the gifts for your daughter while checking in on your husband’s vitals once in a while. Everything was rushed and disorganized, and the only thing your daughter wanted was for her father to be there for her birthday and fulfill his promise.
“Fuck.” You quickly wipe the tear slipping down your face, pulling out your phone. Clicking on Vox’s contact, you rub the ring on your finger, anxiously waiting for an answer.
“Yes?” His voice came through your phone, more agitated than usual.
“Vox, can you take a break and come up to us?” You start pacing, not realizing your daughter was behind the wall listening to you.
He muttered something as you heard the clicking of his keyboard through your speaker, “I’ll be there in a minute, can you save me a plate?”
“Vox, can you just—“ You run your hand through your hair as your eyes flash red, the same red consuming the items surrounding you. “I understand you’re busy, but your daughter hasn’t seen you all day.”
“Gorgeous, I heard you, but I have a very important deal I need to finish making then I’m all yours, okay?” He spoke with impatience, sighing when he heard silence from your end. “In a minute.”
“Fine.” You roll your eyes and end the call, dropping your phone onto the counter. You blink a few times to get rid of the red, everything around you falling back to its original placement.
“Mom, we can just celebrate with the two of us.” Veronica came around the doorway, fiddling with her fingers. “If dad is busy, I don’t want to—“
“Baby, it’s your birthday.” You push your hair back and pull a strained smile. The look you gave your daughter was almost dangerous, reverting back to your Overlord setting. “If your dad doesn’t show up before the day is over, I will physically go down to his office and remove him from this Hell.”
Her eyes widened at your words, “Mom—“
“Let’s go eat dinner, yes?” You leave a kiss on the top of her head.
Eventually, Vox did appear, but only for a few minutes before his phone began to ring again. He sighed, pressing his lips in a thin line, and got up, squeezing your shoulder and giving his daughter an apologetic look. The worst part about meeting his daughter’s eyes was the similar feeling of knowing how she felt.
Veronica projected a recognizable emotion through her eyes, something he could tell from miles away because it was the exact same look you gave him when it was just the two of you.
Disappointment.
“Vox, what the hell are you still doing here?” Valentino entered the monitor room, pink smoke billowing from his cigarette.
“Better question, what the fuck were you going to do in here?” Vox rolled his neck as he filed another claim against older companies.
Valentino chuckled, “Don’t worry about that… If I were you, I would be worried about your daughter. Velvette and I already sang Happy Birthday to your precious girl over cake. I'm sure she would have been happier if her daddy was there.”
Vox slouched in his chair, “Val, I’m almost done with these files then I’ll head up.”
“Oh, I would be careful.” He blew pink smoke across Vox’s face. “Your wife has her Overlord filter on tonight. It’s worse than before.”
“What do you mean?” Vox submitted the file to the HR department, taking his blazer and tossing it across his shoulder.
“She’s going to murder you, Voxy.” He bared his teeth at him. “You have a lot to make up tonight.”
Vox squinted his eyes at the moth before sighing, “Get the fuck out of my room or I’m having my wife come and murder you herself instead of me.”
“Scary.” Valentino grinned maliciously before leaving, a trail of pink smoke following.
Oh, Vox knew how much shit he was in when he returned home. After all, it was already 11:26 PM and he doubted that neither you nor Veronica were still awake. He teleported into the kitchen, setting the blazer on top of the counter before following the noise to the living area. He caught a movie on the television screen as he approached the couch, gaze softening at the sight. You were holding Veronica in your arms as she slept sprawled along the couch.
He caught your gaze a few seconds later, watching your tired eyes harden. “Do you know what time it is?”
“I know, but a lot was happening downstairs with VoxTek and—“
“You couldn’t hold that off for one day?” You whisper-shout in his direction as your daughter shifts around. “Vee was waiting all day for you to take her to see the constellations of Hell, and you broke it, Vox! I don’t understand how you could just leave her with a broken promise—“
“Gorgeous, it’s not the end of the day. I can still make it up to her.”
“And what? Wake her up from the day she’s had? Vox, she’s been waiting for this moment since she was five, and you couldn’t spare one second?” You feel your eyes flare red before realizing what's going on. Vox knew you had to calm down, and typically he would help, but it was clear you wanted nothing to do with him just yet. “You didn’t even say happy birthday this morning because you already left for work.” You carefully adjust Veronica in your arms, glaring at your husband. “I understand that the company is important for our image, but destroying a relationship with your own daughter for the company is never something you should do.”
Slowly, you carry your daughter in your arms, using some of your wisps to help carry her. Vox reaches out to help but you deny him, causing him to purse his lips. “Seriously?”
“I’m dead serious.” You crease your brows. “If you can’t understand how fucking important it is for our daughter to have both her parents present during important days, I promise you that I will make your life worse than living in Hell.” As you ascend the stairs leading up to Veronica’s room, you feel the burn of his stare hitting you. “And for the sake of your mental and physical health, please take a break from work. Your vitals have been dropping.”
The life you held in Hell seemed easier to those outside of the Tower, but the three of you knew that there was never a moment in time where you could be free of the constraints you were given, not allowing a single break of freedom or contentment.
©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
#august’s works 🫧#vox fanfiction#vox imagine#vox the tv demon#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox smut#vox#hazbin hotel self insert#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel the vees#hazbin hotel reader insert#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel drabble#christian borle#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel valentino#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin hotel blurb
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Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all | Joe Burrow
Summary: After a terrible start to a day that had such high hopes, two people do something that should lead to an even worse day, but in ends up better than it started.
Pairing: Joe burrow x first person fem reader
Words: 5058
Notes: this fic is kind of all over the place, but I didn’t want to split it up into 2 fics. I hope you enjoy!! <3
Taglist: @wickedfun9
The Bengals season was officially over following the win against the browns on January 7th, though we all knew it was over after the loss against the Chiefs on December 31 which kicked them out of playoff contention. In honor of adding another season into the books, Sam was hosting a little party for any player or friend of a player who wanted to come today. To say the day was not going great so far was the understatement of the century. First, as soon as I woke up in the morning, I stepped in some fresh poop from Mike, the cat I got Joe for his birthday, who apparently forgot where the litter box was. Because she's new-yes, she, Joe named her after Mike the Tiger at LSU-and I absolutely adore her, I shook it off and took a very in dept shower, making sure to scrub my feet extra good in order to rid myself of it completely.
Next, during breakfast, I was transferring my eggs onto my plate after putting some on Joes and the handle broke off of the pan and dropped onto my feet. The eggs went everywhere on the ground and were quickly eaten by Tucker, the dog Joe got me for Christmas, who flew in immediately after hearing the commotion to see what happened. I thought I was in the clear since two bad things happened to me in a span of an hour and a half-so what else could go wrong-but that was soon proven wrong when I was carrying Joe and I's pre-workout smoothie so we could get in a light workout together in the basement, and I tripped down the stairs. Not only did I spill the smoothie all over myself and the stairs, which made for an annoying clean up, but I also face planted, which made for an awesome bruise right on my jaw.
After that, I showered for the second time, drank the new smoothie Joe whipped up for the both of us, and we got in our little workout for the day. Once done with the workout, I took Tucker for a walk and went to the grocery to store to stock up on all of the necessities. While in the grocery store, I completely forgot that I was supposed to start my period, so I got blood all over my new jogging pants Joe gifted me for Christmas and had to buy a new pair of pants at the store, along with a pack of tampons, which weren't the ones I usually buy because, ironically, they were all out.
Finally, everything seemed to be going right for me and the day turned out pretty good, until it came time to get ready for Sam's party. I did my hair and my makeup without a single problem, but then of course when I put on my new dress that I was excited for, I put it on only for me to realize the zipper broke when I washed it. Because I was on my period and very hormonal, I started to cry. My mascara got all over my face and when I tried to wipe it off, my other makeup came off with it so I had to redo it all. Plus, while crying, Joe tried to comfort me, and because I was hormonal, I got mad and told him to get away from me. What made me cry more was that Since my new dress broke, I had to wear an old one that wasn't anywhere near as pretty as the other one.
So, now, as Joe pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and prayed that this night wouldn't be a disaster like the whole day was. The party was at a little convention center in the middle of Cincinnati that has held frequent get togethers and parties in the past. Since this party symbolized the end of the season and it could be the last time some of the guys see each other, it was very special to so many of the guys. To make it even more memorable, Sam got Jeff Rubies to cater and he had one of his favorite bars set up a little bar. Because friends were invited as well, I was excited to see some of Sam's friends that I probably have not seen since college.
Once Joe put the car in park, he looked over at me with a sigh. Seeing him look at me in the corner of my eye, I looked over at him and we made eye contact. "Well here goes nothing, I guess. Let's hope this goes well." I said with a little defeated laugh, the both of us knowing how the day has been going for me. "Let's be optimistic, what's the worst thing that could happen, right? There's no stairs...that I know of." Joe said, and started to rack his brain in an attempt to try and remember if there are stairs at this place. I tried to remember with him, because if there were stairs, I was certainly doomed. "There aren't any stairs where the party is at-well, that we'll have to walk up anyway- there's an elevator leading up the floor we're on." I said, remembering exactly where the stairs and elevator were at.
Joe laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y'know, it's kind of pitiful that we even had to think about that." Joe laughed. I laughed and nodded. It was extremely pitiful. Who would need to think about if they would have to go up stairs? Definitely not many people. "It is, but with the day I've been having, It's better to be on the safe side." I said. We chuckled a little bit together before Joe turned the car off. "Sha'll we?" Joe asked. "We sha'll." I giggled and opened up the door quickly. I stepped out of the car and then met Joe in front of the car. Because of my situation at home-having to redo my makeup-we were about 30 minutes late. Luckily Sam said not to worry because he has the place until midnight, then we're kicked out.
Joe and I walked inside together and got into the elevator. On the way up, we made funny faces in the mirror on one side of the elevator and then took a funny picture that I had to promise wouldn't be posted, which I have to do with every picture I take of him. By now, he should know I won't post them. For one, I know how private he is, and I am too, and for two, I would never share these moments with anyone, other than close friends who probably have the same kinds of pictures of him in their phones.
The elevator opened up with a little ding and revealed a huge and bustling room. People were scattered around across the whole room and there were orange, black, white, and striped decorations throughout the whole room. Immediately after hearing the elevator open up, the majority of Joe's teammates looked over to see who arrived, and when they saw Joe, they all began to hoop and holler and call out his name, excited to see him. With a smile, I let go of his hand and went to go find some of the wags, mainly Gracie and Tianna since both Holly and Morgan were out of town with their husbands.
It didn't take long for me to spot Tianna who was messing with Cody who had a far from amused look on his face. When Tianna spotted me, she immediately stopped annoying Cody and ran over to me excitedly. "Finally! It's been boring without you!" She yelled and hugged me. "Girl it's only been 30 minutes." I laughed. "Uhm...exactly." She said and emphasized it with her hands. I shook my head and laughed at her, continuing to look around at the little buffet Jeff Rubies set up and then the little bar in the far right corner. "So, what did I miss? Anything fun or crazy happen?" I asked, needing to be caught up on any of the tea that I missed while I was gone.
Tianna gave me a look and signaled for me to come and sit down at their table, so I followed. "It's not really with the team, but apparently one of Sam's friends just got cheated on. He's here and a bunch of people were talking about it when they first got here." She said. My mouth dropped open in interest and I looked round to make sure I didn't see Sam anywhere. "Who? Maybe I know him from college." I said. Tianna raised an eyebrow and looked at me with a small smile. Why was she looking at me like that? I raised my eyebrow back at her in confusion, needing her to tell me so I wasn't confused. "Did you sleep with some of Sam's friends or something?" She whispered with a little wink. "Women-shut the fuck up, she ain't like some of your friends." Cody said.
The three of us started to laugh at what Cody said, but she continued to look at me, still thinking I might've slept with some of them. "What-no, I have been with Joe since 12th grade and we didn't cheat. Now, show me." I said. "Okay okay." Tianna said quickly and began to scan the crowd to try and find whoever it was she was looking for. I looked with her and tried to see if I recognized some of the people, but I wasn't having any luck. So far, none of the people looked familiar except for the players and their wives or girlfriends. "Ooh- there." Tianna said excitedly and pointed at someone somewhat discretely so they didn't see. I followed her hand and spotted one of Sam's friends. I knew exactly who that was, and I wasn't too happy that he was here.
"I know him, that's Aiden." I said and took my eyes off of him. "Why do you say that in a bad way?" She asked me. Why was there a hint of attitude in my voice? Well, because Aiden and I were kind of friends back in college. This particular friend group of Sam's consisted of me, Joe, Sam, Jessica, todd, and Aiden. We were all good friends and always either studied together, went to football games together, or went out to parties together. From the very beginning, Aiden knew Joe and I were together and in a very closed, strong, and long-lasting relationship. But he just couldn't help himself from crushing on me. The crush got so big that he eventually confessed his feelings for me while drunk and tried to get me to cheat on Joe with him. To say he was persistent was an understatement and it happened more than once.
Of course I told Joe who told Sam. After that, Aiden didn't really hang out with us too much. "Let's just say he had a crush on me and wanted me to cheat on Joe with him." I said. Tianna let out a small gasp as she processed what I said and then looked at Aiden with a little scowl. "Well in that case, the jackass deserved it." She said with a little 'hmph'. I grabbed onto the drink I snagged from someone passing them out and held it up. "Now that's something I will fucking cheers to." I said with a little laugh. "Hell yes." Tianna picked up her glass and to her surprise, Cody picked up his as well. Tianna looked over at Cody, surprised that he was into this conversation since it was a girls conversation. "Really babe?" She asked. "Uhm...hell yes." Cody said. We all laughed a little at his reaction and then clinked our glasses together. After we clinked our glasses together, we each took a sip of our drinks.
We've been here for about an hour just hanging out with people and catching up, even though every single person that I'm good friends with on the team I've been texting. After Tianna, I made my way around to some other people before finally sitting down at a table with Ja'marr, Tee, and Sam. Joe was sitting down with us too until he left to go get him and I drinks at the bar.
"So, Mrs. burrow….” Ja'marr said and leaned back in his chair. I raised my almost empty glass to my lips and said a small, "Mr. Chase?", before taking a sip, trying to figure out what he was going to ask me. "What are the chances that baby Burrow makes an appearance this year?" Ja'marr asked me. I set my drink down and shook my head at him with a little laugh. From around the small table, Tee and Sam just listened to our conversation, who obviously were both aware of what Ja'marr was going to ask me before he said it. "Slim to none." I gave him a short and sweet answer, although I knew he would pry and want more from me. "And why is that? I mean come on, everyone else is doing it." Ja'marr said. "Unless I accidentally miss a birth control, which I never do, or by some miracle I just so happen to get pregnant, it's not gonna happen this year. Plus, I’m not everyone else." I said.
This has been an ongoing conversation between Ja'marr, Joe, and me for a while now. Ja'marr is fully convinced that it's time for Joe to knock me up, even though we disagree completely. "Come on, why? You've been married long enough." Ja'marr added in. "Some people have plans jackass." Sam added in. I looked over at Sam and pointed at him. Ding Ding Ding. "Exactly, thank you. We have had a plan for a long time, and a baby, while it's included in that plan, isn't listen for a long time." I said. Ja'marr just glared at me jokingly for a few seconds. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a baby and I would want one right now if not for football. Joe and I are at the perfect age to have children, but Joe is currently in his prime years of his career. It would be completely unfair to ask him to juggle being a new father and being an amazing quarterback all at once.
It felt like Ja'marr and I were having a staring contest. Both of us tried not to laugh or blink, until Tee interrupted. "I mean this with no disrespect, but If you don't want to get knocked up by Joe, I think that bartender over there will gladly volunteer." Tee said and signaled over to the bar. I turned my head in the direction he was signaling to. It only took me a few seconds to spot Joe who was standing at the bar. The bartender was mere inches away from a very uncomfortable looking Joe who kept trying to back away, but in a way that wasn't too noticeable. That boy was way too respectful. They were in mid conversation, and every time Joe would say something, she would laugh-a little too much- at whatever he was saying. I know Joe Burrow, and never have I once laughed that much during a simple conversation with him.
Now, unless he was making endless jokes, which I knew he wasn't because of his body language, that girl was just doing way too much. I glared at the two of them as they talked, a little annoyance and maybe anger building inside of me. I wasn't mad at Joe who was obviously trying to get away from her as she kept bombarding him. I was secure enough in my relationship with Joe, even though it took a while to get to that point. I was, however, mad at the girl who kept touching his arm and giving him flirtatious looks and laughs a little too often. Those flirty eyes were the same exact ones that I give Joe. I was mad at the girl's occasional glances at his wedding ring on his left hand that told me everything I needed to know: She was well aware that the quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals was married, but she didn't care one bit. Plus, she obviously couldn't tell when someone was uncomfortable or not feeling a conversation. She was obviously not a girl's girl. What a bitch.
As I continued to stare at the two of them and read Joes extremely uncomfortable body language, Joe glanced over at me. We made eye contact and immediately after, Joe's eyes widened and he sucked in his lips a little. I smiled a little bit at his plea for help and how much he was practically begging for me to go over and help him. I looked over at the guys sitting at the table who were just watching me and then Joe, interested in what was going on. "You know, girls are bitches. Excuse me, while I go save my husband." I said and scooted my chair back. "You need our help with the clean up job?" Jamar asked. "You can keep her body in my car." Sam added in. I rolled my eyes jokingly and stood up with a laugh. I headed over to save Joe from this awful conversation he was having.
While I walked over to Joe, he glanced over at the table again, but when he saw me, his face immediately lit up and he smiled slightly. The girl, seeing Joe's facial expression from his side profile, looked over to see what he was looking at. As soon as she saw me walking over, I could tell she had absolutely no idea who I was or that I was even married to joe. In her eyes, I was just another person that had a crush on Joe, like her. That still didn't change the fact that she could still flirt and give my husband the 'fuck me eyes', all while knowing he was married. Now I'm not usually one to come out and say that a girl's being a bitch, because I get it, we all have our own problems that we're dealing with, but I mean come on, to flirt with an obvious married man? Now thats low.
I looked down at Joes hands and saw the two drinks in his hand. One of the drinks was a whiskey and the other was a vodka spritzer. Perfect. Once I got to Joe, He looked down at me with his best 'thank you' eyes and handed me the drink. I grabbed the vodka spritzer in one hand, and with the other, I wrapped it around Joes waist and kissed his shoulder. "Thanks babe." I said, the both of us knowing damn well that I never call him babe-But maybe I should, because Joe's cheeks flushed red when I said it- and I knew Joe wasn't a fan of PDA but figured it was needed given the situation he was in. He never has been and he probably never will be. The only time he's fine with it is with close friends or family, so certainly not here with prying eyes. "Of course." Joe said, going along with what I was doing. After I kissed Joes shoulder and smiled up at him, I looked over towards the girl who realized who I was. Did you seriously think his wife wasn't here and watching you? Unreal.
Going along with the part, I held out my hand a little bit out of politeness and acted sorry that I interrupted their conversation. "Oh my-I am so sorry that I interrupted,” I said and then introduced myself, “and you are?" I asked, Looking down at her name tag. I read the name, 'Caitlyn'. Caitlyn knew exactly what I was doing and I could tell by her facial expression that she wasn't enjoying it one bit. "I'm Caitlyn, it's nice to meet you. We were just finishing up our conversation, you weren't interrupting." She said. I flashed a small smile her way and nodded. "Well good, I would've felt terrible. It was nice meeting you, but we should really go find Ja'marr." I said and looked up at Joe, tapping his back a little bit. Joe straightened up and nodded, "yeah-right, it was nice talking to you." Joe said.
We both started to walk away, though I could tell she was staring at us as we left. The audacity of some people is wild. "You are a literal saint, I love you so much. That was horrendous." Joe said as we walked to our table. I began to laugh as we reached our table. "Y'know, fuck her. She knew you were married and still flirted with you, why didn't you leave you pussy?” I joked with him. "I tried, but she kept talking and flirting with me to the point where I felt like I would be rude leaving her and then a news article would come out titled, 'Joe Burrow turned down talking with a fan, what a loser.'" Joe said with a laugh. The both of us laughed as we reached our table. “She can stay jealous.” I laughed. The three of them just looked at Joe and I before Tee spoke up, "wow, she’s like your knight in shining armor brother.”
"Shut up, he was just trying to be polite, some girls just Don't know how to keep their hands off of handsome men that aren't theirs." I said with a 'hmph' and a laugh after sitting down in my chair. Joe followed after me and sat down right next to me in his chair. I leaned in closer to Joe as he put one arm around my chair and sipped his drink. "There Ain't nothin' handsome about Joey B." Ja'marr said, messing with Joe like he always does. Speak for yourself. I looked over to the most handsome man here as he laughed and said, "At least I ain't as ugly as your ass." The whole table laughed as we listened to Ja'marr and Joe joke around back and forth about who the better looking one was.
Other than the incident with the bartender, the night was going pretty well. We were all talking, drinking, and having an amazing time. At one point, all of the D-linemen and O-linemen had a little game of who was the strongest, which was extremely entertaining to watch. The whole time they were competing, Joe was cracking up laughing, and not just the belly laugh. He threw his head back, his eyes were sealed shut, and he could barely breathe. It was like a breath of fresh air to see Joe having an amazing time after such a stressful and uncertain season; the injury.
Currently, I just got done in the bathroom and was walking back to the table we were sitting at. I barely got in 2 steps before I heard a voice I haven't heard in years call out my name. Everything in me told me to just keep walking and pretend like I didn't hear him, but out of politeness, I stopped and looked over at him. "Wow...I haven't seen you in forever. I was hoping I'd see you here." Aiden said. I gave him a small smile and walked over to him so we didn't have to speak too loudly. Hopefully he just wanted to say hi and let me go, or maybe even apologize for trying to get me to cheat on Joe, multiple times. Without me expecting it, he took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and wrapped his arms around me before I could even get in a word.
"Uhh...yeah, it had been a while." I laughed awkwardly as we separated. Aiden kept smiling down at me like he was looking at someone he is really good friends with but hasn't seen in a while. Don't get me wrong, we used to be friends and haven't seen each other in a while, but to want to talk to me and act like nothing went down just felt wrong and uncomfortable. "It's so good to see you, Mrs. Burrow." He said with a big smile. "It's good to see you too." I lied to him with a fake smile, unable to muster up a real one. Right after I said this, he took a step forwards, if that was even possible, making me uncomfortable and making this whole situation awkward, at least for me. I watched him as he smirked a little bit. You better not try something.
I took a step back for comfort and was about to excuse myself when he said, "you look beautiful, even more so than back in college." I furrowed my eyebrows a little bit, disgusted and appalled that even after what went down at college that he could still be face to face with me and try the same things as he did back then. One of his hands found my side and his fingers danced over my hip bone. "Joe wouldn't have any issue if we hung out for a bit, right?" He asked. Don't react, just let Joe handle it. The last thing I wanted to do was create a scene here and draw attention to myself and Aiden. I scoffed a little bit, not able to hide my disgust and disappointment any longer. "It's funny how even after I rejected you in college, you still have the balls to do it again. If I wouldn't cheat on Joe back then, what makes you think I'll do it now?" I asked him, but he still didn't take his hand off of my waist. "Oh come on, don't be like that." He said. I looked down at his hand and then tried to look past him in an attempt to see if Joe was at the table, but he was blocking my view.
All of a sudden, I saw Joe walking over to us, looking as pissed as ever. His fists and jaw were both clenched in anger. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was here so neither of us could cause a scene and draw attention to ourselves. "Get your fucking hand off of my wife." Joe said, putting one of his hands on the small of my back. I looked at Joe and gave him a little nod of assurance before looking at aiden whose eyes grew 10 times bigger once he realized Joe watched the entire thing, and his hand slid off of my waist. I watched as Aiden’s shoulders fell in submission and embarrassement, obviously thinking he was going to get away with flirting with me and putting his hand on me even after what happened in college.
"I-I-" Aiden began to say. "What? You Didn't think I'd see you flirt with my wife? Come on man, you're not that stupid." Joe said and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly that aiden winced a little bit. "I was just trying to catch up with her, that's all." He said. I backed up a little bit and stood next to Joes side. I glanced around us a little bit to see if anyone knew what was going on, but nobody even looked at us. Everyone was just caught up in their own conversations. Thank god. "How dumb do you think I am, Aiden?" Joe asked. Aiden swallowed hard and shook his head. "Look man, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll leave.." He said. "You're damn right it won't. Now, you can stay if you want, I won't tell Sam because I know he likes you-Why, I honestly have no clue-but I don’t want to ruin that. But, if you do stay, I don't want to see you near her again. Better yet, I don't even want you to look at her," joe said, and waited for a response, and when it didn't come, he added in, "you got it?" Aiden, who was obviously embarrassed, nodded quickly and said, "Yes sir."
With that, Joe nodded, took a step back from him, and began to turn slightly. Following his lead, I walked by his side and then we walked back with each other to our table that was now empty. This day just kept getting better and better. First it was the cat poop, which I wasn't even too mad about, but then one thing led to another and both Joe and I had someone flirt with us...and the both of them knew we were married. As we walked, I shook my head and sighed a little bit, just wanting this whole day to be over. Once we found our table, the both of us just sat down. "I'm sorry, baby. I cannot believe that fucker had the balls to do that for the second time. I couldn't stand to see his hand on your body, especially when you were so uncomfortable with him in the first place." Joe said.
"Hey, listen to me, Aiden is a jackass, I love you, and I'm all yours. Y'know, I hope he looks at us so he can be jealous of what he'll never have." I said with a smile and shrugged my shoulders. Joe just looked down at me and smiled. It was weird telling Joe that I was his, but I liked it. Normally there are people all over throwing themselves at Joe or accusing him of cheating to try and destroy our relationship, so telling him that I was all his felt... exhilarating, in a way. I was all his. He was all mine. And nothing or nobody could change that. Ever. I couldn't help but notice the little smirk that was growing on Joes face in place of his smile and I knew he liked when I said that I was all his. "Mmm, say that again." Joe said hummed quietly. I giggled a little bit at his reaction and said, "I'm all yours. And by the way, that whole thing with Aiden was really hot. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.”
#joe burrow#joeburrow#cincinnati bengals#nfl#joe burrow bengals#joe shiesty#joey b#bengals#joey burrow#joe burr#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow imagine#joe x reader#joeyb#imagine#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fan fic#nfl fan fiction#nfl imagine#burrow#fanfic
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»» Kinkuary: cuckold + voyeurism (ft. Seungmin) ♧
➥ 4.6k; For Seungmin’s birthday, Chris decided to give him a gift he’s never considered giving to anyone else: a night with his own girlfriend, Y/N.
»» Creature Feature '23: More Than Just Friends ♧
➥ 7.4k; Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she comes back home the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating.
— timestamps
»» [02:41] ♧
➥ 566; you & your boyfriend were supposed to drive out to look at the stars.
»» [01:08] ♧
➥ 1.8k; your boyfriend really doesn't like it when his friends pay attention to you nor does he like it when you playfully flirt with them.
ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ
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#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#bang chan scenarios#bang chan imagines#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan angst#bang chan fluff#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#stray kids masterlist#kwanisms masterlist
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happy birthday!! sorry you have so many angst, but could you do one with bucky where he turns into the winter solider and hurts reader? if you don’t wanna do it that’s fine too I just love your bucky works
thank you!! this is so sweet!
Everything
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
word count: 2733
warnings: so sorry this isn't proofread i'm just so exhausted, angst, some violence but nothing specific
birthday masterlist
main masterlist
Bucky is afraid he'll always be scared.
Y/N is sleeping on his right side, never his left, because he doesn't trust his left arm. He's been out of HYDRA's control for years, but he doesn't know what the arm will do. He doesn't trust himself, and he sure as hell doesn't trust that arm. But he can feel himself tense when Y/N rolls on top of him and her fingers brush the metal.
He doesn't sleep well, and he thinks that Y/N knows that, but they don't talk about it. She settles back to sleep, and he looks over to see it's three in the morning. He knows he needs to go to sleep, but he doesn't want to. He knows tonight will be a nightmare night, and tomorrow is a mission, so he can't wake Y/N up.
She can tell as soon as morning comes and they get out of bed for the mission that he hasn't slept.
"Babe," She mutters after they put their suits on. She has a hand on his face, thumb brushing against the bags under his eyes.
"It's okay," He grabs her wrist, trying to smile for her benefit. She sees right through it, bringing a hand to his chest. He pulls her hand, using her wrist to guide it to his mouth and kiss it. She feels her face warm at this, that a man she has been with for so long can still make her feel this way. She grabs his other hand, his metal one, but watches him pull away a bit.
"When we get back, we'll have a nap. Well, a shower, then nap." She tells him, pushing a hand through his short hair. She had told him to cut it when he asked, knowing that it was important to him to get rid of that part of his past. She didn't want him to think of himself as a a villain anymore, and he never had long hair when he was a hero with Steve.
"I love you." He tell her, and she just pulls him in, kissing him in a way that tells him she loves him too.
They walk out of their room and meet with the rest of the team, who's already halfway through their coffees and are moving to the Quinjet. No one is talking, it's too early in the morning, but it's supposed to be an easy mission. They were all ready to get it over with and have their alone time.
It's silent as they walk to the hanger, Natasha handing Y/N a coffee in a tumbler. Y/N is so grateful, she sighs in relief.
"Thank you." She takes a sip as they walk up the ramp, then coughs. "Oh my god, did you put alcohol in this?" She knows Natasha is Russian, but this seems a little crazy. "It's six in the morning!"
"Just a little." Natasha winks, and Y/N rolls her eyes. She downs more of the coffee and steps over to her regular seat, Bucky sitting next her. Always on her left so his arm is as far as possible.
"Want some coffee?" She asks, lowly, even though she knows he won't want any if Natasha snuck alcohol in there. She's only seen him drink a few times, only with the Avengers or with her. He got drunk once, and it was actually quite cute. He told her he loved her about a million times, then started crying, then told her that if he were ever triggered somehow by the words that she needed to get as far away as possible, to stay away from him, because he would never forgive himself if something happened to her.
"James," She had said, pushing his hair away from his face. She was slightly tipsy, not as bad as him, but she knew she needed to assure him. "No one will trigger you, okay? And if anything did ever happen, I would never blame you." She kissed his forehead, letting him lean into her. They were on the floor, but Y/N couldn't get him up on her own so that's where they'd stay.
"You don't understand," He cried, pulling at her shirt. She just shushed him and rubbed his back, because clearly he'd worked himself up. "You've never seen me like that, and I would never forgive myself." He sobbed, and she has never seen him cry like this. She rocked him gently, rubbing his back.
"Baby," She whispered, hoping this somehow helps.
"Promise me," He begged, and all Y/N could do is nod. She didn't exactly know what she'd promised, but she needs him to calm down.
"I promise." She told him, and they stayed on the floor until the next morning, Y/N only getting up briefly to grab a pillow and the blanket off their bed.
Y/N doesn't know why she's thinking about that night, but it makes her upset. She looks over at Bucky, who's really serious right now - obviously, it's right before a mission. She puts a hand over his, and he automatically interwinds them.
"I love you," She tells him, looking up at his face. He looks down, a small smile on his face.
"I love you too." He whispers. She looks down and finishes off the drink, the caffeine and alcohol rushing through her body. She can't wait for this mission to be over, because she can tell how tired Bucky is. She just wants him to be able to sleep.
Bruce, Steve and Bucky jump out of the quintet, Sam following with his wings and Tony in his suit. Y/N, Clint, and Natasha follow on foot when Clint lands the quintet, and Y/N suddenly realizes Thor wasn't there this morning.
"Where's Thor?" Y/N whispers to Natasha as they walk the short distance to the HYRDA compound.
"Hell if I know." Clint is the one that grumbles an answer, the three of them keeping an eye out for anyone that may be hidden. They can hear the siren though, so it's pretty obvious that it was all hands on deck.
"Y/N, you remember the map?" Natasha asks as they split from Clint.
"As if you don't have it memorized." Y/N tells her as they enter the already unlocked door. It was actually still locked, but it had been blown off its hinges by someone. They walk through the halls, guns held at the ready,
"I do, but that's not my job." Natasha smirks as they both turn left down a hall. "Hey, did you watch that new movie yet? The tennis one?" She asks, turning and taking out an agent before they even see the two girls.
"When would I have had time?" Y/N asks, looking down a hallway and making sure it was clear. She's used to Natasha's multitasking by now, not even questioning when the red head asks about something completely unrelated to the mission.
"I think tonight we should watch it." Natasha says, right as they run into three HYRDA agents. "You take left, I take right." They ran forward, knowing they couldn't win a straight shoot out, and began hand-to-hand combat with the men.
"I can't tonight." Y/N grunts out as as he chokes a man with the retractable wire Tony recently made her. Natasha has one guy choked between her thighs and the other on the floor with her widow bites. The men are taken care of in a couple moments, the girls not even breathing hard.
"Why not?" Natasha asks as they step over the bodies and continue down their path. They see another agent, which is starting to seem weird.
"I have plans." Y/N mutters, knowing her nap with Bucky is going to take most of the day after they get back. Another agent. They're taken out quickly, but now the two girls know something is going on. "There's a lot more agents now."
"It could be because we're getting further into the building." Natasha tells her, and Y/N nods. She hopes it's just that, but something seems wrong. "What are you doing tonight that you can't watch the movie?"
"Tasha," Y/N groans, going to the left when two more agents show up. They take care of them even quicker this time, warmed up now, but Y/N knows something is going on now.
"We need to go quickly." Natasha knows too, and they pick up their pace. They see even more HYDRA agents. They take them out, but they're starting to get hit now. Y/N can feel a bruise blooming on her ribs, blood on her thigh from the bullet that had grazed it.
The girls were deep in the building, close to the information they needed. They were breathing hard, and Y/N knew Natasha had to be hurting even though she wasn't limping. They were about to turn into the room with the information when they heard yelling. They made eye contact, because this isn't a normal sound to hear on a mission.
"I'll check it out, you get the information." Y/N says, nodding to the room. Natasha agrees and then they split, Y/N running toward the sound.
"We have a problem!" Steve says over the coms, and Y/N almost startles.
"What's going on?" She asks, the yells getting louder. They start to get more clear, start to sound like Bucky's. Her heart drops, and no one responds.
"Stop!" Steve screams, and Y/N can feel chills. She turns the corner and sees about fourteen agents all on Bucky, holding him to the ground. He's struggling, but there's just too many of them. Steve's shield is on the ground, and Y/N is frozen for a second as she watches six men hold Steve to a wall. They're struggling, but it's not enough. She's about to slide for the shield when she hears one of the HYDRA agents yell.
"Dobroserdechnyy," Y/N doesn't know Russian well, but she knows that word. That's one of Bucky's trigger words.
She leaps into action, sliding to grab Steve's shield and free him first. If she can get him free then they can help Bucky, but she can't take on fourteen agents at once. She uses Cap's shield to get a couple agents off him, freeing him enough that he can fight the rest away. She hands him the shield quickly and he nods, Russian words pounding into the back of her skull as one of the agents continues to say them.
"We need help!" She yells into the coms, starting on the men around Bucky. She hears Odin being spoken and knows they're screwed.
"Get away!" Bucky yells, realizing she's there. Around the men restraining him she can see part of his face, enough to discern the panic in his eyes. "You promised! Leave!" And she finally realizes what he meant.
"Tovarnyy vagon." The man finishes, and everyone goes still for a moment. That is until Y/N kicks into gear and knocks out half the agents before they know what hit them.
"What's going on?" Sam asks in the comms.
"Where are you?" Tony grunts out.
"The Winter Soldier," Steve mutters into his comm link as Bucky raises from the ground, eyes glassed. He's speaking with the other man in Russian, and Y/N wants to kill him.
So she does.
It wasn't a hard decision, pulling out the gun and shooting the man who turned the love of her life back into a brainwashed killer. She didn't even flinch. But the Winter Solider didn't like that, turning sharply to her.
"You've gotta get out out of here." Steve steps in front of her as Natasha runs from around the corner, data file hopefully stuck safely on an information stick in her pocket.
"I can't leave him." Y/N says as Bucky begins to stalk toward them.
"He doesn't want you here." Natasha argues, grabbing her arm. "You know he doesn't." But she can't leave Bucky.
"Hulk, we need you." Steve says as he begins to fight the Winter Solider. Y/N slides out of Natasha's grasp and runs to him.
He backhands her immediately.
She falters, sliding against the wall. She feels stupid, but she runs back to him.
"We have to knock him out!" Steve yells to her, throwing his shield. The Winter Solider catches it and flips it back, the other three heroes dodging. Y/N elbows him as hard as she can, but he just flinches like a fly hit him and starts to choke her. She grabs a knife from her belt, not sure what to do with it. She would never actually stab him, not wanting to hurt him any more than he needs to. Her vision begins to swim, and she jams the knife into the metal plates. He lets her go just as Steve throws the shield again, and this time it does hit the Winter Solider. He doesn't go down, but Natasha's widow bites cause him to kneel.
"He's going to kill you and then us." Natasha mutters as she kneels, choking the Winter Solider until he falls unconscious.
"We can't," Y/N starts to say, but she begins to cough. Her injuries are catching up with her, and her throat hurts. She reaches a hand up, and she can feel the swollen skin of her throat. "We can't tell him." She rasps out. Her head is pounding, not only from Bucky's backhand but from the rest of the fighting with the agents.
"Y/N," Natasha shakes her head as she stands. She's looking at Y/N's neck, and she knows that even if they keep him backhanding her from him, there's no keeping the bruise forming on her throat. Y/N takes a deep breath, and even that hurts.
"Let's just go home." She whispers, looking at her lover passed out on the ground.
~
Bucky hasn't talked to anyone in three days.
Y/N and Bucky usually lived together, but Bucky holed himself away in a private room and refused to speak to anyone. Y/N was worried about him; so worried, in fact, that she told Fury, who told her that he was at least forced to sit on a call with a therapist once a day.
"Let me see him." Y/N demands on the third day.
"He needs time." Steve tells her. Steve had seen him last night for the first time, and Y/N was ready to burn down the building to make Bucky come out. She may have done it if she didn't think that he would just burn with it.
"You told him what happened." Y/N accused. They were right outside Bucky's room, Y/N about to break the door down.
"I showed him the video." Steve admitted, and Y/N felt the urge to punch Captain America.
"I'm gonna kill you." She says lowly, watching Steve's eyes widen.
"He has the right to know, Y/N. You can't protect him from everything." He tells her. She just shakes her head.
"I could at least try, which is better than what you did!" She yells back, clearly hurt.
"I've known him for longer! You can't tell me how to treat my best friend."
"He's my best friend too!" Y/N cries. She's about to scream again when the door between them opens. She turns to see Bucky, looking rough but still gorgeous. She wants to run out to him, but she knows that would be a lot for him.
"You broke your promise." He whispers, looking at her. It's silent as Steve begins to back out of the area.
"I couldn't leave you." She tells him, turning fully to him and resisting the urge to reach out.
"I hurt you." He's crying now, so she does reach out. He flinches but she holds tightly, and he grabs her just as tight.
"It wasn't you." She whispers, tears leaking out of her own eyes. "You would never. And I know you don't trust yourself, but I trust you, James. And I always will. That hasn't changed, and it never will." She puts a hand on his face, rubbing the bags under his eyes just like she did the day of the mission.
"I love you. I don't deserve you." He tells her, but she shakes her head.
"You deserve everything, James Barnes. Everything." They fall together into a kiss that's too perfect and passionate to be real.
"I just need you." He tells her after they separate momentarily.
"Then it's a good thing I'm never leaving." She smiles as they come together again.
//
tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#the winter solider x reader#the winter solider imagine#the winter solider fanfiction
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Here we go. It’s a long one.
My aunt is dying. Any day now, her son told the family. So, everyone flocked to see her, including mom, which entailed a 17-hour train ride from San Diego to Sacramento. My brother and I usually meet up in Bakersfield to deliver the momster because she refuses to fly and now refuses to take the train. Of course, doing the Bakersfield thing is a pain, especially if you’re not a morning person because I have to leave by 4:30 am to make sure I’m in Bakersfield by 10. Now, really, I’m glad for it in the end because I’m back home by 2:30-3p.
This time around, mom had to take the train because she was afraid her sister would die before she got to see her. So, mom was insistent she had to leave asap, which meant no Bakersfield trip since my brother and I had to work.
Easy-peasy.
That is, except this last weekend. Mom arrived Friday night near midnight (17-hour train ride, remember?). The next day we see Auntie Sally. That night, I go to the birthday celebration for me, the kid, and grandkid. Mom didn’t want to go.
Anyway.
I assumed my brother and I would meet up in Bakersfield the following weekend, which is a-ok. I have plenty of time to rest and mentally rev myself for the trip, which is something I need to do. Otherwise, without this precious time, I don’t handle it well.
Guess what? Mom wants to leave the next day. I’m like, wait, what? But, I just say ok and quietly freak out inside. This really changes everything. I tell my granddaughter, who is staying the weekend with me to shower at night, that all she has to do is roll out of bed the next am and get in the car where she can sleep.
Easy-peasy, right?
Except, when we arrive in Bakersfield, my brother is not at our meeting place. He’s always there first - always. The guy is an extreme morning person, up every day by 4am. In fact, I thought it was weird that he didn’t call once asking me for an update of my progress.
Long story short. I know, too late.
He thought the mom delivery wasn’t taking place until the following weekend. I was thinking, ok, we’ll head back home and try this again next weekend. But mom? No way. She refuses to go and suggests I leave her there to wait for my brother. Really? Like, I’d do that, and she knows I’d never do that.
So, after drinking a lot of beverages, shopping at WalMart and Nordstrom’s Rack, my brother arrives. He must have booked it because what’s usually almost a 5-6 hour drive, he made it in 3.
The grandkid and me were home by 6:30. I apologized to her for how the day went. She said, what a day! I agreed. We really didn’t get to spend quality time together. I was supposed to take her home that night, but I was so exhausted that I asked if the kid could take her instead, which she did.
The last-minute trip was hard on me. I remember the days when I could drive in a pinch no problem! Those days are gone. I missed work on Monday to recuperate. Ya, this old gal ain’t what she used to be.
And now, I need to get ready for work.
Thx for reading.
Have a good day :)
Toods!
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Happy birthday! Could you continue the naruto daughter of the homage series?
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6
Naruto doesn’t feel comfortable going back to the tower until the Suna kids have collected their scroll and arrived. Gaara had killed nine people – three teams total – in that time. None of them Konoha, thankfully, but that’s mostly due to her team and Itachi engaging in some creative luring and misdirection. The Konoha Twelve can be redirected outright by one of her clones, but the other leaf genin that she doesn’t know as well have to be lured rather than instructed. Getting their own scroll is more an afterthought than anything else.
They probably should have thinned the herd a little more. Now they’re having preliminary matches, which is just another chance for Gaara to kill one of her shinobi.
Great.
“Is that Orochimaru?” Sakura hisses, looking up at the spectator box. “Isn’t he a missing nin?”
Naruto flickers her glance upward, but she’d already known he was attending. What does surprise her are the two people by his side. “Yeah, but he’s also the Otokage, and one sort of trumps the other. Dad gave up on that one a long time ago, and Sarutobi still likes him besides. That’s not the interesting part.”
Jiraiya sends intelligence back to the village frequently enough, but she’s never thought she’d seen Tsunade back in the village.
~
Orochimaru is already bored.
He barely attends chunin exams when they’re in his own village. But Kabuto had given him an interesting report, and he hasn’t seen Minato in something like fifteen years, so he figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, Anko is proctoring a portion of the exam, and she always complains that he doesn’t visit.
Jiraiya found out, somehow, which was bad enough, but then the traitor told Tsunade, and the two idiots insisted on coming with him for some reason.
Probably because they were worried Minato might try to arrest him, which is frankly insulting. He can and will kick that kid’s ass if he has to.
Hm. Maybe that’s what they’re intending to prevent, on second thought.
Minato’s daughter has her father’s coloring and her mother’s bone structure.
“I’m surprised she’s made it this far,” Jiraiya murmurs.
Kushina throws him an irritated glance, but the white knuckled grip she has on her armrests seems to imply she agrees with him. Minato doesn’t look at either of them, not that he’s looked at Kushina at all. There’s really no point in them playing the part of happy couple in front of foreign ninja if they can’t commit to the deception.
“She’s got a solid stance,” Tsunade says. “Don’t need working chakra coils for that, I suppose.”
Minato’s lips thin, but he keeps his silence.
“Gaara of Suna versus Rock Lee!” shouts Hayate, pausing to cough halfway through.
Orochimaru leans forward now that something interesting is finally happening.
It’s not as immediate of a bloodbath as he thought it’d be. Lee holds out, demonstrating a mastery of taijutsu truly can make up for an awful lot. He fiddles with the weights on his wrist, but then he glances up. It seems as if he’s looking at his sensei, who’s shouting encouragement, but standing just to the left of them is Team Seven.
Naruto’s lips tug down at the side and she shakes her head just slightly, the movements so small thar Orochimaru wouldn’t notice them if he wasn’t focusing on her.
Lee’s shoulders droop even as he backflips to avoid another deadly arm of sand. He’s not even close to exhausted, and he’s lasted longer against Gaara than anyone else has, but he raises his arm and says, “I surrender.”
Everyone is stunned, an air of disbelief surrounding them.
Gaara acts like he hasn’t heard, more sand barreling for Lee. Hayate moves to interfere, but he’s a lot slower than that sand is.
There’s a smudge of yellow across the arena, there and gone, taking Lee with it.
Orochimaru turns, expecting to see Minato’s seat empty, but he’s still there, eyebrows raised.
He frowns, looking back down, and Naruto is back out of the arena, putting Lee back on his feet. “It seems you didn’t hear him!” she shouts, grin so wide her eyes are slits.
“I didn’t know you taught her the Flash,” Jiraiya says.
Kushina stares between her husband and her daughter, eyebrows pushed together.
“Yes,” Minato says stiffly, “well.”
Interesting.
It appears Kabuto’s report was accurate.
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“What?”
“I said, you tore me out of this photo. I was there too,” I unpin it and hold it out to point to the crooked edge next to Jen where my eleven year old self once stood, tanned and grinning in red swimming shorts, “There, I was there.”
She looks at it, then me, but says nothing.
“You can still see my shoulder.”
“Yeah.”
“You tore me out of it.”
Again, nothing.
I let my arm drop, limply holding the photo between two fingers, speechless I just stare at her as though she might explain herself, give me some reason that makes sense, but she doesn’t, she just stands there chewing on her lip.
I tug my shoulders sharply toward my ears, “Why did you do that? That was a nice day. We went swimming in the sea, I rescued you from a jellyfish, remember? I grabbed a piece of driftwood and flung it out of the water for you.”
“Yeah,”
“And later your mam brought us back to my house and we had a water fight on the lawn and made ice cream and coke floats,” I hold the photo out to her in a last ditch appeal, “It was a great day.”
“Yeah it was nice, we had fun.” She won’t meet my eyes and looks everywhere but at me, like acknowledgement is unbearable.
“What, Michelle? I don’t get it. What did I do that was so horrible?”
She scoffs and turns away.
“C’mon, just tell me. I’ve had enough of all this bullshit between us, I’m serious. What is it?”
“Oh come on.”
“No, what?” I toss the photo onto her desk and approach her, my hand on her arm makes her flinch as I spin her to look at me, eyes livid, as I insist upon her, “What?”
“My God, you’re awful,” she hisses, “Why do you need to hear me saying it? Is it an ego thing? Is it because you’re all single and sad again?”
“What are you on about?”
“You already know what this is all about, it just gives you a thrill to bring it up.”
“No! I don’t know!”
“Oh cop on,” She slaps my hand off her, “That stuff with Holly, you just don’t remember? That’s convenient.”
“Holly?”
“Oh my God,” she tries to twist away from me but I stop her, “What did Holly say to you?”
Michelle glares right into my face with a fury that would make a lesser man cower, but I don’t budge. “Tell me!”
“That you don’t fancy me,” she grinds out, “and that I’m not even pretty.”
I hesitate.
She tosses her hand at me and hacks out a laugh, “See, you don’t even deny it.”
“Yeah, I was thirteen and stupid, she was jealous and I suppose I was just telling her what she wanted to hear. Shell!” she backs off and I follow, trying to insert myself into her eye line, “I didn’t mean it, she just didn’t get it, the way it wasn’t like that between us, but I don’t know why she told you that.”
“It’s because she knew I fancied you, and she thought it was funny how you didn’t fancy me back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You didn’t, you fancied Holly.”
I sigh, “Holly was… everyone expected that of me.”
“What does that even mean?”
“She liked me, and she was the sort of girl that all the other boys talked about all the time, I felt like I should just go out with her because it’d be the most normal thing to do.”
“Oh my God, that’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah, I know, but I was still a kid and, I don’t know, you, Jen and I had a good thing going, I just didn’t want to risk ruining it.”
“Well obviously you did, by saying I was ugly and throwing your birthday gifts back in my face.”
“I never said you were ugly, and the birthday gifts… she told me I couldn’t have them because they were from you, but I still liked them! Those pens were better than her gift, you know, I didn’t even like the movie she took me to see,” my attempt at a laugh sounds very weird and tight, “It was actually so shit.”
Michelle is unmoved, with her arms crossed over her chest she says, “You read what I said in the card and you still threw it away like it was nothing.”
“No, I didn’t- I skimmed- I barely read it.”
She reels back like I’ve spit in her face, “Is that supposed to be better?”
I don’t answer.
“‘Dear Jude,’” She recites, “‘Happy thirteenth birthday! I hope you have an amazing day! I just want to say that being your friend is the best! You’re so nice and funny and talented, I’m glad all of the time that you started going to our school because you make our friend group so much better. I hope you like the gel pens, I know you hate drawing with yellow colours because they don’t show up on the page, but I couldn’t exactly take it out of the packet or it would look pretty strange! Maybe you can use them to draw more comics. I look at the one you drew for me with the cowboy cats every day and it still makes me laugh. Is that weird? I hope not. Anyway, I hope you have an amazing birthday because you’re an amazing friend! xxx Michelle.’” She glares at me. The way she positively spat that message at me threw me off a bit, but the essence of it still comes across and makes my stomach sink with shame all of the same. It really was a nice card, and I wish for the millionth time in my seventeen-and-a-half years that I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.
“I remember the cowboy cat comic,” I mutter, “Do you still have it?”
It seems as though my stupidity is confounding her, “No, I fucked it into the bin. Obviously. I was heartbroken.”
“Heartbroken?” A bit dramatic, surely.
“Yeah. Holly and her friends bullied me for years, and you just went and abandoned me for them.”
“That’s not fair, I didn’t. You pushed me away, remember? You accused me of choosing them, I never chose them. You chose not to be my friend.”
“Yeah, I wonder why.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“So stubborn. You can't let this go.”
“Uh! Yeah! Because it’s humiliating.”
“What is? That you fancied me?”
She brings her hands to her cheeks, burning not with rage, but embarrassment. She takes a shaky breath, “did you know?”
“About you-”
“Yes.”
I chew on my lip. Of course I did. It was written all over her, the way she was so eager to sit next to me in class or in the car, squeezing into the middle seat just so that her leg could rest against mine. How she jumped at the chance to help me out with something before anybody else could, her laugh, a little bit harder and longer than everyone else's when I told a joke, but not addressing it was always easier. Maybe I liked the attention a little bit, enjoyed being admired by a cute girl, or maybe it was easier, less disruptive than admitting my own uncomfortable, friendship-group-ruining feelings.
“No, I had no idea,” I say.
Her eyes are fixed upon the carpet between our feet as though by looking so intently at the looped fibres she can transport herself anywhere other than here with me and my interrogations.
“Hey, look at me.”
“No.”
I sigh, “Look, Michelle, I did think you were pretty. That’s why Holly was so jealous. Our friendship made her insecure, and she hated how much I liked hanging out with you. She could sense that I liked you.”
“Oh, come on, that’s the kind of thing you say to those stupid girls at school so that they’ll let you borrow their homework or something.”
“I really did!”
“You used to throw potato wedges at me outside the deli!”
“Yeah! That’s how you show a girl you fancy her when you’re twelve!”
Her laugh is humourless, “Please.”
“I’m telling you I did,” I take her wrist, with her pulse jumping under my fingers and hold her like that, for reasons I’m not sure of, perhaps just for connection. Close like this I can feel the heat of her body. I am desperate to show her how serious I am. “And if I wasn’t so stupid I might have done something about it.”
“Too late.”
“It’s not.”
I bend and kiss her before she can argue any more. Once, just once, but insistently, and I pull back hard with a smack expecting outrage on her face but I find only surprise, desire, and eyes that flick from my eyes to my mouth and back. I kiss her again, slow this time, deep, sure, as my hands hold her hips close to mine, willing for this kiss to wipe it all away, all of the years of hurt and anguish between us, and she lets me kiss her, and she kisses me back with hands that thread through my hair and lips that part so I can slide my tongue inside her mouth.
My knees knock against hers in our clumsy waltz towards her bed and we come down on it together, my body pressing against hers and my fingers finding the warm skin beneath her t-shirt. I draw back to look at her again, dark eyes and full lips and skin, as is mine, blushed amber with the first rays of dawn that stream through the window.
“Do you want to stop?” I say, and she shakes her head.
“No.”
And outside, as the sun creeps up over Clontarf, the branches of the cherry blossom trees hold their leafy arms up in surrender.
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#lucky boy 2009#last post!#omg!#SO EXCITED FOR 2010 YOU HAVE NO IDEA#anyway behind the scenes: originally Jude murdered the jellyfish in a very calculated and cold blooded way but I felt it was too harsh#even though it was based on something i directly witnessed on a beach when i was a kid#and i felt like the jellyfish kind of deserved it sorry#i got stung on my thigh when i was 9 and it sucked so bad#Youtube
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Birthday (a short imagine)
Drew starkey x reader
Warnings:spec of suggestive, just fluff
It was 1 pm and you were currently in the shower, relaxing and humming one of your fav songs of Chase Atlantic. Drew meanwhile, was preparing breakfast. Both had woken up a bit late due to last night's "session" they had. They both were back in Charleston after filming in Morroco for obx. Y/n had just gotten out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her head wearing one of drew's t shirt and some sweat pants. She had came into the kitchen as drew turned around with a teasing smile "how was the 10 hour shower?" he said as y/n could take some time in the shower. "Fabulous" you said smiling as drew slid her the plate with pancakes. "Thankyou!" you said. Drew checked his phone scrolling thru his friends and family's stories, as he kept scrolling he saw a pic of mackayla, drew's sister and his baby niece. He loved seeing Mac, mostly to see the baby girl. Drew's eyes widened, remembering that his sister's birthday was close. He turned to the kitchen looking at you, "hey it's April right?" he asked, y/n turning her head processing drew's question, checking the phone to see the date. "Yea April, wht happened?". "Mac's birthday's close" he said as liz's eyes widened at the realization. "Ohh, after two days. U planning anything for her?" She asked resting the fork on the side of the plate. Drew still had a thinking face, unsure on what to do. "What if......we suprise her by staying back at home for a few days" he had asked, waiting for y/n's response. "I'm down, it's so much fun going there" said y/n as it was always fun for her going back at drew's place meeting the family. She mostly spended her time with Brooke and Mackayla. "I'm convinced u just go there to see my family and not me" drew said with an amused smile. His family LOVED you. "They're kind and funny" you said shrugging with a smile as you got off the chair, moving towards the sink to wash your plate. "What about me?" He asked acting offended, walking towards y/n standing behind you, laying his head on your shoulder with his hands wrapped around your waist. "You're ok" said y/n jokingly, a smile spreading on your face that you couldn't hide. "Hey I was kind enough to not show anyone that glue photo of your's" Drew said referring to the photo he took one month ago of some thing you were working on which surprisingly ended up fine except the fact that your state after the end results was NOT great and drew had sneakily took a picture which u had specifically asked him to delete to not let anyone see. Y/n was confused for a sec until the sudden realization hit, a light gasp as you spoke up " I thought you deleted it" turning your head slightly as drew took it as a warning sign. "Aren't we supposed to go outside, gotta shower" he said kissing you on the cheek as he swiftly got out of the kitchen, leaving you, looking at him with a smug smile.
#drew#drew starkey#Imagine#Obx#Y/n#Drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x reader#rafe obx#Rafe cameron#Ester
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alhaitham 🤝 me
feb 11th born kaveh stans
#IM LATE 😭#was too busy doing nothing on my actual bday oops#stayed up all night to finish this so gonna pass out now#genshin impact#haikaveh#al haitham#kaveh#happy birthday alhaitham#!!#also kaveh was supposed to be cropped and blurred actually#but my (kaveh simp) friend convinced me not too#and hell im a kaveh simp too#so who am i to deny her
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