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writeyouin · 8 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

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faux-ecrivain · 9 months

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Yandere Fickle Ex-Boyfriend

(Fickle-Changing frequently, especially as regard one’s loyalty, interests, or affection) (Fifteenth official post)

(Merry Christmas! 🎅)

(Happy Holidays!🎄)

(Yan’s name is Julian)

Yan Ex who used to be a wonderful, caring person. Then all of the sudden, just three years into your relationship, he changed.

Yan Ex who begins to distance himself from you, he seems to be shutting you out, and you don’t understand why.

Yan Ex who treats you as a stranger and not someone he adored, you’re so confused, his behavior is so unnatural.

Yan Ex who has previously been absolutely enamored with you and had done absolutely anything to be with you. Now, he’s acting the complete opposite, he treats you as a nuisance.

Julian groans as you cling onto him (you were just holding his hand), he shakes you off and puts some distance between the two of you. Hurt flashes across your face and you feel the tinge of creep into your heart, which makes way for resentment. How dare he treat you like that? Especially after all he’s done to you.

Yan Ex who had spent years breaking you down and then abandoned you when you gave into him. (You hate him so much)

Yan Ex who begins to pursue someone else, someone who he had sworn wasn’t his type. Someone docile and loving, he had always told you that he liked the fight in you.

Yan Ex who makes a show of romancing this docile person (apparently named Alexis) and practically rubs it in your face.

Yan Ex who never officially broke up with you, but treated you like he did.

Yan Ex who’s surprised, after weeks of you being quiet, when you lash out and intimidate him, he’s never seen you so mad! (It certainly makes him feel a specific way…)

Yan Ex who immediately becomes interested in you again, now he’s always touching you and kissing up on you. His behavior has you reeling and you almost fall for it again, until you remember how he treated you and you pull back.

Yan Ex who becomes frustrated when you push him away, how dare you behave like that! Yes, he was treating you in a similar manner, but so what! He’s allowed to, but you’re not. At least, that’s what he believes.

Yan Ex who cries when you break up with him, that’s not fair! Only he’s allowed to break up with you, you can’t do that.

Yan Ex who pouts and whines when you ignore his calls, whilst he internally seethes.

Yan Ex who decides to take action and creeps into your room late at night, yes he did climb up your window, but it’s okay because he loves you! (In actuality he’s basically incapable of love)

Yan Ex who shushes your cries for help and tries to keep you from struggling (unfortunately he isn’t stronger than you).

He yelps when you push him off your bed, his head hits the floor and he groans. Julian frowns and sits up, he pouts and crawls back onto the bed. He latches onto you and begs you not to kick him out! “Please, Please, don’t kick me out! I know I’m a fool, but i still love you!” He cries, his head burrowing into your stomach and his tears (clearly fake) soak your shirt. A sound of disgust escapes your mouth and you push him off again. Which, of course, causes him to whine.

Yan Ex who wants yo be in control of the relationship, he wants to choose when to end this relationship and when to destroy it. He won’t ever let anyone make the first move, he should be the only making decisions in this relationship (yet the moment you concede to his will, he gets bored and pushes you away.)

Yan Ex who will not give up, he wants you to love him again, it makes him feel powerful.

Yan Ex who puts up a fight when you try to throw him out of the house, literally, he’s kicking and screaming, clinging onto you in a manner reminiscent of how you once did.

Julian whines again as he wraps his arms around your waist. He looks (up/down) at you, his eyes filled with tears and the bottom of his lip wobbles. “Pleeease don’t leave me [Y/N], I know I’m not perfect, but I love you!” You roll your eyes, you highly doubt he could ever love you. He’s just being a big, pathetic baby (no offense to babies). You push him off, he grunts when his bottom hits the floor and he burst into tears (he’s a cute cryer, but you won’t tell him that). “[Y/N]! Stop being mean to meee!!” Julian pouts and wraps his arms, and legs, around you leg.

Yan Ex who clings to you like a koala, regardless of how hard you try to get him off of you. He’s going to keep clinging to you, until he wears you down and then he’ll probably leave you. But you don’t give in, you just yank him off your leg and throw him out of the house.

Yan Ex who bangs on the door, begging to be let back in and begging for you to forgive him.

Yan Ex who quickly turns vicious once he sees that his pouty little act isn’t working on you, he begins to shout threats and tells you to watch your back, because he won’t let you go.

Yan Ex who vows to get revenge, who swears you’ll regret ever getting rid of him.

“Ah, you’ll shouldn’t have done that darling, now I have to punish you.”

(That’s all for now, hopefully you guys enjoy this and hopefully this makes sense!)

(Thoughts on Julian?)

#Fifteenth Official Post #yandere x reader #my writing #yandere oc #enjoy this short fanfic!#Yandere Ex x reader #Julian my oc #fanfic #gn reader #gender neautral reader

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skzdarlings · 2 months

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

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

( 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. this chapter contains explicit sexual content. this chapter also has a content warning for descriptions of torture and dehumanization, plus the aftermath of trauma, themes of identity loss and healing. the previously established story dynamics are prevalent. chapter word count: 10,200 words.

enjoy <3

B E FO R E

Felix returns to the base and he is scrutinized, as expected. They all want to know why he was taken, what the enemy wanted, how he escaped. Felix has never played so many sides all while obfuscating his real objective. Alone, he guides himself through the venomous viper’s pit that is this war: Miroh and his enemy, Miroh and the world.

Where it concerns the enemy, Miroh will always intervene. He sees the enemy as the antithesis to the house of Miroh. A rich, spoiled fool, holed up in his golden cave, oblivious to what he has and the work it takes to acquire it. Miroh is jealous. Miroh is hateful.

Those are emotions that Felix can manipulate. He learned it from the best.

“It was an ambush,” Felix tells him. “They knew I was going to be there. They were waiting for me.” He uses his reputation, formed by Miroh, against Miroh.

Felix would never lose a fight. Felix would never fail a mission. Felix would never surrender. Felix is a reflection of Miroh so he presents the most flattering image.

“What information did they want?” Miroh asks.

Felix can see the gears spinning in his head. What could the enemy be seeking so determinedly to lay a trap for Miroh’s asset? Oh, Miroh has a suspicion. Felix can see it, because he knows exactly what it is.

“They asked about Project Twenty-Three,” Felix says. “I told them I had never heard of it. Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell them anything.”

Project Twenty-Three. Chris has vented about it to Felix. It is a cyber mission, striking against the enemy’s tightly guarded servers. It intends to blackout the grid and lay virtual traps while they re-calibrate, compromising not only the enemy but everyone else on that grid: civilians, their homes, their hospitals, their shelters.

It is a significant job for its scope and because it is the first time a mission will be helmed by Miroh’s daughter.

Miroh’s daughter, Chris says, intends to sabotage the operation.

It is Felix’s worst fears coming true. Miroh’s daughter rebelling against Miroh is doomed to be a catastrophe. She will inevitably go down and when that blaze tears through the sky, Chris will crash and burn in a similar inferno. He is too blinded by proximity, too idealistic to see how it is impossible to truly destroy a man like Miroh.

No one but classified personnel are supposed to know about Project Twenty-Three. Miroh’s daughter let it slip to Chan, who let it slip to Felix. As far as Miroh is concerned, Felix should not know about it. As far as Miroh is concerned, Felix is telling the truth.

As far as Miroh is concerned, someone is leaking highly sensitive data to the enemy.

“I’m smarter than that, though,” Felix says. He appeals to all that haughty vanity and says, “I was trained by the best. Of course I got away.”

“Of course,” Miroh says. Where before, he was wary, his guard comes down.

Felix can sneak in. Felix can lay his attack.

“What else did they say?” Miroh asks.

“I overheard them,” Felix says. “They’re going to try and kill you. And it’s going to happen inside your house.”

The trap is laid.

P R E S E N T D A Y

Miroh only put one soldier through a reconfiguration program. And it wasn’t me. It was you.

Chan looks at you as if you shot him even though he was the one who fired at you.

The words land with more violence than a bullet.

It can’t be true. That is your first reaction: denial. He is lying or he is confused or something, something, something. Anything but whatever he just said.

He tries to step towards you. You look at him and think of the First Guard: him in that corridor, a hand around your neck. He fought just enough to make it real, the way you and Changbin sometimes fight, but it never went too far, did it? You think back to that first fight in the ring. You commended yourself for lasting so long, but that should have been a hint. You would not have lasted a round with the First Guard on a good day, never mind after fighting several others. He never came at you with the full brunt of his fatal capacity like you would expect, like you should have considered at the time.

His eyes in the van, the tilt of his head.

Trusting as your car stopped an inch from his body.

His hands out like you were a wild, unpredictable animal, a weapon, something lethal he had to contain. It’s me, he said. It’s just me. As if you knew who that was.

He does the same thing now. You wrench away from him.

“No,” you say.

He says your name but it doesn’t sound like a name; it sounds like begging, it sounds like please, it sounds like desperation, painfully barbed on his tongue. You half expect him to start bleeding from the mouth.

“No,” you say again. You jerk away even though he has stopped reaching for you. You feel a phantom hand on your chest and on your head, a cold fire in your veins.

You slam shoulders as you dart past. He says your name again, this time like an alarm, only barely short of a scream as he chases after you. You get as far as the door before he catches you, his hand wrapped around your bicep and your name a weapon on his lips.

“Stop it,” you say. It isn’t loud but it is brutal all the same.

He lets go as if you electrocuted him.

You look at him. He stares back, all that begging in his dark eyes.

“You can’t – you can’t leave,” he says. His panic bubbles into frustration and he says, “You just told me off for doing that, didn’t you?”

You think of him on that rooftop, not even blinking at Miroh’s dead body, like he couldn’t care less, his eyes rivetted to you alone.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

You think he would rather get hit. A moment of pain, a scar to join the others. Instead, he has to endure the intensity of your eyes, suffer whatever fucked up expression is haunting your body, and then he has to let you go.

You do not look at his face when leaving. You don’t want to see this side of him. There are already too many versions of him in your head, just as there are too many versions of yourself.

The denial does not last long. You walk through the brisk night, destination nowhere. The sky feels too big.

It’s preposterous, isn’t it? You are in your body right this moment, looking at the world with your own eyes. How can anything be wrong inside? But even while attempting to convince yourself otherwise, you know the truth. It has been long unfurling in the back of your mind. You have not felt like yourself for days, maybe weeks, maybe the entire three months since this downfall began.

You don’t even remember what it means to feel like yourself.

All the nightmares, the visions, the flashes of dreams that feel more like memories – maybe memories is exactly what they are. So suppressed it feels like watching a movie rather than your own life, but your story regardless. Sifting through those fragments feels like searching through rubble in a collapse. How are you ever expected to find a person under that much annihilation?

When it happens, Changbin said, what feels like a lifetime ago. 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…”

A sob rips out of you. You have cried more in days than you have in years. You cover your face and fall into the dark of your closed eyes. You see your friend, not a fragment or broken memory, but a whole person. The scar on your palm twinges, reminding you that you are real and here.

Remember me, he said.

That was the very first thing you did. You saw him on that rooftop and you remembered something. Him, younger, bleeding, emerging from a fog of smoke. He lifted a weight off your chest. He made you a promise.

You try to chase the memory of that dream, try to hold the image of him in your mind, but it moves like water through a sieve. It’s like he’s standing right there, just in the corner of your eye if you could only turn your head to look. But you are trapped in place. Pinned down, a weight on your chest.

You lose track of time under the stars. You are too numb to feel the cold. Only when the sky purples with the very earliest streak of dawn do you move. You look at your feet as you walk and it feels like someone else is moving you. You know it’s just exhaustion, a trick of the weary eye, but a shudder moves through you.

You don’t want to think about it. Whenever your mind starts to go there – to that room, to that hole, to the cell – it backs away screaming. It is probably why you can’t hold any picture for longer than a second.

A small part of you still rebels, insisting it isn’t true because it’s can’t be true, but you know intrinsically that it is.

This confirmation solidifies when you get back to the room and find Chan still awake, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.

He lifts his head. You can’t hold his gaze for long, swallowed up by the dark depth that sees something in you, far beyond the surface, buried so deep you can’t find it.

You turn away. You climb into bed.

It isn’t an escape. You know that, even as you close your eyes and shut out the world. It’s all waiting for you there, your subconscious caught in a perpetually crashing tidal wave.

You fall asleep, ready to face the nightmares.

It feels like swimming against an acidic current. You push through but it bears down; you struggle but it burns your skin, sloughs down to the clean marrow. Pieces of you are lost to the tide. You try to catch each flaking sliver of personhood but then your arms are full and you can no longer swim.

You are going to drown.

“Let go,” says a voice, colder than the water. “This will all stop. Just let go.”

Just let go. Just let your skin unravel. Just let the tide take it away. You will never get it back. You will be a living corpse, a half-consciousness puppeting your bones.

You decide to drown. You slip further and further into the blackness behind your lids.

“Hey, it’s me! I’m coming!”

Changbin.

You can hear his footsteps as he thunders towards you, but you can’t see him. Your eyelids are so heavy, as if being held shut by a hand in the water.

Another hand reaches straight through the corrosive cold and seizes your face in a desperate grip.

“Wake up,” Changbin says. He taps your cheek repeatedly, a little harder each time, a little more frantic. “Hey, wake up. Please. Please wake up.”

It feels like he is prying your eyes open. One moment there is nothing but darkness, then Changbin is there. He looks like he did when you last saw him, grown, fight-ready, a little scar on his face. It bleeds more than such a tiny mark should. A droplet hits your cheek, burning hot compared to the water.

“It’s me,” he says. “Hold on. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go. I promise I’ll get you out.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. An echoing reverberation that circles the wooden beams high above your head. You look there, staring at the ceiling as your lungs slowly fill with oxygen.

The ceiling shatters in a spray of splinters, the world vanishing in a cloud of grey smoke. Changbin is gone and your father stands over you, keeping that weight on your chest with a press of his fist.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he says, and plunges you back under water. Ice cold currents and electric hot fire twine in and around you in an unfathomable vice. Your vision flickers as you twitch and flail, avoiding one sensation to succumb to the other.

“Don’t go,” Changbin says. “I promise I’ll get you out.”

Another bolt of lightning slices through you.

“Just let go.” A cold and clinical voice.

There is a war between those voices. Time passes slowly as you volley in the current, slamming into one or the other.

In the bubbling frenzy, you hear a whisper.

“Let her go.” That is not Changbin. That is not your father. It’s too soft – soft, until it’s not, until it sounds like speaking through an open chest cavity, heaving up its heart with every cry. “Please,” the voice begs. “Let her go.”

“Thank me,” your father says. He stands with his back to you, angled just enough you can see the gun in his hands. You can’t see the person on the receiving end. You just know it’s a soldier. You just know it’s a boy.

You have to stop it. The thought overwhelms you and you reach for the gun, but your hand never makes contact, splashing through cold water.

“Subject recognizes control,” says that clinical voice.

There is a hand on your chest. It pushes you back under water.

You are alone in the current and the corrosion and the cold. The hand pushes you deeper and deeper into the endless darkness under you.

You are going to drown. You are going to let yourself drown.

“You don’t want to do that,” you say.

Your father still has a gun in his hand. It is pointed at that boy.

“Subject— Control—”

You need to get that gun. You need to swim. You need to see him. You need to save him.

You finally let go.

You open your eyes.

Unlike in your dreams, it’s fast. You jolt awake in a cold sweat. The ceiling is unmoving, the air cool and dry from the motel’s cheap, noisy air conditioner. The blinds are closed but the neon light outside the window creates a fuzzy square halo. It brightens the room just enough to see the outline of everything clearly.

That includes Chan.

He is still awake. If this was just one night ago, you would tell him to get into bed and sleep because you can’t have him tired for the mission. But now, you find yourself staring back at him, at his bare and open face, his tired eyes and the uncomfortable tension in his shoulders.

When you went to sleep, he was sitting on that same chair in the corner, and it looks like he hasn’t moved once. He’s been waiting for you.

He’s been waiting a lot longer than one night. If she ever came back to me, he said, revealing years of hope, of watching, waiting for you to break through your conditioning and show him a sign. He was never brainwashed, just trapped in a precarious situation, bound to a bargain with no way out that didn’t compromise you. He could have saved himself at any time but it wouldn’t have mattered.

“You were never reconfigured,” you say.

“No.”

The question and answer breaks a dam. A flood of questions pour to the front of your mind, overwhelming you, taking you back to your dreams where you almost drown – again and again. You remember the report, stating too much recollection could trigger some kind of breakdown. Yes, you could ask Chan to tell you everything, to string together all those gaps in your nightmares, but you already know that would not help. It would either feel like a story about a girl you do not know, or it would just throw you deeper into the whirlpool.

You let those questions turn over themselves like a crashing wave. When it settles, you ask the one question that remains.

“Were we friends?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands under his chin. He is impossibly strong but right now he looks too weak to support himself.

“No,” he finally says. His eyes dart to the floor. “No, we weren’t friends.”

He looks at you and you fall into the unspoken story within his eyes. You have been conversing without words since you met. He has been looking at you with that wanting tilt and desperate stare since he stepped into the ring.

You remember a fragment from a dream. Him, younger, his face ravaged with tears and his mouth open on a muted shout. It would be easy to mistake that as him being tortured, his pain that palpable. But your memory is not of his suffering, just his watching, just his waiting.

All this time, he has been waiting.

“Did you love me?” you ask.

This answer comes faster, but rougher as if guarding against vulnerability. His voice is low.

“Yes.”

A phantom spark fires up your arm, straight into your heart.

“Did I love you?” you ask.

He holds your gaze, though it feels like he is looking just a little past you, seeing something you can’t see. Then again, maybe he doesn’t see it, maybe he is just searching, and maybe he comes up empty. Because when he answers, his voice is airy, and the word is like a hiss of pain, like getting hit in the chest and all the air leaving the body at once.

“Yes,” he says.

You feel the weight of that hit too. Wavering under the force of it, you blurt, “I don’t remember.”

“I know,” he says. He drops his head into his hands and rubs his palms over his face, scrunches his eyes shut tight and shakes his head. “I know.”

You want to go to him. You are not sure where the urge comes from because, despite what he said, you have never loved like that. Is it something buried inside you, something that remembers? Maybe it’s just you, who you are now, the person who has spent the last few days with this man at her side. His proximity has been a confusing comfort from the start. Maybe it’s a memory or maybe it’s just him.

You stand before thinking it through. He doesn’t even notice, a sign this competent soldier is very far gone, his face still buried in his hands. When you touch his shoulder, it catches him off guard, both arms jolting as if stung.

He looks up at you, his hand instinctively flying to the one you rest on his shoulder. He clasps it, holds it there, presses it down like he needs convincing it is real.

He meets your eyes. You do not know what you look like; you just know it hurts him, that it makes everything so much worse.

A child-like sob punches out of him. His eyes close tight, his face going red as he fights to hold it in. He cried earlier and it looked like the typical outpouring of stress and hurt, but it did not look like this.

After that first sob, reminiscent of the little boy he never really was, years of torment come tearing violently out of his chest. Flashes of memories melt with the sight, his young face twisted as he wails, that muted shout filled in with his voice now.

He holds his forehead, doubles over. When you see the top of his head, those other images fade away. It is just him, here, now. Whoever he is, he has been good to you. Your hand is still on his shoulder and he is still clinging to it.

“Chan,” you whisper. You’re not sure if he hears it, but his breath catches when you nudge him upright. You are certain he can’t see very well through his tears, but he looks up anyway.

When you climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, he does not hesitate to throw his arms around you. His hands find your back and he presses you so close, it feels like he is trying to push you right into his heart. He puts his face in your neck where he fights to steady his breathing.

You touch the nape of his neck. You shiver at his long exhale.

You feel miserable and choked for a myriad of reasons. For him, everything he as endured and lost. For you, who doesn’t even know what she lost at all.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His breathing is less laboured, though his voice sounds sore. He exhales again, some tension leaving his shoulders where you rest your hands.

You squeeze those shoulders and lean back to look at him. His expression is more than a little abashed, gaze uncertain. You are not good at smiling but you try, even though you think your brows are furrowed and his sorrow is reflecting back through your eyes.

“Thought we agreed to stop apologizing,” you say.

His laugh is as weak as your smile, but certainly there. You touch his face with your scarred palm, feel the curve of his jaw where that wound runs sharpest. You think you can only touch him because of that scar. You used to balk at the sight of someone else’s tears, even deride them. You don’t remember being a lover. You didn’t even realize you had a friend until it was too late.

You might not know who you are, and you might not know how to describe how you feel, but you certainly understand it feels different, and you certainly know what kind of person you do not want to be anymore.

So you do not rip your hand away. You curl a tuft of hair behind his ear.

“I just—” You trip over your own words, wishing you were a better speaker, more personable and warm than your stiff recitation. “I can’t be that person,” you say. “I don’t know what person I will be, but I’m not – I can’t—”

“I know,” he says, sincere. He is holding your waist and he gives it a small squeeze, a reassuring touch that moves through you with a burst of warmth. It simmers in your bloodstream when he smiles – his eyes still sorrowful despite the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t wish you were someone else,” he says. With a wince, he says, “I wish I was.”

Your stomach twists in an awful knot. You think of all that blood on his hands. Despite his efforts to keep it away from you, you feel it on yourself. You have to close your eyes to push away the flood of images, unsure which are imaginative fabrications and which are potential memories. You just know he looks too young to have that kind of red on him.

You open your eyes and look at him. His eyes are open but his gaze is faraway, lost in thought. You touch a tendril of curly hair, feel it under your fingers like you have the past couple nights. He looks at you with eyes that have already shared multiple conversations.

“I wish you hadn’t suffered,” you say. “I don’t think anyone should suffer that way. I don’t think the ends justify the means anymore. But also I—”

Even while your heart is changing inside, getting those words outside is a different struggle entirely.

Chan looks at you with that tilt to his head, that questioning brow, his eyes a lot softer with his curiosity. Your breath is jagged, a messy gasp as you gather yourself. You look away, wholly incapable of maintaining eye contact.

“I got in the car with the First Guard,” you say. “Not with some other version of you. This soldier. This Chan.” You look down at your hands, absent-minded in the way you move them, from his shoulders down to his chest. “This is the man I trusted,” you say. “The one I still do.”

Your eyes lift. They meet his. His expression is a mix of confusion and amazement.

His lips part with a question, but it gets caught. He stares a little longer, then he asks, “Why?”

An unexpected laugh bubbles and bursts right out of you.

“I have no idea,” you say, giving in to that bubbly feeling, letting it fill your chest and lift you up like a safety raft. “I don’t know anything at all.”

You realize there is something freeing in that thought. No, you don’t know who you are. No, you don’t know what is going to happen past right now. You have to save your friend. You have to end your father’s business. Everything else, the becoming of you and the world and your place in it, is unanswerable. You can’t find blueprints or scour maps or form battle strategies. You don’t know where the water leads. You just have to swim.

“Maybe it doesn’t even matter,” you say with a shrug. “I don’t know. Nothing about yesterday, nothing tomorrow—”

“Just right now,” he says.

His voice is a little lower. Just right now. That was the pact you made the other night.

Your whole body comes alight, waking from the ice cold state it has been frozen in. It warms under his palms on your hips and where his dark eyes roam.

“Just right now,” you repeat as softly. You look at your hands again, realize more consciously how intimately they rest on his chest. Rather than retract, you swipe your thumb across the exposed strip of skin where his flannel is buttoned askew. “Maybe that’s all I need to know.”

This right now feels different than before. You don’t blame his emotional reaction to your earlier intimacy if it was an affect of all his memories, all he had lost, and all he was. You think your straightforward trust in him – not in spite of his identity, but because of it – has shifted things again. Your hands on his chest and your words in the open seem to have changed the shape of this whole room.

“I’m the First Guard,” he says. His eyes drop to your mouth then back up. “You’re Miroh’s daughter.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. “And no, I’m not.” You see the shiver that moves through him when you run your hands up his chest and curl your hand around the back of his neck. You feel his thighs get tense under yours, his whole body reacting. “Say my name,” you say.

When he does, it is not like a weapon or alarm, but spoken in a way that makes you feel like you have never heard your name spoken properly before that moment.

You kiss him first and this time it lands deliberately, catching him mid-breath and stealing the rest of it. When you start to lean away, to see if it’s all right, he puts his hand on the back of your head, curls his fingers in your hair, and draws you right into him, stealing back that breath with a desperate kiss.

In a way, this is familiar to you. You always liked and used sex as a grounding exercise. You feel present in your body, regardless of how floaty and detached you felt before. From the tingling top of your head to the curling of your toes, you feel every inch of yourself, alive and hot.

But it feels different too. You were always eager to chase the high, to reach the final destination with little care for the journey. You realize, maybe, it is about the becoming, itself.

“Chan,” you say, squeezing his hips between your legs when he runs his hands under your shirt. You climbed into bed still wearing your pants and shirt, wishing differently now as you rock your body against his.

You buck a little eagerly, sensations going to your head quicker than intoxication. Chan brings you back down, shushing you gently, guiding your open mouth back to his. He kisses you slowly, touches you like he is memorizing every contour. You make a sweet sound into his mouth, cupping his face as you kiss him back.

“Can we—” you start.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, yes.”

You stand on shaky legs and strip your bottom layers away. The few seconds apart are dizzying, the whole world around him fuzzy as that neon yellow light leaking into the room. Because he is staring at you, looking dazed and dishevelled, it takes him longer to unbutton his jeans than it did for you to remove your pants altogether. You climb back onto his lap and do not help at all, distracting him with another kiss.

A kiss always felt like a waste of time, but you think you could content yourself with just kissing him forever. Slow or fast, gentle or needy.

You are kissing when he gets inside you, gripping your bare thighs with a possessive hold that will feel tender tomorrow. You luxuriate in the pleasure and the pain, your body yours, shared with him, reciprocated in turn.

Whatever else existed – or could exist – ceases to matter for a time. You come together and come apart in each other’s arms, chests pressed together, hearts racing against each other. You tug his hair and pull his face into your neck, moaning under the press of his teeth and the heat of his lips.

“Mm, fuck,” he groans into your skin, clutching your hips even tighter, rocking up into you while you roll down against him. His gentle curse has you whimpering, his mouth on your throat making you shake. “Mm, get all tight when I bite you, you know,” he murmurs, and leaves no time for argument or embarrassment because he nips at your neck again. You do exactly what he said, clenching around him with an involuntary shudder.

“Fuck,” is all you say. He breathes a laugh against your skin.

You clutch his shoulders when he gathers you and stands, moving the couple small steps towards the bed where he lays you out. You are apart for only seconds, but you feel so cold and empty that it is almost terrifying. When he shucks his jeans and gets back on top of you, you unbutton his shirt with shaking fingers, body in convulsions from the angle he is fucking you.

You have never been fully alive in your body until right now.

You come while he fucks you and you come again, when he puts his hands on you, like he really does need to feel every inch of you with his searching fingers. When he keeps touching you, you are so stimulated you slap his chest, making him smile at your loss of words.

You lay in a tangled heap, your legs twined together. Your shirt is gone and his is unbuttoned, your cheek on his chest as he lays on his back. You let yourself be a little lulled by the cadence of his breathing.

Your eyes eventually wander. You realize the sun has joined that neon light, the fuzzy halo around the window now a clearer glow. The day is beckoning. It brings you back to reality, to the world outside this re-shaped room.

“I know I need to face it eventually,” you say. “I don’t know what will happen. But right now – I can’t be distracted from the mission. I need to rescue Changbin. I need to stop my father.”

Miroh is dead but everything he did haunts you, like a ghost around every corner. You can’t afford to confront the other ghosts, including your own.

“Whatever happens after right now,” you say. “I guess I’ll see.”

“I understand,” Chan says. He is caressing your spine, fingertips stroking up and down the slope of your back. He scratches a little at the nape of your neck, making you hum in contentment. “Really,” he says. “I know things got crazy earlier but… I think right now… I can do right now.”

You look up at him. He smiles down at you, dimples digging into his cheeks. You have to look away, because you just promised yourself no distractions, but that smile causes a flush of warmth that goes beyond the physical.

“Well,” you say with a sigh, patting his chest. “Maybe by then you and me will be friends for real.”

You feel his body stiffen, shoulders dropping, the hand on your nape freezing. You look up to see his face, a questioning brow quirked. He is returning the expression, though his countenance is a little more drole.

“What?” you say.

He answers with a firmer grip on the back of your neck. He rolls you over, onto your back, keeping your head lifted in his hand. The length of his open flannel drapes over your warm skin, a soft tickle as he leans down and kisses you. It starts gentle but doesn’t last, his tongue parting your lips and the hot, needy press of his mouth pinning you to the bed and his arms. You kiss back but hardly keep up, dizzy with breathlessness as he licks into your mouth, as he chases down the breath of you, as he keeps your lips on his for as long as he possibly can.

Then he leans to one side. His breath tickles your neck before he kisses just below your ear. He whispers, “I don’t want to be friends.”

He looks at you with a far too innocent dimpled smile. You think Chan might be a bigger threat to your well-being than the First Guard.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “Noted.”

You open the blinds. Once the room is full of sunlight, you revert to soldiership and work on your next strategy.

There is no doubt the Miroh corporation is floundering in a state of panic. They are not only dealing with the loss of its boss and heir, but also destabilizing insider attacks on various sectors while vulnerable. On top of everything else, stocks have plummeted and investors are running for their lives and their wallets.

You and Chan have watched the company as well as the social reaction. With different leaks and financial fallouts, especially given Miroh’s connections to governmental and military divisions, it is no surprise that different stories have been cycling through the news. You have kept an ear on the radio and an eye on tv stations.

As you scour blueprints and map your next manoeuvre, you have the news playing at a low volume in the background. They are currently reporting the combustion of a Miroh facility. Their research and sources have led them to deduce it is an inside job.

That much is fairly obvious as no one else could do what you and Chan are doing, though you are not suspects. The media believes you are dead, that both you and your father were assassinated at the same time. You are not sure if the company honestly believes you died, that the First Guard killed you then disappeared without Miroh to corral him, or if they reported that so they could kill you without a fuss in the future.

There are no reports on Chan, of course. No one outside of Miroh’s world even knows he exists.

The major suspects are disgruntled investors and former employers, so far mostly scientists and research assistants given the targeted facilities. With some of the government leaks, there are also theories that some deals with legislators went sour and resulted in a target being painted over the name Miroh.

This seems to the angle the current report is taking. At first, you are only half-listening, as the news reporter does not mention anything you have not heard before.

Then you catch the latter half of a sentence you are not expecting.

“—of greater potential concern as this latest attack was on a military base.”

Both you and Chan whip your heads up at the same time.

You have not attacked any military bases.

“Turn that up,” you say.

Chan is already on his feet and moving towards the bed where the remote was discarded. He turns up the volume on the television and you both watch the report.

It is not impossible that a domino effect could ripple from one facility to the next. The more attacks you make – targeting all the little chinks in Miroh’s armour – the more likely it is that certain institutions will collapse entirely on their own. Either people will chase the money, like a lot of former investors, or they will abandon course altogether. Eventually, Miroh’s world will eat itself alive, with or without your help.

But you have so far only targeted a couple smaller research facilities. Yes, there have already been consequences, but not enough that a totally unrelated military base on the other side of the country would spontaneously combust.

You stare at the screen. That base is big. It isn’t going down without a fight. No one outside of the house of Miroh would have dared target it. No one else would have known how.

“Changbin,” you say.

Chan puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. You look at him then at the television, at the story unfolding rapidly in front of you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” you ask. “It has to be.”

There might be just enough chaos in the ranks that if a solder of Changbin’s calibre was being held, something might fall wayside and he would have an opportunity to escape.

You are just not sure he would try. Changbin has obviously undergone changes of his own, all seeming to stem from that final confrontation with Lee Felix before the enemy went down and took his world with him. Changbin clearly decided once and for all what was really important to him. Changbin has always played the game carefully, but in the last few months he repeatedly put himself between you and your father. He intercepted multiple interactions with Miroh’s men, altercations you dismissed as nuisances at the time but shudder to realize the weight now.

Changbin threw himself in the middle, again and again, painting a bigger and bigger target on his back. He seemed resigned to his demise. For that reason, you are not sure how much he would fight even if given the opportunity. He seemed whole-heartedly certain he would be left behind, no matter what happened.

You curl your hand into a fist, digging your nails into your scar. There was so much you should have told him. If he knew that you were willing to fight this hard. If he knew you would find out the truth. If, if, if—

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Chan says.

You look at him just as he kneels down beside your chair. He takes your hand, the one with the scar, and unfolds it carefully.

“Kicking yourself won’t save him, yeah?” Chan says.

“Yeah,” you say with a huff.

The report continues. It details this attack as being an inside job as well. Supposedly, according to rumours breaching the walls, multiple people have gone missing, but their identities have not been given to the press. Hearing that, you become marginally more hopeful that Changbin is among them. The company would not report their supposed missing persons because they are most likely prisoners being held in less-than-legal circumstances. Changbin would be that type of prisoner.

The fight is ongoing. He could still be there.

“It’s a lead, at least,” Chan says, echoing your thoughts.

“Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place this whole time,” you say. You have been targeting the science sector when maybe your father kept it all in the military house after all. Maybe after the initial pass through that research facility, he was moved onto a more secure base, given his background as a former child soldier of the special-ops program.

Well, if that is the case, their extra security did not work. Of course it didn’t work. It’s Seo Changbin. You could laugh at their idiocy.

“We need to find out either way,” you say.

You manage your expectations for now, but as you sit at the table and change course to plan an entirely new strategy, it is with a hope as clear and bright as the sunlight.

It is a lot of driving to the military base. You will get there at nightfall the next day if you stop only sparsely.

You and Chan are swift in packing and climbing back into that car. You take turns sleeping and driving, though the last leg of the journey is spent on edge. You are braced and ready for a fight, all that determination exacerbated by the very real possibility that you are about to see Changbin again.

What will you say to him? What will he say to you? You wonder how much he knew about the reconfiguration. Clearly, he knew something, if not the specifics, as he went to great lengths to keep you away from your father.

You thought Changbin had saved you on an emotional level, but you realize now how it crossed into every sphere of life.

You close your eyes while Chan drives. You see Changbin on that rooftop, saying he will not leave you behind. It was the first hit that shattered the glass around you. Miroh had so carefully built that clear coffin around your consciousness, and Changbin smashed right through with the sheer brute force of his friendship.

You glance at Chan. Miroh did everything in his power to make sure you forgot about him. Bang Christopher Chan, the First Guard. Someone you loved and who loved you. Your father would have focussed on that. He would not have seen anything.

Why would he care about a friendship? What does that word even mean to a man like him? He would have looked right past Changbin. He spent all that time wiping Chan from your mind, that he never thought to look for anything else.

Your body gets cold as you remember – something. You close your eyes. You are standing in front of Changbin. He’s young, in his late teens, about the age you would have been when they reconfigured you. He is looking at you with uncertainty. You feel an uneasiness looking back at him.

Don’t you know me? he asks. He pulls a face, makes some dumb noises, waves his hands. Then he frowns. Changbin can be funny, but he turns it off in a second, as deadly as the rest of them. So much anger floods his eyes, they look black with the focussed intensity of his fury. You know me, he says. Think. Remember me.

You see a slant of moonlight, a windowpane, a streak of blood. Remember me.

You feel a weight as it is lifted off your chest. You hear him shouting your name. You hear him running.

You know me, he says.

You flinch – in your memory? – right now? – and a piercing wail floods your mind. You don’t want to go towards that scream. You can’t go there.

It’s me, he says. Hold on. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go. I promise I’ll get you out.

“Changbin,” you say.

“Hey, hey, baby, hey—” That is Chan. He is shaking your arm.

Your eyes pop open.

You have never had flashes of recollection while awake. It feels like a bigger adrenaline rush than waking from a nightmare, very little to divide your mind from reality.

You take a few steadying breaths while Chan rubs your shoulder. He was driving but the car is now stopped on the side of the road. You did not even feel him braking.

“What happened?” he asks when you are settled enough to speak.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I just—I was thinking. Remembering. Not like that. It’s complicated. I just—”

You close your eyes. A teenage Changbin is still standing there, looking at you warily.

You know me.

I know you.

“Changbin,” you say, choked up. You blink your eyes open and take another breath. “I’ll be okay,” you say. “We can’t stop for long. Let’s get back on the road.”

Chan does not look convinced, frowning as he stares into your face. You blink at him, then narrow your eyes into a squint.

“Did you call me baby?” you ask.

He clears his throat and turns back to the steering wheel. Looking out over the dashboard, definitely not at you, and with the tips of his ears more than a little red, he says, “You’re right. Let’s get back on the road.”

In spite of everything, you find yourself smiling.

It is only natural that you are waylaid at the very last minute, right on the cusp of sunset as you approach the vicinity of the military base. Not only is your path to finally rescuing Changbin obstructed, but it is halted by the most asinine, mundane nonsense in the world.

Soldiers, agents, entire convoluted military operations – those you can easily take. Minimum wage workers, on the other hand, are impossible combatants. More grizzled than the worst of ancient servicemen, they blink at your pleading with a harsher chill than a mob boss. You are certain this gas station attendant has seen some shit because he is not remotely inclined to assuage anyone’s anxiety.

“The till is down,” he says with an icy tone, face pinched unpleasantly. “It’ll be back up in a minute.”

He goes back to talking to his manager on the phone, smacking his computer till at random intervals. It does not exactly inspire confidence.

While you and Chan have been getting by with theft and subterfuge, you do everything in your power to not draw attention. That means you pay for gas as many stations have security cameras that log and report drive-offs and defaults.

That means you are stuck in this line with several other customers while the hapless cashier whacks his computer.

The little bell above the door rings as Chan steps inside the shop.

“What’s taking so long?” he asks.

“I want to hit him,” you say, pointing to the disinterested cashier. “He’s never gonna get that thing fixed. We have somewhere to be, we can’t just stand here all day—”

“Ah, ah, ah, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Chan says soothingly. He interrupts your rant as you were raising your voice. Not that it matters because the incompetent cashier is not paying any attention.

“I’ll take care of it,” Chan says. “You just have to know how to talk to people, yeah?”

The cashier paid you absolutely no mind when you tried to complain. He gave you a nasty look and ordered you to get to the back of the line. Chan, on the other, receives a quick onceover and a blink of seeming approval.

Chan leans on the counter and smiles a devastatingly charming smile, those dimples blinding. The cashier puts the phone on his shoulder and looks at him expectantly.

“Hey there,” Chan says.

“Hello,” the cashier replies, coolly but not as rudely. “The till is broken, sir. We’re going to have to wait for a repair.”

“You know, I’m pretty good with my hands,” Chan says. “I bet if you let me under there, I could figure something out.”

The cashier blinks at him. One blink, two blinks, three. Then he hangs up the phone and opens the gate to let Chan behind the counter.

You cross your arms and roll your eyes.

Chan, perhaps unsurprisingly given his necessary breadth of skills, helps the useless cashier get his dumb register running again. You all but throw the money at his stupid pretty head before marching away.

“Thanks, Wolfgang,” the cashier says, using the made-up name Chan gave him.

“No problem.” Chan winks back at him. “Have a good day, uh—” He squints at the name tag, gives it only a sparing glance as he steps out the door. “Hyunjin,” he says.

The door swings closed and you continue on your way.

Fortunately, you have no more preposterous interludes. You approach the base differently than the facilities, especially because you have not been able to do a proper sweep. However, that should be fine given the entire operation here has already been massively destabilized. All the main assets have moved along, either because of imminent danger or because the media now has its eyes on its actions.

Either way, you get inside without much fuss. You stick together for longer, not trusting the dark corridors and labyrinthine tunnels.

It is a lot emptier than anticipated. The fight seems to have ended some time in the last couple hours. There is an eerie, unsettled feeling, like a house abandoned in the middle of a meal. Unlike the dusty underground hovels at the research facility, this place is still breathing. You are not sure what it will cough up.

“Still think he’s here?” Chan asks, likely coming to the same conclusion as you: that even if Changbin was here, he has probably moved on. He has either escaped and gone of his own volition or he was caught and reprimanded and has been relocated.

“Maybe,” you say with a sigh. “Maybe not. But it’s still a lead. Treat it like one.”

You finally split up to cover more ground, agreeing to reconvene at the central warehouse in half-an-hour.

Maybe Changbin is no longer in these walls – maybe he was never here at all – but there might still be answers. You suspect there are questions too, because you cannot imagine who outside of the special-ops program would have both the calibre of skill and necessary intel to pull of an operation like this. Someone reached right into the heart of this base and yanked at its ventricles like it was nothing. And if not to escape, then why?

It has to be Changbin, you tell yourself, even while a sense of wrongness creeps under your skin. It is the same odd, unsettled feeling you get when you think about the night the enemy died – specifically when you think about that security system somehow being wiped after the house burned down with everyone inside it. It is that strange discombobulation, where the answer is probably simple and right in front of your face, so blatant that its absence haunts and distracts you.

You are distracted with thought. Maybe that is why you make your first mistake.

You turn a corner and crash right into someone. You are shocked because you did not hear their approach. Even distracted, you should have heard footsteps in an empty corridor, especially in heavy combat boots. You are quiet but you have unique bodily control that even well-trained soldiers cannot replicate. No one else can walk that quietly.

It is clear the same startled reaction ripples through their body.

You draw guns at the same time, firing with equal speed and precision. You also both duck at the same time. Smooth as a dance, you whirl around each other, firing and re-loading until they do a spin-kick and knock the gun aside.

As you fight with your hands, you only catch glimpses of your opponent. They are dressed all in black but not in Miroh’s uniform, a balaclava pulled over their face and head. They are very slender, but they land a hit like someone twice their size.

Your second mistake is your own fault. You underestimate them based on their build and it earns you a good right cross. In the ensuing dizziness, they make a break down the corridor at an alarming speed. It leaves you reeling more than the hit.

“What the fuck,” you say, staggering after them.

This person does not work for Miroh, that much is obvious. It also definitely isn’t Changbin. This person has the completely wrong build, opposite of Changbin in almost every way. No, it isn’t your friend, but it might very well be another prisoner. They might have an idea of what happened. They might know if Changbin was here and where he went.

The thought propels you into a determined sprint. You cannot follow sound as the person is good enough to keep their footsteps low, but you are just as skilled so they likewise do not see you coming.

They coincidentally head straight for the central warehouse. The warehouse previously functioned as a pseudo-armory, but it has already been completely cleared. It is two levels, the top floor a balcony walkway overlooking the main warehouse floor.

The warehouse is empty except for the intruder. The person seems to be deliberating. They remove their head covering for a second, long enough to catch their breath. You see a flash of black hair and a hint of a masculine profile before you are spotted. The man tugs the fabric back over his head.

He leaps right off the balcony.

It is too high for a normal person to jump without breaking a leg. Naturally, you run to the railing to look over.

Your adversary is a step ahead of you. He is dangling there, waiting for you to approach so he can swing back over and knock you down. You skid across the balcony level, the metal walkway rattling under your weight.

You don’t stay down for long. Another fight begins, a back and forth tussle that makes you think you need more training. The past day has been more than a little hectic, but you should be able to take down even a well-trained soldier.

He does another spin-kick, a solid roundhouse that knocks your mask right off. You stumble sideways while the mask clatters across the balcony before spilling right over the ledge. It is a long descent before it smacks the ground.

You ground your footing, assuming a defensive stance with a swift upward swing.

“Who are you?” you ask.

At the exact same time, the man says, “You.”

That prompts another question, a bigger question, why on earth this stranger would recognize you in this context. You cannot even think about your question, however, because the man abruptly flies at you with twice the verve as before. Caught off guard, at first you struggle to defend yourself. When he finally swings too wide, giving you an opening, you do not waste the opportunity.

You tackle him, fully and bodily, arms around him as you charge the balcony. You shove him right over the railing. It is not so high that he’ll die, but you don’t want to kill him anyway. You need to ask him questions – like did he do all this and how and why? Are there others? Is Changbin among them?

You grasp the railing. You are prepared to swing and jump over but you stop short at what you find. The man, who should be nursing a fractured leg right about now, is instead getting to his feet. He looks a bit dizzy, shaking his head and rubbing his temple, but he is otherwise unscathed.

You just stand there for a second, gawping at him like an animal.

That shielded face finally lifts, eyes finding yours across the space. His head cocks, seemingly a dry and irritated, Really?

You launch yourself off the balcony, landing heavily but safely. You absorb the shock and straighten, not taking your eyes off this man for a second.

“I’m not interested in hurting you,” you say.

He scoffs, pointedly looking down at your uniform.

“I don’t work for Miroh anymore,” you say. “I’m just trying to blend in.”

“You?” he says. It is so far the only thing he is willing to say. His voice has a darker, deeper tone, scratching at the back of your head, but his monosyllabic replies do nothing to help place him.

You want to say more but he doesn’t let you, jumping back into action. You huff in aggravation, wanting to shout, we’re on the same side! But he is fast. You expend your energy just keeping him at bay.

Your stamina is fairly well-matched, just like everything else. You move around the warehouse, kicking and punching and flipping around each other, losing track of minutes.

A sheen of sweat breaks under your uniform. He is slowing down too. There is just one difference: he still has his gun.

He gets you behind the knee and puts you on your back. Before you can retaliate, he draws his gun and points it at your face.

You freeze, staring down the barrel. You slowly lift your eyes to him, just in case any sudden movement convinces him to fire. So far, he is holding, though you are not sure why. If he truly wanted to avoid detection, it would have been in his best interest to kill you and move on.

He hesitates. His hand is steady but his eyes are darting around inside the masked fabric.

Your eyes continue to wander up, up. Your heart leaps when you see Chan approaching on the balcony, silent and serious, gun in hand. He has a longer-range weapon, not a little pistol like you and the adversary. He takes aim from his perch but you shake your head.

You know Chan can make the shot, that he could get the man through the head and not so much as graze you under him. But if this man dies, his answers go with him.

“No!” you shout at the same time the gun goes off.

You wrap your legs around the man’s midsection and yank him to the side. You roll, one over the other until you are pinned once more. You are both unharmed. With the head covering, it is hard to tell if he is frazzled. He certainly whips his head around quickly, trying to see where he dropped his gun.

You spot it at the same time. You glance at each other then bolt, stumbling over one another as you charge the discarded pistol.

Chan jumps down off the balcony. He takes more of a running leap, jumping forward rather than just down. It gives him far more momentum so he hits the ground and tucks into a roll, riding the wave of that momentum until he is in the middle of the room.

Chan reaches the gun first. He kicks it out of the way and comes at the adversary with his bare hands. He may not understand why you wanted to save an enemy who had you pinned under a gun, but Chan must trust there is a reason because he fights to incapacitate rather than kill.

It is a good fight, but the man is already tired from fighting you.

And you are good, but Chan is better. If he could not beat you, only tie, then he cannot beat Chan.

Sure enough, it takes a few more moves before the man is on his back. Chan, still wearing his half-mask, straddles the man’s chest, pinning his arms at his sides and his body to the floor. He draws a knife out of a thigh holster for good measure.

“Got him,” Chan says. “Who is this guy?”

“I have no idea,” you say, jogging over to them. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“Let me go,” the man says, wriggling uselessly under Chan’s weight. “I have nothing to say to her.”

“I told you already, I’m on your side,” you say. “Or at least I’m not on Miroh’s side.”

“Whose side are you on?” Chan asks with a jerk of his head.

“Mine,” the man answers. “Now let me go. I have a job.”

“We have a job,” you say. “We’re the ones who have been taking out the facilities so far.”

That gets the man to stop squirming. He looks at you through the narrow eye slits in his balaclava, eyes darting to where you stand behind Chan.

“You?” the man asks, seemingly his favourite word.

“Yes, me,” you snap. “And who are you exactly?”

“One way to find out,” Chan says. He does not wait for any further acknowledgement, ripping the man’s mask right off his head. It is not a cruel or violent action, more a casual shrug of his arm than anything. You are not expecting to find anything more than the scowling face of a stranger.

You and Chan freeze.

Staring back at you, with his hair returned to its natural pitch, his dark eyes narrowed in an intense glare, and a face full of unmistakable freckles, is a former agent of Miroh’s special-ops program. One of the last and a traitor, not to mention supposedly dead.

“You,” is what you say.

You do not know what else to say to Lee Felix.

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

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808len808 · 11 months

Text

Noted

!Leon S. Kennedy x Male Reader!

summery: You always flirt with Leon, getting him all worked up for nothing, so when Leon finally got the chance to get you back he took it immediately.

Authers note: I've officially read every single Leon x Male reader fic, so I decided to tribute too like the good samaritan I am.

!Warnings!: nsfw themes, amab terms used for both Leon and Reader, Hypothermia.

(Words: 6,070)

The rain poured down like a thousand waterfalls, fog filling the air as you tried to find your way through the old abandoned village, Leon leaning on you, his hand clamped to his side as the rain and his blood drenched your black shirt in a mean color. You had to find shelter, to tend Leon’s wounds, to warm up in the cold winter storm. You were lucky there wasn’t snow involved yet, lucky that the mission was a success and that you were safe, sort of.

You looked beside you, Leon’s feet slumped on the ground his boots brown and covered in mud his socks were already soaked and probably very uncomfortable. You praised yourself for getting water-resistant boots before the mission. Leon held his wound covering it the best he could after you told him to keep pressure on it. His face contorted into a painful look his eyes closing every once and a while as he breathed out shacky breaths.

“Just hold on a bit longer”, you whispered although it was barely audible above the pounding sound of the rain.

Leon had been your partner for over a year now, working together on missions nonstop.

The first time he got to work with you on a mission he was flustered non-stop, trying to shrug off your comments, and flirtations because you did and said it to everyone…right?

Well technically true, but you did like Leon, maybe not that much at first, but he kind of grew on you, and so did his blush.

Besides the flirty comments from you, you guys were a pretty great team, greater them most, hence why you were sent on missions together so much.

This brings us to where you and he are today, on a mission to retrieve some stolen virus, you didn’t have much details, just what it looked like, and you were supposed to bring it back in one piece for research. You had worked for the D.S.O. long enough now that you knew not to ask too many questions.

The mission was supposed to be short and easy, you did the first part without any setbacks and finally, you were happy to wrap this up and go back to your apartment and relax. Maybe go to the bar if you are in the mood, maybe invite Leon to the bar? yeah, why not? You had formed a plan in your head already, it wouldn’t be out of character for you to ask him, your flirtations were honestly just part of your and Leon’s routine by now. But your whole plan was destroyed when a storm came up making it impossible for the chopper to even get close to you and Leon. You were stuck.

Your relationship with your work partner was honestly fun, you were always happy to work with Leon, not only was Leon brave and sweet (and can kick like a mf). He was also funny, and ever since you started working with Leon you actually started to enjoy your job.

Leon joined your team very early on at the age of 24, making you a bit more protective of him sometimes. "He’s just a kid", you’d say to your superiors every time Leon got dispatched on another life-threatening mission even though you weren’t even 3 years older than him.

It started off as just harmless comments about Leon’s looks or just cheesy one-liners, eventually, Leon even started to form a few of his oneliners making you grin every time because yes they were bad, so bad that it was funny. But the more you were around Leon the more you started to care about him, even when you didn’t want to admit it, even when you thought you weren’t capable of ever falling in love, even when you didn’t want to, you’ve fallen for the guy, literally and figuratively.

The sun that had previously been shining was completely gone, you squinted your eyes trying to figure your the environment. The village that once was beautiful and would be a beautiful one to live in was now cold and decayed. The old cabins were barely holding up, especially with this weather. The wood creaked threatening to fall apart, even with centuries on its back the storm seemed to penetrate.

Suddenly you spotted a house in the distance. It was bigger, the roof painted with green tiles instead of the straw roofing of the rest of the houses. The house is made of brick instead of wood standing steady in the rain.

Your eyes darted back to Leon who still had a look of pain on his face. “You’re gonna be okay”, you reassured yourself more than Leon, you weren’t even sure if he could even hear you, you’d be surprised if he did.

You quickly made your way over to the house. You opened the door in a swift motion, your footsteps hard on the wooden floor as the water fell down on the ground with every step you took. The door slammed closed immediately the strong wind pulling it back with a hard smack. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding once the dry atmosphere of the house surrounded you. It was almost as if you had put headphones on that damped the environment, inside the house it was quiet, with no sign of danger. It was dark inside, you struggled to see anything. Your body was working faster than your head. You turned a corner leading up to the stairs, Leon was groaning in your ear as you almost dragged him up the steps. A slim hallway led to one door upstairs, you grasped the walls trying to stabilize yourself as you held on to Leon.

The room at the end of the hall was as you suspected a bedroom. The sheets were a nice green the same color as the roof, this house seemed clean and new like the people had just left a few days ago. The sheets seemed brand new the wooden bed frame carved. You sat Leon down on the bed gently laying him down, not caring that his blood stained the sheets. “You’re gonna be okay”, you reassured again to which Leon responded with a grunt.

The side of his abdomen did not look good. You got a few test tubes filled with herbs out and lit a candle on the bedside table giving off just enough light to see Leon’s wound.

You went to work immediately giving Leon a few sorry’s as you slowly lifted up his shirt. He was apparently horrible at staying quiet because with everything you did, he groaned or let out whimpers even after you numbed the wound he just couldn’t keep quiet. It was certainly something you would have to remember in the future.

“There ya go, all better”, you said as you wrapped up the wound nice and clean. Proudly looking back at your work, you were certainly no medic but it was less worse than you expected mostly because it was a fairly small cut and not that deep.

“Thanks, doc”, Leon joked back to which you gave a wink. “I’m going to double check the house,” you said already standing up to walk away, grabbing your flashlight and toying with it in your hand. “You’ll be all right here?”

“Yeah I’m fine”, Leon responded his voice slightly hoarse. “You’re always fine”, you quipped back with a grin and quickly left the room, missing Leon’s eye roll.

You thoroughly checked the house and even booted up the windows that were threatening to break with the gushing wind. Going back upstairs you tried to contact Hunnigan again but there seemed to be no signal.

Leon was sitting up on the bed his radio in his hands as well. “Got signal?” You leaned back against the wall observing as Leon fiddled with the buttons. “Nope,” he sighed. Upon looking down at your watch you were shocked to find out it was already around midnight. The storm had combined day and night in one big tornado.

“It’s getting late,” You ran a hand through your hair as you spoke. “You should get some sleep, let your body heal.” You walked around to the large fireplace placed in front of the bed, shoving some wood in and catching Leon’s eyes as you glanced back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, get your beauty sleep”, you replied with a cheeky grin as you got your lighter out.

“We can take shifts-“

“Not necessary, just sleep Leon”, you shot a look back cutting Leon’s sentence off. Leon let out a small scoff. But the bed shifted, and the small clang of a radio being placed on the nightstand was heard. You smiled to yourself as you sat down knowing Leon wasn’t fighting back anymore, leaning against the bed frame as you sat on the wooden floor. The fire illuminated the room in a warm color but left the corners dark and unpredictable.

The fire crackled over the sound of the rain against the one window in the room as a loud thunder erupted from the clouds. The fire was hot against your skin even when you weren’t even sitting close to it, it left a tingling feeling on your cheek as you felt your damp hair already dry together with your clothes.

It was only then that you realized you were still wearing your cold wet clothes. It stuck to your skin as you tried to remove your tactical harness clipping it and letting it sit by the fire, you took off your belt, shoes, and socks as well as your shirt.

Even when your pants felt like hell right now you didn’t want to take them off, not with Leon in the same room. So there you were laying your clothes by the fire leaving you in only your cargo pants.

“What are you doing” a voice croaked from the bed making you chuckle, you didn’t bother to look back instead staring into the flames. “Drying my clothes”, you responded. “Are you naked right now?!” Leon’s voice was high pitched which made you laugh.

“Yep, I’m totally naked, dick out and everything”.

“Are you being serious right now?!”

You looked over your shoulder and could barely see Leon his face flush and turned away from you. Leon took the silence as an answer. “You weren’t serious were you?”, Leon sighed.

“You can check”, you invited keeping a strict eye on Leon to see if he would actually turn around. And slowly but surely you saw Leon’s head move just to take a quick glance. He immediately retracted his steps once he was watching. “You pervert!” You dramatically said taking a fake look of disbelief on your face.

Leon covered his face with his hands hiding away from you. “How dare you!”, you placed your hand on your chest acting like you were deeply disturbed.

“You’re the one undressing next to me!” Leon said anxiously making you erupt out in laughter which he automatically mirrored.

“Go to sleep!” you laughed back.

That night you didn’t sleep not that it mattered anyway because it seemed you and Leon were stuck. That’s right, you had watched the entire night with an aw-struck face as you watched the snow fall down. The ground was already covered with multiple inches of perfect white snow when morning came. And still, the storm went on and rain and snow came together with mud making the beautiful clear ice turn a dirty brown.

By the time Leon woke up you had already gotten to explore the whole house finding enough food to last for at least a week, and by the looks of it, you would be stuck here for a while.

Leon and you kept tight in the bedroom since the fire was the only thing keeping you warm right now. You and Leon sat by the fireplace as you handed him some random can of soup you found and warmed up above the fireplace while holding one for yourself as well.

“How long do you think we’re stuck here?”

You shrugged looking outside the window again the blizzard had covered the houses making the scenery seem nicer somehow. Specs of snow and ice slashed across the sky riding the heavy wind.

“For however long that storm is”, you lifted the spoon to your mouth softly blowing it before letting it touch your lips.

“And then just hope that we can get some sort of signal.” You sighed as you spoke the situation was really not looking good.

“We’ll figure something out”, Leon replied back hopeful making you smile. He was always more optimistic kind of funny how he can still be even now.

You sat in silence, sipping your soup while the fire brought warmth to both of you, sitting on the ground in front of the fireplace. It kind of reminded you of Christmas as a kid you’d sit in front of the fireplace waiting for Santa and playing in the snow outside later.

Your eyes trailed back to Leon who was looking out the window, lost in thought as well. You decided it was time to strike up some conversation again before the silence became too much.

“How’s your wound?”

Leon’s head turned back to you and down to his side as if he initially didn’t know what you were talking about. “Yeah it’s fine”, Leon nodded as he spoke. “At least not infected so that’s good” he spoke with slight cheerfulness in his tone his hair moving with his head as he spoke.

“You got lucky,” you grinned. “My very professional medical skills saved you.”, you said proudly.

“Ah, yes, of course, where would I be without you?” Leon questioned back raising an eyebrow. “Probably Dead. So you should thank me honestly for saving you” You took another spoon of soup holding eye contact with Leon as you did. “Oh how will I ever repay you my brave hero”, he said putting his hand on his forehead as he dramatically spoke.

“Oh I certainly have some ideas”, you mumbled to yourself stirring your soup. Leon became quiet and you could quite literally see the redness slowly creeping on his face.

After the wonderful breakfast soup, you and Leon decided to talk about a plan.

“I want to go outside and see if we can find any help” Leon announced putting down his knife on the downstairs table.

You raised an eyebrow “You can’t be serious, do you see that blizzard?”

"Yeah well I want to check it out, maybe it’s not that bad, and maybe I can get a signal or something.”, Leon replied back sternly looking directly into your eyes with his blue orbs.

“There’s no point, Leon, it’s best to just wait it out.”, you argued back, and your argument was true but to be honest you just didn’t want Leon to get hurt.

“But what if they already sent help and they’re already here,” Leon placed his hands on the table leaning slightly as he looked up at you.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing, already tired of Leon’s stubbornness. “You’re still injured,” you pointed down to his side.

“It’s nothing, why won’t you just let me go?”, Leon was slightly raising his voice. You leaned back against the kitchen wall your eyes piercing Leon’s in a silent battle of who would look away first. “You could get hypothermia.” Leon just scoffed at that, leaning back as well, standing up straight as if to look more intimidating which he definitely didn’t, well maybe if you were shorter but you’re taller than him so it just looked kind of silly. (I can’t take short people seriously)

“I’ll be back in less than an hour I promise,” You opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you again holding up a hand to silence you. “And-, and I won’t go too far.”, he put on his puppy eyes which made you break away.

“Fine,” you gritted through your teeth, ignoring how Leon smiled as he won the argument. “But if you die on me I’m gonna be real mad.”

“Yeah, yeah” Leon nodded putting on his jacket and backpack as well as all his tackle gear. “Be careful.” Leon gave you a firm nod before closing the door behind him with a loud slam.

The house felt even more quiet now.

After an hour passed you started to get nervous he was supposed to be back already. It was stupid how much you were stressing out, walking circles in the bedroom profusely looking outside the window for any sign of Leon in the blizzard. You kept checking your watch over and over. When two hours had passed you started to freak out, contemplating if you should go out in the snow to try and find it.

Just as you were going downstairs to get your equipment and go after Leon the door opened. Leon was standing in the doorway cold wind grasped your hair to stand up in your skin. Leon was absolutely trembling, not looking at you.

“Jezus Leon”, you quickly ran over swiftly closing the door and looking at Leon to check for injuries. “Are you okay? You had me worried”, you patted down his arms checking to see if he was fine, he was he just seemed very cold, shivering. “Help” he breathed out, you quickly realized what was going on, you had even warned him about it. “Shit.” You quickly picked him up into your arm heading upstairs in a record of time, the fire was still going. “How bad is it?” You asked sitting Leon down on the bed and taking off his soaked coat that was covered in snow and ice by now.

“I don’t know, one moment I was fine, and then suddenly-“ Leon groaned as your warm fingers touched his now naked arm. “Sorry,” you mumbled back. You got down on one knee and roughly got off Leon’s boots and set them aside. His socks were absolutely soaked you were impressed that he still had all his toes. “Can you move?” You stood up straight noticing how Leon was already staring at you when you made eye contact. Leon gave you a small nod. “It just hurts when I do.”

You held out your arm, signaling for Leon to balance himself with it if needed. “Stand up.” Leon leaned on you as you helped him get up. Your hands went down trying not to think of what you were doing, you were trained for this, it was protocol. But still, you couldn’t help but look away as you fiddled with the button of Leon’s pants, and then the zipper. You were trying to act as nonchalant as possible keeping up a stern face when in reality you were getting sweaty.

“You’re real stupid you know that?”, you asked going down in a swift motion to peel Leon’s wet cargo pants off. “I told you this would happen,” you continued guiding Leon to sit back down again so that you could remove his pants completely. “But you just had to check,” your eyes met his again he was blushing profusely hugging himself with his shivering arms.

“Lay down,” it was more of a command now because you were getting pissed off. Leon obediently did as you said laying down on the bed leaving enough room for you. After wrapping Leon under the warm covers and getting every blanket you could find you finally scooted up behind him trying to warm him as your clothes chest pressed against his exposed back. You couldn’t see Leon’s face but you already knew what he was looking like. You wrapped your arms around him, just like you learned in training, well maybe not totally but hey, this was life or death, right?

“Well?”

“What?”, Leon questioned back confused as you kept spooning him.

“Was it worth it? Did you find anything? Anyone?”

He stayed quiet for a while before finally responding. “No”

You scoffed and Leon could feel your hot breath on his neck as you did. “Then what was even the point”, you said disappointed.

Leon was getting fed up al this backlash from you only made him in an even worse mood, even when he was flustered with your arms around him he still found a way to be annoyed, or rather you found a way to be annoying. “You just got hurt for nothing”

Finally, Leon snapped he turned around. “Why do you care?!” His face was almost fuming but his eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion. You suddenly felt bad, and mostly embarrassed by the fact that his face was mere inches away from you. “Because-“ You couldn’t find the right reason even when there were a thousand you just couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

And the way Leon was looking at you right now definitely didn’t help, it stayed quiet Leon keeping strict eye contact with you while you kept finding other places to look at. apparently, Leon wasn’t faced at all by the fact you were so close and by the fact that you could just lean in and-

You noticed a change in Leon’s face his eyes averted down to your lips, and your heart raced in your chest. “I think we both know why”, you whispered making Leon look back into your eyes again while a faint blush painted his cheeks. He leaned in and immediately you did too, meeting him halfway into a heated kiss, even when his lips were cold you brought him all the warmth he needed.

You kept your lips connected with Leon as you propped yourself up on one elbow your head hovering over Leon as you penetrated Leon’s mouth, your hot tongue warming the inside of Leon’s mouth pulling out soft noises from Leon that went straight to your dick.

You tried to pull away to catch your breath or say something but Leon’s lips were on you before you could even process what was happening both his hands in your messy hair. You groaned as Leon pushed you as close as he could his body bare body pressed against yours under the sheets.

You pulled away again this time going straight for Leon’s neck, Leon’s head fell back into the pillow, and finally, you could hear all the noises he was making in his small pants and that soft whimper when you sucked too hard on his sensitive skin.

It felt like a dream, because you had dreamt about it very many times maybe that’s why your brain had trouble processing the situation.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time”

“Oh yeah how long?”, Leon breathed back, you looked back up, one of your legs between Leon’s legs, your senses were heightened as your lips trailed further down leaving wet open kisses on Leon’s now warm skin, keeping eye contact with the younger man. “You don’t want to know,” you replied with a grumble as you sat up on your knees your eyes averting to admire the view in front of you.

Leon’s muscles tensed his face red his semi-hard erection pulsing through his boxers. “How far do you want to take this?” You asked your knees between Leon’s legs.

Leon rested his body on his elbows the bed shifting in weight as he did. “I want to take this however far it can go”

You grinned leaning back down to meet Leon’s lips again making Leon tilt his head further back to deepen the kiss. Your hand traveled down Leon’s abs going over his abdomen and touching every bit of skin that you could get your grubby hands on. You toyed a bit with the edge of Leon’s waistband just to test Leon’s patience for a bit. “Please-” and there you had your answer so you complied your hand slid under the fabric making a whine escape from Leon’s mouth.

You started panting yourself your heart beating loudly in your chest as your head dipped down to Leon’s collarbone nipping at the skin there as your hand started stroking his length. Leon closed his eyes his hot breath on your neck. Everything turned out hot and sweaty, you didn’t know how it was possible in this condition but it did.

“Ah, shit” Leon’s voice was raspy and much higher than normal his face had a pathetic look on it like he was just asking to be fucked with his eyes, which he probably did on purpose. You kept a firm rith knowing better than to rush yourself.

The fire made small cozy noises in the background, and all of a sudden you were happy to be stranded with Leon because now no one could interrupt you, nobody could come and ruin your fun.

You smirked at the thought. “Fuck, please!” Leon mewled out.

“What is it, baby? What do you want?” You again leaned backward admiring Leon’s erotic expression, his lips slightly parted, he wasn’t looking at you almost as if he was ashamed. “Use your words come on Leon”, you grinned as your hand sped up making Leon sputter our more choked moans.

“You’re usually so talkative..” you teased leaning closer to his face. “Spit it out baby” As much as you encouraged Leon still seemed like he wasn’t obliging. You raised an eyebrow as Leon stayed quiet. So you decided to take matters into your own hands or rather out of your hand.

You redirected your hand out Leon’s underwear finally grabbing Leon’s attention.

“No, no wait” Leon tried to get your hand back, reaching out for your wrist but you dodged his grabs and clicked your tongue in disapproval. You sat back with a slight smirk sitting on the bed your eyes piercing through Leon as he hesitantly looked at you. “Please-“ “What?” Again you raised an eyebrow seating your hands behind you on the bed. “You’ll have to tell me if you want me to continue” Leon looked at you stubbornly his eyes following the messy sheets of the bed before they met yours again. His dignity was fading by the second and Leon couldn’t figure out whether he liked it or not.

Leon’s puppy eyes met yours as he sat in shame “Touch me,” he mumbled out your lips perked up. You could press him on for more but you felt satisfied with the small response Leon had given you. “Good boy”, you praised signing him over to you as you patted the space between your legs. “C’mere,” Leon happily obliged, he sat down his back pressed against your chest as your hands immediately went down his body again.

Your chin rested on his shoulder watching everything you were doing to that poor boy. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”, Leon shook his head biting his lips as your hands caressed down again. “Words Leon,” you said gripping his shaft. “Ah! Yes, it-“Leon let out another choked moan his head falling back onto your shoulder his hair tickling the side of your face.

Leon was trembling in your grip his legs shaking as you embraced him, your free hand found one of Leon’s tits squeezing the muscle, massaging slowly as your fingers crept closer to his sensitive nubs, your rough fingers teasingly rubbing circles around the red ring making Leon’s heart pound loudly.

The house creaked slightly the stone walls keeping you safe from the cold and whatever the fuck else was out there.

“Fuck-, please fuck me”, Leon said his words reaching your ears but going straight down. You wanted to fuck his tight little asshole so fucking bad, to make Leon feel you for at least a few days, to truly penetrate him. But atlas you were hesitant, you knew Leon had experience so did you, but maybe this was just not the right setting, you were still in a workspace, and above all that Leon had just recovered from hypothermia.

“Lee, I’m not sure”, You said your mouth stuck to his neck like glue. “We don’t got any lube or anything, I don’t wanna hurt you,” you replied genuinely concerned. “I don't care just- please,” the corner of his eyes caught yours in an utter most desperate look. And how could you say no to that?

“So stubborn”, you mumbled with amusement. You let out a small sigh your hand slowing down and reaching up. You kissed Leon’s cheek and Leon turned his head back slightly so you could properly kiss him. “Okay, we’ll start slow yeah? See where it goes”, you said making sure Leon heard every word. Leon nodded and you looked at him for a second waiting for him to catch on. “Right, yeah, words”, Leon nodded his head hanging. “yeah, no that sounds good” he answered with a boyish smile.

“Great, now open up.” Leon was opening his mouth to protest but before he could get a word out of his throat you shoved your middle finger and pointer in his mouth without any warning, well technically you did give him a warning.

Leon moaned around your fingers his eyes closing as his tongue swirled around your fingers, his mouth adjusting to the taste and shape. You looked at him with a face of pride as you let him suck off your fingers. Once you got bored with it and the top of your fingers were starting to form water wrinkles, you removed your fingers releasing with a small plop a string of saliva that connected your skin to Leon’s lips before you broke it and moved them down.

You went with patients at least you tried to, it was hard when there was a get moaning and whimpering in your ear with every move you made. One finger slid in easily, Leon tensed and shook everyone and a while shivers rolled up his spine as your finger moved to stretch him out. “Relax” you mumbled soothingly in Leon’s ear. Leon was already panting his chest standing proud as he arched his back into your touch. “I’m trying” You believed him on that front. “I got you all right? So just…relax”

Leon’s head nodded as he agreed in a slur of yes and apologies to which you chuckled. Leon wasn’t used to this, it was slow and passionate, you were actually caring for him caring for his pleasure not just toying with him for your own gain.

With two fingers you got Leon squirming on top of them he was getting impatient and you could tell he wanted more. “Please-, I’m ready”, he complained, you slowly removed your fingers your lips sucking on the skin below Leon’s ear. “I don’t know”, you started trying to think this through, maybe this wasn’t the best idea, fucking your co-worker on a mission. You started to doubt this whole hookup in a whole. “Maybe it’s best if we just stop here, no hard feelings-“ Leon shook his head almost violently. “No”,

Leon turned around sitting on his knees across from you on the bed. You looked at him questioning. His hair was messy his lips swollen with many marks on his neck that would soon become bruises. “No?” You returned Leon’s words tilting your head.

“We’re still on a mission Leon”, you reminded him to which he rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said under his breath. “You’re only thinking about that now?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small smile. Again Leon scoffed. He looked straight into your eyes as he moved closer. “You’ve been flirting with me since the moment we met” Leon crawled closer his hand beside your hip on the bed his face dangerously close to yours. “I know you like me” Leon continued full confidence. You gulped as you leaned back trying to create some space between the two of you.

Leon ignored it, his hands going down to unbuckle your belt while you sat there totally in shock at Leon’s attitude.

“Leon I don’t-“

“Oh come all that big dick talk has to come from somewhere right?” With that sentence all your thoughts and doubts were thrown out the window you tried to fight it but Leon was quick to go down and shut you up, grabbing your length and pulling it out of its restraints. “Ah- shit-”

His next few moves were quick time blurted together in pleasure his hole aligned with your dick his hand at the base of your cock guiding you while your eyes followed his every move. Slowly Leon lowered down sinking on you as his thighs straddled your lap. Leon’s eyes rolled back his face going from concentration to pure pleasure in a blink of an eye.

All you could do was dig your nails deep into the flesh of Leon’s ass as your mind became fogged with a big cloud of pure erotic pleasure. “Ah- fuck baby slow down”, you pleaded with grasps feeling how Leon’s walls hugged you tight squeezing you. “Shit!” Leon moaned as he finally bottomed out his head falling on your shoulder. “Fuck” He let out a small choked sob. His hips slowly roll down on you making you groan.

His dick was squeezed between your body his angry red tip leaking into your skin, rubbing against the fabric of your shirt with Leon’s movements.

Leon’s pace was sloppy his face concentrated, trying his best it was adorable honestly, but just not pleasurable enough for you. You decided to just take a tiny bit of control, beginning to guide Leon’s hips at a much steadier and faster pace. “Ah- fuck!” Leon’s head fell back his eyes going up in ecstasy as you fucked him back making sure to delicately grasp his sweet spot with every thrust.

You could tell Leon was trying hard not to cum, his hands anchored on your shoulders sweat dripping down his hairline. His whimpers became more apparent the longer you went on.

“You wanted this didn’t you?” You panted. Leon’s mouth was agape as he closed his eyes. “Mhm mhm” he nodded frantically. “Wanted me to fuck you like this” you continued beneath your breath. Leon let out a loud moan as you started to rut against his sweet spot, drool was at the corners of his mouth soft sobs leaving his mouth. “shit-shit-shit!” Leon panted his words slurring. “I’m coming- ah- shit coming!” Leon mumbled incoherent things as webs of white landed on both your abdomen, and your movements became frantic trying to race to your own release desperately.

Leon’s forehead landed on your sweaty shoulder his hot breath on your chest as you finally released inside him. Holding his hips as you slammed your chock deep into Leon not caring that Leon was practically crying on your shoulder as you did. He let out high mewls as your movements slowly came to a hold.

The both of you sat there in silence panting as you came down from your high. You wrapped your arms around him. “You okay?” You asked genuinely worried that you may have gone too far. Leon let out a small huff of a laugh which made you instantly feel better realizing you hadn’t totally ruined the relationship you had with him. “Yeah…that was amazing”

You smiled at that sighing with relief. “Oh thank god”, your thumb rubbed small circles on Leon’s back. Leon let out a small giggle.

After another while of silence and your dick becoming uncomfortable in the wetness of your own cum, you pulled out making Leon whence. You muttered a small apology just as you had done when you treated his injury a day ago. How times change huh?

You gave Leon a kiss on the cheek, you found some towels after rummaging the house, you cleaned off Leon and after that yourself.

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you proper aftercare, you definitely deserve it after that”, you grinned covering the both of you under the blanket spooning him once again. “It’s okay, you can make it up to me when we get home”

“Is that so?” You playfully squeezed him. To which he giggled cutely.

“I didn’t hurt you too much did I?” You asked your worries over taking you once again. “Not really and besides I like a bit of pain.”

“Noted”

#top male reader #resident evil smut #amab reader #male reader #resident evil #amab reader x leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x male reader #leon s. kennedy

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mastermindmiko · 11 months

Text

Muggle world hideout

Pairing: Regulus Black + fem!reader

Word count: 6232

Summary: After stealing Voldemort's horcrux, Regulus seeks shelter as a normal boy in the muggle world.

Warnings: smut, hiding out from death eaters? kissing, teachers, university classes

an: it was time to have a regulus one out there

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The bus ride throughout muggle London was always dull. He doesn’t regret the decision he’s made but he was still among magic; or at least some aspects of it. He had previously weighed his options and this was the best one; he still stands by this decision. He acquired the horcrux and from his first attempt to destroy it, Voldemort found out about his wishes and knowledge. He ran to muggle London to find a way to destroy it under a secret identity. It has been a month and no one from the wizarding world has found him. He knew he would be well hidden here.

One of the ways for him to stay under a normal teen identity was to do the same things that they do. At his age, muggle children usually go to university. He knew of no such thing, he assumed it was the muggle NEWTs; considering that he found out that OWLs are similar to O levels. However, he needed to blend in; so he decided to do the same. He had bought a flat in a random place, in the city. His father died a bit before he acquired the horcrux, so had his inheritance money. He had a lot of it, and considering that one sickle is almost six euros; he didn’t have to worry about running out of money any time soon.

After a lot of research and awkward interactions from his neighbor -the same one that told him about universities and o levels-, he found a university. He applied late -as they told him- and after a lot of persuasion they agreed to let him enter. He just needed to tell them what his major should be on the first day, which just so happened to be today.

He sat in the back, right corner of the bus; and he felt the bus stop once again. He thought it was the last stop considering that there were only two seats empty, both of which were beside him. He looked out the window to approve his assumptions and he saw the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. She stood up and he found himself mentally chanting, hoping that she would get on the bus. He didn’t know why he did that, the fact was almost completely confirmed without his manifestations. When she stepped inside, he had a neutral facial expression; but his heart was leaping. It never had done that before.

He had no one idea what to pursue, he knew that the war wasn’t ending any time soon; and that his money wasn’t infinite. So he had to find a muggle job. He couldn’t tell them about his excellence and liking for potions, therefore he was stumped. He had no idea what muggle majors are, was there some type of auror?

The bus ride to the university was dull. They kept stopping at what he assumed were bus stops, and the people were less than friendly. The people reminded him of the families that were at his parents’ balls. They looked at his clothes weirdly, even though what he was wearing was considered very fashionable. He ignored their gazes, looking poised. He had many years to learn that skill, and he intends to use it.

You sat in your usual seat, beck, left corner in the bus. You saw the most gorgeous man, one seat away from yours. He was looking at you and the sun covered half his face, if anything it added to his beauty. You were most intrigued by the scar he had above his eyebrow and it looked painful. You averted your gaze from the scar, you didn’t want to seem rude. He was wearing odd clothes, but you were sure that they were incredibly luxurious and up to trend about a hundred years ago. You had found yourself a history geek and you couldn’t say you weren’t one. Finally assessing his gaze on you, you smiled at him. He didn’t return it, but you could see the corners of his lips turn up slightly.

You sat down, and you got out your poetry book. You started reading William Blake’s poems. You were supposed to pick your favorite poem and write an essay about it, filled with everything you could possibly talk about; concerning the poem. The assignment was given at the orientation to be handed in at the first session of the Poetry course. Your mind couldn’t fathom the beautiful words of ‘Auguries of Innocence’ due to the new presence of the pretty boy beside you.

“What’s your major?” He asked, looking at you. The unfamiliar words tasted weird on his tongue. There were a few beats of silence until he raised his eyebrow and you realized he was talking to you. “Um, English Literature and Political Science.” You answered. You weren’t able to pick between the two, so you simply chose both.

“That’s two?”

You hummed melodically indicating a yes and he nodded in understanding. He looked out the window and you contemplated either mirroring his actions or adding more to the conversation, though you could hardly call it that. “What about you?” you asked as you watched him write something down on a piece of paper. The way he held his pen was abnormal, but you paid no mind to it.

“Same thing.” He replied, he finished writing his chosen major on the paper. He was sure that if he didn’t write it, he would forget it. It was a weird invention, the pen. It was much more practical, he agreed with that; but he wasn’t used it. Therefore, he kept reaching out to dip it in ink, when there wasn't any. He had to remind himself that the ink was in the pen and that he couldn’t just take out a quill and ink pot.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the answer. You enjoyed the thought of being able to see his pretty face, but how had you not seen him before. You cracked your mind for answers, and then you asked, “Were you at the orientation?”

“No, I applied late.” There were no orientations at Hogwarts, he didn’t know such a thing existed; until the people at the admissions office told him that he missed it. You bit the insides of your cheeks and you nodded. You were able to take a hint, he was giving you short answers so he obviously didn’t want to talk to you. Suddenly, the unattractive scenery outside the bus seemed much more appealing; even though you had seen this road a million times before.

“What’s that?” He nodded towards the blank paper and book on your lap. You looked at them quickly then back at him. “That’s um the assignment that’s due today.” You said slowly, then added “That I didn’t do.” You heard a noise that sounded like a laugh, but you weren’t sure from how quickly it went and came.

“Am I supposed to do this assignment?” You nodded your head as a reply. You looked at the empty seat between you both, and said “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

You took the seat and you started to explain the task. You found out that ‘Regulus’ -you complimented his name when you found out- is taking the same courses as you are. He was scribbling some things down furiously, but you paid no mind to it. You offered to take a tour around campus and he agreed. As Regulus sat in the bus with you, he thought that maybe bus rides wouldn’t be as dull anymore.

***

“We have exactly 15 minutes until class starts.” You said as you checked your wrist watch. You were sitting on one of the benches surrounded by greenery. “You should probably head to the class, you wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.”

“Isn’t this your first day too?” Regulus said as he finished writing his essay, cleanly on another piece of paper. He insisted that he doesn’t hand in the scribbling paper that he used for the first draft of his paper. He finished writing his essay down freshly and he chose the poem ‘London’.

You nodded as you stood up “Yeah, but I’m not really punctual so I’m going to be late a lot throughout the year. I wouldn’t want to give the teacher expectations, so might as well be late from the start.” You smiled at him when you finished the sentence. In the past hour and a half you’ve grown quite both fond and comfortable with Regulus.

“I’ll save a seat for you.” He said, as he placed his essay in his bag. You nodded as thanks, and you started walking away from him. “See you in class!” You shouted even though you were not far enough for him to not hear you if you spoke normally. You winked at him then spun around to talk to other people around you. His heart skipped but he paid no mind to it as he walked around to find the room that he’s supposed to be in.

When he finally found the classroom he sat on one of the chairs in the middle, and he placed his book bag beside him to save you a seat. The teacher had already started talking about the overview of the course. She also stated how much he hates people who don’t take their classes seriously and Regulus assumed that you were in trouble.

You stumbled into the classroom and the teacher stopped talking to look at you disapprovingly. “Sorry, I’m late” The teacher hummed and you started walking to your seat. “The essay, if you remembered.”

You spun around taking your essay out of your bag and handing it to the teacher. She looked at it with a raised eyebrow. The handwriting was messy and ink was spilled around it, anyone could barely tell where a paragraph starts and ends. She could tell you finished it late, and she assumed that you were late because you were finishing it. She took it from your hands and placed it on her desk. Your eyes scanned the room for Regulus and you found him and the empty seat beside him. You walked to him and sat beside him.

“Not a very good first impression is it?” He leaned closer to you and he looked at you as the teacher started talking once again. You turned your head to look at him and you smirked. You shrugged your shoulders as you realised your faces were close, too close. You saw his eyes trail down to your lips and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“I do not tolerate laziness and people who don’t take assignments seriously.” You looked at the teacher and you found out that she was looking at you. Regulus snickered slightly so when the teacher averted her gaze from you, you elbowed him roughly.

You leaned to whisper something in his ear, “What are you doing tonight?” You looked at him, hopefully. You had some ideas planned, if he wasn’t free today; maybe he’d be free someday else.

He looked at you and said “Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.” You smiled and you looked back at your notes. You scribbled an invite on the sticky note and then you discreetly placed it on Regulus’ desk. He furrowed his eyebrows then he read your note. A smile was on his face when he nodded. You returned the smile. You had something to do today.

His robes were completely wet as was his hair. He was, however, most sad about his ruined ice cream. When it started raining both of you headed inside the closest shop and it happened to be an ice cream shop. You ordered Vanilla and Regulus ordered Chocolate. He seemed cautious tasting the dessert but he liked it so much, he ordered another cone. He paid for both of you and you thanked him as you enjoyed your dessert.

***

You were walking down the road with Regulus beside you. You both had ice cream in your hands. The world smelt like petrichor, because of how it rained today. The busses and cars’ wheels were splashing around in the water and you were careful not to get soaked. You couldn’t say the same thing about Regulus. He was closer to the street, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t put him there on purpose.

After the rain settled you decided to head to the next stop on your journey, which Regulus didn’t know. You were surprised at the courage he had following you around, not asking where you’re even heading. It seemed weird to you, how both of you could get so close without even knowing each other for a decent 12 hours.

He looked at his soaked ice cream with sadness, but the scene was still hilarious. He heard you burst out laughing at how he looked. He could only imagine how he must’ve looked. He looked in envy at your completely dry tasty looking ice cream, but he laughed at the situation shortly after. He loved your laughs, he was sure he never heard anything as beautiful. It seemed ironic the situation that he was in. In all of his years he never even so much looked at a person in a romantic aspect even though he had the chance to do so on multiple occasions. However, now, not even having spent a day with you, he feels like he’s falling hard. He’s still slightly grateful that meeting you happened now, when he believed that pureblood supremacy was complete bullshit. The last thing he could’ve wanted is meeting you when he had all this pent up prejudice, and pushing you away.

After both your laughter died down, you made a change in plan. Instead of going to the movies now, you’ll go to the clothes shop. You spun around and started to go in the opposite direction. He was surprised and quickly tried to reach in step with you. He asked “Where are we going?”

“I’m abducting you.” You said with a smirk. A flash of fear flashed through his eyes, and you quickly added, “You just finally asked where I’m taking you. We’re going to the clothes shop.”

He raised one eyebrow and he asked “Why would we do that?”

“Well because you said you didn’t want to attract any attention-” You started as you recalled the conversation you had with him while you were showing him the campus. “And let me tell you with the clothes that you’re wearing, you couldn’t attract any more attention. Honestly, where did you live before uni? The 17th century!”

He laughed at your statement, and he let you continue. “So we’re going to get you some normal clothes.” He nodded along with you and he placed his clean spoon in his pocket along with his other hand. You suddenly put your hand out in front of you and he looked at you in confusion. You motioned for him to give you whatever he hand, and he gave you his spoon. You placed it in your ice cream as you said “Eat it with me-” You saw him open his mouth to protest but you said “You paid the least I could do is let you eat with me, considering the tragic death of your own ice cream.”

He chuckled and proceeded to do exactly that. You both eating together cause you both to be close to each other. Somewhere along the road Regulus decided that bumping arms wasn’t comfortable for him anymore so he linked your arms together. You were glad that it was night time so he couldn’t see your face flush.

“Yes.”

***

The next session, you were actually late. You tried to enter the class discreetly, but you were stopped by the teacher. “Miss Y/L/N”

“Do you think this class is a joke? Why are you late again? This is going into your file-” the teacher rambled more about your lack of punctuality but after a lot of experience you learned how to tune teachers out quite well. You were smart and you knew that. You just didn’t enjoy doing the homework and you had a problem with time. Time is relative, so why is she making a big deal out of this?

You heard silence so you managed to reply with the same answer that seemed to satisfy every teacher. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time.” You learned that there was no use of fighting with teachers like this. You heard a few people chuckle lightly. They were with you in other courses, so they heard you answer this many times before. They weren’t surprised in the slightest.

She hummed, approving of your answer and you couldn’t help but smirk. She motioned for you to sit and you walked to your place that Regulus once again saved for you. He looked great in the clothes you helped him pick out, then again he would look good in a potato sack. You smiled at him and he gave you a tight lipped smile. You queried your eyebrow, questioning his weird attitude. He lifted his paper and he showed you a D on the essay he did. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you looked on your desk, you couldn’t find your essay anywhere.

Regulus placed a sticky note on your desk, and it said ‘can you tutor me?’ You looked at him weirdly and you scribbled back ‘how do you know that I’m good enough to do that?’ He smirked at your answer and he tilted his head towards the person that was giving people papers.

“As you should know by now, I pick the best essay to discuss with the class; so everyone can learn from good examples.” You received your paper with a big A star. “We’re going to be discussing Miss Y/L/N’s essay.” She didn’t look at you throughout the lesson.

You leaned towards Regulus and you said “I swear I don't know if that woman loves or hates me.”

“I think it depends.” He replied, and he looked at you with a fond smile. He used legilimency on the teacher before you entered the class. “Congratulations by the way.” He whispered. You shrugged your shoulders, “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, so will you tutor me?”

It’s March now. Your courses have been going well, and tutoring Regulus has been great for both of you. You both knew that he didn’t need any tutoring, but you couldn’t stop spending extra time with him. It wasn’t like he was complaining much anyway. “Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

“Meet me in the library after all our courses. Oh and by the way, you look great.”

***

“Uh, party?” He asked as you both waited for the elevator to reach the fifth floor. Your arms were brushing against each other, and you could feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. He linked your arms again, it seemed like a habit he developed; and you enjoyed it more than you would care to admit. Since September you had completely fallen for him.

“Yeah star, we finished exams. So they’re throwing a party tomorrow.” You said, you enjoyed the nickname that you gave him after your first tutoring session. He told you that it was a family thing, being named after stars and constellations; and you thought it was completely adorable. So you couldn’t resist calling him star. He doesn’t open up much about his family, but you don’t push him. You can tell that it bothers him. After he disappeared for two months, December and January; he came back much happier. He tried to gain your forgiveness after leaving suddenly without any warning, and eventually he succeeded; you couldn’t stay mad at him for long anyway.

“Are you going?” He asked, looking at you. Voldemort was defeated back in January. His brother and the Order contacted him after they discovered the Hocroux secret, and he was glad to help. He didn’t know how his brother found him, but since all the Marauders spend a lot of time in the muggle world, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched. It felt like this enormous weight was lifted off his shoulders, and that he was finally free to do whatever he liked. His parents were dead but he didn’t care that much anyway, he got his share of his inheritance and so did his brother. After they put Pettigrew in Azkaban they wanted a fourth honorary Marauder, and Sirius wanted him to fill the spot. His relationship with Sirius was mended, and Sirius wanted him to stay in the new place he bought along with Lupin, but he declined the offer. You were here,and it wasn’t like you could go to the wizarding world without being married to him first. It was already bad enough spending two months without you, let alone the rest of his life. “I’m going if you’re going.” You replied.

You looked up at him and he looked at you. “I’m going then.” You smiled at him and you nodded. You assessed his face for a while longer, you always did that. Regulus’ heart would beat irregularly when you do. It’s annoying how much he likes you. From the stupid, irresponsible way you are never on time, to the way you always look up when looking out of a window. He doesn’t know why you do that, most people look at the ground or the buildings; but you look at the sky and clouds. What is so interesting up there anyway? There weren’t any birds or any planes. He felt blessed in every way to have someone like you, be near him; and he honestly thought he didn't deserve to have you as a friend, let alone a lover. You reached for the scar above his eyebrow, you don’t know this but he got it from the inferi attack. It’s a constant reminder of what he has to go to. What he has done. He’s able to place a concealment charm on his dark mark, but when he placed the same charm on his scar, it made his vision blurry. He also didn’t mind how close you were every time you looked at it.

“It looks like it hurt.” You whispered, softly as you touched his scar. He hissed and you quickly pulled your fingers away. You heard him whisper, “That’s cause it did.”

You sighed and you continued to look at it. Your eyebrows furrow as you thought of all the possibilities that could have caused the scar. Regulus saw your expression and he sighed. He has never felt insecure about his face, he knew he was good looking. He shared that with Sirius, the big ego. When he got the scar, he just thought it looked ugly. He hoped you didn’t think the same, “It looks hideous doesn’t it?”

Your eyes flashed to his, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion. He was leaning slightly so you could be closer to him. He always did that, another habit he developed around you. You looked into his eyes, that you loved so much. It seemed like such an odd thing for someone’s favorite color to be gray, but you knew it wouldn’t seem that odd if they saw his eyes. If you could look into them forever you would, you didn’t know that he wished to do the same thing with your’s. “I think the opposite actually.”

The elevator music might have ruined the intimate atmosphere, but you leaned on the tips of your toes and you pressed your lips to his. He kissed you back immediately, and you pulled him closer by his neck. You were kissing each other passionately. You pulled him by his shirt and you placed your tongue in his mouth. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You pulled away to breathe properly. You looked into his eyes and his hair was ruffled and you assumed yours was the same.

The door opened and you realised it was the third floor. His face was neutral, so you assumed that he didn’t like you. He just liked to kiss you, you knew you were a good kisser; so maybe that was it. Maybe you read the situation completely wrong. You walked out the elevator, and it wasn’t even the floor you needed to be on. You’ll just take the stairs.

Your eyes unintentionally searched the room for Regulus, and your eyes connected from across the room. He was leaning back on the couch, his legs spread apart, and his hand resting on the couch’s arm rest. Your mind ran with the sight, and you could tell he was doing the same when his eyes trailed your body, and he liked his lips. You could feel your stomach churn and with the added liquid courage, you walked to him.

***

You didn’t even know why you’re here right now. The alcohol was burning down your throat, however you were very conscious of your surroundings. Your friend told you yesterday that Regulus told her that he needed to talk to you. You didn’t even know if he was going to be here, but you were and you hoped he was too.

“You said you wanted to talk to me.” You said as you sat beside him on the couch. He hummed, looking at you with his wonderful gray eyes. “I like you-” Your eyes widened, “I really like you and I-” You cut him off with his lips on yours.

You put your hands on his shoulders with an intent to pull him closer, but he pulled away slightly. He assumed you wanted to push him away and that you were rethinking your decisions. However, the thought was out of his head when your finger went to his neck. You wrapped your hands around his neck and you pulled him closer, attaching your lips together.

He bit your lips and he pulled your lips to insert his tongue in your mouth. His tongue massaged yours and yours explored his mouth. He put his hands on your waist and he started to let his hands trail down when your kissing intensified. When his hands reached your hips, he pulled you on his lap, and you could feel a prominent bulge in his pants.

You let out a breathy sigh when your heat was over his bulge. You were on top of him so you couldn’t kiss him properly because of the angles on your lips. You lifted his chin with your thumbs and you kissed him feverishly. You could feel his own thumbs tracing heavy circles on your hips. It was arousing so your breathing rate increased.

Even Though you could clearly feel his hard cock through his pants, you wanted to turn him on more. So you ‘innocently’ ran your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck while keeping your thumbs on his neck. You waited a bit, trying to get that perfect element of surprise; then you pulled his hair and squeezed his neck. He let out a loud sound between a groan and a choke. You were shocked by his reaction and you felt yourself getting wetter.

His eyes were wider than yours indicating that he didn’t know he could feel or do that. You could feel his cock twitch under you and you let out a breathy sigh that hitched. His hands went under your thighs and you squeezed them tightly. He stood up and you hooked your ankles behind his hips. He kissed you with great passion as he took you to an empty bedroom.

He threw you on the bed and you heard the bed creak loudly. He took off his shirt and he crawled over to you as he connected your lips together. His hands roamed your body and when he reached your chest, he squeezed one of your breasts. “Take them off.” You ordered and he took off your shirt and unhooked your bra gladly.

He took a moment to look over your body and he said “You’re so gorgeous.” Your panties were uncomfortably wet and you were impatient. “Then fucking touch me then.” you said, and he didn’t waste a second kissing, squeezing and sucking all over your chest. You took off your pants and panties, when you couldn’t stand the wetness anymore.

When you were entirely naked, he couldn’t stop admiring your body. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess and your chest was littered with love bites. He could’ve cum on the sight. His eyes trailed down to your wet pussy, and he looked at your glistening juices running down your thighs. He closed his mouth because he was sure he would drool if he kept it open. “Sit on my face.” He said laying down beside you.

“What?!” You said flushing a deep red. He rolled his eyes and he started to grasp your thighs. “I want to eat you out as you ride my face.” You didn’t speak for a while so he added “Only if you want to of course.” The reason for your silence wasn’t because you didn’t want to but because you really wanted to.

You aligned your entrance with his mouth. You placed both your thighs away from his face, the last thing you wanted was for him to run out of air in the middle of sucking your clit. Usually, Regulus would have kissed and bit your thighs, teasing you for a bit; but as soon as he smelt your arousal, he couldn’t wait to taste you. He liked a bold strip gathering all your juices that were leaking out.

Your legs shook and you got a small taste of what was going to happen in the next few seconds. You placed one of your hands on the head board of the bed and you threaded the other through regulus’ hair. The first was for stability and the second was for teasing. He started liking and sucking softly, making you feel impatient with how much he was taking his time.

You started to grind on his face and you could barely hear the bed creak when his nose would brush against your clit and you would moan. When you started riding his face, he got the hint and he started eating you out at a relentless pace. He grabbed your thighs and moved you faster. You were a moaning mess and your thighs were clenching around the sides of his face.

Regulus didn’t care that he could barely breathe. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen is riding his face, making the most beautiful voices he’s ever heard; and she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. As far as he was concerned, he was in heaven. His cock was painfully hard in his pants, he only started to feel it when you moaned his name loudly. He let go of one of your thighs and slipped his hand under his trousers. He was panting under you as he palmed himself, but it was all very much worth it.

“Ohh, Regulus!” You came harder than you ever did before from someone’s tongue. You could feel him swallowing all your cum and you felt his tongue run lines across your thighs, you assumed it was the remains of your cum that slipped down your thighs. When you came off his face, he had the most blissful expression on his face.

“You have to let me do that again. You taste like heaven.” Your eyes trailed down his body and you could no longer see a bulge . His cock was slipped out of his pants and underwear and you could see his cum around his cock. “Only if you let me return the favor sometime.” You could see his cock twitch at the thought. “You’re so messy. I can’t have you inside me like that.” You tutted and started to get up, away from the bed. He started to get up with you, eyes wide. “I’ll just have to clean you up.”

He placed his head back on the pillow and he was about to reach out to stroke his cock when you grabbed his wrist. “No touching.” You started to come closer to his cock, you pulled off his pants and underwear. You only smirked as you started to run your fingers up and down his cock. “You’re going to be the death of me.” You heard him both whisper and groan. You could only smirk and you started to feel him harden underneath your fingers.

You leaned down slightly and you looked up at him. His eyes connected with yours and he looked absolutely angelic. It was wonderful seeing him all messed up unlike his usual calm aura. You took his tip into your mouth, where most of the cum was gathered. He moaned when you licked his thighs and around his cock. He assumed you were going to give him head, you weren’t. You were simply doing what you said you were, cleaning him up. You gave him a few seconds to catch his breath and when you heard his breathing start to regulate, you took him in fully. You sucked, hard as his tip hit the back of your throat. He screamed loudly, and you were sure the entire party heard it. You clenched your thighs together.

Regulus was more vocal than you thought and you were loving it. His fingers threaded through your hair and you thought he was going to fuck your face; but you were pulled awya from his cock. “I want to be inside you, the first time I cum from you.”

“Needy for me, already.”

“Just hurry up.” He groaned and you were enjoying the power you had over him, so you added. “No really. Tell me how much you want me. How much you want to be inside me. Tell me darling, how many times did you touch yourself thinking of me-”

You were quickly flipped around and he thrust himself inside you. You screamed at the sudden force. He stopped waiting for you to adjust to his size as he leaned down to whisper “When I say hurry up, it means hurry up.” He started thrusting into you slowly, you heard the bed creak again; but you didn’t mind it. The pain turned into pleasure. So you started moaning “Faster.”

He obliged and he started to move quicker and quicker. When he hit your g-spot, you clenched around him tighter. “You’re so fucking tight.” You were sure he was moaning louder than you. You now considered that you were fucking him not the other way around. He kept repeatedly hitting the same spot until you started to see stars. He thrusted harder, and quicker, trying to get you through your high. However, just when you were about to finish cumming he started to cum too. You were on birth control so it wasn’t a problem. He was almost finished when the bed broke. You both tumbled on the floor as one of the legs broke.

He was still inside you when you said “How the hell are we going to fix this?” He chuckled as he pulled out of you, you hissed slightly. “Never mind that, how are we going to explain it?”

“There won’t be a need to explain anything. You were screaming loud enough that they heard you already.” You smirked, as you saw his cheeks turn redder.

“We should do that again sometime.” He said and he looked around the room for a glass of water. When he found it, he gave it to you. He cleaned you up and he placed the amount of money that was enough for the bed on it.

When you were walking out the building, he asked, “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” You looked at him before you said “Gee, star. Take me out on a date first.”

“We just fucked and you think that spending the night would be rash. Besides we can do that date thing tomorrow, I just want to hold you right now.” Your heart skipped a couple of beats. You nodded along with him, agreeing.

Walking back to Regulus’ flat reminded you of the first day you both met. You were now the one walking near the street, and he was far away from it. You knew he did it on purpose, even though it hasn’t rained lately, he still feels the need to make you pay somehow. Your arms were linked when he grabbed your other hand, and said “There’s something important I need to tell you when we get there.”

“That you love me?”

He smirked at how big your ego was sometimes. It wasn’t like he was any different, he thought of what it would be like when you meet his brother and Potter. Lupin would throw himself out the window. “Something else, but you have to promise you won’t send me to an insane asylum.”

You raised the hand that wasn’t connected with his and you said “I won’t. Consider it as thanks that you still haven’t sent me there yet.” He placed a kiss on your hand, and he said “I do, by the way.” you quirked your eyebrow. “Love you, I mean.”

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 6 months

Note

Mercenaries finding random kid in the base. Who will punt the child and who will take care of it

Oh boy.

The TF2 Mercs finding a random little toddler in the base

Warnings: Thankfully none?

Scout:

- Oh god oh fuck oh shit. Stiffens up when a random fucking toddler runs by him in the hallway. He was just on his way to grab some more energy drinks from the fridge. Who let this little shit into a war zone?! Scout’s brotherly instincts kick in pretty damn quick and runs to grab the child before they could get into any artillery.

- Talks to a child how he’d talk to a normal adult. Just with less cursing and petty condescension. “The heck you doin’ here?” etc.. While the toddler completely ignores him. Bounces the little thing up and down a little. Scout’s actually had decent socialization with kids before due to his huge family.

- Scout doesn’t realize how comforting he is to a young developing mind. He’d make a great father and adamantly denies it. Partly due to his own father’s… untimely disappearance let’s just say. The other mercs are kinda floored how someone as annoying and troublesome as Scout has even the slightest amount of paternal instincts. Especially Spy. Hmm, for some reason he looks completely destroyed and devastated.

- Scout rolls a baseball on the ground with the kid and teases them lightly while Miss Pauling — stressed out of her mind — tries to find resources for this situation and figure out how a child of all things managed to end up in the middle of a battlefield. Let’s just pretend Spy isn’t standing there with his head in his hand. Realizing the consequences of his own past actions with utter depression written all over his outward body language.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- DO NOT LET A CHILD NEAR SOLDIER. NEVER. DO NOT FUCKING DO IT.

- Are you insane? Are the parents insane? Is everyone in the world fucking insane? Soldier is practically an oversized toddler. He’d immediately make friends upon finding the child and give them a shitty nickname related to war in some way. Like “Captain diapers” or “Lieutenant Titsucker.” Now everyone else has to suffer soldier insisting the baby is his now.

- Tries to teach the child how to shoot a gun. Does not blow over well with literally all the mercs combined. Tries to read them the art of warfare and Heavy secretly has to switch that book out for a children’s fairytale mid story. Leaving soldier confused as to why the alleged warfare book contained faries and unicorns. “AND THEN MR. UNICORN SAID TO HIS FRIEND THE FAIRY: WHAT LOVELY LOCKS YOU HAVE. DEAR GOD!! THIS MUST BE SOME ADVANCED MILITARY STRATAGEM BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING! GOD BLESS AMERICA AND ITS OUTSTANDING STEADFAST PROGRESSION!”

- Miss Pauling is absolutely livid when she finds out Soldier gave the baby a buzz cut. How the FUCK is she supposed to explain that to the parents? How the fuck is she supposed to explain that their lost child will come back knowing half the entire history of WWI now and knows how to recite the pledge of allegiance at like two years old?!

—————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Demoman is initially pretty awkward. Quickly downs like several glasses of water in one sitting because it would obviously be a horrible example if he was drunk in front of a minor. He sits them down and tries to ask questions like where their parents were, and failing to understand the child’s not yet fully developed speech. Demoman suddenly empathizes what people mean when they can’t understand his scottish accent. Well shit. Looks like he has a little goblin in his care for a few hours.

- Demoman has a headache now. Surprisingly not from the child’s excited screeching and playing but the previously mentioned alcohol he had to manage with water. “Aye.. Quiet down a bit there..” He says flatly. Miserably holding his head while the child bounces around with endless energy. Maybe babysitting while recovering from intoxication wasn’t the best idea. He gave the kid some empty bomb shells to play with. Even bothered to draw faces on them to humor the kid.

- The child holds one of the shells up to his face “This is bob! Say hi!” they exclaim. Demoman stares at bob tiredly. Taking the shell into two fingers. “Guess you could say bob is the bomb.” The kid manages to stutter out. Which then immediately snaps demoman out of his exhaustion for a split second and causes him to choke on the water laughing his ass off. The kid’s laughing too. Overall the least insane experience the poor kid could have in the team’s base.

———————————————————————

Engineer:

- A small baby is in the intel room, trying to reach the briefcase. Naturally, the sound of the intelligence shifting in the other room would catch Engineer’s ears faster than anyone else’s. Especially considering the stats on his PDA show something bumped against one of his sentries on its way in.

- He enters the room pretty slowly. He knew whatever it was, it wasn’t a threat. Nothing that could bap his sentry with the force of a feather would be strong enough to fend him off. Let alone the patrolling sentry — which should have activated and began shooting by now. A blank, emotionless expression on his face as always, Engineer’s eyes trailed to the level three sentry. Which kept idly spinning from side to side and beeping passively. Completely ignoring the… Little child near the intel desk?!

- Engineer grinned, put his wrench on his shoulder and went over, sliding the briefcase away from the little one. “Oop! You don’t wanna get your grubby little paws on that thing, pardner. That there is for the adults, ya got that?” He said in a lighter tone. Very much unlike his usual rasp and frankly unintentionally scary deep voice. He didn’t care that the poor thing started whining. Dell reached down and ruffled the child’s hair. “Now, now. I know it’s disappointing.”

- Not even when the child hugged his legs and called him dada, not even when Miss Pauling asked to watch them for a bit. Engineer was like a nonchalant father lion tolerating his cub’s obnoxious little bites. A child could push his buttons to hell and back and Engineer would just sit there like there wasn’t a screaming child on his lap while he read the Tuefort newspaper.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- If heavy were to be near a child in any capacity, it would make him nervous. His sisters were a different story. They’re family. But wild encounters with the beasts? What should he do? He doesn’t know them, and frankly he hates the idea of having kids. They’re way too much work, money, and his inner child wasn’t healed enough to take on another one. In a weird sort of way he’d be taking care of two.

- as he stares blankly at the little devil in front of him, the one he found trying to touch Sasha, he contemplated throwing them into the stratosphere like a baseball. His strong disliking for children didn’t come from a place of genuine malice however. He was envious that they still had youth and time to pursue everything they ever wanted. Heavy wanted to do many things in his lifetime and he felt that it was ripped from him due to the poverty he lived through.

- He recalled the time he made a child one time during Halloween and decided not to repeat that. He’ll pick up the child and shove it into Pyro’s room.. With a million dollars in the kid’s hand.

——————————————————————-

Pyro:

- Speaking of Pyro, they’re quite similar to Heavy in the sense that their inner child isn’t healed. But Pyro is once again able to destroy everybody’s outlook on them when they are capable of adeptly playing with children without ever hurting them. Especially catering to their personal needs depending on age. Can and will silently warm up a teddy bear in the microwave and hand them a bottle of chocolate milk.

- Pyro is extremely good at this, all things considered. They seem to have a pretty surface level understanding of childhood psychology and the proper ways to enforce a gentle parenting style. Which only adds to the mysterious era of their humanity; surely a faceless monster couldn’t do the things Pyro was doing. They were too calculated, too thoughtful in their actions. It made the other mercs pretty upset to see this display. In a sense, it was border-lining uncanny valley. Nobody could shake the primitive instinct that something was inherently wrong with this. They don’t even ask for help.

- But nothing violent becomes of it. Pyro had successfully eased the child into feeling comfortable the entire time they’re there. Not a single word left their mouth the entire time. They were only staring intently and tilting their head like a curious animal at the child by the time Pauling finally found the child’s parents. Scout jokes that Pyro is simply playing with his own mouse like a cat and has to be backhanded by a very uneasy Heavy.

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- His parents — whilst nice — had their own individual flaws that prevented them from teaching this area of life. They did not think Sniper would be ever fit to raise a child and thus neglected his want for a small family. To be fair they aren’t too far off. Sniper is an assassin for hire that drives around nomadically and eats crocodiles for dinner. In no way shape or form would that ever be a proper atmosphere for a child to grow. He took their words to heart as always. He never did pursue a child. His father was angry that Sniper even thought of the idea.

- So imagine the guilt upon seeing the little rat bastard who had wandered into the base and was stumbling around the halls. He quickly realized this kid was essentially doomed. He was the wrong person to find this poor thing. The others weren’t any better. Removing his weapons was the very first thing he does, trying his best to conceal his expression. He didn’t want the child to sense his anger and self loathing. (Kids are sorta smart like that.)

- He then…. Throws the child into Pyro’s room.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- Walks into his medbay with a bunch of folders. Sees a child sitting on one of the hospital beds. Proceeds to freeze in place like a deer in headlights. Has to double take for a moment to make sure he’s not dreaming.

- Proceeds to ignore the child for a bit for some reason. Even when and if other mercs are present and question him, Medic hushes them for some reason. Medic is like…. Fully convinced that child is an enemy spy in disguise. He moves around the room and half-asses a “Ho! Would sure be a shame if somebody stabbed me in the back while I was organizing papers!…. I SAID it would be a SHAME if SOMEBODY STABBED ME IN THE BACK!” (He fully believes this’ll work because Medic’s superiority complex doesn’t stop at Spy. He’s fully confident that he’s smarter than Spy, and Spy is a complete bumbling moron. Like most people to Medic.)

- The child makes a weird child noise, and that’s when he knows something is up. Medic narrows his eyes and marches up to the bed, staring the child maliciously in the face. “You don’t fool me, you know..” He says, gritting his teeth. “Is your kit broken or something? I can fix it for you for free! It’ll cost you an arm and limb though! Ho! Literally.” He adds “It’s quite an unflattering disguise for someone such as yourself!”

- Child stares blankly. Toddler has no clue what’s happening right now.

- Miss Pauling walks in. “Oh! There he is! Sorry for the interruption Medic, we had a child wander into the base—“ she pauses. Seeing Medic holding his ubersaw up to the child’s chin.

- “What do you mean we had a child wander in?” He is dumbfounded, and horrified.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Spy opens the door to his quarters and makes sure to lock it behind him, always. He has like a million booby traps set up on his door and in his room to ensure nobody goes snooping for his private information.

- He turns around, adjusting his tie. Getting ready for the trauma of the day….. Then he sees a child sitting right in front of him in the hallway. The two of them lock eyes for a moment.

- …….

- Spy cloaks away immediately.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #mod spy #spy x reader #medic x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader

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goingmerryfics · 5 months

Text

Previously Betrayed/Cheated on w/ Killer, Zoro, & Mihawk

Content: Gender neutral reader, SFW, mentions of past cheating/betrayal in another relationship

Notes* Added a few more characters here! Thanks for the great prompt @juinewasbonker !

Killer

Killer is very calm as you explain your past to him, even while you’re a mess as you do it.

Offers physical comfort; he’ll hug you or hold your hands while you talk, never interrupting you even for a second

His patience also knows no bounds- he will wait there while you half to calm yourself in-between sentences as the painful memories and feelings begin to surface. He helps you by guiding your breathing by example

The great thing about Killer is how stoic he is here. You know he would never turn it around and make you feel as if it were your fault like your narcissistic ex did- in fact, he’s the opposite, and when he does speak to you, it’s so validating.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. You deserve so much better than someone who would betray your trust."

He pushes your hair out of your face and wipes your tears away so gently while going on and on about how it wasn’t your fault, and praising you for coming to him and letting him know so the two of you could become closer in your own relationship. He tells you that it's normal to feel hurt or distrustful after such an experience, and that he doesn’t take it seriously when you’re apprehensive about certain things with him.

Being who he is, he does get a little protective and asks if there is anything you need him to do. You know what he means by that, and it makes you laugh a little at the notion of him beating down your ex for something that had happened ages ago. He’s already a criminal, but you still shake your head at his offer and let him know you’ll keep it in mind, though.

"I promise to always be honest with you and to never do anything to hurt you. You mean everything to me, and I'll always be here to support you."

Zoro

Zoro is very direct, even to the point of that being a bad thing sometimes. So as you explain your past to him, you search his face constantly for any hint of a reaction, as if you’re trying to prepare yourself for him to tell you that you must have done something to cause the betrayal- that you were too much of a prude, or maybe it’s the way you speak

But he doesn’t say anything like that at all. This isn’t the time for his problem solving, and he knows that. He hasn’t experienced a betrayal like you have, and that’s all the more reason why he knows that this is an active listening situation

When it is his turn to talk, he knows exactly what to say and doesn’t hesitate for a moment

“You're better off without someone who can't stay loyal. You deserve someone who respects you."

In this situation he would be talking about himself, but it comes out so fast that he forgets he’s your current boyfriend for a moment

The both of you share a bit of a laugh at that, and you let him know that you hope he can be patient with you while you learn how to trust your romantic partner again. He understands that you need some time for that, and he’s not worried about having to wait.

"You're not alone in this. I've got your back, always. If you need anything, just say the word."

He’s not big on initiating physical contact, but he gladly returns it when you pull him in for a hug and a kiss.

You let him know that you appreciate him, and the two of you go off for a nap to regain the energy from the exhausting reveal

Mihawk

His strong suit does not lie in handling big emotions, so this conversation takes a while.

He keeps asking you what’s wrong, knowing from your actions that there’s something you want to tell him, but you keep mentioning that you don’t want to talk about it yet- and he doesn’t want to push you, but he’s getting worried

Finally, you two sit down to have this talk over a glass of wine. You keep yourself calm while you explain, and you talk about how the situation had destroyed your self confidence in the past and your ability to trust. He listens to every word, and even sets his glass down so you have his full attention.

"I admire your resilience in the face of adversity. Remember, you are not defined by the actions of others."

The way he leans forward to take your hands in his and kiss your palms is so romantic that you can’t help but to swoon and break into a smile. He can be so sweet very suddenly, and you were glad that this wasn’t something he would find as a waste of time, or a nuisance

He shares that he has gone through this before, too. He understands your feelings of hurt, and he understands the malice towards the person that destroyed you just as he felt to the person who destroyed him, too

He urges you that dwelling on that hurt will only keep you stuck in that time of pain, and even offers to guide you back into self-love in many ways. He asks if you’d like more insight into his life, like coming with him to warlord meetings, or if you simply would like more compliments, which he is always happy to do

Whatever it is, if anything, he commits to doing it for you if you say it will help you to feel better in your relationship with him

"Should you ever require guidance or assistance, know that I am here to offer what counsel I can.”

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the-crimson · 1 year

Text

I’m just spinning q!bbh in my mind rn I’ve got theories and analysis and bits of it are a stretch and it is rambly and long so it’s going under a cut but here we go XD

Everything he’s done since the eggs were taken has been so incredibly deliberate and he developed this plan when he was in the depths of the greatest despair. According to what he told Baghera today, he developed this plan before the anger stream when he lava cast the presidential office as that was part of the plan to draw out the workers.

So Bad blatantly lying and gaslighting and just being incredibly suspicious to everyone today feels deliberate. It feels like he’s intentionally burning these bridges. The whole gun debacle is a great example of this. I saw a post that suspected bbh took Ron to test Baghera and her loyalty to him by doing something he knows she’d disapprove of and while I don’t think that’s why he took Ron, I defiantly think that’s part of it.

The whole gun thing I feel is Bad’s test for Forever. Bad has lied to his face and changed the story so many times that even when Bad tells him the truth Forever doesn’t care. I think Bad is intentionally pushing Forever just like he is Baghera. He’s pushing him to see what it would take for Forever to cut ties. It’s brutal and is actively hurting Forever just like how Baghera was hurt learning what Bad had done to Ron.

Bad feels no guilt for what he’s done to Ron. All he cares about is what others would think of his actions. He knows what he’s doing is “wrong” but he doesn’t care. Such black and white morality is beneath him. He’s doing what he thinks is necessary.

And that includes his own self destruction. He is testing all of these relationships knowing full well that he might destroy them. He knows Baghera is so much more moral than him and has such a higher value of life so he intentionally showed her something that would shatter her perception of him. Bad knows that trust is very important to forever so he intentionally lies and gaslights him knowing full well that Forever may never trust him again.

Bad created this plan when he was at his lowest point. On an average day, Bad’s value of his own life is nonexistent. He designed a plan to uncover how the federation spies on them knowing full well that it could turn everyone against him. That sure sounds familiar doesn’t it? Bad’s proposed this exact same plan under different circumstances(“joining” the feds to make them worse so everyone revolts against them inspired by his building inspector bit”). He doesn’t care about himself and is willing to throw himself to the wolves and make everyone hate him if it means defeating the federation and getting their children back. Previously, bad never went through with the plan because he wasn’t as desperate but now… during the depths of his grief after the kids were stolen, there was nothing holding him back from complete self annihilation.

I think Tubbo discovering/catching on to bbh’s kidnapping put a hitch in Bad’s plans because now his tests for others are being influenced by an outside variable he can’t control, that’s why he spent the whole day doing damage control. He’s trying to spin the story in such a way that he’s still somewhat in control of the situation. He knows that the cats out of the bag. Everyone is going to suspect him now so what does he do? He spends the day making himself even more suspicious. He admitted to torturing foolish in the past. He admitted to imprisoning forever during the happy pills arc. He admitted to planning on abducting a player in the future. He’s making himself look so much more guilty.

Everything he does is with intent. What could be the intent here? He’s told several people that he wants to be arrested so he has access to the federation prisons/facilities. He’s told several people that he is capable of kidnapping/torturing someone. He denies he’s guilty of Ron’s disappearance while simultaneously making himself look guilty. Is he trying to push the federation? To see if they actually will arrest him? All fingers point to bbh and the federation knows this - they basically say so in the journals Tubbo found. But they continue doing nothing. The workers are warned to stay away from him at all costs but… why wouldn’t they just arrest him? They’ve done so to others for less. That’s the question I want Tubbo to be asking. He’s smart enough to realize there’s something off here. Yes bad has a guy in his basement but why hasn’t the federation done anything about it?

Maybe that’s Bad’s test for Tubbo. Bad knows Tubbo is fiercely intelligent and that he can’t bullshit has way past him so he gave Tubbo so much. Yes there was a lot of bullshit but Bad intentionally gave Tubbo more ammunition against him. Is that Bad’s test? If Tubbo finds proof that Bad has Ron in his basement and the federation continues not to act, will that clear Tubbo of suspicion in his eyes? Tubbo knows the worker Bad is trying to find, is Bad giving Tubbo a chance to unknowingly prove himself by uncovering Bad’s secret? “Has anyone ever told you your too smart for your own good, Tubbo?” It sounded like a threat but it could have been an invitation.

Fred has become an incredibly important npc and I have a feeling he is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the eggs and the great evil. I’m pretty sure he’s the one in the radio transmission that talks about why the eggs disappeared and Ron said he overheard Fred talking about the evil. Fred knows so much more than he lets on and one way or another, the players are gonna find out.

I’m also fascinated by Bad’s conversation with Bagi about Boo. Only after Bagi confessed to telling Forever about the secret did Bad put in his clipboard that she passed the test. We’ll how did she pass the test? She told someone about his secret. We’ll, she came clean about it. She told someone she thought was Bad’s best friend then admitted it. She wasn’t trying to go behind his back and thus was trustworthy. However, as the day went on and Bagi learned about Ron, this changed. Her perception of Bad changed and Bad updated his notes about her in response. She went from trustworthy to sometimes trustworthy to be careful what you tell her. She still passed the test but the level of trust dropped dramatically - which is so fascinating.

At the end of it, I think… through all of this, Bad is gonna burn all his bridges in order to find the eggs and destroy the federation. He’s accepted that at this point. He was so dismissive of Baghera’s concerns for Ron and Bad and almost felt like he was placating her, just telling her what she wanted to hear. If Baghera interferes with Ron, I don’t think Bad will accept that and he would sacrifice their relationship to continue his plans. If anything, I could see him releasing Ron into Baghera’s hands only to capture Fred in his place - and this time he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Just the sudden switch in attitude when everyone triggered his radar was palpable. “Get out of my house or die” he was so furious that this test had been interrupted but he masked it while with baghera. When Bad went flying into the hall of grim shouting at everyone to get out and attacking them mercilessly, you could feel the rage (part of that was the lore secrets being accidentally revealed but still) the entire visit with Ron was a performance for both Ron and Baghera and I feel so bad for Baghera because she’s in an impossible position.

She wants to be there for Bad she wants to support him but this… this is so far beyond what she is willing to excuse from him. This has crossed so many lines but there isn’t any turning back. She doesn’t want to lose Bad either through breaking his trust or being taken by the federation but at the same time she can’t stand by and do nothing. She needs to help him. Unfortunately, that means it’s highly likely Bad will end up immolating their friendship if she pushes too hard.

And just the way Bad acts around Ron is so fascinating. It’s all a performance. The large furnished home. The fridge full of food. The fish. The weird attachment Bad shows - almost a reverse Stockholm syndrome - while simultaneously talking over/for Ron in such a dehumanizing way. It’s so fascinating in the moments when the mask falls away. When Bad was watching Baghera talk to Ron - idk if it was just me - but I felt like Bad was a hawk observing it’s prey. He plays up the sugary sweetness and dependence but he still feels like a tiger prowling the bars of his cage eyeing the snacks on the other side. It’s the way he moves and what he choosss to look at during these scenes idk bbh’s body language is insane and I could devote an entire essay to analyzing it

Like Bad’s stream title before he started stream, there are only two sides. Either ur with him or against him and the only thing he values is finding the eggs and tearing down the federation. He doesn’t care if everyone grows to hate him. He doesn’t care if he grows to hate himself. There are no lines he won’t cross. It’s all worth it. It’s all inevitable.

#qsmp #crimson speaks #badboyhalo #ok this got really long #and rambly #idk if it’s even legible #but I have so many thoughts about his current arc #it’s masterful storytelling #and I can’t wait to see where it leads #I hope he gets worse #I hope the federations fear of him spreads to the players #I hope he burns every bridge #and at the end when there is nothing but embers #he realizes the cost wasn’t worth it #and it breaks him #I want people to be scared of him #I want a villain arc damn it!!#but if it doesn’t happen that’s okay to #I’m sure what ever direction bbh takes us will be amazing

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aratedfreyjablog · 4 months

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There is no such thing as “Good Guy”

A concept that makes WHB “charming” and appreciative is how there’s no true villain or hero. The line that defines evil and good, despite there being angels, dragons, demons, and humans, is nonexistent.

Disclaimer: Spoilers for Chapter 5, Events, Gamigin, and Lucifer!

We are put under an illusion such a line exists when we see the human MC get attacked by Gabriel, only to be saved by Satan. From that point on and all the way to Chapter 4, everything seems to be set in stone that the villains are the angels, whose goal is practically to assert their race as the only living race as a mean to receive all of “God’s” love since they are jealous that they aren’t the ONLY race to receive his love. This includes the whole issue of them targeting the MC as they are the descendent of the sole human who received most of “God’s” love (i.eSolomon). Hence, the MC and us, the players, are put under the impression that devils are victims since they are trying to protect their homes while owing them a debt for saving (reviving) Minhyeok.

Chapter 5, however, shows us that this isn’t the case and the situation wasn’t that simple. Though we learn of how the angels used to run a lab to experiment on a large population of devils, including Leviathan and Orias, the devils weren’t completely innocent. When discussing as to why the Seed of Knowledge would be in Tartaros, we learn of how said country used to do just the same as the angels where the devils of Tartaros had previously ran a lab and experimented on angels before Mammon, himself, destroyed it due to the experimentation posing as a threat to his people.

We also see from the two events, Requiem of the Survivors and the Life Investigation of Leraye, how Orias attempts to take Leviathan’s life just so he could consume Leviathan’s soul and obtain long-lasting youth while Astaroth is found by Sitri coming back from the human world after corrupting and ruining the life of a human. We would think the devils wouldn’t be like this as they are introduced as more of a pure and innocent existence especially when, according to Solomon and other devils, they can’t even lie. Based on these events and from seeing in Chapter 5 how the devils of Hades are able to lie, that’s not the actual truth.

If anything, it can be argued their nature and cruelty is almost closed to the angels. The few things that doesn’t make the devils from being on the same level as them is how they don’t intend to assert their race and commit genocide for said goal but exhibit consideration and sympathy towards their fellow and other races. From The Two Stars event, Gamigin’s comic, and Lucifer’s comic, we see how the devils show kindness even towards angels and dragons where the original Gamigin gives his life up to save dragon Gamigin while Satan’s camp and Satan, himself, show neutrality to Lucifer when he first arrived in Hell and takes down his fellow angels. In addition to this, the devils of Paradise Lost choose to follow Lucifer and acknowledge him as their king and “hyung” despite him being an angel.

All of this being said, there’s no “good guy” or “bad guy” in WHB. Instead, we see how war brings out both the good and bad sides of all beings that justifies reasoning for certain actions but not excusing them. There’s also emphasis that the POV of the MC can’t be completely relied on due to bias where they are mostly interacting with the devils on a normal and mutual basis. The concept of moral-grayness makes the overall story all more intriguing as more lore is revealed through interactions between MC -to- characters and characters-to-characters.

Hopefully PB will drop more content soon so we could learn more about the story and characters!

#whb #what in hell is bad #maple ramble #whb spoilers

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boinurmom13 · 3 months

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Zom x Lament fic i wrote at 3am after months of not writing

i wouldve added indents but im on ipad and dunno how to do that on mobile docs

The sound of a rifle goes off, and is then shortly accompanied by thrilling and lively chase music. Black, gray, and white pixels dance on a screen, each coordinated perfectly in their own digital way. They come together to form a movie, one showcasing a twisted tale of men being hunted for sport. Despite sounding thrilling and entertaining at the time the two viewers picked it up, it turns out the movie itself is pretty boring. Zom, currently leaning on the arm he has sitting on the arm chair, has read the short story the movie is based off of. It was an important part of many literature classes he had growing up on the surface. The other person watching it, Lament, who’s currently laying on the opposite side of the couch with his feet propped up on Zom’s lap, hadn’t read the story. Not many books fell into the underground, anyway, and those that did were destroyed by water damage.

“This movie sucks,” Lament mumbles, peeling his eyelight from the screen to look up at the ceiling. “The book’s gotta be better, right?” Zom shrugs in response, letting out a slow yawn.

“Eh. It was just as boring. Quicker read, though.” He picks up the remote to shut it off, but gets nudged instead. Frowning, he sends a mean glare at his friend, clearly annoyed. “Dude, your socks stink, don’t do that.”

The opposing skeleton’s mangled mouth twists into a crooked smile, snorting at his response. “You have month old take out boxes littering your room. That’s nasty.”

Zom mutters something angrily as a response. Or, lack of response. Lament snorts again, having his fun with picking on Zom. He’s the only one enjoying it, though, considering Zom gets up shortly after.

Watching as his pal walks away, Lament sits up fully after laying down for a majority of the movie. He huffs in annoyance as he grabs the remote to turn down the movie, upset that the only person he can poke fun at has disappeared into another room. Whatever he’s doing, Lament’s unsure of, but it’s not like it’s a weird thing for Zom to get up without saying anything. He’s done it a thousand times, and he’s not expected to stop now. About five minutes later, Zom walks out, in a brand new shirt. He sits down on the couch and places a decorative pillow (courtesy of Alphys wanting to make their new home feel like one after years of a nomadic lifestyle) between him and Lament.

“Don’t touch me. That kid’ll kill me if I run out of clean shirts to wear out to eat later today,” Zom, very rudely commands.

Lament takes it as a challenge.

First, he tries verbally inching his way to get to him. Hoping Zom will set aside the pillow so they can return to the position they were previously in, Lament starts.

“It’s not like you can’t do laundry before you have to go. Besides, it’s just socks.” Admittedly, he sounded a little defensive. Not on purpose or anything, but because he knows that Zom eventually gives in during an argument. His ass is too lazy to find a compromise, so instead he just gives in with obvious displeasure.

And arguing with Zom is never boring, so why wouldn’t Lament start one?

“Out of detergent. And your socks reek of dirt, mold, and cheese. Your socks are rank, no thanks,” Zom responds. He shoots Lament a disgusted look at the mention of how bad that guy’s socks actually smell. Lament shrugs it off, not fazed by his comment.

“Now you’re just being hurtful.”

“Shut up.”

The bait wasn’t taken, unfortunately. Lament squints his eyes at him, trying to think of another plan. Sneak attacks? Maybe, but Zom’s been shown to be pretty good at deflecting those when on guard. The guy never talks about his AU, but it’s pretty obvious he’s dealt with sneak attacks, jumpscares… a lot, actually. Convincing isn’t working, and usually never works. The guy’s as stubborn as a mule when agitated.

Maybe slowly inching there until Zom forgets or gets comfortable might be the best approach… And the most boring. Damn.

A while later after putting up with the (excruciating (not really)) barrier between him and Zom, Lament lets out a sigh of relief after the movie ends. He hopes Zom put up the barrier for only the movie, because keeping this bit up this long is childish.

Zom just so happens to be incredibly childish because the pillow still hasn’t moved. Not an inch.

Leaning back to stretch, Lament puts his arms up on the couch. Despite his hand being inches from Zom, he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t move?

Either he doesn’t care, or he’s too caught up trying to pick another movie from this shitty free movie app. This might be good. Either way, there’s a chance Lament could get away with scooting closer.

Another moment passes, and Lament scoots closer. Then closer. And again. closer. By this point, the pillow is nearly fully behind him, and his arm could comfortably wrap around Zom’s shoulder. Still, he’s unsure if Zom is incredibly focused, or just doesn’t care. Testing that theory, Lament brings his hand down, but before he can make contact, Zom shoots a nasty glare.

“I said don’t touch me.”

Lament frowns and gives him a bored look. “You can wash the shirt.”

“Too lazy,” is the response he’s met with as Zom turns to continue scrolling on the TV. Lament rolls his eyes, annoyed, and puts his hand on Zom’s shoulder anyway.

Zom turns to look at him, but is quickly stopped as both arms are wrapped around him, and a.. surprisingly heavy weight knocks him down to lay back against the armrest of the couch. Within a matter of minutes, the two are in a cuddling position on the couch. As soon as everything settles and what just happened catches up to Zom. he begins to retaliate, pushing against Lament to get him off.

“Dude! What the hell! I just— I told you I don’t want you touching me! Now I’ll have to wash everything, and take a shower!” His exclamations are ignored as Lament picks up the remote Zom dropped and puts on a random movie, not caring enough to read through the summary.

“Thank god you’ll finally take a shower.” He chuckles to himself, but is cut off by an instinctive ‘ow’ as he feels Zom lift a knee (with struggle) to (weakly) knee him.

okay thats all…. til next time chat

#reanimated #zom x lament #underzom sans #underzom #undeadtale sans #undeadtale #undertale #undertale oc #utmv

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inbarfink · 1 year

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You know, outside of all the obvious reasons why Simon’s Bad Crown Plan was Obviously Bad - there is one extra reason the series itself didn’t directly acknowledge. That is, while wearing the Magic Crown can grant any ol’ schmuck ice powers

It generally doesn’t seem to give them the Full Ice Wizard Transformation Treatment, with all the Madness and Sadness that comes with it

Unless the previous Wielder is dead.

So presumably, what Simon was trying to find wasn’t just any Magic Crown, it was a Magic Crown who wasn’t attuned to any other wearer and probably because the previous wearer is dead. But in the show it just never directly came up since the non-destroyed Crowns we’ve actually encountered were:

The Extinctworld Magic Crown, over whom the majority of the Drama actively revolves around - whose wielder was indeed long dead before Simon and Friends even got there.

The Vampireworld Magic Crown, where killing the wielder of the Crown was already kinda taken as granted as part of the plan for getting it.

And even when that plan got derailed and our trio was considering taking the Magic Crown and bailing - it was also explicitly stated that just knocking the thing off his head could’ve dispelled the clouds blotting out the sun and killed him anyways.

Then there’s the Winterworld Magic Crown, where despite Cake’s… eagerness

Simon and Fionna never make any attempts to get the Crown from the Winter King, but also this guy does also pretty much immediately says he's willing to help them in ways that don't involve taking his specific Crown.

And at the same time it is notable that as soon as he does die

Simon is pretty quick to try to loot his ‘corpse’.

So, really from the immediacy of his actions here, I feel like he is aware that needs a Magic Crown not immediately bound to a living person.

With the possibility of infinite crowns in infinite circumstances, I’m going to assume Simon’s plan was, if he found a Crown bound to someone’s below Vampire King’s level of ‘apocalyptic supervillain slowly killing the whole planet’ level of awfulness and also without Winter King's capacity and (supposed?) willingness to help - they’d just hope on to the next universe and try again.

And obviously I understand that, narratively speaking, for the sake of Simon’s character arc - Crown Quest kinda had to remain focused on Simon’s own self-sacrifice and the price he felt he had to pay for the sake of Fionnaworld. But… I do wonder, with how desperate the situation got in Episodes 7 and 8…and with Simon previously already seeing death as preferable to the curse of the Magic Crown…

... What would have happened if it seemed like the last chance to save Fionnaworld was a Crown bound to a living Ice King? Would Simon even consider upping the number of sacrifices needed to keep Fionnaworld eternal from one to two? Especially if he can rationalize it as the ‘Mercy Killing’ he never got? Or would the second his Purpose involve any sort of destruction that isn’t purely self-destruction is the point that this plan is off the hook?

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #fionna & cake #at #fac #f&c #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time simon #fionna and cake simon #fionna and cake show #fionna and cake series #simon petrikov #simon adventure time

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writeyouin · 8 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

Who were you, really?

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

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