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thatonedaydream · 2 months

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Don’t really wanna be Elevator Buddies (Sephiroth x Reader)

A/N: Part 1 here. im suffering sufficiently at my current job that im leaving that i think i can write something because i need an outlet and i also want sephiroth to make it better. also, i am so much older than when i wrote the first part; as such, my writing probably reads a lot more different - better, worse or same is up to you. to those who have requested a part 2 and have waited literal years (its been 4!!!!!), i love you, i'm so sorry its so late.

★★★★★

Staring at the message in your work inbox, you suddenly couldn’t summon the effort to care. Your mood instantly dropped and you needed to leave your desk. You kept your headset on as you wandered towards the small staff kitchen under the guise that you were still connected to a meeting and listening in, when really you just want to block people out. You didn’t want to be perceived.

You just wanted out.

ShinRa Inc wasn’t known as the best place to work, but the pay was good and it was better than any other options you had.

The coffee machine rumbled as you waited for it to process your order. You didn’t even want to drink the cheap, watered down stuff, you just didn’t want to be at your desk looking at that stupid fucking request. There wasn’t much that could get your out of these kinds of emotional troughs bar one thing that seemed to always work.

You felt the vibration of a notification from your phone in your pocket. Knowing what and who it was probably from, you eagerly checked the new message that had come through. It was just a photo of blue sky with some clouds—the tops of greenery you didn’t recognise lined the bottom. It was very abstract and out of context, but you were used to it now.

Putting aside your misery for the moment, you typed out a short response.

I can’t beat that. This is my view.

You took a photo of the ceiling above you. Stark, stale and claustrophobic in comparison to the natural sky you were given. You sent it off and only a few seconds later, received a thumbs up in response. It made you laugh.

Sephiroth was a terrible at texting sometimes, but it was endearing in way.

When you had first traded contact details a little after The Elevator Incident, it had taken a while before anything was sent from either of you. You were too scared of bothering him and he was more than likely too busy or just didn’t know what to send. It also felt like trading personal IDs was crossing into an entirely different friend territory that wasn’t as nonchalant as impromptu elevator conversations.

The messaging ice was broken when, one day, you got a single image of chocobo out in the wild with no context. If you didn’t have Sephiroth’s ID saved, you would have wondered if someone had messaged the wrong person. Your response was a quick ‘I love chocobos, they’re so cute!’, and your reward several hours later was a picture of a sweetly sleeping chocobo in a stable.

Sephiroth was a man of very few words, but he still found ways to communicate with you and that honestly made you feel… Well, you weren’t sure you wanted to admit what you were feeling too much. You knew you had feelings for the man, that you were attracted to him, but those feelings had no where to go. You couldn’t tell him.

For many reasons, you just couldn’t ever tell him about your ever growing affection for him.

You just couldn’t.

You wandered back to your desk, completely forgetting about the coffee you had made in the kitchen. The message from the 1st Class Soldier perked you up way more than the caffeine would have anyway. You scrolled through your requests again and sighed. It was probably going to be another late night in the office. Maybe you’d just call in sick tomorrow.

You worked a few more hours, eyeing your phone and hoping for more messages, but none came. Sephiroth was often the one to initiate conversation as you still felt like you would bother him if you sent something first. Still… You kind of really wanted to talk to someone—to him, specifically. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send one message?

Picking up your phone you opened up your chat and tried to think of something to say. You typed out several things, but kept deleting them. ‘Hello’ felt too formal, ‘Hi!’ seemed too chipper.

Is something wrong?

The message popped up before you could send something yourself.

!!! No! I was just about to message you. How are you?

There was a pause—and then a short voice message.

▶• ıll— “Are you sure you’re alright? Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”

You could hear the smile in his words and you flushed upon the realisation that he must have seen your stupid three dots pop up and disappear constantly in the chat. You playfully hissed your own voice note back,

▶• ıll— “Ohhh shut up, I just didn’t want to bother you!”

Putting your phone down, you peeked over your divider and looked around to see if anyone else could hear you. It was fairly late in the office, way past usual business hours, so you could see some screens still lit up around the space, but there wasn’t anyone near you.

Your phone pinged a few times, indicating new messages. Some more photos, but this time of more a familiar sight—the Midgar cityscape.

I’m back.

It had been awhile since he had left on his last mission. You were glad he was back safe, not that you’d tell him that now. You sent off a quick, mildly motion blurred snap of your desk and sent it off.

A question mark? A question mark to what? The photo wasn’t that blurry.

It’s my desk.

Are you still working? It’s late.

Ohhhh… You cringed; it was late. Honestly if you didn’t procrastinate with absolute loathing and low morale earlier in the day you probably could have been home already, but you couldn’t push through the negativity.

Yeah, its been a rough day.

You waited for a response, but none came. Sephiroth went inactive spontaneously during your conversations, so it wasn’t surprising. Instead you put your phone down and continued on a project that was behind on its deadlines. Technically all of them were behind, but this one you at least had the energy to push through for now.

An hour later your phone pinged a couple times. A photo of the elevator you used everyday to get to up to your floor and:

Time to leave.

You stared at the message, biting your lip. Even if you wanted to leave, there was still things to be done and—

Do I have to drag you out?

▶• ıll— “Okay! Alright! I’m packing up, hold your damn chocobos. I’m leaving now.”

Who knew Sephiroth could be so pushy? During the long elevator ride down to the lobby, you wondered if maybe he only showed this side of himself to people he trusted or cared about. The thought made your stomach flip.

It could also have been that people never really gave Sephiroth the opportunity to be himself. It was an upsetting thought. He was the 1st Class Soldier, a warrior that couldn’t be toppled, a man way above the norm. Untouchable. Distant. You knew what his public image was like, but still somehow you couldn’t fathom how people couldn’t consider that there was another side to him.

The side of him that you always got to see.

The same Sephiroth that you saw was waiting for you as the elevator doors opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He stood by the empty reception desk with his arms crossed, looking out the front entrance. When he heard your footsteps he turned to face you almost immediately. The man’s expression would have seemed stoic to others, but you recognised the warmth in his mako-infused gaze.

What if you were the only person he looked at that way? You held your smile steady even as your heart argued with your head to accept that maybe that’s what you really wanted.

It felt like Sephiroth’s gaze only intensified as you approached him. “...You look awful.” His voice was low, quiet, but still teasing. There was a chuckle in there too, somewhere in his deep tone. Sure you had heard it recently in the voice message, but it wasn’t the same as hearing him speak to you in person.

“That’s so mean, Seph. Not even a proper greeting for me? Wow.” Even though you were exhausted, you automatically matched his manner. “You look…” Oh, you couldn’t tell him how you really felt about how he looked. There were so many adoring and affectionate words, yet somehow still not enough. “...Like you?” You finally sputtered out after filtering all the other things that your mouth wanted to say.

The 1st Class Soldier gifted you with a short laugh and you struggled to hold back the burst of emotions that bloomed in your chest. “You are so mean to me.” This interaction wasn’t like the others. This didn’t feel like the light playful chats in the elevator. When did these interactions change? When did all the same words that you used to use before suddenly mean something different?

Sephiroth suddenly leaned closer towards you, a small smirk crossing his lips. “I am nice to you.” The way he spoke was next to a purr, “Did you want me to be mean?” It felt like the mako glow in his eyes brightened for a moment; he was close enough that you could see specks of the otherworldly green in his irises.

You wanted to die on the spot. He was not flirting with you, no matter how much it felt like it. No way. However, before you could stop yourself, you replied quietly. “...I like it when you’re nice to me.” The look on Sephiroth’s face melted into something else—something just as warm, just as intense, but something so much more genuine and it immediately scared you. Before he could say anything more you let out dismissive laugh. “Phew, I am a lot more exhausted than I thought. I-I should probably get home.”

Maybe the fear was reflected in your expression. Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and stoic demeanor and you wanted to apologise—it was hard not to feel as though you had just ruined something important. Casual conversation you could navigate. This? What was this?

Of course you’d find a way to make a bad day worse. Of course you’d ruin a good thing. Of course you’d—

A large hand pressed into your lower back and guided you forwards, interrupting your downward spiraling thoughts. When you looked up at Sephiroth beside you, he simply watched and waited for you to take the lead. Nothing in how he looked at you had changed from when you had first exited the elevator. “There’s a car waiting for you outside.” That voice you so adored, was steady and warm and sure. Still the same.

Quietly you stepped outside with Sephiroth in tow. He opened the car door for you, nodding to the driver who did the same in return. You sat in the back seat, with the soldier leaning outside on the vehicle, looking in to make sure you were comfortable.

“...Bye Seph.” You really did sound tired.

Sephiroth didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t as heavy as the one inside the lobby. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Goodnight.” You knew there was something else he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. There was another pause before he shut the door for you.

You leaned back in your seat and let the butterflies run rampant in your belly, let the buzz run through your veins, let it hum through your body. You covered your hands with your face. It felt like there was still something left to say, a conversation left unfinished.

From outside the ShinRa building, Sephiroth watched as you were driven away out of sight. He stood there, holding what he really wanted to say to you in his throat.

It was frustrating for him to know he could physically conquer any fight, any conflict, except for whatever he could see going on in your eyes. Did you know that he could see you becoming more and more tired with each interaction you had? It frustrated him to no end knowing that people took advantage of you and your time and your efforts. Idiots. Fools.

How could he put into words how you made him feel? Sephiroth was no good at words. He just wanted to keep you safe. He just wanted you not to be tired. He just wanted you to always smile when you saw him—a smile that said you were genuinely happy to see him. Not the 1st Class Soldier, but happy to see Sephiroth himself.

The man snapped out of his reverie as his phone pinged with a message. A voice note from you.

▶• ıll— “...I missed you, Sephiroth. Welcome home.”

Sephiroth stared at the screen of his phone.

And then he replayed the message, just to hear your voice again.

#reader x sephiroth #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii imagines #final fantasy 7 imagines #ffvii imagines #ff7 imagines #final fantasy imagines

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zelda-references · 9 months

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hello! thank you for this blog, having these references is really helpful!! i don't have totk on hand, so i was wondering: is it possible to compare the sizes of the dragons in totk? specifically, the light dragon to the three elemental dragons? i'm not sure what's the best way to figure this out

I decided to use link as my unit of measurement for size comparisons because I honestly couldn't think of anything else. anyway, onto the dragon info!

all four dragons have 31 spikes along their back, including the smaller one behind their horns/hair and the horizontal ones on their tails. the spikes vary in size but these pictures of link are next to the spike above each dragon's first pair of legs:

all of the dragons are roughly the same length (I'm sorry but I wasn't gonna count how many links long they are) and all about 4.5 links tall

the dragons each have six legs with four talons on each leg. they have two sets of legs in the front half of their body and one set of legs in the back half. I believe each talon is about 1 link tall but it's hard to be sure when the dragons never hold still and the wind currents are a pain (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

the biggest difference between dragons (aside from the obvious color schemes and elemental powers) is their heads. their bodies, legs, talons, spikes, and tails appear to be the same size

the biggest difference is the light dragon's head compared to that of the others. while the three elemental dragons have unique horns (dinraal's two curved horns, farosh's long singular horn, and naydra's collection of smaller spiky horns), they share a common head shape. the light dragon, however, has a completely different head. her snout is much longer and her eyes are bigger!

I hope I covered everything you needed but let me know if I missed anything!

other dragon posts can be found here (will update this post as I add more):

light dragon

dinraal - I'm going to make a part two soon now that totk has made it much easier to get pictures of the dragons

#ask #loz #tloz #zelda #dinraal #farosh #naydra #light dragon #totk #loz totk #tears of the kingdom #dragon #totk spoilers #(just in case)

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egophiliac · 1 year

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This may seem a bit dumb question for someone who's main in en server. But I need to prepare myself before chap 6 is coming. Anyway, is chap/book Ignihyde gonna be THAT hard?? I've seen a lot people kept saying they're not ready for chap 6 or good luck for 'that' battle. Is it that difficult?

some preparation would be a good idea, actually! if you just want advice with absolutely no potential spoilers (even vague ones), then I'll say this:

the best thing you can do for yourself is -- for the later part of episode 6 -- try to have at least one SR or SSR card no lower than level 40 for as many characters as possible (specific ones at the bottom 👇👇👇). I've seen 40 as the minimum recommended level but honestly, go as high as you reasonably can, especially with your SSRs.

I'll try to keep spoilers to a minimum, hopefully it'll still make sense :')

SO! most of the frustration revolves around chapters 6-66 and 6-67, which are both split into subroutes with multiple subchapters/battles that follow three different groups of characters. you have to finish all three routes to get to the next chapter, and they force certain requirements that can make it a lot more difficult if you aren't careful:

you build your teams at the start of the chapter, and can't change them without resetting your progress. (if I remember right, you do get a chance to rebuild for 6-67.)

teams are built by character, instead of by card like they normally are, and each one has 2-3 required characters locked into that team. you can use any cards of that character, but you can't use multiple of the same character, or use them in a different team. also, no guest/friend cards.

they tell you what the element of the bosses are, but the other battles are just...whatever. if you can manage more than one 40+ card for a character, having good type coverage will help out a lot (why yes, I did get stuck for an embarrassing amount of time on a low-level rando because I got unlucky with type matchups, what about it).

there's a couple of points where you have to wait several real-time hours before continuing. this doesn't have anything to do with the team building, it was just annoying. c'mon. >:(

to be fair, I think some of the general frustration comes from how out of nowhere it was, so it's sure to be much easier if you go in with some idea of what it'll be like. (on my first attempt I tried to be cute and put everybody with their friends. it...did not go well.) I also had a particularly hard time of it because 1) F2P = less SSRs to carry me, and 2) I hadn't really focused on any cards outside of my special little garden of favorites, so not being able to use multiples of the same character for everything kinda left me boned. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel great when I finally got through it though!

more specific info:

in 6-66, the bosses are a 5-turn survival battle; in 6-67, they're infinite battles (reduce their HP to 0 to win) and, subsequently, much harder to get past. personally speaking, the Wood one was the hardest for me because it heals itself between turns (and also I had literally no good Rook cards at the time). your mileage may vary!

Team 1 - required characters are Vil, Epel and Rook, boss element is Wood

Team 2 - required characters are Leona and Jamil, boss element is Water

Team 3 - required characters are Riddle and Azul, boss element is Fire

teams are 5 characters as per the usual, so make sure you have good cards of the required boys and at least six to complement them, plus a few more if you want to be careful. this is ONLY for those two chapters, which are pretty late in the episode (for JP it came out as part of the final episode 6 update) so you've got time to prep!

there's the obligatory overblot battle later on that is technically harder (stronger + more HP and all that), but it felt SO much easier in comparison just because it was back to normal Twst rules. really hoping that episode 7 doesn't pull its own shenanigans 💀

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland episode 6 spoilers #going overboard on the spoiler warnings i know #it really isn't much of anything #i know twst spoilers are SUPER hard to avoid though (especially main story!) so i've been trying to tag appropriately and all #and honestly if anyone's managed to dodge them so far then they are more powerful than i will ever be #who am i to tell them nay

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chirpsythismorning · 2 years

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It would appear I am indeed one of the very few optimistic (delusional?) Bylers left.

Not saying that if you feel hopeless and need to move on, that you can't. A lot of you have been through this before with other shows. Again and again. You’re tired and fed-up and you have every right to be.

Technically, Season 5 won't be out for another 2+ years anyways, which means the best thing for everyone regardless is to get whatever we need off our chests now and then to just go on a hiatus for the foreseeable future.

When it comes to how I feel about Vol. 2, there were definitely at least a few good moments. If this season has anything going for it, it’s the emotional value. This is without a doubt the most I’ve cried ever while watching the show. One scene in particular that had me on the floor was the scene with Will and El reuniting and hugging. And of course the scene with Will and Mike in the van (DAMN YOU NOAH SCHNAPP FOR MAKING ME SOB SO HARD ALL DAY THAT I GOT A MIGRAINE!)

But yes, I am a Byler. So you could say I was a bit disappointed in that department.

And yet still, I think my take on the later part of season 4 is much different from the majority.

Because personally, I don’t think that what played out in Vol. 2 means that Byler is dead. If anything, I believe it to be more endgame than I did before (well, at least in comparison to pre-s4. There’s no denying pre-Vol. 2 confidence levels remain unmatched. Truly the best era for the Byler fandom to date).

I think my main issue is, like so many of us on here, I thought it was guaranteed we would get to see Mike become aware of Will’s feelings.

Alas, we did not.

And to be totally clear, without this revelation, Byler can’t go anywhere.

Neither forwards, nor technically backwards.

This means the baiting game is not over. Which as bad as it sounds, is why I’m still so optimistic…

Now, if they had made Will’s feelings obvious to Mike, or even the fact that Will is gay as being obvious to Mike, but STILL had Mike behave the way he did in Vol. 2, now THAT would have sucked. It would have been canon rejection on Mike’s end.

But we didn’t even get rejection from Mike.

Instead, we got Will coming off as a hardcore M*leven shipper in Mike's eyes, all while the audience was getting the exact opposite interpretation of this situation; that Will is helplessly in love with Mike.

Will is able to voice the extent of his love, albeit through advice to Mike about his own situation with El, in a way that no one else on the show has been able to. Most of the other characters need a bunch of bystanders to make them realize their feelings and push them in that direction. But Will, he doesn’t need someone holding his hand along the way, telling him what the right thing to do or say is. His love isn’t something he needs to really think about in order to understand it. It just is.

(Which is SO fucking ironic when you think about how Mike always needs help with figuring out his feelings for El and even sounds like he’s reading off a script when he’s trying to explain himself to her. Whereas with Will, s2 monologue teas, it’s the most natural thing Mike’s ever done. Unscripted, straight from the heart… And both Vol. 1-2 continued to drive home this concept, so maybe jot that down..)

It’s just that, unfortunately, in Will’s eyes, Mike will never return this love, which means his only option is to let Mike go. If supporting Mike and El’s relationship means putting himself dead last in every respect, so that his best friend and his sister can be happy, Will is going to do just that.

But as far as Mike knows, Will holds no romantic feelings for him. I mean after all, Will is guiding Mike literally every step of the way to confessing his love to El, and that doesn't sound like the behavior of someone who’s in love with you, now does it?

So why would Mike, throw everything on the line, including the survival of their family and friends in Hawkins by not simply just telling his gf he loves her? All while El is right there loving him and needing his love to fight (presumably), with Will beside him literally rooting for him to do just that? This is very obviously the only option in Mike’s eyes.

Which is ironic, because in a way, I think that Mike has truly never seen him and Will as an option, just like Will, but for an entirely different reason.

Mike views his feelings for Will as childish, something he will grow out of, or at least should have by now.

“We’re not kids anymore. What did you think, really? That we were never going to get girlfriends? That we were just going to sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?”

If Mike can’t love El, then how can he possibly love any women? She’s special. She’s a superhero. He HAS to love her, right? It’s the best option he could ever possibly have. Well, at least considering…

But what happens when suddenly, he comes to the realization that him and Will ARE an option? And that the only thing ever stopping them was himself and his inability to just be honest with everyone and himself?

I think the truth is, there’s a reason that they’re holding off on this revelation for Mike.

It will be a catalyst. It will change everything.

Now, how exactly do you think Mike is going to react to this? The fact that Will was in love with him this whole time and he had no idea?

Honestly, I think he’s going to react horribly, but not for the reason everyone assumes.

Because I would argue that, if Mike was going to react badly with disgust or even just let Will down nicely to confirm it’s indeed unrequited, then the Duffer’s would have just given this revelation up by now. But they haven’t.

Once Mike finds out that Will is (probably always will be) in love with him, and that instead of telling him, Will used his love to help Mike get closer to El, even when Mike himself was having doubts over and over? That Will went as far as to lie about the painting he worked so hard on for Mike in order to rekindle their dying friendship, to instead insinuate it was commission from El, to give Mike that final push he needed to even have the courage to tell El he loved her? That all the moments like this that they shared as of late, was really just Will talking about himself? That the only reason he was able to tell El he loved her in the first place, was because he was so moved by Will’s love for him??

This is going to break Mike.

And let’s be real here, two episodes would not have done this revelation justice.

So now, just knowing the direction they went for Vol. 2, as well as coming to terms with it, I have reached the conclusion that, despite how bleak things seem now, ‘maybe all of this is happening for a reason’ (s2 Mike Wheeler, we miss u).

Which brings me to the other most important piece of the puzzle, which is that, arguably, El needs to be the one who ends things once and for all.

The general audience has been given the impression El is head over heels in love with Mike, and so of course they were rooting for Mike to get on with it and just tell her he loved her.

But that’s the interesting part. He finally did tell her, but her reaction in the aftermath was not something a lot of fans expected.

It seems that she’s distancing herself from Mike, a fact that Will acknowledges to Mike later at Hopper’s cabin, with Mike genuinely confused because he thought he did the one thing he had to do.

He told her he loved her. Which makes everything alright now, right?

But maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe the reminder we got, of that speech from Max to El, about how she didn’t need Mike or Hopper or ANY man to know her worth, was foreshadowing for what honestly needs to happen in order for El to really process and realize her own true feelings about Mike.

Because, although I do believe El genuinely thought she loved Mike, is it possible that Mike was not only having doubts about saying it because of the reasons he argued, or even because of some repressed feelings for Will, but also because El hadn’t given him what he needed to truly believe she loved him.

Mike, like a lot of people, doesn’t need to hear “I love you” to believe that someone loves him.

“I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He wants something more meaningful, or more specifically, something along the lines of the speech Will gave to him in the van.

Will’s confession disguised as El’s, was what Mike needed to finally say I love you to El...

Something I think we also got caught up in, is this idea that the Duffer’s were just going to drop M*leven and throw in Byler, with everything else going on, while they still have a whole ass season to promote for another 3+ years, and to their mostly 80’s loving homophobic audience. If Byler is going to happen, it’s going to be the definition of slow-burn and endgame. That’s literally the only way.

This puzzle is complex, which sucks if you want all the answers now, because we’re just not going to get them. If they give up all their moves, then what is the point of telling the story at all?

Other pieces of the puzzle include things that arguably still need to happen before Byler can, even regardless of the constraints they have as show-runners who run the biggest show on Netflix’s dying platform.

Things like Will and El’s love for each other as brother and sister. Considering all the fans that said Will hates El because he didn’t stand up to her bullies or that he’s a home-wrecker who just wants to get with her boyfriend, is why I do think they needed to debunk these insinuations within the narrative. And boy oh boy did they deliver on that front. Will is the most selfless son of a bitch on the planet, who loves his best friend and his sister so much. They made that very clear. And you can see that despite a few homophobes here and there, the general audience's reaction to Will in Vol 2 is sympathy and to Mike it's confusion and betrayal...

Hmm, making El realize she doesn't even love Mike, after making Will's unrequited feelings for Mike more clear, after making Mike behave like an IDIOT this entire time juggling these two relationships, only for him to become aware of whats going on, and to clearly be in love with Will?

Sounds like a good way to set up Byler to an audience that might not have humored it before...

And like I said, with how important I do think it was for this to happen in order for them to go the Byler route, is why I don’t necessarily see this approach as a bad thing. We even got the Will and El hug in 4x08, which maybe it’s just because Noah and Millie are so close, but I would easily rank that on my top most well-earned moments in the whole show.

We NEEDED that. Especially in terms of what is likely to come in season 5 with Byler endgame...

Also, yes the Will angst sucked and it's just trauma porn at this point. I’m not going to deny that fully. I agree with pretty much all of the criticism in regards to how they chose to do certain things when they didn't necessarily have to, but I also simultaneously am able to understand that it again, maybe this is all happening for a reason. If they are indeed going to have Will play a big role in the final season, than them forgetting his birthday, Mike being oblivious and all this other shit he's been through combined, sets up a really arc for him next season, not even necessarily a villain one, but all of this pain has the potential to lead to a happy ending. And I'm being full serious.

Like we have Finn Wolfhard saying the ending of Stranger Things will be like the ending of Schitt’s Creek??? That it will end at it's highest point. The last episode of Schitt’s Creek is literally a happily ever after gay wedding, there's no other way to interpret that…

We also know that a lot of ideas for the last seasons were planned from the beginning, with David Harbour saying that he knew the ending way back in s2 and that it's beautiful and has been the intended plan all along. That there's easter eggs that will have us going 'WOW this is what we've been watching the whole time'? That it's wonderful?

If you’re the level of Byler truther that believes they were somewhat planned all along from the beginning, then you would also know that if they plan a happy ending for Mike and Will, then they would have no problem killing us this painfully in the beginning of the end, because they know we’ll be the ones cheering on by the actual end, and it'll be the homophobes who are pissed and stuck with this result forever as endgame.

I’m just saying, don’t be surprised when s5 gets closer and we actually see them promoting Byler… like a lot. And we actually start getting in canon hints at scenes with El herself even trying to get them together.

Groveling Mike Wheeler era?

Will finding a potential new love interest and Mike pining/jealous?

Come ONNN! You guys are way more delusional than you’re giving yourselves credit for and I urge you to join me!!!

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multifandomfanficss · 8 months

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Home Is Wherever You Are P2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: You take Adrian, Gut, and Chris school shopping. It might be harder to keep the timeline in tact than you originally thought.

Warnings: mentions of/implied child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: I’ve decided to start with biweekly updates! I’m post on Saturday and Wednesday. I’ll also be posting on my new AO3 adriansglasses. I’ve actually added all of my old work there as well. Hope you guys enjoy!

“You’re the most attractive person I’ve seen in my entire life.” Adrian smiles at you.

“Shut up. No, I’m not.” You blush hiding your face from your boyfriend.

“Don’t hide.” He pushes your hands away from your face. “Please don’t hide your pretty face. It’s like the prettiest face I’ve ever seen and even if it wasn’t- which would be totally absurd like have you even seen yourself? You’re so hot- anyway more to the point. Your personality is so attractive to me that you’re automatically that much hotter. That’s just math babe. Do two wrongs make a right?” You laugh at his comparison. To someone else that may not make sense, but to many people Adrian never made sense. To you, he always made perfect sense.

“You’re too nice to me.” You say smiling at him.

“Well you’re the only one who’s nice to me sometimes period and your pain in the ass loves you very much.” He kisses you.

“I never said you were a pain in the ass!” You laugh. He gives you a look.

“Okay, I may have said it once or twice, but I didn’t mean it. I was just teasing you.” You kiss him on the cheek as he holds you close.

“It’s okay. I know I’m annoying and hard to deal with sometimes.” You turn his face to look directly in your eyes so he knows you’re serious.

“Not to me.”

September 1st, 1994

You woke up to the sound of the chunky alarm clock on the nightstand. You could hear somebody cooking downstairs. You used the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen to find Diane making breakfast.

“Morning! I’m running a little later than usual this morning, so all I could really manage was toast and eggs. Hope that’s okay.” She gave you a sympathetic smile.

“That’s more than okay. I usually skip breakfast half the time anyway.” You admit.

“You shouldn’t do that. Adrian’s always trying to skip breakfast. He doesn’t like most breakfast foods. I’ve been trying to make sure he eats more of them.” You have to bite back a comment about how his future self is still just as annoyed by the concept. You think back to all his rants about how breakfast doesn’t make sense because it’s foods you can only eat in the morning. He was always annoyed that he couldn’t order pancakes at dinner time or a burger for breakfast unless he was in a diner. It just didn’t make sense to him. ‘What?! Suddenly diners don’t have to follow the rules?! It’s all just a bullshit societal construct!’ You could hear his voice now.

“You could have called me down to help.” You say as the food sizzles in the pan.

“You were sleeping. You had a long day yesterday. I need your help with something while I’m at work anyway.” She says, turning to take the toast out of the toaster.

“What can I do for you?” You ask without debate. She’s helped you a lot and she is Adrian’s mom after all. You never thought you’d get to meet her outside of an ouija board. It’s the least you can do in your current situation.

“I have an envelope in my room for you with back to school money in it. It’s mostly just tip money I’ve been saving up from the restaurant. If you could bring the boys into town to get school clothes that would be wonderful. Adrian needs a little bit of everything. He just went through a big growth spirt. Dorian mostly needs new sneakers, but he should get a pair of jeans and maybe a couple shirts. There’s enough money in there to get a few things for Chris because God knows his father won’t do it. There should also be a little leftover if you want to get anything for yourself.” She says, beating the eggs.

“For me?” You question.

“You showed up with no clothes. You can have some of my old clothes, but I doubt you have the style of a divorced mom with two and a half kids. You should get one or two things you actually like.” She laughs.

“No, Diane I- I couldn’t-“

“Yes, you can and you will. This is basically just payment for the nannying gig.”

You smile at her. “Okay, fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

After cooking breakfast and saying goodbye to the boys, Diane was off to the office for the day. She was a secretary at a nearby law firm. Waitressing was only her second job to help pay the bills after her husband left for another man.

“Dorian, do you know where Adrian’s shoes are?” You ask as you chase Adrian around the living room, trying to get him ready to leave. He had so much energy. You couldn’t say you were surprised.

“That’s not my name.” He sat there with his face in his gameboy, barley giving you the time of day. He was just radiating 12 year old angst. Honestly you couldn’t blame him. He was 12, Chris was 13, and they were both about to enter 7th grade. That’s hard enough on its own. It’s probably a lot harder when your mom is asking you to help look after your 3 year old brother because your dad just left because he’s gay. It’s 1994 in Evergreen, Washington and his best friend’s dad is the biggest homophobe in the country. None of this must be easy on him.

“What do you wanna be called?” You ask. He tears his eyes away from his gameboy to give you a look. It’s almost like nobody’s ever asked him or cared for his opinion.

“Gut.” He answers.

“Yeah that’s a much cooler name. My dad says Dorian is a pansy name.” Chris says, continuing to channel surf.

“Christopher Smith that is not nice and will not be tolerated when I’m around. Understand?” You know you can’t tell him his dad is wrong. You know if he challenges his dad now he might not make it back alive, so you hold your tongue for now.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He huffs.

“Actually, as your babysitter, I can.” You turn to Gut. “Okay Gut, where’s your brother’s shoes?” You try again.

“By the door, under the bench.” He informs you.

“Thank you.” You smile, bringing Adrian to sit on the bench, so you can put on his shoes. There’s two pairs under the bench. You lift them up for him to choose between. One pair has dinosaurs on them and the other pair lights up. He very excitedly points at the light up ones. You can’t get him to sit still long enough to put on the shoes, so eventually you inevitably drop one.

“Motherfucker!” Adrian exclaims in his loud toddler voice.

“Adrian!” You say in shock. You want to laugh because this is so him, but you don’t wanna be blamed for this one. He’s only 3. He giggles at your reaction of the forbidden word.

“Motherfucker!” He says it again in a fit of giggles.

“Buddy, you can’t say that. That’s a grownup word. If you say it too many times you have to go to work and pay taxes.” You try to persuade him against the word.

“What’s taxes?” He asks.

“Taxes are what grown ups have to pay to people. They give a lot of money that you don’t have, so you shouldn’t say that word. Also not paying is a crime. I don’t wanna pay taxes, so I’m not gonna say it.” You try to bargain with him using toddler logic.

“But Dor and Chris say it!” He objects.

“Well, Dor and Chris are gonna have to pay taxes soon.” Adrian begins to cry. “Why are you crying, buddy?” You wipe his tears.

“I’m scawred!” He cries.

“Of what?” You ask.

“Taxes!” He cries.

“It’s okay. You didn’t say it enough times to have to pay taxes.” You pull his small, hiccuping body into your arms, not quite sure what to do. You feel kinda bad. Parenting is fucking hard. They say never parent your boyfriend, but you were taking it to a whole new level. You don’t think this is what they meant.

Finally you had wrangled the boys together and you were on your way to the store. You had to walk because Diane had the car at work and you obviously didn’t have one, but the store wasn’t far.

“Why do we have to walk? This is fucking stupid.” Chris complained.

“Chris, knock it off. We’re at the repeating age.” You gesture to Adrian, who was jumping around the cracks on the sidewalk. Luckily he wasn’t paying attention.

“Hey, Adrian!” Chris grabs his attention.

“Chris!” Adrian runs up to him, on his wobbly little legs.

“Don’t you fucking dare-“ The words came out of your mouth before you even had the chance to realize it.

Gut laughs. “You’re the one who actually said fuck in front of him.”

“Fuck!” Adrian repeats.

“No no no no no!” You try to stop him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He says as he hops up and down with each fuck.

“No! I said…duck! I said duck!” Gut and Chris break into a fit of laugher.

“Rey’s lying, Adrian.” Gut tells him. Adrian stops giggling and his entire body language changes. He starts to cry, trying to walk away. His little legs don’t carry him very far. You turn to Gut and Chris.

“Please just stop! I just wanna get through the day. Would it kill you to just be nicer to him?!” You don’t mean to lose your temper with the boys, but you know this is only the start to a lifetime of bullying and provoking Adrian. You sigh, dropping your attitude. They’re all just kids. “Stay here for a minute.” You turn in Adrian’s direction and start racing after him.

You try to scoop his little body into your arms, but he screams at you. “NO! NO!” Okay. He’s not great with words, but he totally has no down. You decide to give him some space. Even if he’s not his adult self yet, he’s still a person. You know how easily overwhelmed he gets as an adult. You can’t imagine how upset his 3 year old self is.

“Buddy, I’m really sorry.” You apologize. Your heart breaks. You hate knowing you made him cry.

“P-p-pweas don’t weave!” He begs you not to leave through his tears.

“Hey…what’s going on? Why do you think I’m gonna leave?” You question him.

“Daddy lied to m-mommy and now he’s not here!” Adrian cries. Oh fuck. Of course he couldn’t fully grasp that his father had an affair and that’s why he’s gone.

“Adrian, listen to me. I will never leave you for something like that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Lying isn’t nice, but I’m here for you. I will always be there for you. Even if I’m not here with you, right next to you, I promise I will always love you.” You try to keep yourself from crying now. You can’t help, but think of your version of Adrian at home without you. You try to keep your tears in and stay strong for the younger version of the man you love right in front of you. They feel like different people, but they’re not. This is Adrian and you need to help him.

“Lying isn’t nice!” Adrian repeats, sniffling as his tears slow.

“You’re right. It’s not. Do you want a hug or do you not want to be touched?” You ask.

“Hug!” He cries, crashing into your open arms. You hold his little body as he cries.

“Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be with you. I love you.” Everything about this is so fucked up. You shouldn’t even be here. You’re messing with Adrian’s life. You’re messing with Chris’ life. Everything about this feels so wrong, but when he’s crying in your arms like this all you can think about is the restless nights when you’d cuddle with your boyfriend and he’d shed a tear or two about his childhood. You knew how much it effected him even now and you just wanted to protect him from all that was to come and heal all that had already happened, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Time had to run its course.

After you helped baby Adrian collect himself you joined Chris and Gut back on the sidewalk and continued your way to the store. Town was small, so the walk wasn’t long, but luckily you had a new Walmart nearby. In your day this Walmart was shitty, but in 1994 it was new. You let Gut and Chris walk around on their own with the promise they’d meet you in the men’s clothing section. You were going to take Adrian to the toddler section. Toddler clothes were cheaper and he was growing fast, so you picked out a couple different outfits for him. You grabbed some basic pants and socks that would match everything and let him pick his own shirts. He settled on a shirt with a spaceship on it that said ‘I’m so cute it’s out of this world’. He also picked a Barney shirt and an Aladdin shirt after making a comment on how both Jasmin AND Aladdin were pretty. You then brought him to your side of the clothing department to grab a shirt or two you liked before meeting up with the boys. After settling on some basic shirts, you were on your way to meet Chris and Gut when you passed the electronic isle and you caught Chris staring at a tape recorder. Even from a distance you could tell he was about to cry as he put it back on the shelf. Gut was nowhere to be seen, probably waiting in the men’s isle like was supposed to. He usually listened better.

“Hey, Chris…”

“I’m not crying!” He wipes his eyes.

“I know.” You give him a smile.

“I just got dust in my eye. They need to clean these shelves better.” He crossed his arms across his chest. You crouched down in front of Adrian.

“Hey, Ade. Why don’t you go pick out a movie for us to watch tonight from the clearance bin?” He wiggled excitedly before taking off towards the bin of cheaper VHS tapes.

“Stay where I can see you!” You called after him. He did just as you said and stayed in your line of vision as you talked to Chris more privately.

“Level with me. I know you weren’t crying, but if you had been crying…hypothetically of course…you could tell me anything. You know that, right?” You weren’t sure if you were breaking the timeline, but at this point you didn’t care. Chris deserved to be able to trust someone in his life.

“I wasn’t crying.” Chris tried to walk away from you, but you caught his arm in your hand.

“Chris, wait-“ He hissed as you made contact with his shoulder. Your jaw drops and you can almost feel tears in your eyes. You pulled up his sleeve to reveal small, circular burn marks. They were burns left behind from where his father had put out cigarettes in his arm.

“Stop starring at me like I’m a freak and just let me go.” He pushes you off of him and he walks away. You knew this job would be hard, but it’s a lot worse than you expected. You had no idea it would be this awful constant moral battle between letting these kids get hurt and keeping the timeline in tact. After realizing you were all alone and you could still see Adrian, but he wasn’t paying attention to you, you started to cry. After taking a deep breath you wiped your tears and picked up the tape recorder, putting the shirts for yourself on the shelf. Fuck it. Chris deserved something his dad couldn’t ruin. So what if you had to wear Diane’s maternity clothes and any clothes her husband left behind? You knew how much he loved music. He deserved this. Timeline be damned he deserved one fucking thing in his life untouched by his father. You hid it in the cart under some of Adrian’s clothes before heading to him digging around in the clearance vhs section.

“Rey!” He called for you as soon as he saw you.

“Adrian!” You called back, pretending to be happy. “Did you pick one?” You ask.

“This one!” He says, excitedly shoving the tape in your hands. You couldn’t help, but smile a real genuine smile. In your hands was a copy of the movie Adrian told you was his favorite growing up; The Brave Little Toaster.

“Have you seen this one?” You ask.

“No!” He smiles, hardly able to stand still.

“You’re gonna love it.” You smile, placing it in the cart. You take his hand and you both head to the men’s section to get clothes for Gut and Chris. Gut picked out a Green Day shirt, while Chris picked out a Nirvana shirt. You were happy when Chris didn’t pick up the Green Day shirt because you knew having that might get him in trouble in the next 10 years when they come out with American Idiot. His dad’s gonna hate that. These were of course considered hot new bands and most of their most famous songs weren’t even out yet. After picking out a couple more clothing items you headed to checkout. You were thankful Adrian was being such a distraction because Chris didn’t even see you put the tape recorder in the bag. With the remaining money, you took a bus to Fennel Fields for dinner where you told Diane you’d meet her on her night shift.

“Mommy!” Adrian yelled running up to her as soon walked through the door. It was nice to see him with his mother.

After grabbing a pizza you headed home. When you got there you pulled Chris aside and gave him the tape recorder.

“Happy birthday.” You said handing him the Walmart bag.

“It’s not my birthday.” He gives you a strange look.

“I know. Just think of it as an advance on your birthday gift.” You smile as he starts to open it.

“Is this mine?” He asks in shock. You nod. “Why did you do this?” He asks.

“Because you deserve something that’s yours that you enjoy.” You say as you watch his eyes well up with tears again.

“I’m not crying.” He says again.

“I know. But even if you were…it’s okay…” He stares at you for a moment before bringing you into a wordless hug. You stand there for a moment, shocked. You never expected this from him, but you wrap your arms around him anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.” You remind him. You know it won’t change the timeline much, but this time, you hope it does something.

After tucking Adrian in, you leave Gut and Chris to play video games until Diane gets home. You head to your room, flipping onto your bed with a sigh. You just hope you did the right thing. You open your phone and head to your voicemails. This has almost become routine.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking…” You close your eyes, as the voicemail plays and you begin to cry. You’ll see him again one day. You have to. You didn’t know how or when, but you had to. You’d figure it out. You’d make a plan.

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winns-stuff · 6 months

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Two things:

1 a. I don't think kidding someone's feet automatically equals foot fetish. If you have someone a kiss on the shoulder doors that mean you have a shoulder fetish?

1 b. Even if he does, that didn't automatically make him evil or a creep. Kinks and fetishes are not moral indicators and acting like they do is juvenile. It might not be for you, or even make you uncomfortable, and that's okay. Live and let live.

2. I don't think it's fair to call Persephone a homewrecker when:

a. Minthe and Hades were not exclusive. Minthe was sleeping with Thanatos - Hades' adoptive son - and Hades was sleeping with Hera anyway.

b. Minthe was emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive to Hades. I feel like everyone forgets that she literally hit him. He shouldn't have been in that relationship anyways.

Okay first off, I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was kinkshaming at all. I was honestly just joking about that comparison and one of the main reasons why I said that it reminded me of Dan Schneider and that I was repulsed was because of the “creepy” aspect of it being placed in there, it was around the end that the person said that the kink seemed like it was only given to creepy guys. I don’t care about kinks genuinely and trust me I do mind my business when it comes to those things, again my apologies if I did come off immature.

But you’re right, his kink doesn’t make him a creep but the fact that he literally is creepy, manipulative, and an overall messed up person makes him a little bit more warranted for those kinds of comments since that’s literally how he represents himself in the comic. Hades is a slave owning, hypocritical, child neglecting, abusive, and overall tyrant to everyone who’s not kissing his ass and it’s not me exaggerating it’s literally just how he is that’s him as a person overall.

And I do think it is fair to call Persephone a homewrecker based on the very fact that they were seeing each other and breaking a lot of boundaries after Hades and Minthe officially made it official. Mind you, it was Hades who wanted to close the open relationship so yeah now seeing other people and touching them beyond the appropriate interaction between an employee and boss especially is now inappropriate and not something that you can just wave the “we’re not in a closed relationship” card at. Also, by definition Persephone was one of the sole reasons that Minthe and Hades broke up since Minthe started noticing just how overly affectionate they became with each other while working so yes, she is a homewrecker. She broke a home and please don’t comment by saying “there was never a home in the first place” because there was, you can’t just give homewrecking and emotional cheating a pass because you don’t like the character they still had history.

Also, trust me when I say no one forgets that Minthe hits him. Every single time I post about Minthe I make sure to acknowledge the fact that I don’t condone her actions and actually a lot of critics do as well since there’s a lot of people like you (not saying this in a bad way by the way) that do believe that many people are Minthe stans every time you discuss her without stating that fact. But even though yes, it was a fairly toxic relationship on both sides and they should’ve broke up much sooner like I said before there was still a relationship there that they were both in. It’s still emotional cheating and homewrecking on Hades and Persephone’s part, also Persephone doesn’t even know how Minthe treated Hades she just never cared about her feelings to begin with and pursued her boyfriend basically.

Also last thing but do you know what slap everyone does tend to forget a lot? Hecate when she slapped the ever loving shit out of Hades, now I’m not saying since that happened just forget about Minthe’s behavior at all but I am saying that we should all react to that slap the same. We all agree that it’s never okay to put your hands on someone so why should we condone it when it’s not Minthe?

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical #antiloreolympus

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Text

Phantom bride event-Seeing you in formal wear (suit/wedding dress/whatever) Pt. 3

Characters: Jade Leech, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spades

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, murder, religion, obsession, possessiveness, war, manipulation, blood

Jade is famous for his gentlemanly behavior whilst also being known as someone dangerous

So what would a wannabe gentleman who can end you mentally within a short amount of time (I'm sure he can) do?

Not letting missy kiss you that's for sure

But being a hatstand (aka slap-frozen) isn't exactly helpful for him so... imagine all the anger and bloodlust which accumulates under that smile (jokes on him because I doubt that ghosts have blood within themselves)

The thing is, the moment he saw you in that clothing he was lost for words (for probably the only time in his life)

And also you could see that something inside of him was breaking

And this is Jade we are talking about

But back to the non-canon-fan-fiction-written lore

You know, Jade would usually talk someone into something by making them insecure breaking them, finding out what they love and give hints at that in their conversation...

But no, all his tactics, gone

Eels are usually beings that can cooperate very good with other beings but once they fear something or feel threatened then those shiny teeth are used

But Jade is still too elegant for that, doesn't mean that he doesn't get desperate

He just freezes up

But the second he is free he will grind the princesses self-esteem to dust

“Oh my! It took you that long to find someone suitable? Well hopefully your future can stay that way.” is one of many sentences

But after this he also becomes way more paranoid

You had limited contact before but now? The whole hallway is empty the moment you enter

But don't you worry, Jade is there for you! He wouldn't dare to do something so mean to you like the others! Just depend on him and him alone

Oh my Overseer, you have done it!

Lilia had been slicing heads off like they were warm butter whilst imagining you loving him, marrying him

But no, that foolish... useless wench just took you from him, or so he thinks

He refuses to see her in a similar position like Malleus from that point on

No, she is just another sinner who dares to question and challenge you!

If you haven't noticed, he kinda imagines things because he doesn't want to accept that you are proposing to someone who isn't him, fake or not

Lilias mindset gets thrown back to the time he fought against that foolish king, ready to turn her into sashimi

And thank goodness that 1. he was turned into a state in which he can't more and 2. that he doesn't have a sword

Don't ask me how but he would be able to turn the ceremony way more red if he had one... and if missy wouldn't be a ghost

But there is also a small dying part of him which is tearing up

On no, not because he is happy but because you just look so good

Even better than in his dreams!

Now he would take your hand and... and he is not standing in front of you

That small part is now 100% massacred

Once he is free he will make sure that there is nothing between a shared future with you and his current self

And of he has to start another war in your name, then so shall it be!

Our dear, hardworking Deuce doesn't look like someone who aims to be an honor student at all in this situation

So what happens?

You uh... might want to hug him afterwards.... otherwise I can't assure that he won't punch someone in the face hard

He is having high blood pressure as well so a visit to the doctor wouldn't be a bad idea as well...

But anyway, you enter and he goes full tomato

Or if you need another comparison, like someone who has just eaten the spicyest pepper in the world and doesn't usually eat spicy food (all my fellow Europeans, how are we doing?)

So, our dearest tomato man really doesn't hold back

He screams the entire time that “This crazy woman should get a grip!” and that “She doesn't even deserve you!”

At some point someone took a piece of cake and shoved it into his mouth to force him to be silent

The view we have now is a guy, putting red roses to shame with the color of his face, munching on a cake whilst trying not to choke by how fast he is eating

Let's not forget the guard beside him who already has the next piece in his hand whilst waiting till Deuce is done with this one

But inside of him is a dream dying

The dream of having chances with you, the Overseer, the ruling figure over the Queendom of roses

But at least he knows now that bananas and mango don't work in a cake topped with extremely sweet icing

After this is over Deuce won't care less if he becomes an honor student or not

In the end he is the only one close to you. Why? Just... don't visit the school nurse and think too much about the fact that his knuckles are bruised, ok?

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scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

Window pt 1

Steve doesn’t realize quite how much he’s put on recently (or how enamored to a certain metalhead he’s become) and gets stuck in a window.

Inspired by this. Part 2 from Eddie's POV is here.

rated: T | words: 2765 | cw: none | tags: chubby steve, pre-relationship, weight gain, steve’s bisexual awakening in progress

And, uh. Don’t have a couple beers and drive. But, like, it was the 80s, so. 🤷‍♀️

Maybe also don’t try to climb through a window when it’s the 80s and most people don’t lock their front doors anyway. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

(Would Eddie and Wayne lock the trailer, when it’s just as easy to pry a window open? I mean yeah Eddie has drugs in there but he clearly hides them well enough that even he can’t find them sometimes, so idk.)

Eddie isn’t home, but that’s okay; it’s an impulsive visit, as most of them are, so Steve knows what to do. He goes into it all confident and cocky because he’s pretty sure it’ll be easier than the other times he’s done it because the porch is right there, no drainpipe climbing required or nosey younger sibling to catch him at it with a look of annoyed disgust that will echo down through the years.

Mike still looks at him like that, no matter how many free rides or free movies he and his friends manage to wring out of Steve, which is, in Steve’s opinion, really dumb of the kid. He doesn’t even like Nancy like that anymore, for fuck’s sake, get over it Mike. (And it’s easier to go off on a tangent in his head about Mike than really examine the comparison between climbing into Nancy’s room and climbing into Eddie’s, so Steve is just rolling with it.)

Anyway, the point is, he’s got this. He pulls the BMW up a respectful distance away so that Eddie and Wayne will still have room to park later in case he’s here that long, and all but bounces out of the driver’s seat into the warm night air.

Maybe he should have thought about it a little more, because, as it turns out… he does not got this.

“Do mine eyes deceive me? Is it the King Steve, what through yonder window breaks?”

“Hi Eddie,” Steve says flatly, unsurprised. He’d heard the van rumble up, and the distinctive squeak of the driver's side door. For the last hour or so he’s resigned himself to standing by on the old easy chair on the porch, chin in his hands where his elbows rest on the dresser just inside the window. At least it’s late enough (and Lucas managed to talk Max into summer camp this year) that no one else is likely to see him.

He can hear the grin in Eddie’s reply. “Hiya, Stevie. Mind explaining what I’m coming home to here?”

Steve doesn’t want to dignify that with a response, because fuck, isn’t it obvious? But he also doesn’t want to antagonize his friend and risk being stuck in this window all night—not that he thinks Eddie would leave him here, but Steve doesn’t want to deserve to be left. With a heavy breath out through his nose, he says, “I’m a little stuck here, man. Help me out?”

Almost immediately he feels Eddie step in close, hand on his right hip where it’s caught in the window frame, and maybe just a hint of warm thumb brushing over where the skin is pink and pinched. Steve has to hold himself very still to avoid reacting to that, not completely sure he didn’t imagine it anyway.

“Out?” Eddie asks, sounding like he’s trying to calculate something in his head. “Or in?”

“Uh… whichever gets me unstuck faster, I guess?”

Eddie chuckles. “In it is, then. You must’ve been pretty determined to get in there and wait for me, you made some good progress here. I’m guessing you got to a point where you couldn’t get the angle right, huh sweetheart?”

“Jesus, Eddie…” Why did he have to put it like that? And why is it giving Steve goosebumps? “Look, I think if you just lift me by the legs a bit I can, like… walk forward on my hands, kinda, and—” He tries to demonstrate, but bumps the neck of the guitar with THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS scrawled across its front and makes a failed attempt at lunging to catch it, wincing when it thumps down against the floor.

“What was that?”

“… What was what?”

“Steve…”

“Okay okay, it was your acoustic, I’m sorry dude, I just… I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

“She’d better be, Harrington. Lucky for you my sweetheart is still safe in the van, far from your clumsy fumblings, or I might have to call in the cavalry.”

Again Steve twists, trying to look at him, and something else falls off the dresser—he thinks it’s just some sort of magazine. “Liar. I know you wouldn’t call the cops on me, Munson.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Eddie shoots back. “I’d call Robin.”

Steve grimaces again. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“And Wheeler, too. Jon’s still in town, maybe he could be persuaded to bring his camera to document this posterior for posterity.”

Suddenly Eddie’s hands are on his ass, and Steve is torn between a vivid memory of trying to shove Dustin into a vent at Starcourt and a zing of nerves that should not be linked to his pseudo-little-brother in any way, and it’s all Eddie’s fault—

The first real shove catches Steve and his flatlining brain by surprise, jostling him enough that his elbows slip and he nearly cracks his chin on the cluttered dresser surface. “Hey,” he calls sharply over one shoulder.

“Sorry sweetheart, did you need a ‘one two three go’?” Eddie pats at his ass with both hands, tapping out a little rhythm, and Steve has to restrain the urge to donkey kick him.

“This isn’t funny, Munson,” he insists. “And some sort of warning would’ve been nice, yeah.” His tone is sarcastic, but his face is burning red, and once the words are out he has to bite his lip to keep from saying anything else. Not that Steve even knows what, there’s just… something, precarious, on the tip of his brain that might spill out his mouth if he’s not careful, and he doesn’t want to find out what it is like that.

Eddie snickers. “It’s a little bit funny, but point taken. I’m going to give you another push here. Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” What a fucking day. All Steve had wanted was to smoke up a little and hang out, like they usually do. And okay, maybe he’s a little grumpy that Eddie wasn’t even home when he got here— “Where were you, anyway?” he asks, grunting and trying to wriggle forward with every shove. Might as well talk, get his mind off the vice grip the window frame has on his hips. “You’re usually—oof—here when I finish a closing shift.”

“Practice ran long,” Eddie grunts back. After the first few rounds of ready steady go he started to get more serious and really put his weight into it. “That, and Gareth’s been having some… shall we say, romantic troubles lately, and needed consolation and advice.”

Steve feels a vague prickle of jealousy, even as he manages to grip the dresser edge hard enough to hold onto a fraction of an inch of progress. “What kinda consolation? Been smoking without me, Munson?”

“No,” comes the amused reply. “Just a couple beers. I do have other friends besides you and the monster hunters club, you know.”

Which really makes Steve’s face flame, because he… doesn’t. Not anymore. Not even a girlfriend; it’s like his heart’s not fully in it anymore and they can smell that on him. He tries to replace his embarrassment (Eddie didn’t mean it like that, Steve knows he didn’t) with determination, wrenching himself forward without regard for the way the window frame’s hard metal edges scrape against his skin. He doesn’t feel the full bite of it in some places, thanks to the knots of scar tissue the Upside Down had left him with on his sides, it’s fine.

But almost immediately there’s a strong grip on the outsides of his thighs. “Woah there Stevie,” Eddie cautions, and he actually sounds concerned. “Don’t hurt yourself, man. We’ll get you out of here and get you caught up if you want, I have beer here too, alright? Just…”

“Just what?” Steve grumbles. He doesn’t know why he feels so stung, feels like Eddie ditched him—they didn’t even have plans for fuck’s sake. At most, they’ve had a string of casual hangouts roughly every other night at around the same time for a months now, but they’ve never really talked about it, never solidified anything.

He tells himself that he wouldn’t even care if he hadn’t gotten stuck in the window like an idiot, but if that’s the case then why does this show of concern feel like a cooling balm over his temper?

Eddie sighs, but not like he’s annoyed. More like… he’s choosing his words carefully. “Just, uh… try to suck in a bit?”

Blinking, Steve tries to look over his shoulder. He can’t quite see Eddie, just out of the corner of his eye, but it looks like he’s chewing on his lip. Then he pushes himself up on the dresser and looks down along the front of his body to where he’s stuck, trying to make sense of…

Oh. His face goes hot again.

The window doesn’t open very far, is the thing, and for the first time Steve fully registers that it’s not just his hips that are caught. Reddened skin peeks out from the bottom of his shirt, and some of that is because it’s ridden up during his struggles, but he also… makes contact with the top of the dresser, which comes up to about an inch or so below the frame. Now that he’s paying attention, he registers part of himself pressing against the metal of the trailer exterior, too.

He used to be pretty trim, but that had been back in high school and while running from monsters and dark wizards in an alternate dimension.

When did he get a belly?

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, and does as he’s told.

Eddie doesn’t belabor the point, just gets his hands on Steve’s ass again with a “One, two, three, push.”

And it’s still a hard drag against his front, but it works this time. Steve jolts forward, too caught by surprise and still flustered, catching himself hands-first on Eddie’s messy bedroom floor and gracelessly flopping the rest of the way in. The carpet (or really, the layer of dirty laundry on top of it) doesn’t smell great, but he stays slumped there for a moment, recovering.

At least he avoided landing on the acoustic guitar, though.

“You okay there, dude?”

Steve groans. “I’m fine. That fucking window looked bigger from the outside, that’s all.”

Eddie lets out a disbelieving snort, then follows him in, shimmying over the narrow sill with an ease and silence that comes from years of practice. When he’s done, he leans his scrawny ass back against the dresser and spreads his hand in a tada motion.

And Steve’s not dumb, he knows that he’s put on weight since the Upside Down. Since finally coming down from constant recurring nightmare panic mode. Yeah he didn’t realize it was so obvious, but he can admit (at least in the privacy of his own head) that that’s why he got stuck.

He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of you don’t have to rub it in, but snaps it shut again when Eddie steps forward and offers him a hand up. The grip is calloused from guitar playing, strong and sure from slinging amps around—and he feels that zing again, phantom handprints on his ass.

“You okay?” Eddie asks once they’re on the same level again. “You were really wedged in there, looked kinda painful.”

“I,” Steve starts, but stops when Eddie’s other hand lands on his hip. Which is not completely unusual… Eddie is a touchy guy, very hands-on with all his friends. He’s poked at Steve’s sides before, comparing their bite marks, and Steve hasn’t really thought about it much before now.

Because that’s what trauma-bonded people do, right? The last party that had rounded up all the young adults, Nancy smoked with them and she and Jonathan had spent most of the rest of the evening cuddled up together, lining up the scars on their palms.

Eddie’s thumb brushes the skin above his waistband, ghosting warmly over where it’s red and a little raw.

“I’m fine,” Steve manages to say, but he’s not. His brain is going haywire��from the touch, from Eddie’s Bambi-eyed stare, from all the thoughts that have been pining around his head tonight and everything he’s pointedly not thought about too. (About climbing in a boy’s window. About being jealous. About hands on his ass and how it hadn’t been a bad surprise, and the thumb grazing deliberately over the swell of softness at his middle with concern bordering on reverence.)

Something in Steve aches, and it’s a familiar pang. It reminds him of how he used to feel whenever he looked at Nancy, before he had let go of the last scraps of that dream. Eddie seems more real, more touchable… He always is, when they hang out, and especially when they’re by themselves. Eddie is a touchy guy.

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly, distracted. He keeps running his thumb along Steve’s softness, drifting up a little further under his shirt until his pointer finger meets skin too like a dazed afterthought. His tongue darts out to lick his lips—Steve can’t help the way his eyes are drawn to the motion. “Yeah, you are… pretty fine…”

Not once, not for months, has Steve felt electricity like this in the air, under his skin, sparking at a simple touch. It’s why he stopped flirting with the girls who came into Family Video, even the ones who eyed him in a way he knew meant they were a sure thing. The way Eddie is looking at him right now, even though he’s…

Well. He’s let himself go, hasn’t he? And he knows it, kind of knew it for a while and just not thought about it because he didn’t think he had too, but it’s getting obvious now. Steve has never felt more self-conscious about his body in his entire life and, right while he’s in the middle of reconciling wanting to pout because his best guy friend was off having fun without him, Eddie just had to go and compliment it.

Steve swallows hard. “You, uh. You think so?” He’s not fishing for complements, he’s not, he just wants to know what Eddie means.

Still slowly, Eddie looks up at him through his eyelashes. It’s almost shy, which is so unlike the Eddie that Steve has come to expect, but his eyes are big and brown and a little wild in an achingly familiar way and Steve has to resist the urge to sway forward—

“Of course, Stevie,” Eddie says quietly. Is he afraid that they might be overheard in the empty trailer? Afraid to break the moment by speaking too loud? His hand is still just under Steve’s shirt, light little touches that Steve can’t help but find soothing, almost hypnotic. “Always.”

Steve wants to lean in, because he knows he’s not reading the signs wrong.

But then, at the last second, he remembers what Eddie had said about having a few beers with Gareth. Probably just enough to be a little tipsy. But if Eddie is gay—and, like, Steve wouldn’t be surprised, he’s learned some of the clues from Robin and there have always been rumors—he’s not out. Not to Steve, anyway, and Steve… is whatever he is, apparently, which definitely warrants a phone call and possibly a bathroom floor confession to his platonic other half as soon as he gets a chance, holy shit… Suddenly everything feels delicate, like there is something there but one wrong move and it could shatter, and Steve doesn’t know if he could take anymore shards to his heart. Not these days, not if it’s Eddie.

He just wants to be a little more sure first. Do this right, if it’s really happening. So, for now, he only says, “So, uh. Wanna smoke?”

Eddie smiles, dimples popping and eyes lighting up, and his hand gives Steve’s hip a little inadvertent squeeze as he bounces past him. “Yeah, we can do that. I’ve got a few joints already rolled, I’ve got snacks—” He’s already hauling his black metal lunchbox from under the bed and riffling through it, his bright enthusiasm making Steve feel warm all the way through. “Prop my baby back up, will you? Treat her right, Stevie, or I’ll be forced to rescind my offer of pretzels and bagel bite pizzas.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Steve agrees with a chuckle, and does as he’s told. It doesn’t escape his notice that Eddie just mentioned some of his favorites for when the munchies set in.

He’s going to figure this out, but for now they can just hang out like normal and have a good night.

#wg steddie #chubby steve harrington #scoops words #there’s a winnie the pooh analogy here but the tv show started in the 90s so #should i tag my inspirers?#idk i’m willing to do tag lists if anyone wants. just ask.#there’s a part two coming tomorrow with eddie’s pov #steve stuck in a window

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alexiswritingstuff · 1 year

Text

A Man And His Guard. 1/2

Status: Completed.

Pairing: Gustavo Fring x male reader.

Other appearances: Mike Ehrmantraut.

Summary: During the rise of Gus’ paranoia, Mike hires you in an attempt to ease it. You work where he does, do everything he says and later even learn that you are to go home with him.

Neither of you knew what to expect of each other, but how does one Mr. Fring react when you will not stop making... comments.

Warnings: flirting.

Always be aware that there might be spelling mistakes and such in my writing. I do read over them, but they can just slip under my radar sometimes.

A/N: I think this is the first time I am actually writing a male reader fic so I hope I do it justice. I am a male myself but I rarely use gendered terms with the reader anyway.

Also I’m like terrible at flirting so if the readers lines aren’t great then... my bad ig.

This is a two part series, so begin waiting for the next edition to arrive!

I hope you enjoy!

More Gustavo fics.

It was around the time that Lalo Salamanca was presumed ‘not dead’ when you had gotten the job.

Their crew was sparse, most had been taken up at posts where they surveyed the other properties/places that Mr. Fring usually went to. So Mike reached out with an offer.

You knew him from work done in the past where you had acted as a guard for a person he wanted to meet, for a reason you had later learned, but that specific guy had a target on his back from a lot of local businesses.

For this job, like many others, you had no idea what you were getting into. And even if there was a proper brief, none of it would prepare you for what would actually come.

Gustavo Fring had been a name thrown around many times in your life. A very common thing when working in this particular field.

But, seeing him right there in the flesh, on practically a daily basis at this point, was a thing that there wasn’t any words to describe. Because usually no one lived to even talked about it, or, obviously, they weren’t allowed to.

It was some time in the late hours of the afternoon, the liveliness of restaurant slowly reducing as time went by.

There were barely any customers occupying the booths or the neighbouring tables, and the new people coming in usually just wanted something for the road if they couldn’t be bothered to wait in the drive through.

You were moving amidst the dinning area, the long dust pan and brush in hand as you collected up stuff that had fallen during peoples meals, and swept across the beige tiles that felt increasingly bright in the sun.

The surroundings were still a bit noisy. People were chatting away, cars passed at almost every minute, there was muffled clatter from the other employees as they moved around kitchen equipment as they cooked.

It wasn’t that bad.

In fact, the only thing that you didn’t really like about ‘working’ in Los Pollos Hermanos was the need to wear its uniform.

Being a guard in this side of the business usually enforced the wearing of dark coloured clothes. It was a way to keep up a feeling of mystery, provide the impression that you were a person not to be messed with.

But there you were, stood in an obnoxiously bright yellow shirt which was paired with that damn red visor and a matching apron, to top it all off.

This might as well have been a punishment than a job.

After however long, you completed your round of the dinning area and ducked into the hallway beside the drinks machine, finding the place where you had initially picked up the dust pan and brush to return them.

And you did, a deep breath filling your lungs once the equipment was leaned back up against the wall.

It had been a long time since you had worked around a plethora of people and their own individual personalities, so coming to this work place almost felt jarring in comparison. People were properly polite. Gave smiles that were actually genuine.

The clear of someone's throat emitted from somewhere to the left, and your head turned in that direction immediately, your feet soon following, “Mr. Fring.”

“Has the floor been cleaned?” The way he dressed for work was always so smart, though it kind of reminded you of SpongeBob, and it perfectly matched with a lot of things about him.

You gave him a simple nod, “Yes, it has.”

“There are still a few customers out there, so I’ll do the last round once they leave.” you then explained and turned yourself to face the doorway that lead to the main area, attempting to peer round it so that you could see into the dinning area again and the car park through the windows.

“Any signs?”

The words left you just blinking for a moment. You had thought by taking your leave from the conversation that it would bring on its end. But now you were looking back to the man who hadn’t moved a step.

Anyone else would’ve been confused at what he had meant by that question. but you knew instantly. And even if it was your job to check, it sort of made you feel bad that you had to.

“No one came.” you stated, plain and simple so that it wouldn’t display your pity, and Mr. Fring subtly took in a deep breath, his chin only slightly raising, “Good... Go clean the empty tables.”

Now was when he was about to walk away, probably to go back to his office to make calls as a way to further check if there was any new information, but when he watched your face crinkle up in what looked like distaste at the task he had just given you.

He seemed to become a little distracted.

“Do I at least get paid more?”

Sure, Mr. Fring had a lot of encounters with many different people, each with their own separate way of approaching things, different ways of speaking.

But no one had ever attempted to talk the way that you did. Especially when in direct contact.

It was a thing that could only make him stare, even glare, in an attempt to hide his surprise. But it wouldn’t shake you. In fact all you did was shrug, “Oh, well.” you breathed out, giving him one last glance before you moved to get the cleaning supplies.

“I guess if it’s for you then I’ll do it.”

You found yourself making your way through the many hallways of Los Pollos Hermanos. An amount that after a long day made the building feel like a maze, though the size wasn’t even comparable to one.

Soon, you had located the way to your bosses door, a deep breath sucking into your lungs before you raised your hand to knock against it. The sound was the only thing that filled the hallway.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n L/n, Sir.” you called quickly, realising that at this time he was always expecting to be in danger. A mysterious knock to his door wasn’t exactly going to help with that.

It took a good minute for there to be any kind of response, but after it sounded like an object had been set down, the muffled voice finally came through the gaps of the door.

“Come in.”

Your hand grabbed at the handle, the cool metal almost shocking the warmth of your skin, before you twisted it until the door was pushable. “Hey,” you had began, ready to step into the new room. But that was quickly halted when your eyes fell on its contents.

It was very dark compared to literally any other room in the building. The walls may have been a little darker already, but because of him relying on only the light from the sun and a lamp residing on his desk, it took you a moment to actually see anything.

You cleared your throat when your gaze landed on a waiting Mr. Fring, “Sorry to interrupt-- Lyle said that you wanted to see me earlier?” you explained and finally stepped into the room so that you could close the door behind you.

“I didn’t know I had made such an impact already.”

Mr. Frings eyebrows had twitched in a way that almost wasn’t visible. However, the rest of his face didn’t change, “When accepting the job, did Ehrmantraut explain what it would hold?”

Your shoes scraped the ground as you stopped yourself about a step away from his desk. Your back straightened as you took a moment to think, “He barely does when he has an offer.” you pointed out simply, though your tone changed when you next spoke. “Was I wrong?”

“Did he mention that you would be working for me... personally?”

In that moment, you had paused for about three seconds, even if it had felt like 10 minutes in your head, as a certain word rung through your ears over and over again.

“Personally, huh...” you repeated. It tasted sweet on your lips, your mind running very fast over any of the things that it could mean. “I guess I didn’t quite catch that part... But I like the sound of it.”

Through your now, slightly, dazed state, you had missed the way Mr. Fring had lowered his head just a tad. His lips were pressed together. His eyebrows begging to furrow though he wouldn’t let them, especially when you had spoke again.

“Am I supposed to go get you stuff? Run errands, drive you places-- That kind of thing?”

The man before you almost huffed a laugh. He dipped his head as he slowly pushed back his chair. “In the future, it is possible.” Mr. Fring was now stood up from his seat, his feet taking him round his desk in such a slow pace that it had your pulse raising. “But for now we are going to my home.”

He stopped in front of you, about two and a half steps away, with that strong gaze he always held. Though this time it most definitely felt different as your breath was close to hitching, “Now I really do like the sound of this.”

In about a second, Mr. Frings body had entirely stiffened.

It was unnoticeable to people who had just met him as he was usually quite a ridged person, the wind couldn’t even sway him. But to someone that knew him enough, it was clear as day.

The intimidation he had held on his face had faded as if it had just been wiped off with a cloth. It was almost like he had forgotten how to breathe.

Suddenly, before you could clock anything, Mr. Fring turned towards his desk like there should be someone waiting on the other side. It almost startled you. But soon, a hand of his reached across the surface of the table.

“Mr. Fring?” you had questioned, any and all excitement now being swarmed by confusion.

Just as you were about to move, try to catch the look on his face, his feet had began to twist until the rest of his body urged to follow. And now, he stood, facing you once again.

His eyes were aimed at what you could now see was some kind of sticky note folded in half, and then they flicked to yours.

His chin raised until it was in level with your own and by the next time you had blinked, the note was held out in front of you.

“Read it.” was all he said when you hadn’t taken it, and after just looking at him for a moment, you sucked in a quiet breath, retrieving the paper from between his fingers.

By the time you had began unfolding it, Mr. Fring had turned once again, making his way back to his deskchair when your eyes landed on the word in black ink.

“Lakeview?” The chair squeaked beneath him as he sat, but besides that he didn’t even bother to look up. He simply grabbed a pen and dragged a clipboard in front of his eyes.

“Am I allowed to ask, or is this going to be a game of hard to get?” The urge to smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth when the tip of his pen visibly stilled. Though, when Mr. Frings head slowly raised as if it was in slow motion, that feeling had stopped in a instant.

His eyes were almost harsh when they met with yours, as if they could pierce right through your own. They never moved and as time passed, he hadn’t even blinked. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

It was a warning. He knew it, you knew it.

So, guess his surprise when the only thing you had done in response was, once again, simply shrug your shoulders.

His whole body froze like it had done before, though this time he hadn’t broken the eye contact.

Every other person he had met, even ones that worked for him, crumbled under his gaze when someone had pressed his patience or authority. They would look away, forget how to speak, or quickly turn on their feet to do whatever he had asked.

But not you.

Your shoes were planted in the same place as before until you wanted them to move.

“You know, I do like a good game, Mr. Fring.” It was so silent in that room that it was like you could physically see your words pierce through the air. A pin could drop and the sound could be heard as if it was played through a thousand speakers. “I think having an opponent like you is going to be great fun.”

That was when you had officially turned on your heel. The smirk broke across your lips the moment you faced the door, and even more so when it had opened.

By the time you were back in the hallway, sifting the post-it back and forth between your fingers, the image of Mr. Frings expression was clear in your mind in a way that made it so hard to not laugh.

His lips were parted. Every muscle in his face looked as if it had been frozen in time, tense. He looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost lost the grip he had on his pen.

You ended up back in the main area of the restaurant, your eyes being hit with a much dimmer colour this time as the sun began to hide.

All the tables had already been cleared earlier by you, and Mr. Fring when he couldn’t keep his mind occupied. The customers had gone home, hopefully pleased with their meals, which let an almost eerie silence hang in the air as the other employees had left too.

You moved through the rows of tables, searching for even the slightest speck of dirt or trail of crumbs that would set a certain man off if he saw. But there was nothing.

It had all been more than thoroughly cleaned.

So, you ended up by the table next to the entrance, a slight sigh huffing through your nose. Your body wound round the back of bench closest to the door, a hand reaching for the red blinds that covered the window.

Your fingers parted two of the slats, and you made yourself slightly lean over the bench so that you could get closer to the glass that lay beneath the blinds.

Upon first glance of the world outside, everything seen was slowly being engulfed by the black mass of night. One so deep that it had started to prevent the ability to see the horizon.

The only car in the parking lot was Mr. Frings, coloured in such a way that it would’ve been invisible in the evening light if it wasn’t for the reflections from the surrounding lamps.

There was no one in the car, no one outside of it, and no other vehicle stalking around, as the rest were just general cars that passed by on the main road, and that was now like every 10-15 minutes.

After making sure that there was complete satisfaction with the fact that there was not a singular person in the vicinity, you let the slats set back into the original places, stepping away from the window so you could make your way through the restaurant.

Again.

The sigh that left your mouth this time was of relief when you opened the door, to what would be a supply closet for anyone else. There they were, sat in the neatest pile you could be bothered to put them in. Your clothes.

Pretty much the only item of your own that you got to keep during the day was your shoes, so when that sweet sweet fabric was in your hands, it was utter peace. Paradise. Like reuniting with a long lost lover.

Upon imagining how a person would look standing in the middle of a closet and practically cradling a set of clothes, however, you straightened yourself up into the usual guard posture, any remnants of excitement fading from your face.

And then you swivelled on your foot, leaving the closet like you had never even been in there.

By the time you had gotten to the front of the restaurant all over again, the clothing happily held in your hand, it seemed that a certain Mr. Fring had beat you to it.

There was no way to tell if he had disliked having to stand there waiting as his head was directed towards the window you had been look through before, his hands clasped behind his back that made him properly appear like a business man.

Or just an old man.

If you could see his face however, you thought that you would’ve seen that usual, intentionally, blank expression. A theory that was then proven to be true when you had stopped by his side. You cleared your throat, “I take it we’re going to yours now?”

His spine straightened in about a second when your voice found his ears. He had gotten lost, his gaze consumed by the endless possibilities of what waited for him outside the restaurant.

But in the next second, by the next time he had breathed, his body twisted towards you like he had been standing like that the whole time. The previous vacant look that carried across his face was replaced by a smile, though his eyes had not changed.

And that was it. That was all you got.

Mr. Fring passed right by you without another word, his footsteps echoing around the unsettlingly empty room, before he made his way through the door with the exit sign shining above it.

When it had closed again, further encasing the restaurant in a strong silence, you had begun to blink, your brain at least attempting to process what had just happened.

However, the longer you stood there, the further away Mr. Fring became, and by now he was on the path between the rows of parking spaces. Getting closer and closer to his car.

You almost stumbled over your feet as you made your way over to the exit yourself.

The door opened in a flash, engulfing your skin in the night air, and you were about to continue walking... Until you heard the jingle in your pocket. “Shit.”

There was a meeting that you had with Mike about a day prior. He gave a run down of the usual stuff that went down in Los Pollos Hermanos and, at least, the basic duties that the boss would have you do.

You were given a set of keys, each for pretty much any place that Mr. Fring had access to himself. Now it seemed that he was testing your memory.

After glancing back at Mr. Fring, you let out a hushed grunt, pulling the keys out of your pocket from under your apron, and then turned back to the door, locking it in a speed that should’ve gained you an award.

You swivelled round after doing a test pull on the handle and basically began jogging to catch the man who was now very close to that blue vehicle.

But just as the distance was beginning to shorten, a few things began piecing together.

The sudden change, the smile that he used on other employees, something that he hadn’t used on you all day until it was time to leave the safety of the restaurant.

You understood that he would have to put on an act at some point, sure. Though apparently it hadn’t occurred to you what that would mean until now.

He was the boss, and you were just some random guy who had a job in his business.

That doesn’t exactly give the right to catch a ride with him, now did it?

“Uh, Mr. Fring?”

The man himself had just placed a hand on the roof of his vehicle. His eyes were once again aimed into the distance, and it took about five seconds to get himself back as he then turned to you, the same smile taking over his lips, “Yes, Y/n?”

“I believe that I’m supposed to be getting picked up on something called Lakeview. Would you happen to know where that is?”

It wasn’t a name for a person, as you knew for a fact that if the man in front of you had a target of any kind he would just straight up say it, and it wasn’t going to be a place because Mike would’ve at least said something.

It was a pickup point.

Mr. Frings chin slowly raised. And now, with the smile that took over his lips, his eyes seemed to crinkle with it, “Lakeview road?”

Your spine straightened, all the air coming into your lungs feeling like it was on hold, especially when you nodded your head as a commitment to your idea.

Mr. Fring simply turned his head upon the confirmation, and he pointed towards the road on the other side of the main one, which was directly across from the proper entrance of Los Pollos Hermanos.

You squinted your eyes after following the direction, trying to see the road that was partially illuminated by a streetlight as your shoulders attempted to ease from the previous tension.

And then you spotted it. A car parked beside the red fencing.

It was one that you didn’t recognise, but still.

You were right.

In order to keep the smug look off of your face, you lightly bowed your head when your attention went back to your boss. “Thank you, Sir.” you said and Mr. Fring simply copied your previous movement before finally opening his door.

“Have a good night.”

By the time his car had left the grounds of Los Pollos Hermanos, you had made it to the edge of the main road. You were stood on the concrete sidewalk, a streetlight towering over your head as you looked back and forth to gage where any oncoming traffic was.

You only had to do it once for each side, tonight apparently being a night where not many people were aiming to travel.

So on you went, now jogging across the two lanes until you got to the other side like that one chicken did. Your shoed feet were met with a mix of sand and stones this time as there was no sidewalk to even the ground.

And then there it was in front of you.

A blue RAV4.

The driver must have sensed the new presence as within the next second, the door on their side had opened, a scene that had your feet slowing by the time the figure was out of the car.

It was a woman. One you had seen in a picture when Mike showed members of the crew working for Mr. Fring. Mrs. Ryman? Her and her husband were the people ‘occupying’ the safe house.

“Mr. L/n?” she questioned, and as soon as you gave her a nod of confirmation, she immediately proceeded to walk to the back of the car before any sort of question could fall from your lips.

She grabbed the handle on the left side of the door and pulled on it until it was open about half way so that your eyes could cast onto whatever was inside. You almost tilted your head like a dog.

There, in the back of a damn car, laying on his side very uncomfortably, was none other than Mike Ehrmantraut himself.

It all made sense.

It was late at night. Mr. Fring had now left Los Pollos Hermanos, meaning that if anyone was watching him, they would have followed his car to see where he was going next.

None one was watching you.

The urge to laugh was fighting itself way up your throat, but you took a deep breath in through your nose and let yourself walk forward when Mrs. Ryman had turned to you expectantly.

“You didn’t have another one of those sandwiches today, did you?” A grunt followed your words as you practically shoved yourself into the trunk of this random car, and shifted until the left side of your body was fully pressing into Mike’s.

The door was only just able to close again.

The surroundings were plunged into darkness. A few beams of light managed to filtered through the gaps in the backseats and the trunk cover enough so that you could make out the face of the man before you as you dropped your pile of close on your lap.

“I see you worked it out.”

Your body felt like it sunk into the walls of the car though it had barely moved, your hands raising to rub at the skin of your face either in disbelief or tiredness, “I will admit that I thought you were talking about an actual lake at first.”

Mike huffed a laugh at that, the two of you slightly rocking together when the car started backing up. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t try to find one.”

“Me too.”

Despite the fact that you were currently sat, cramped, in the back of a car. There was a feeling of comfort that had been kept from you throughout the day. Especially now that Mike was with you.

He might’ve been a man that has killed multiple people, and is not afraid to do the same to more... but so are you.

When you are on the right side, his right side, he’s just another old guy that you would see walking down the street, or sitting in a restaurant.

Being in this business meant needing to keep connections with certain people hidden so that they wouldn’t end up getting hurt as a result of someone trying to prove a point.

He was the closest thing to family.

Mike let one of those deep breaths seep through his nose, and you swear it almost sounded like the huff of a dragon. His head leaned back into the wall behind him. “How’s Gus?”

Ah. The question you knew was bound to be asked soon.

You shuffled slightly even if it wouldn’t do much, more scared of accidently kicking Mike in the ribs than anything else now. “Obsessed with me.”

The look Mike gave you was one that you could feel even if you couldn’t properly see it, and you tried not to smile as you fiddled with label of the shirt you held. The man most definitely rolled his eyes. “No, no... He’s obsessed with everything else to be honest.”

A sigh passed from your lips into the air inside the car.

Your head shook, a mixture of emotions filtering through your body as your mind reminded itself of Mr. Frings previous behaviour. “He really wants him to just show up already, but... man, I don’t know. I’m not sure if he’s actually prepared for that.”

“Well. That’s why you’re there.”

You tried to fully sit upright, only getting about half way before you looked at Mike with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, about that-- You know, when you said that you needed my skills, I was thinking more along the lines of stakeouts or surveillance stuff, or like... having me fight someone at least.”

“I didn’t exactly prepare to become a janitor.”

The car was most definitely somewhere down the main road by now. Mike’s head remained where it was, not even bothering to tilt it in your direction when he next spoke as he simply closed his eyes instead. “Still part of the job.”

You stifled a scoff, just watching the man when he attempted to cross his arms over his chest. “Gives you more acting lessons too.” Mike then added and you supressed the urge to kick him, more like nudge him, with your foot. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” It was your turn to roll your eyes.

“You’re still paying me more.”

The sky above was pitch black by the time of arrival on Jefferson Street. The quiet outside, the warmth of the car, and the general darkness worked together in a way that was the opposite for most people.

The distance between Los Pollos Hermanos and Mr. Frings house was far enough that if there was a kid sitting in one of the backseats they would be in a deep sleep.

But as an adult, you were wide awake. Especially when you felt the car begin to slow after a turn.

You attempted to prop yourself up from your slouched position, your eyes trying to find an angle where you could see out the window, despite the fact that it was very much impossible to do from inside a trunk.

“We’ll be out in a minute.” Mike assured, observing your many attempts at moving. You sunk back, mirroring his position when you hit into the wall of the car, “And how do you know that?”

As if on cue, the ride to the house seemed to have come to an end. The car stopped, again slightly jolting the two of you together. “We’re in the garage.” The monotonous edge to his voice was audible more than ever.

You could only blink for a moment as the muffled sound of someone getting out of the car echoed through what most definitely was a garage. “Jeez-- How many times have you had to do this?” you questioned, and it had Mike’s head shaking in a second, a grunt rumbling through his throat.

The door beside you finally opened, and though you had to squint due to the sudden light, you swung your legs to the side, eagerly pushing yourself out of the trunk.

“Oh, man.” you breathed out once on your own two feet, and moved to the side so that Mike could get himself up while you stretched your arms high above your head in a way that your spine needed very much. “Do we really have to do that every time?”

“It’s the safest way.” Mike insisted as he closed up the car and your head shook, “Seriously?” But he ignored you, starting to walk through the garage. “Follow me.”

Even after a ride like that it was immediately work time.

You wanted to complain until you couldn’t speak anymore, but nevertheless you complied and followed behind the man like a duckling does with its mother.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered around the room when Mike opened the door to what was originally a living room, “Hey, Mike.” a man had called, and Ehrmantraut started to spark up a conversation.

However, when your gaze landed on the desk that his friend was sat at, your brain seemed to tune it out.

There was about about seven different monitors on and working. Each screen displayed a shot from wherever the camera was placed. It varied from the entrance and exits of this house to what you assumed was Mr. Frings.

But even then they seemed to changed at the click of a button to an entirely different location.

Maybe he was prepared.

“L/n.”

Your eyes snapped to the door way to find Mike stood about halfway through it. He tilted his head to the side and you began walking all over again when you realised what he meant.

So, now, he lead you through the hallways of the house. You nodded at anyone you passed, seemingly understanding the tired look on their faces though this was your first proper day.

Eventually you found yourself in the basement of the house, and while Mike continued through the room, your feet slowed on the platform before the last two steps, your eyes yet again being consumed by the new atmosphere.

This was where the couple stayed after doing their daily appearance out of the house, as the rest was swarmed by a bunch of dudes.

They had most of the stuff they need. They had cupboards, a kitchen area along the furthest wall, a clothing wrack. There was a king sized bed, and a table to your right where they could sit and do whatever they wanted if they weren’t upstairs at this time.

And though your mind practically begged you to continue looking around. A certain question sprung through your thoughts.

“Listen, I appreciate the fact that there are a lot of things you can’t tell me about this job,” you began, a hand placing down on the little railing, “But am allowed to ask why you have just lead me into a basement?”

Ehrmantraut was now stood in front of the big shelf that sat at the corner of the right wall. It extended to the ceiling but the width was about 4 columns worth. Your eyebrows were quick to furrow when he reached for one of the shelves.

Even more so when quiet beeps sounded from what only could be a keypad.

“Mike?” you had questioned, a mild laziness to your voice as your brain consumed itself with finding the source of noise. And then your feet finally moved, allowing you off of the platform, onto the carpet.

But it seemed you had stopped as fast as you had started.

Your body almost jolted when a mechanical sound pierced through the air, and soon, Mike grabbed onto the middle divider with both hands, beginning to pull on it as hard as he could.

A rumbling rippled through the floor you stood on as the shelf scuffed against the carpet, and despite your disbelief, the mechanism disconnected from the first column of shelf.

It was opening like a natural door would. There was certain things on shelves that shook with the movement, though others appeared as if they had been glued down. Just there for decoration.

It wasn’t until the shelf door was turned as much as it could against it’s hinges that your eyes allowed you to focused on what lay beneath it. Your jaw almost dropped.

It was a tunnel.

There was a goddamn tunnel that connected this house to the next.

“No way.”

Mike didn’t have to tell you twice when he signalling for you to follow him this time, and upon going through the doorway, turning into the passage, it almost gave you chills.

But that was more due to the fact that the temperature was different than in the house.

The walls of the tunnel were a grey concrete. One rose higher than the other leading the ceiling to have to curve to meet with them both, and support beams, the same colour as the walls they were up against, were placed about two steps apart, the lights situated between them.

Not even a deep breath could ease the speed of your heart. In fact the closer the journey was to its end, the faster it went.

So, when the back of, what you were assuming was, the same mechanism as in the previous house was now right in front of Mike, your shoulders fought to lower.

There was a combination of knocks that the man did against the smooth door. A sound that echoed through your ears over and over again the way ripples moved in water.

Mike took about a step back with a sniff when muffled beeps came through the, practically invisible, cracks of the door, and your body instinctively straightened like a soldier in front of their commander.

The door had opened.

There was no reasoning for the way you felt right then and there.

You had met Mr. Fring earlier. You had seen him, you had spoken, exchanged even informal parts of conversation, and have stood beside each other on multiple occasions.

So why, as you stared back at the man who was now revealed in one of his usual suits, was it like your lungs had forgotten their very function.

Mr. Fring gave Mike a nod to which the man did the same, and before you knew it, with a clear of his throat, Ehrmantraut turned on his feet, beginning to make his way back through the tunnel.

Your lips parted as you watched him go, though no words could even try to roll off of your tongue. The scuff of his shoes were the only thing to echo through the air, so when that familiar voice broke through, it had your head turning back within seconds.

“L/n.”

His eyes were already on yours by the time you were back to your original stance.

Your eyebrows were raised, a mixture of eagerness and excitement rumbling through your chest and ears when he tilted his head to the side. A gesture that Mike had used earlier to get you to follow him. “Come in.”

Just you and Mr. Fring.

“I’ll show you around.”

#gustavo fring #gus fring #gustavo fring x reader #gustavo fring x male reader #gus fring x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #mike ehrmantraut #male reader #bcs

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