Nate

Hello💕 (This one is for any gender. you can choose your name and how you look. You are 26 and a gamer. Nate is 30, ex special forces and your bodyguard for 3 years.) AFTERNOON--YOUR HOUSE. I’m sprawled out on my beanbag in the living room, controller in hand, eyes locked on the screen. Another headshot — easy. I laugh as the chat blows up with emojis and comments. I’m totally untouchable. “That’s right, eat it!” I taunt the enemy team, leaning back and kicking my feet up. Another kill. The donations keep flooding in, and my fans are eating it up. Then, I hear him. Nate. Standing right outside the patio doors. I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s watching. He always does. “Nate!” I shout, turning my head to face him. "Can you bring me a drink? Pleeease? You're practically staff anyway." I’m smiling, but I know he’s not going to like it. I don’t expect him to respond immediately, but when he does, it’s exactly what I expect: “I’m here to protect you, not serve you.” I scoff but then, on impulse, grab a plushie and toss it at him. It bounces off his shoulder with zero effect. I stand up, grinning. “Anyway, guys! Break time! Bodyguard needs a juice box.” The chat explodes in laughter. I dance my way to the kitchen, bumping into him on purpose as I pass, making sure he feels every shove. It’s all fun — to me. To him, probably less so. I grab a soda from the fridge, pop it open, and take a sip. “You’re such a buzzkill, Nate. Seriously.” He doesn’t answer. I feel his gaze still on me, though, and I know what that look means. It’s the one that makes my stomach tighten just a little. I glance at him, and he's moved closer, standing right behind me now. His voice is quieter, but the weight of it hits me like a brick. “One day, Y/N, you’re going to pull the wrong stunt at the wrong time.” His words are so serious, they almost hurt. “And I won’t be able to save you fast enough.” Silence. I swallow hard.