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#The space between us
voteforpedropascal · 3 months
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The Space Between Us - Chapter 2
Pairing: Konig/female coded reader (Korean speaking reader but doesn't have to be Korean)
Rating: M (may go up in future chapters)
Tags/Warnings: No specific physical descriptions of the reader other than they are smaller than Konig, can tie their hair back, and Korean speaking (doesn't necessarily have to be Korean) No use of Y/N, brief explicit description of injury, cursing, mentions of anxiety, inaccurate descriptions of medical procedures and army/PMC life
*You are choosing to read this fanfic below at your own risk as it may contain content, language, or triggers that may not be listed above. I do not consent to having my fic be reposted and/or translated anywhere without my explicit permission. I do not consent for my work to be submitted inside any AI system/program.
Series Summary: You were hired as a doctor for Kortac three years ago. You gradually became familiar with certain soldiers that were under your direct care, Konig being one of them. The extent of your relationship had always been purely professional, or so you thought. Now, a particular mission seems to act as a catalyst between the two of you and you both aren’t sure where you will land.
Chapter Summary: You start to see a different side of Konig.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, my senior dog baby had been sick the past couple of months and recently passed + other life stuff. I hope to update more frequently in the coming year! Thank you for your patience!
Chapter 1
Konig wasn’t sure what to expect the next few days or even weeks. Would there be a change to the dynamic between you two? If you could even call what you had before a “dynamic”. After all, nothing had really happened between you two until now. At best, you and him were probably just patient and doctor. And yet, there had always been something there, simmering just beneath the surface between two quiet individuals who were both afraid to take the next step, whatever that step may be. Did the years of unspoken and subtle tension add or detract to your dynamic?
And wasn’t it just the case that with two people like this, instead of taking the next small and appropriate step, they accidentally took a giant unexpected leap as if the pressure had built up too much and bursted out of them. The only reason he wasn’t hiding under a rock every day was because of the fact that he believed he saw something in your eyes that day.
He saw the shock that gripped your body, but it was your eyes that kept him from retracting his words. Wide eyed and bright, staring unwaveringly at him as if to meet him halfway when he unintentionally took a leap by confessing to you about what drove him mad.
An unspoken gesture on your part.
You didn’t deflect, you didn’t pry, it was like you simply acknowledged him.
And that ignited a torturous fire inside him.
Though, admittedly, it was disappointing during his next appointment with you when there did not seem to be any changes at all. He, of course, didn’t acknowledge the fact that he didn’t act any differently either.
You were professional as always, almost to a fault. You had your hair gathered at the base of your neck in your usual low ponytail with your impeccably clean, round glasses that sat on the edge of your round nose and framed your full face nicely.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to expect. The ever so slight quiver of the corner of your lips as you tried to hide your eagerness to see him? The warming of your sweet round cheeks? A light tremor in your hands as you re-examined his stitches? A quickening of your breath as your chest rose and fell quickly to accommodate the lack of air, just like that day?
No. You were the same professional doctor per usual.
Somewhere inside him, he was oddly relieved as, the more he thought about it, he realized he wasn’t sure how he would handle a change to your dynamic, though the pang of disappointment still lingered nevertheless.
As he carefully lifted up his hood and balaclava, his eyes lingered on you, watching you closely with the same attentiveness you gave to his stitches. His heart tightened when he caught a ghost of a smile traced your lips.
“Looks like you obeyed my orders,” you murmured quietly in a rather satisfied tone.
A low rumble erupted from his chest, something between a growl and a purr. He most certainly obeyed your orders, even when he nearly pulled his hair in frustration during the past two weeks. He itched to move. He contemplated doing a light jog, but when his arms moved in conjunction with his steps, he could feel the stitches pull at his skin. He even tried to solely focus on lifting weights for his lower body, but the muscles in his shoulders and neck would often strain from the resistance and weight that he gave it up entirely.
Konig was greatly agitated by the end of the first week and it stretched across his skin like a tightly wound piano wire. He wanted to say fuck it so many times. However, he remembered your voice, the memory of the sternness in your tone easing his muscles like a warm bath. He didn’t want to disappoint you. He wanted to please you, make you proud of him, just as you were now.
“I think you can start exercising lightly,” you spoke up, breaking his thoughts. “Maybe some light core exercises and lower body training, but nothing that involves too much movement and strain in your shoulders and neck just yet.” You pulled down his balaclava for him, and the brush of your cold fingers against his chin and neck sent a shiver down his spine and settled in his lower stomach.
You moved to his hands next, caressing each rough knuckle with what he thought was a touch too lingering to his delight. He was starting to enjoy a little too much at the way his hands swallowed yours. It reminded him just how easily he could devour you whole.
“These are healing nicely as well,” you said with a small smile. "You've been an excellent patient.”
You finally lifted your face and met his eyes briefly before turning towards your laptop to log in the notes in his medical profile. “Perhaps my best one yet.”
The comment made him sit a little taller as he nodded and pulled his sniper hood over his balaclava. You asked a few more general questions before you ended the appointment. He tried to not look visibly defeated at the thought of leaving.
Perhaps he should have been more disobedient so you would have to fix him up, maybe feel your fingers against his skin just a bit longer and smell the subtle sweet and fresh aroma of your perfume wafting through the fabric of his mask.
Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be disobedient.
He stood awkwardly for a second before lowering his head, “Thank you doctor.” And with that, he left.
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Konig had always sought you out unintentionally in his own quiet ways. Though, there seemed to be an added fervor now. It was his own way of trying to change the dynamic between you two without actually changing it directly where you’d notice.
He acted as if this would change the way you both interacted with each other, but it only made sense IF he had actually interacted with you outside of your medical appointments.
He never had, except for the rare occasion you ran into him in the hallways, which was again, very rare, seeing as you always kept to your office.
Konig convinced himself this all perfectly made sense and not the ramblings of a socially timid mad man.
His favorite place was the cafeteria. He always lingered there, barely taking any bites as his eyes were too busy latching onto every white coat with dark hair. You usually came to the cafeteria to eat around 1pm, often grabbing a simple sandwich, a piece of fruit (you seemed to favor the clementines when they were available, otherwise, you often selected the banana), and two drinks (usually a soda and a water, one for flavor and one for hydration he supposed), before retreating back to the comfort of your office. In the beginning, you attempted to bring a home made lunch but by the third week, you quickly abandoned that effort, much to his amusement.
His favorite days were when you would actually sit in the cafeteria to eat, which granted him a longer view of you. It was also one of the main reasons he tried to come to the cafeteria around the same time as often as he could when his hectic schedule allowed it.
You never really looked up, always glued to the ground or to your exact destination and never at anything else. You never took a moment to gaze at your surroundings, a poor habit he had noted. It was as if you didn’t want to make any unnecessary eye contact with anyone in case you were forced to exchange a few awkward social conversations that you were not prepared (or have the energy) for.
He didn’t know for a fact of course. This was all conjecture.
Perhaps he was projecting.
When you did grace your presence at the cafeteria, Konig liked to watch your shoulders heave with a heavy sigh as you plopped down into your seat, like you were carrying all the day’s stressors on your shoulders. You often took a heaping gulp of water before you touched your food as if you just remembered to hydrate yourself.
When you occasionally opted for a non-sandwich food, he knew when the food didn’t agree with you when your mouth dropped and you would chew like you didn’t want your tongue touching the food inside your mouth; or the way you’d glance behind you longilly towards the sandwiches that were laid out, debating on whether you’d look greedy if you went to go get a sandwich with a plate full of food in front of you.
He couldn’t help chuckle quietly under his hood when this happened.
Over the years, he locked each memory away deep in his brain for safekeeping, only to be taken out during moments of solitude or when he was out on a particularly miserable mission.
It was also his only way of seeing you outside of an appointment, as you liked to keep to your office throughout the day. Sometimes he would catch you with Horangi, who acted a little too chummy with you to his liking. Konig usually had no ill feelings towards the fearsome man, but on the occasion when Horangi would come unannounced and interrupt his appointment, HIS precious alone time with you, he wanted to throttle the man and chuck him out of a helicopter.
When Konig convinced himself to stroll past your office at the end of the day, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, he sometimes saw Horangi leaning against your door, often with a full plastic bag. Horangi told him it was just snacks from their homeland. Konig couldn’t help the small relief he felt inside though he wondered why the man volunteered this information without any prompting.
You were allowed to have friends. Of course you did. But why did it infuriate him? What right did he have to feel this way? He often wished you would be friends with him, like Horangi was. Konig thought about acting cool and casual like Horangi, but the thought of doing that in front of you had his heart racing so fast he couldn’t tell whether it was due to anxiousness or excitement.
No, he would have to be content with watching from afar. For now.
But today was different. He didn’t see you today around 1pm, even though he waited for an entire hour. His Polish squadmate, Gromsko, was sitting with him today for lunch. They usually ate in silence, with just a soft grunt in acknowledging each other’s presence. The giant Polish man tended to ignore anything that may have had the inkling of a personal problem, but even he couldn’t ignore the agitated energy radiating from Konig.
Gromsko asked in his gruff tone if everything was all right. Konig only grumbled back that he was just antsy from not being able to exercise.
And so he left it at that.
When the digital clock turned to 14:00, Konig leaped out of his seat. He rushed over to grab a wrapped sandwich, a banana, a coke and a water before storming out of the cafeteria.
His mind was rushing. It wasn’t the first time you didn’t show up when he was at the cafeteria. There were plenty of times over the years when you missed each other. Sometimes you were late, sometimes you were early. It wasn’t unusual, he repeated in his head. It’s happened before.
So why did it bother him so much now?
It had only been two days since his last appointment with you when you rechecked his stitches. It wasn’t like he had gone a week without seeing you.
As he got closer to your office, he realized he didn’t have a plan or excuse to see you. Just a handful of food and drinks. Perhaps you had been busy with work and missed your lunch. He missed you at lunch so he’s bringing you food now. Yes, that was a good excuse. It was a good plan, and it fulfilled his wish in speaking to you outside of your appointments. It was definitely a good plan.
However, the giant man stopped abruptly when he saw the closed door shrouded in darkness. He let out a slow, deep breath as his fingers itched to grab the door handle and rip the door open.
“Did you need something from the doctor, Colonel?” A voice jolted him out of his violent thoughts. It was one of the medical staff, though he failed to recall her name or remember if he had ever spoken to her before.
He stared blankly at the door before answering. “I…yes, I was hoping the doctor would recheck my stitches. I may have ripped one.”
“Oh, she’s out of the office today and will be back the day after tomorrow. If you have any urgent concerns, Dr. Allen is available to cover her patients today. There should have been a notice that went out to her squadron, have you checked your email?”
He blinked. “Ah, yes. I must have forgot, force of habit to come up here, you see. Uh... thank you.” He gave a quick nod and marched off the opposite way. When the staff member was out of sight, he took out his phone and scrolled through his inbox.
There it was. A message from the private internal system that he often ignored.
She would be out of the office for two days, and all urgent inquiries should be referred to Dr. Allen in room 405. His hand tightened around the small phone. He had seen you two days ago for a third recheck of his stitches, but you hadn’t mentioned anything or had given him a heads up.
Was it a family emergency? Did you even have a family? You didn’t have any personal photos on your desk or anywhere in your office for him to know, let alone guess. Surely, you had gone on holiday before, and you had told him, right? Have you ever gone on a holiday? He couldn’t remember receiving an email like this before. But then again, he really didn’t check his emails. They usually called him whenever a mission came up.
Irritation whipped at his mind as the realization that he didn’t know you, truly know you, hit him like a sucker punch to the chest.
He let out a sharp breath as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He wanted to get rid of this feeling, this tension that had his heart wrung tightly and painfully. There was a clarity that threatened to break into him that he desperately wanted to keep at bay.
Why did he feel betrayal? Was it perhaps due to the fact whatever feelings, subtle or unsubtle, that may have floated between you two, you were still two strangers who barely knew anything about each other? That all the things he knew about you was from his one sided obsessive observations from afar?
That you two were just simply a patient and a doctor.
Irritation spread to his entire body now like a deep ache and bitterly reminded him of the unworked state of his muscles.
Perhaps, he would be disobedient today.
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You had an apartment in the city, a small cheap place that served its purpose to provide you with a place to sleep, cook, and eat, and nothing more. Sometimes you just needed to be away from the headquarters, away from all the weapons, the military uniforms, rules, clearances, badges, just everything.
You often utilized the free housing that was available for certain staff members and soldiers, which, if you were being honest, was a glorified dorm room. However, it was convenient (and cost effective), especially for those late nights where you needed to be on standby for missions that ran late. You had solely utilized it the first couple of years and were excited at the prospect of saving rent and money that would have gone to utility bills.
However, after year three of being at KorTac, there were times when it started to suffocate you. All the strictness, the rules, the beeping of badges and security clearances, the heavy boots of the soldiers, the muted grays and greens of the military uniforms. It all started to feel constricting, which was unexpected.
Still, it was better than the ER. The pay certainly was anyway.
It was towards the end of your third year at KorTac when you decided to seek out an apartment in the nearby city. Something cheap but comfortable. You hoped it would force yourself to take days off to utilize the space, seeing as you're paying money for it, and it worked. You found yourself taking more days off than the previous years just so you could get your money’s worth out of the apartment.
You weren’t allowed days off when missions were in play, and you tended to schedule your days off when no one needed any follow ups so you could be at peace of mind and not worry about anyone. However, this time, your breaking point came a little early.
You tried to make your apartment a little more personable and cozy, buying a small piece of furniture or decor every time you visited. It made sleeping there a lot easier, and now you found yourself craving this little space you created.
You considered yourself lucky with your landlord. She had rented a lot of her spaces to active duty soldiers, so she wasn’t concerned with you being gone for long periods of time.
You felt mentally well rested when you returned. You had run your usual set of errands. You splurged a little to get a specially brewed coffee at a local cafe that even roasted their own beans, a welcoming change to the instant coffee and powdered creamer at the cafeteria.
You dropped by at a bookstore and bought one of the books recommended to you by the nurse you worked with before stopping by the grocery store to pick up a few items of food to cook at home.
To an ordinary civilian, this may not have been spectacularly interesting or rewarding to spend your two days of freedom like this, but to you it was everything.
When you came back, you blankly went through the usual process of getting your ID confirmed and the several security checks (also part of the reason why you ended up just using the dorms here; having to do this every day had been exhausting).
You decided to take the long way back to your office today as you still had a couple of minutes till you had to clock in for your shift. You found yourself strolling along the hallway that led to a vast, open area lined with different gym equipment and a track that went around the perimeter for anyone who wanted to jog or walk indoors.
It was only 7:00AM and already the soldiers were out and about, deep in their workouts.
You continued along the rubber matted track when you saw Horangi jog towards you with an eager wave. He casually asked about your day off even though you knew what he was really interested in was whether or not you had stopped by the local Korean grocery store during your outing to pick up some treats. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t make the 40 minute trip to the store this time.
You could see his bulging muscles visibly slump at this news, and a pang of guilt hit you. You promised you’d pick something up next time if you happened to have another day off before he did. Just as Horangi made sure you held to that promise, you suddenly felt a looming presence over you.
You slowly turned around and was surprised to see Konig. He always felt giant to you in your office but he felt enormous standing in front of you right now, his muscled chest fitted in a tight utility black shirt, as it rose and fell in deep labored breaths. You were surprised to see he was only wearing his balaclava today. Sweat glistened across his bare arms and neck, and he looked like an Olympian god.
“Konig,” you greeted, your voice almost hoarse as if the view of him sucked all the moisture out of your mouth.
“Doctor,” he greeted shortly with a nod.
When the shock from his visual passed, you realized he was breathing heavily from exertion and frowned. “Were you lifting weights?” Your eyes narrowed.
Horangi shifted on his feet uncomfortably, debating whether he wanted to watch this unfold or avoid seeing Konig get in trouble lest he also got dragged into this. He had refused to work out with Konig for the two weeks as he knew the extent of the injury, but when Konig was adamant about working out, he thought the giant man was given the green light by you. Judging by your furious expression, that was clearly not the case.
The silence from Konig was almost overbearing; it seemed to block out all the scattered noises in the background. His amber orbs gazed down at you with a coldness that gripped you at the base of your spine with its icy clutches. His eyes gleamed and seemed heavy with an intensity that was in tune to your every twitch and hitch of breath. If anyone was glancing in just now, they would have thought you were in trouble, not the other way around.
However, you wouldn’t be working at KorTac if you would let his show of intimidation prevent you from doing your job. Your frown only deepened and you gritted out, “Follow me, NOW.” You whipped around towards the exit and the direction of your office.
Silence followed you for a couple of seconds before you felt and heard his weighted footsteps behind you. He had easily caught up with you with his long strides, and you unconsciously quickened your footsteps to put some distance between you. As you heard his footsteps quicken to match your pace, a light panic erupted inside your chest as if you were being stalked by a predator.
You nearly breathed out a sigh of relief the moment you reached your office, though he was close behind you as he stepped in and shut the door.
You dumped your purse and coat onto your desk, and as soon as the door clicked in place, you approached him with an accusatory finger. “I told you to stay off the workouts for at least four weeks.” You struggled to keep your tone even as you fought between trying to maintain your professionalism and giving into the anger that was brewing deep inside you. “I’m gone for two days, and I come back to you working out? Do you even care if the stitches break?”
His eyes retained their frostiness as he answered simply, “You can fix it again,” he said. “You also said I could start exercising.”
Your jaw ticked as you grinded your teeth. “Light,” you growled and took a step forward. “I said light exercise.”
His back straightened, and you thought for a brief moment he finally understood just how angry you were, but he merely rolled his shoulders back and took a step forward as well. He loomed over you in height and sheer bulk, and you finally got the full sense of Konig, the soldier, the Colonel.
“And what constitutes as light, doctor?” Konig asked in a low tone with a growl as he tilted his head. “Walking? Jogging? Wrestling maybe? Or perhaps sex? You never specified. ”
The last word nearly jolted you out of your skin. Gone was the obedient Konig you knew and was replaced by this rebellious, smart mouthed creature. The thought of him knowing he got under your skin irritated you so greatly you pretended you didn’t hear him and ordered him to sit down so you could check his stitches.
As a last act of defiance, he sat in your rolling stool instead of the exam table and stripped his shirt off angrily. Your eyes widened when he was suddenly bare in front of you. His muscles were thickly corded and chiseled from his neck down to his stomach, as if God engraved each line himself.
It was different than the muscles often seen in body builders, who carefully curated their exercises to sculpt each muscle to perfection. Konig’s were out of necessity, formed naturally from the exertion of his body that was often required in these harsh missions. They were battered repeatedly and forged under intense pressure like steel, and reinforced by the heavy weights he lifted at the gym.
With one easy movement with his thick long legs, he was nearly pressed right up against you, nestling you in between his widened stance. He gazed up at you now with such a directness that you nearly stepped back.
You swallowed hard at the proximity, but nevertheless leaned forward to observe his stitches. You prayed he couldn’t hear your clambering heartbeat that was so loud you could feel it in your eardrums.
You chose to focus on his stitches, as you should. They were luckily intact though slightly inflamed, most likely due to the strain from the tension and repetitive motion he put them under with his weight lifting.
“I take back what I said, Konig,” you mumbled bitterly. “You are not my best patient.”
“And why is that, doctor?” he asked cooly.
Your eyebrow twitched. He smirked under his mask. “Because you disobeyed me.”
“I was only doing what I was told to do. Light exercise,” he explained, again in that simple as-a-matter-of-fact tone. You liked it before. Now, it ate at your skin.
“You know this doesn’t constitute as a light exercise,” you retorted harshly.
“Then, perhaps you should have been there to clarify that for me, doctor,” he gritted back with a tone so sharp, you instinctively took a step back from him. His hand shot up and gripped you by the waist, preventing you from escaping.
You felt like a moth caught in a spider web. The heat from his hands seeped through the several layers of your clothing. His eyes held you down like a second set of hands as his strong fingers sank into the plushness of your waist like that of the teeth of a predator sinking its fangs into the flesh of its prey.
No longer was the shy and gentle man that you had known before you. This was the man you had caught a glimpse of when he recounted his mission that fateful day in your office, the one lost in his memories and ravaged by rage at the thought of you being dead. No longer was the four second timed stare.
Konig now stared, and stared, and stared.
When reason took over, you pushed his arms away. At your abrupt touch, he retracted them quickly as if he just realized he was touching something that was forbidden. In a rush, he reached for his shirt wordlessly and slipped it over his head.
You took the moment his eyes were concealed by the shirt to turn around and took a couple of steps away from him. You busied yourself, aimlessly moving things around your desk.
“T-the stitches are holding, but it's a bit inflamed. Make sure you keep it clean and avoid any upper body workouts,” you explained, the words coming out in a rush like you were out of air. You silently cursed at the light tremor in your voice, which made you sound more feeble than you wanted. “Light activities constitute walking, slow jogging especially if you don’t move your shoulders too much. You can have sex if you want, as long as the other person’s doing all the work.” That last part came out bitter and harsh. “Two more weeks and it should heal, one week if you’re lucky.”
He stepped towards you but halted in his steps when he saw your shoulders stiffen up at the sound of his boots. His heart dropped, and without another word, he left.
Once the door shut behind him, you nearly collapsed into your seat. The breath you had been unconsciously holding rushed out in a flurry. His presence and touch still thrummed inside you like a steady stream of electricity.
It was all too much. The way his rugged hands dug into your flesh so possessively that you almost moaned at the desperation. A pulsing heat spread in your core that had you wanting to squirm and squeeze your legs tightly to stop the wetness that was forming below.
You pressed a hand to your chest and tightened around the shirt, willing your heart to stop its incessant beating.
You felt out of your body. You felt so unprofessional. Inappropriate even though you didn’t do anything
His actions scared you and thrilled you like before. You stood there, wavering between shock and desire. You didn’t know how to handle this yet you were frightened by how much you wanted more of this, whatever this was.
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You avoided him for a while. Well, avoiding implied you had seen him often outside of your appointments on a regular basis, which was far from the case. However, now that you had a deliberate reason to not want to see him, you were reluctant to step outside of your office more than ever. You were scared of running into him, having to interact and not knowing how to react.
As his doctor- his squadron’s doctor, you heard there had been some short missions here and there, and you had prepared yourself for him to visit you. You ran multiple scenarios in your head to prepare for the awkwardness that was sure to come.
But he never came.
While there was a little part of you that was relieved, you couldn’t help but worry if he was all right. You were his doctor after all, and KorTac would be very upset if one of their best insertion specialists was maimed or injured and that his doctor hadn’t healed him properly. The higher ups were already pissed at you for recommending he avoid any physically demanding missions for the initial two weeks, but you were adamant in your recommendation. It was this or risk permanently losing their insertion specialist, and you were quick to remind them that you couldn’t just find any of these out on the street.
To your luck and relief, they reluctantly agreed.
You shrank into your seat as you sighed in frustration. You despised this constant fluctuation of your emotions. It was a sore reminder of why you kept a distance from people. The way your heartbeat would speed up when the shadows of his touch whispered against your skin. The way it would clenched tightly when the heat of his grip permeated through your body.
You longed for the days when everything was gray. Not happy or sad, not exciting or dull, just nothing and gray.
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He avoided you, or rather avoided where you normally would have been. The usual hallways you’d take to go to and from your office, the first elevator on the left that you usually rode up to go to the meeting rooms on the 17th floor, your favorite window that overlooked the nearby park on the 12th floor in the west wing where he’d catch you staring out mindlessly. And, he definitely avoided the cafeteria.
He had gone on several missions since then. It was mostly recon, and they had him operate from a distance rather than be in the actual field until his shoulder was fully healed. He had a sneaky suspicion this was under your orders, maybe a tad bit hopeful it was.
Even with the safety precautions, Konig did eventually make some contact with opposing forces on his missions, though it was nothing too sinister. He got away with some nicks and bruises, a superficial knife wound here and there.
Since he couldn’t bring himself back to your office, he made sure to check on his stitches frequently. They were a tad bit red and angry at times, but nothing to see you about, though he was sure you would have felt differently. Years of being in the military didn’t leave him completely useless when it came to basic wound treatment, and he promised himself he’d go see you if it got really bad.
He repeated this in his mind as he dressed a particularly nasty deep cut on his bicep, thanks to a man who had managed to sneak up on his left side. He had made sure to return the favor to him with a particularly gruesome punch before snapping his neck as he drove his knee into the back of his neck.
He had his first aid kit laid out neatly across his bed as he wrapped a bandage around his arm after stitching himself up with a needle and thread he kept around for emergencies.
“You should go to the doctor for that,” Horangi scolded with a shake of his head as he stood against the frame of the open door.
“It’s just a scratch. Nothing I can’t fix,” Konig grunted.
Horangi returned the grunt and left the Austrian giant to brood on his own.
It was around four weeks when Konig saw the stitches had mostly melted away, just like his doctor said. The sharp pain in his shoulders was gone when he stretched, and he was glad to test out his range of movements when he returned to the gym. He had done “light” exercises since his argument with you and avoided the gym altogether in his guilt.
Now, he needed the exertion and strain from the heavier weights more than ever.
He worked out for nearly three hours straight before he finally headed into the showers. He was drenched in sweat and deliciously tired from the workout. The familiar exhaustion and soreness was a welcoming reprieve to his mind and body.
He had just slipped on a clean balaclava and sniperhood as he stepped out of the communal showers when Horangi cornered him at the entrance.
“Konig!” The tiger greeted him. The smugness in his steps immediately alerted Konig that this man was up to no good.
“Can you get these to the doctor?” Horangi asked as he shoved a black plastic bag into Konig’s arms. “I picked these up for her from my day off yesterday, but I need to go to a meeting and I think she’s heading out for the day today so I might miss my chance. These are her favorite, can you get them to her for me? Thanks!”
Before Konig could argue, Horangi had disappeared around the corner.
Konig stood in silence for a minute, unsure of what just happened. He could say no and just toss the bag. However, he saw the snacks that were stuffed into the bag and depriving his doctor of her homeland treats did not bode well with him, even if his anxiety was shooting through the roof.
He desperately did not want to face the consequences of his last interaction with you. The way you stiffened when he approached still haunted him. The guilt stabbed him in his chest whenever the memory crawled back into his mind. As much as he wanted to avoid you, he also desired to see you. He itched to rip the bandaid and see the damage he had caused- the way he had ruined another relationship. He wanted to see it directly with his own eyes, the disgust and fear in your eyes, and remind him that this was what happened when he got too close, when he revealed too much of himself.
With a sigh, he dragged his feet back to his room to dump his sweaty clothes into the laundry basket. He hesitated for a moment before he curiously took a peek inside the bag of treats. The snacks had colorful designs, written in a foreign language with linear lines that resembled shapes to him more than an alphabet.
‘Her favorite’ he remembered Horangi say.
Konig reached for his phone and spread the treats out on his bed and took pictures of them. It wouldn’t hurt to know her favorites, he thought. Maybe he could buy some for her as an apology though he would have to ask the smug tiger where to buy them.
Once he stuffed the treats back into the bag, he headed towards your office. Your door was open, and as he grew closer, he saw you shrugging out of your white coat.
You were reaching for your purse when you locked eyes with him. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you were frozen in your movements though your eyes never strayed.
“Hello Konig,” you greeted in a soft, neutral voice.
“Doctor,” he replied with a nod after a brief moment of hesitation.
However, you seemed more collected than he was or was better at hiding it.
“Did you need something?” you asked as you slipped the strap of your purse onto your shoulder.
“I…Horangi …he couldn't stop by. He … he said he had snacks to give to you,” he stuttered terribly as if he wasn’t prepared to speak at all.
The silence was dreadful as you quietly stared at the plastic bag in his hand before they trailed upwards back to his face. He wasn’t wearing his full gear today, just a plain long sleeve shirt and utility pants, and he almost wished he had. He felt exposed under your scrutiny.
—------
You pursed your lips as your eyes dropped back down to the bag of snacks. Clearly, this was a sneaky little plan by Horangi, you thought. Though, what his intent was, you weren’t quite sure. How infuriating.
Even through the hood, you could see the tiredness that lined his eyes. His eyes only landed on you for a brief second before they scurried away to look at everything but you.
You placed your purse down on your desk. “Well, are you going to give it to me?” you asked.
Once again, he hesitated for a moment before walking towards you to hand you the snacks. Your words always seemed to drive action in him, like a witch’s whisper in his ear, luring him in with a spell.
You carefully took them from him, making sure to avoid touching his hands, and retreated behind your desk to sit in your chair. “Did you want to try some? This one is very good,” you said casually as you opened a bright lime-green box. Inside the box were piles of pathetic imitations of pate a choux.
Konig remained quiet and only stared.
You didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “Well, I think they’re very good,” you replied. “Come. Sit,” you ordered in your doctor tone. You pointed to the rolling chair that he had sat in last time, the one where he trapped you between his thick thighs.
The treats were small in your hands but they were comically small in Konig’s large, rugged ones. He held one ball between his fingers and eyed them curiously.
“It has chocolate in it,” you said, encouraging him and popped one in your mouth.
He tucked the treat under his hood, carefully lifting the balaclava from underneath. It reminded you of a squid, or a kraken, politely devouring its prey.
“It’s a bit dry,” he said after swallowing. “But good. Not too sweet.”
You lifted the thin plastic box towards him so he could grab another. He reached inside, using his index finger and thumb to carefully grab exactly one ball of choux.
After popping in another one yourself, you pulled out two mugs from your desk drawer. “I actually like it with green tea. Helps set off the sweetness with the bitterness,” you said as you swiveled in your chair to the little makeshift shelf you had made with one of the metal file cabinets. You had a little water dispenser that dispensed hot water, something you splurged for your office because you grew tired of having to head to the cafeteria any time you wanted a hot drink.
You paused as you moved to fill the second cup. “Oh, I should have asked if you even like green tea,” you murmured.
“I-I don’t think I have ever tried it,” he said softly.
“Do you have a particular tea you like?” You asked as you turned back to your drawer and brought out a cheaply made wooden box that was haphazardly stuffed with various tea bags.
“I uh…I like chamomile tea,” Konig replied softly.
Your fingers rummaged through the tea bags and frowned. “Shoot, I don’t have chamomile, but I have English Breakfast, one Earl Grey, three Jasmine teas, and some Oolong. Do you like any of those?”
“I don’t mind trying the green tea,” Konig replied, unconsciously scooting closer in his eagerness though making sure to keep some distance so as to not crowd you.
The corners of your lips ticked upward. You nodded before turning around to brew the tea. He felt a little bit of the tightness in his stomach loosen at the sight.
You turned around slowly while balancing the hot mug in your hands to avoid touching the hotter parts of the mug. “Be careful, it’s hotter than you think,” you said as you carefully handed Konig his mug.
He held the mug in both of his hands and blew to cool the hot drink only to realize his balaclava and sniper hood prevented the air from actually reaching the hot tea.
He cursed in German under his breath before he slowly tucked the mug underneath his raised hood to blow the heat off and sipped carefully.
You pursed your lips to hide your chuckle and sipped your own tea. “Do you like it?”
He took another sip from underneath his hood. You wished you could see his face to anticipate his reaction. “It is very nutty, and earthy. I like the aroma.”
You watched him thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and placed your tea down on your desk before reaching for another ball of chocolate filled pastry. “But not as good as chamomile tea?”
You saw the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly from the opening of his hood and wondered if he had dimples when he smiled.
You reached for two more of the chocolate balls and stuffed them in your mouth to distract yourself.
“Will this not spoil your appetite, doctor? It will be dinner time soon,” Konig mentioned, watching you as he lifted the mug to sip some more of the tea.
Your eyebrow twitched as you glanced up. “What are you, my mom?”
You heard a wet splutter and a choking sound before coughing ensued as Konig tried to regain his composure.
“Shit, sorry,” you hurriedly reached for the tissues at your desk and slipped your hands under his hood to wipe where you thought the hot liquid would have splattered. You were going in blind and your fingers immediately halted their movements when they touched his bare lips.
The moment you felt the heat of his breath fog over your fingers, you tried to snatch your hand back out, but Konig gripped your wrist to prevent you from retreating. There was that intensity again in his eyes, the way the gold in his orbs glistened like lightning flashing across a dark sky.
Your fingers held a light tremble as they sat on top of his lips, suspended in time and the thick tension between you. Your fingers seemed to possess a mind of their own and stretched out just a fraction more, seeking more of the touch of his lips against the supple pads of your fingers.
Konig felt the light tremor in your touch and instinctively pressed his lips against the delicate pads of your fingers even more firmly, like he could not bear any more of the whispers of your skin and needed the whole of it pressed firmly against him. A trembling breath shuddered out of him.
You unknowingly whimpered at the contact, and the sound seemed to waken him from whatever spell possessed his mind as he dropped your wrist and jerked back, his rolling chair following him in his sudden movement.
Blood pumped in your ears and you felt like you were going to pop, or spontaneously combust, or perhaps implode. You weren’t sure. You just knew you couldn’t hear or process anything other than Konig.
He reached underneath his hood to bring down his balaclava and shot up to stand. “T-Thank you for the t-tea doctor. And sharing your snack.” He clumsily stumbled over the stool as he rushed towards the door when you called his name out, almost desperately.
He immediately stopped in his tracks though he didn’t turn towards you. You did see the smallest tilt of his head to show he was listening and waiting for you to continue. You could see the muscles coiled underneath the dark fitted shirt, ready to snap at the frailest touch.
“I-I’m out of the office in two weeks, from Monday to Thursday,” you said as steady as your body could muster. “In case I don't see you before then…”
He swallowed hard before he whispered a shaky thank you in a raspy breath before leaving in a rush.
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yyako · 12 days
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A few years ago I was working on a game called The Space Between Us, where players take on the roles of characters from different stories and come together in a crossover setting. I put it down for a few years because life got in the way, but recently I decided to pick it up again.
I published a new version that's got a bit more completeness to it, though it's not perfect yet. I would be honored if you checked it out or even played it.
I'm going to be doing some internal testing on it (by which I mean I'm getting my close friends to play it with me), after which you'll probably see some more changes.
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Regulus: Dude, do you have a problem? Cause you've definitely been looking at me for the last four hours and it's starting to freak me out.
James: You're so beautiful.
Regulus: And then you blurt that out, just like that? What?
James: Yeah. Why wouldn't I?
Regulus: Uh... because you may wanna just play it cool, you know? Ease yourself into the love game.
James: But, I do think you're beautiful.
Regulus: *scoffs*
James: You're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.
Regulus: Okay, just slow your roll, kid. You're... You gotta calm down.
James: I don't wanna calm down.
Regulus: *scoffs*
James: And I don't understand why this is making you so upset.
Regulus: Hey, first of all, I'm not upset. I am uncomfortable. There's a difference.
Regulus: Secondly, people don't go around saying what they feel whenever they feel like it. They have guards and... and shields and other metaphors.
James: Why?
Regulus: Because, we're all messed up, and scared, and trying to be something that we're not. And... and if we all went around just declaring our innermost desires to the exact people we felt them for, well, then we'd all end up... happy, or something...
James:
Regulus:
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29venusglow · 29 days
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The Space Between Us Edgar Berg
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randybr3001 · 9 months
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hudson-bay-girl · 5 months
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Gary Oldman as Nathaniel Shepherd in "The Space Between Us"
God may forgive me my dirty and naughty thoughts. I want him to f**k my brain out...please!
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the-liliger · 1 year
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Movie-Themed Date Idea #1
The Space Between Us:
Camping without tents, mountainy area, sleeping bags, dancing to music playing from the car, blazing campfire.
Watch the beautiful sky above, make shadow puppets, and tell stories.
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kjapaluv · 1 year
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Britt robertson in the space between us
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Title: The Space Between Us
Rating: PG-13
Director: Peter Chelsom
Cast: Asa Butterfield, Britt Robertson, Carla Gugino, Gary Oldman, Janet Montgomery, David House, Sarah Minnich, John-Paul Howard, B.D. Wong, Mia Stellard, Trey Tucker
Release year: 2017
Genres: drama, science fiction, adventure, romance
Blurb: A young man raised by scientists on Mars returns to Earth to find his father.
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femme-pleasures · 1 year
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sexualassbutts · 2 years
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~ Courtney Peppernell
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Regulus: *playing the piano*
James: You act like you hate the world so much, Reg. It's all an act. The beautiful music you make gives you away.
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The Space Between Us (2017)
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forgottenbones · 1 year
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youtube
What IS Nathan Fielder?
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missypup · 2 years
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The Space Between Us
Chapter two of The Space Between Us is up! Join me with the Order 66 angst!
One more chapter to go after this! If you’re enjoying The Space Between Us make sure you check out This is the Way Home! (BobaDin fic that SBU is a small little prequel snippet for!)
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