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forbidden-sunlight · 3 days

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yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption.

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time?

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee.

But he didn’t believe it at first.

He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others?

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved.

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck.

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me?

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all.

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets.

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling. A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles. You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee.

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting.

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans.

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening.

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.”

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you.

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being. This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all.

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office.

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again. You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily.

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning.

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening.

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department.

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is.

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person.She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?”

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.”

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation.

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping. If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well. Dinner too, perhaps?

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.”

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you.

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations!

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

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#forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere!ceo #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw cheating #tw cheating #cw work toxicity #tw work toxicity

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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No Other Love

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to surprise you with a romantic evening.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, slight feels (it’s me, okay), Bucky Barnes being romantic (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: I received some sad news and almost didn't post, but I wanted to share something that brought happy tears to my eyes with Stud. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky sent you to your room and wouldn’t tell you why. He had a surprise planned for you and refused to give you any sort of a hint. He only said he debated kicking you out for a few hours, but didn’t want to risk you getting back too early or late. Oh, and he asked you to put on a dress. Your boyfriend had a romantic plan in mind and you wouldn't deny his request.

You did, however, demand snacks while you waited.

“You want me to feed you just because I’m asking you not to go into the kitchen or dining area for a bit?” he smiled when you pointed to the pantry.

“If I can’t leave my room, I will need sustenance,” you replied.

Just like you didn’t argue about his surprise plans, he didn’t argue when he handed over the food.

“What is he doing out there?” you mumbled to yourself, crossing your arms. You debated pressing your ear against the door to listen, but your stealthy boyfriend managed to keep quiet. “Can I come out now?!” you called out.

“No! Don’t distract me!” he yelled back.

You huffed and flopped back against the pillow. It wasn’t that you didn’t like surprises. You just preferred knowing things. Blame it on your curious nature. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed studying. Expanding your mind and absorbing knowledge centered you. With surprises, however, the only option you had was to wait.

But it’s worth it because it’s Stud.

“‘Don’t distract me.’ Like you haven’t distracted me when I have things to do,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a book from your nightstand. “Menace of a boyfriend.”

“You talking about me?” he shouted as you mindlessly flipped through the pages.

How the hell…?

“No! Just reading! Get back to work or whatever it is that you’re doing!”

“You trust me, right?” He asked.

Even though he couldn't see your face, you smiled. “Completely,” you answered.

If there was anyone in the world you trusted with your entire being, it was Bucky.

“Then trust that this will be worth it.”

“You got it, Stud!” you said, assuming he went back to work since he chuckled and didn't say anything else.

You passed the time with your book before you got up to look in the mirror. Since Bucky didn’t say what kind of dress to wear, you picked something simple and blue. You loved the color before, but he made you appreciate it more. You felt peace when you looked into his eyes.

Trust, loyalty, love.

You just finished spritzing a bit of perfume on your neck when Bucky knocked on the door. Instead of opening it as you expected, he slid a piece of paper under it instead. As you moved closer, you realized it was shaped like a puzzle piece. Smiling, you picked it up to read the message he wrote.

In my wildest dreams, I never thought someone as amazing as you would come into my life. I hope I’m your dream come true and better than any book boyfriend you've read about.

Oh, Bucky.

With misty eyes, you read the message again and traced the letters with your finger. Bucky was the best boyfriend in the universe and you didn’t think that just because he was yours. Any girl would be lucky to have a man like him by his side. Someone loving and steadfast and true.

“Count to ten and then come out,” Bucky said through the door as you composed yourself.

After silently counting to ten as he instructed, you opened the door with a gasp. Bucky took your apartment, one you saw daily, and transformed it. Fairy lights, adjustable lamps, and candles replaced the normally brightly lit place. You could see blankets and pillows ready in the living room for cuddling and hopefully more. And the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air.

Best meal ever.

“Bucky?” you asked when you didn’t see him. Was he hiding? You didn’t even see Alpine or Soot. Maybe he put them in his room. You almost called for Bucky again before you spotted another piece of paper on the floor a few feet in front of your door and went to pick it up.

Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to smile for no reason. And I found the reason for my smile the day I found you. Like when I think of that cute look you get on your face when you put a puzzle together.

You held the sheet close to your chest as you found another in the direction of the kitchen, smiling as you went to retrieve it. This was like a treasure hunt, a puzzle you couldn’t wait to complete. Bucky was the “X” that marked the spot.

If I write your name in the sand, it will wash away. If I write it in the clouds, it will blow away. So I wrote it in my heart where it will always stay in my care. Just like I promised your parents.

I’m going to be a blubbering mess if he keeps this up.

“Wise men say.”

You walked into the kitchen as “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” filled the room, where Bucky was waiting for you. The song you danced to before you became a couple, one that would forever hold a special place in your heart. And it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room as you took in the sight of your boyfriend. Instead of sweatpants or jeans, he wore slacks and a button up shirt. The blue matched your dress. That’s how in sync the two of you were.

He even styled his hair for me.

"Hey, Smartie," he said, his voice gentle as he smiled and nodded to the ground in front of him where another piece of paper lay waiting. “You look beautiful.”

"Thank you, Stud," you smiled, sniffling as you bent down to pick it up. "These messages are beautiful, but are you trying to make me cry? Because if so, well done and it's a good thing I didn't overdo it on the makeup. I'd be a mess."

He laughed, the sound making butterflies flutter in your stomach. "Only if they're tears of joy or pleasure. And you don't need to wear any makeup because you're beautiful," he replied, heat rushing through your body before you read the message.

Love is two people dancing in the kitchen. May I have this dance?

You lifted your gaze to find Bucky holding out his hand. “I’d love to,” you said, setting the pieces of paper on the counter before you joined him. There was no way you would refuse, easily taking his hand for him to pull you into his arms. It was almost overwhelming the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered. If you ever needed to know what love looked like, you only had to gaze into Bucky's eyes.

Am I worthy of such devotion?

"You really are good on your feet,” you said as he began to lead you in a dance.

"I'm even better off my feet," he winked, making you laugh before he spun you away from him, only to pull you back. "That was cheesier than the pizza waiting for us, wasn't it?"

“So cheesy. You had to ruin the moment,” you teased, giving him a coy smile. “So, what’s the special occasion for all this?”

You had a feeling why and wanted your instinct to be correct, but didn’t want to get your hopes up. Family wise, they were ready for you to take the next step. Your parents adored the hell out of Bucky. Becca welcomed you like a sister. Your friends, of course, were also supportive and ready for you to tie the knot.

“Do I need a reason to spoil my girl with an extra romantic pizza and movie night? I’m even letting you pick the movie, even though you chose last time.”

“How generous of you. And no, you don’t need a reason to spoil me,” you said. Even if he didn’t have something specific planned, he made you feel special just by calling you his girl. You knew, no matter how many years passed, the two of you would continue to find ways to make each other feel loved and cared for.

“Do you remember the day we met?” he asked, smiling as if the memory was playing in his mind. “I warned you that Alpine chased off the last person who came over to look at the place. I was worried for a second she'd try the same thing with you.”

“You did warn me,” you giggled. “And I just crouched down and stuck my hand out toward her.”

“She loved you from the start,” he said, pulling you closer as he brushed his mouth against your ear, the gentle tickle of his scruff making your eyes slip shut. “I think I loved you, too.”

Bucky and his perfect voice and perfect words and I'm about to cry all over again.

“You think you loved me from the moment you met me?” You asked, sniffling as he pulled back and nodded. “Because I think I loved you, too. Which sounds crazy, but we're both a little crazy in the best ways.”

We're a couple of dorks who found a way to fit together.

“We are a little crazy. And who would Stud be without his Smartie?" He asked, handing you a sheet that he seemed to pull out of thin air. “One more piece.”

My love for you is like a circle: It has no beginning and no end. And it would be an honor for you to wear my family ring.

Bucky dropped down to one knee and grasped your left hand as he took a box from his pocket. You couldn’t slow the beating of your heart as he looked up at you with loving eyes. “When I tried to think of the perfect proposal, I wanted it to be the kind you deserved. And I couldn’t get our apartment out of my head. This is where we met. The place where you became my roommate. And we made it a home together. You even fell in love with me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m thankful every single day that you allowed me to love you, too.”

Your breath hitched when he opened the box. Even expecting it, your soul was ready to leave your body. “Bucky,” you whispered, a sob bursting from your throat when he tenderly smiled.

“My mom told me to give this to the person who stole my heart. You gave me the world when you gave me yours. And I promised your dad I'd always take care of you and love you the way you deserve. We’re made for each other and I don’t want to live a single day without you by my side.”

You could only cry when he removed the ring from the box. For him to think you were worthy of wearing something so significant and special to his family was a precious gift. One you would never let him question or regret. “I don’t want to either.”

“You're my missing piece. My forever. My Smartie,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you cried, your hand shaking a little as he slipped the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made for you. Like you and Bucky were made for each other.

My missing piece. My forever. My Stud.

Bucky stood and leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips. You eliminated any distance between you by pressing your mouth to his. You clung to him, your mouth soft against his as he brought a thumb up to wipe away your tears. You drew back, your heart fluttering in your chest as he brought his lips to your damp cheek.

“I love you so much,” he breathed against your skin.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you whispered, bringing your mouth back to his. “I love you, too.”

You never could’ve imagined someone like Bucky in your wildest dreams. He was the reason you smiled, sometimes for no reason at all. You’d write his name on your heart and forever keep it there. You would dance with him in the kitchen or wherever he asked you to. Your love for him, like his love for you, was an unbreakable circle.

And you couldn’t wait to be his wife.

Yay! He proposed! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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avocad1s · 1 year

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Summary: It’s been five hundred years since the people of Teyvat celebrated the return of their Creator. Oh what a joyous day that was! However there was something off with the Divine One, had they always acted like this? Not only that, being in their presence didn’t bring the same warmth it did all those centuries ago, but to go against their creator is the highest form of treason they could commit. So when another shows up sharing the exact face as the one on the throne, many are conflicted on who to follow.

Characters Featured: Multiple Characters Mentioned

Note: Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You’ve been warned.

Part one (You are here!) Part Two

This is not beta read. So I apologize for any mistakes.

For the first time in decades, six of the archons stood in the same room.

It was an odd occurrence, most of them preferred to stay in their respective nations, the only time they would all meet up like this is if something dire was occurring.

One of these occasions was when the Divine One descended down to Teyvat, it was a day to remember for everyone. Celebrations went on for weeks, many hoping that the Creator would acknowledge them with a vision, mora, or even a simple glance. However, blinded by their own excitement, the people of Teyvat didn’t notice how… off the Creator was. Well, besides the ones who are considered to be the closest to them.

…

“We’ve all noticed that Their Grace has been acting a bit different ever since they returned,”

“Well they have been away for a while, maybe they need time to adjust?”

“That can’t be it, they’ve already been here for centuries. They would’ve adjusted by now.”

“Even though I never met them personally before they returned, anytime they are in Sumeru they are nothing like the scriptures say.”

“Maybe the Divine One is acting off due to what happened to…”

The room falls silent.

“Was there any response from the Cryo archon?”

“No she had locked down her nation years ago, nothing goes in and nothing comes out. Except for the Fatui… Mor- Zhongli, do you think that she knew something before the rest of us?”

“It is possible, but we cannot say for certain. Yet, we cannot act without knowing the truth.”

“I agree, acting with only suspicion rather than proof would be foolish.”

“So what do we do?”

“For now we do nothing, eventually something will come to light.”

Present Day

The heat in the desert of Sumeru was unforgiving, you could get caught in a sandstorm or if you do not bring enough supplies that could also be the end for you. So it was only natural that when the Traveler and her floating companion noticed someone passed out in the sand, they would rush over to help.

“Hey Traveler…” Paimon begins, “look at their clothes, it’s not like anything we’ve seen before.”

The girl looks down at the unconscious person. Paimon was right, they weren’t wearing any type of clothing that indicated that they were from any nation in Teyvat.

Not to mention the sudden comforting feeling the girl had gotten once she had approached them. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her and her brother were still traveling worlds together.

“Let’s wake them up.”

It took more shakes and taps than the Traveler was expecting but soon their eyes open and they sit up slowly, sand falling off of their body with every movement.

“Are you okay?” The Traveler asks.

They let out a soft groan turning to look at the girl and her companion.

“Where am I?” Were the first words to leave their mouth.

“Sumeru’s desert!” Paimon says, “erm, do you not remember how you got here? Traveler, maybe we should bring this person to Tighnari, they seem to be a bit disoriented.”

Without realizing it, the Traveler ignores Paimon keeping all of her attention on the mysterious person still sitting in the warm sand. She holds her hand out, “here let me help you up.” They take the Travelers hand standing up on their feet, dusting the leftover sand off their clothing.

The Traveler continues to keep their gaze locked on them while they dust off their clothing. Noticing her friends odd behavior, Paimon clears her throat and begins talking.

“Well this is Lumine, but everyone just calls her the Traveler. Paimon is Paimon.” The fairy gestures to her friend then to herself. “What’s your name?”

They hesitate for a moment before saying their name, “thank you Paimon and Lumine for waking me, there’s no telling what could’ve happened if you didn’t.”

Lumine feels a warmth bloom in her chest at their kind words.

“It’s not problem, the Traveler is always happy to help!” Paimon says happily, “but Paimon has to ask, why are you unconscious in the desert anyway?”

“I don’t… I can’t remember. The last thing I remember seeing was a blinding light.”

Paimon and Lumine exchange glances.

“Well if you want, you can tag along with us to Sumeru city, we have some really smart friends who may be able to help you there.” Lumine offers.

They smile, “thanks but I don’t want to intrude on your journey.”

“Oh you’re not intruding! The Traveler and Paimon we’re already heading to the city to meet the Creator!”

Lumine shoots the fairy a dirty look causing her to shrink back apologizing while also whispering something about how she wasn’t supposed to say that.

However they had already perked up at the mention of the Divine. “The Creator?”

Lumine lets out a defeated breath, “we weren’t supposed to say anything…” she glances at her companion, “but the Creator has finally granted me an audience.”

“Yeah the Travelers been asking for ages to meet them but the creator has always refused until she helped the Dendro Archon.”

Paimon gets another, less noticeable glare thrown her way.

“I see…” They began, “you must be something pretty special to meet someone like them.”

There was a small silence.

“Well we should probably get a move on, we shouldn’t keep someone this important waiting!”

———

The walk back to Sumeru City was awkward to say the least. It seems that ever since the Creator was brought up in the conversation, Lumine and Paimons new friends seemed to be more closed off than before. Maybe they were apart of the few that didn’t blindly worship the Creator? Or maybe they’re using this tactic to hold back their jealousy? Lumine wasn’t sure but she’d rather not know.

Soon enough the city was visible from where they were standing, it would only be another twenty minute hike until they reached the entrance.

“I hope that walk wasn’t too bad for you considering your condit-“

Lumine pauses mid-sentence, they were gone? Just a minute ago they were behind them and now they were nowhere to be seen.

“Paimon didn’t even hear them wander off, I hope they’re okay…” The fairy says worriedly. Lumine nods but continues forward, if they had left on their own then it was clear they could handle themselves. The Traveler just hopes that nothing bad happens to them and she hopes to see them again.

You didn’t feel bad ditching the two girls.

After all that wasn’t the worse thing you did to them today.

You lied to them multiple times, maybe the only true thing you told the two was your name, but it didn’t matter.

As soon as you laid eyes on the girl, you knew she wasn’t from this world. Maybe that’s why you didn’t feel that bad lying to her? Or maybe you’re just lying to yourself.

Truthfully, you only followed them after they had brought up the Creator.

Ah yes, the “Creator”

The was the main reason why you returned after all this time in the first place.

You were aware that they had crowned another as the Creator when it first happened five hundred years ago, and you would’ve returned then and extinguished them, but you were still mourning the loss of one of your nations. Then it simply slipped your mind. Until now, when Teyvat has cried out to you once more.

You can’t keep neglecting your creation, especially since you care about it deeply.

Now of course you could’ve just bursted in the room that the usurper was in and defeated them right then and there but you wanted more information.

How did they pass off as you so easily? More importantly, how did anyone believe it?

Sure there’s a chance they may look like you but there’s no way they could replicate your power or your connection to the world itself.

You huff hiding behind a tree watching the two girls look around for you before eventually giving up heading towards the city.

This was going to take more effort than you thought.

The first thing Lumine noticed when she entered the dark room was the sheer coldness. She couldn’t see them at the top of the stairs but the presence of being in the room with them was already overwhelming.

She was in the room with the Creator.

Despite all the questions she had, her throat felt dry, like she couldn’t talk or rather, she didn’t have permission yet.

The girl kneels before them locking her gaze on the ground, she was slightly disappointed that she wasn’t the only one in the room. There were many Sages in the room and even Nahida was off to the side giving her a welcome smile.

“Traveler…” a voice brakes through the silence causing Lumine to tense, “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m honored to be before you,” she stutters. Why did she feel like this? She met four Gods already, but why did she feel so tense around them? Like she had to watch her words carefully or something bad may happen.

“Please come here,” their voice calls out.

Lumine stands up shakily walking slowly towards the stairs, she keeps her gaze lowered as she walks up slowly. Soon enough she was right in front of the Creator. The girl goes to kneel once more but she stops when another order comes instead.

“Will you look at me?”

A audible gasp leaves the Travelers mouth as she stares out their face. This was the first time the Traveler had ever been face-to-face with them ever, although their elegance was undeniable their face was unmistakably the same as the person in the desert.

Without realizing Lumine mutters out the name of the person she had met just a few hours before.

Now it was time for everyone else to gasp.

A plethora of snide remarks and comments were thrown at the girl, many yelling out how dare she calls the creator by their true name or how she needs to show more respect.

The creator holds out a hands and the room immediately goes silent.

“Traveler,” their voice sickly sweet. “How are you aware of my true name?”

The blonde fiddles with her fingers for a moment, “Someone in the desert had told me that was their name. They had the same face as you.”

Their eyes widen but quickly relax as they uncross their legs to stand and approach the outlander.

“Are you telling me you saw someone running around with my face and my name?”

Lumine nods.

They rest a hand on the blonde girls shoulder giving her a soft smile.

“Where is this person now?”

Lumine shakes her head, “I’m not sure, they disappeared before I got to the city.”

They nod, “don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just want you to find this person for me and bring them here, okay?”

Words fail her and she nods at their request.

“Great. You may leave.”

———

Lumine lets out a deep breath once she was out of the room. Just being in that room made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Traveler!” Paimon floats over to her friend, “how did it go? Do they know anything about the unknown God you’re looking for?”

“They had the same face.”

“Huh?”

“The Divine One and the person in the desert.” Lumine clarifies, “they had the same face and name.”

“How’s that possible?”

The Traveler decides to stay silent, she didn’t know either and now she was tasked on finding this person and bringing them here.

“Lumine!” A voice calls out.

She turns around relaxing visibly once she meets their gaze. It was Nahida.

“Oh Nahida! It’s been a while, how’s the Wanderer?”

The Dendro Archon smiles, “he’s perfectly fine but that’s not why I approached you.”

Lumine was completely aware why the Archon decided to approach her, she was in the room when she had her ‘outburst’ with the Creator.

“You had said you saw someone who looked exactly like Their Grace, right? I was wondering if I could tag along with you in finding them.”

Lumine raises a brow, “really? You want to tag along?”

“Let’s just say I have my own suspicions…” Nahida says. “Now, where was the last place you had seen them?”

Note: Well if you made it this far that means you must’ve read all that way to the end, so thanks for that! I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes, my english is :P but I’m trying!

I know that everyone has written something for the imposter au of sagau but this has been in my head for weeks and i finally decided I wanted to put it into words and post it. I’m not sure how well it will do, or how good it even is… but yeah… :>

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin sagau #sagau lumine #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au

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blitzyn · 6 months

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rookie mistake

dottore x m!reader

Request: Requests are open right? I hope so 🤞 Would I be able to ask for a sub!(male/amab)reader X dom!dottore? With some blackmail and coercion, preferably leaning towards dubious consent but I’m am a-ok with non-con elements, with a fatui/subordinate reader? If you could add in a small scene of him continuing while talking with someone outside the door that’s be awesome 😎 - Anonymous

Synopsis: You accidentally invade Dottore's office in search of intel.

a/n -> yall i know that i said i was on the fence about writing for genshin, but it was dottore and i love him plus i really liked this idea despite it having collected dust in my inbox for decades. whoever requested this: i love your mind and im so sorry it took me forever to decide to write this!! but just a reminder to whoever sees this, i will not be writing for fontaine unless stated otherwise!!

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> non-con, blackmail, coercion, blowjob, deepthroat, literally getting caught, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, standing doggy position, fatuus/infiltrator reader, guys he calls you a rat because you're a spy, not beta read

Your job was straightforward. But it was also one of the most grueling missions you've ever been assigned to.

With your status as an elite spy, you were tasked with infiltrating the Fatui as one of their ranks to gather information regarding the locations and purposes of specific forts to prevent potential attacks and keep the organization from acquiring knowledge valuable to their cause.

There was absolutely no room for error, lest you get caught and pay for that mistake with your life.

Fortunately enough, the mask everyone was required to wear (with the exception of the Harbingers) concealed your identity, allowing you to execute your orders with relative ease. Of course, it wasn't completely simple. You had to fight your way up the ranks in order to even get a hint of the plan from your superiors, which took years to even get recognized for your efforts.

Several times have you had to go against your moral compass. Several times, you doubted your abilities and questioned if you were even making a dent in the Fatui's plans. Although, when you heard a faint argument due to a lack of resources, you knew you were on the right track.

But one day, you noticed that an agent's office door was left unlocked. There was no one in the hallways, and not a soul knew that you had stolen an important document that recorded data for some valuable supply that you didn't care enough to read about.

Making sure you tucked the paper deep inside your coat pocket, you strained your ears to ensure you were alone before taking the risk and entering the isolated office. It looked like your standard room. Boring, silent, and strangely barren of many decorations. You took a moment to inspect the area before deciding to take a step forward when your blood suddenly ran cold.

"I don't use this office very often," a voice said from behind you. You just about jumped out of your skin, swiveling your head to the person behind you. It took you a moment to put a face to the name you'd heard so many times before, but when you did, you quickly regretted your decision to search for any additional information. "But even so, don't you think it's rude to invade someone's personal space?"

You froze, unable to find the right words. Nothing could explain why you were currently snooping around in an office that wasn't yours—much, much less when it belonged to the Second of the Eleven Harbingers.

You inwardly cursed your naive eagerness to do more than you were asked. Your years of experience as a spy should've kept you from making such a rookie mistake, and now all your work was going down the drain.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, fighting the urge to fidget at the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you, analyzing your appearance. He broke the silence with a hum, neither intrigued nor entirely disappointed.

"I have heard others spread rumors of a mole within our ranks but thought nothing more of their words as an excuse for their inability to secure our resources," Dottore mused, raising a hand to his chin. "I assume that the mole is you?"

You couldn't bring yourself to reply. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted into knots. Not that he cared.

"I must applaud your efforts," he said, a slight smirk decorating his pale face. "Not many people evade our eyes so easily, and for as long as you have."

"But, a word of advice—" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar device. He presented it to you, watching in amusement when you suddenly patted yourself down before looking back up towards him. It was the device you used to contact your organization. "—Make sure you clean up after yourself. It's impolite to leave your items lying around."

You don't remember dropping it or forgetting it somewhere. But that didn't matter anymore. You were stuck in the present with no way of getting out of this situation.

He flipped the device over, dully inspecting it as he continued talking. "After going through your data log, it wasn't hard figuring out what you were going for next. While this normally wouldn't spark any interest in me, this resource just so happens to be vital in my current experiment, and I can't have you tampering with my results."

He walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He was close enough for you to inhale his scent of sterile rubbing alcohol and metal. It made your nose burn as you watched him intently, tensing and fighting the urge to back away out of fear of angering him somehow. The document in your pocket felt unusually heavy.

"Although, I didn't expect such a seasoned spy like yourself to make such an amateur move," he hummed, ignoring your need for personal space to pull your mask off. And you were helpless against it all. "[Name] [L.Name], is it? Why don't you read the paper you have right now?"

That's when you knew you fucked up big time.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your coat pocket to pull out the report, unfolding it only to realize that it wasn't a report at all. It was a blank piece of paper. But you could've sworn there was writing on it when you grabbed it earlier!

He could see the confusion on your face clear as day as a laugh left his lips, tapping a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tip of your nose to regain your attention. "I believe this is what you're after." With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled the paper that contained everything you needed.

"What—" you gasped, briefly staring at your paper before looking back up.

"It's a shame you didn't think to check the ink before you took it," he said, faux disappointment laced in his voice before it reverted back to its normal tone just as fast. "The ink 'disappears' when subjected to anything higher than room temperature. When you put it in your pocket, your body heat, coupled with the insulation from your coat, affected the writing and turned it invisible."

Fuck.

He planned this out.

You swallowed nervously, taking a deep inhale to steel your nerves, even when it didn't do much to help you. "How... how long have you known?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Not long, really," Dottore casually replied, as if he didn't hold your entire life in the palm of his hand. "I caught you just in time."

"Now," he said with a voice that demanded your attention. Not that he needed to try, anyway. His very presence was almost impossible to ignore. "I'm willing to offer you two options. One, I hand this device over to one of my lovely agents and have them torture you for answers then promptly dispose of you. Or, two—" He waved the communicator in the air, taunting you. "—I have you make it up to me."

It was obvious which one you'd be more tempted to accept, but you knew that accepting an offer such as this from Dottore, of all people, was not a good idea. He knows he has you right where he wants you.

"The second one. I... I'll make it up to you." The words tasted like acid as you forced them out, watching a pleased smirk rise on his face.

"Good," he muttered mostly to himself. Leisurely, he turned around and walked towards the door, shutting it before refocusing back on you.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, placing his hands behind his back as he waited for you to move. He observed silently as you obeyed, staring at the floor in shame. "Crawl to me."

He sighed impatiently upon seeing the conflicted and perplexed expression on your face. "You want to be a rat so badly, don't you? So get down and crawl to me like one."

You were given no choice but to comply despite the absurdity of his request. Hanging your head, you inched forward as the cold, wooden floors painfully dug into your knees, stopping once the sight of his boots came into view. You held back a flinch when you heard the fabric of his clothes rustle as he leaned down to lift your head up by your hair, forcing you to your knees.

Instantly, your eyes zeroed in on the prominent bulge in Dottore's pants, making you painfully aware of what he wanted you to do next. With a suspiciously gentle tug, he brought you slightly closer to him. You could tell he was getting impatient.

"Well?" He questioned, a frown gracing his features. "You don't need instructions. Go on."

You glanced up at him with blatant disgust in your eyes before raising your hands to undo his pants and reveal his semi-hard cock. You suppressed a grimace as you held it in your hand, steeling your nerves just enough to be able to lick a stripe down the side. Flattening your tongue, you moved back up to take the tip in your mouth, letting your saliva slip past the corners of your lips to lubricate the rest of his dick.

You half-assed it all, not bothering to take it all the way down or, at the very least, use your tongue. However, Dottore caught on quick enough with an annoyed sigh. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he tangled his fingers into your hair and shoved you down, but you were caught off guard either way.

You were embarrassed to hear a loud gag sound from you, choking and sputtering on his cock whenever the tip of it slid down your throat. You dug your nails into his thighs when he suddenly shifted and pressed the sole of his boot onto your dick, letting out a muffled cry that only served to please him. He made no move to rub it against you, simply keeping it firmly on your crotch—to keep you in line, you assumed.

You squirmed, internally cringing at the feeling of your drool seeping out the corners of your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut, you tried to focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out, in and—

"Don't look away," he said, refusing to give you a moment of respite, shoving his cock all the way inside your mouth, harshly tugging on your hair at the same time. He fucked your face, ignoring your sounds of protest as he battered your throat. He laughed at your struggle, entertained with the way your tears gathered at your lash line.

"Awh, is this too much for you?" He taunted, shifting his hand to the back of your head to push you down to the base. He sighed contentedly at the feeling of your throat tightening and spasming around him, gently rocking his hips. "You should've thought that through before you accepted the job."

With a painful tug, he pulled you off of his cock. A trail of saliva connected you to him, which you quickly broke when you turned your head to cough into your elbow. He ordered you to get up, unwilling to wait a second before he hauled you up by your arm impatiently. He effortlessly moved your body, pressing your cheek against the wooden door as he pushed on your back, forcing it to arch.

Deeming your position acceptable, he tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants to yank them down to your knees. Your breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature, refusing to lean back and seek any warmth from Dottore.

With one hand on your hip, the other strayed toward your ass, spreading it to inspect your hole. It took effort to keep yourself from fidgeting under his gaze, and you opened your mouth in a daring attempt to get him to hurry up when he suddenly spat on your hole, shoving two fingers inside soon after.

You let out a grunt, clawing at the door he had you lean against. It was an uncomfortably foreign sensation but you were in no position to struggle. A burning sensation emanated from your hole as his fingers forced their way inside, wasting no time to move in a scissoring motion. They brushed against a spot that sent sparks up your spine every so often, taunting you wordlessly.

"You're enjoying this," Dottore said, not as a question or comment, but as a statement. And the worst thing was, he was right. No matter how much your mind made you hate it, your body told a different tale.

You let out a displeased sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold door, not daring to make your words known. Not that he minded. He enjoyed forcing your reactions out of you just as much as having them given to him without a fight.

He made it known with a jab to your prostate, sending a shock up and down your spine so suddenly it nearly made your knees buckle. That was all he gave you before abruptly pulling away, leaving you uncomfortably empty until the quiet ptuh! sound of him spitting on his cock filled your ears.

Fuck. This was actually happening. And you had no way out.

In a last ditch effort to maintain your dignity, you tried to push yourself off of the door but was quickly pressed—borderline slammed—back down with a hand to the back of your neck.

"I don't think you'll enjoy the alternative," he said, the undertones of irritation and impatience evident in his voice. He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to ensure your compliance, nearly scowling when you shifted in place. "So be still and behave like a good little thing."

Without missing a beat, he lined the tip of his cock up against your slick asshole and pushed his way inside, forcing a strained cry from your throat. He made sure it hurt, purposefully moving slowly to make you feel every inch and vein.

You whimpered, trying to breathe and calm yourself down. The stretch fucking hurt and you instinctively shifted your hips forward in a futile attempt to ease the pain when Dottore held your hips to yank you back, shoving the last few inches inside you.

You let out a strangled groan, biting your lower lip to stifle your noises as searing pain tore through you. You breathed heavily through your nose, feeling the weight of disgust settle in your chest when you heard him sigh in satisfaction at how tight you were. You winced when he pulled out slowly, only for him to slam back inside with a loud slap.

You jolted, just about ramming your head against the door in surprise. You grit your teeth and pressed a hand against it as the wood audibly creaked and groaned under your weight when he began to move. You tensed upon hearing faint voices beyond the door, peering back over your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to get him to stop.

"W—Wait," you muttered, breath hitching. "There's someone outside...!"

"Then I suppose you're just going to have to be quiet," he replied with an upward quirk to his lips before angling himself in a way that made his cock press up against you just right. You were disgusted to feel heat beginning to pool in your gut, forcing moans past your lips no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You covered your mouth with a hand as you listened to the noises approach. Dottore was (somewhat) merciful enough to press his pelvis against your ass, though that didn't stop him from rocking his hips to cruelly grind his cock into your prostate.

"Dottore?" It took you a moment to process the voice as electricity shot up and down your spine, trying your damn best to stifle your whimpers. "Are you in there?"

It's Pantalone, you recognize.

"Yes. Is there something you need from me?" Dottore replied, shifting his hold on you to start shallowly thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, listening to the painfully loud squelching.

"Not at the moment. I thought I heard something... else," Pantalone hummed with a knowing tone, sending a wave of mortification through your body.

"Then if that is all, I'd prefer it if you left," Dottore said, his amusement clear as day in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it as he gave you a punishing thrust, the resounding slap mixing in with your moan as it echoed off the walls. "I'm busy."

A laugh came from behind the door. "Very well. I'll leave you to it."

Dottore refused to wait for him to leave when he started again, this time fucking you so hard you were convinced there'd be a bruise. His fingers dug into your skin, yanking you back in time with his thrusts.

Your legs shook and you bit your lip until you bled, but it hardly did a thing to silence you.

"Look at you," Dottore mused, reaching around to hold your aching cock in his hand. He gave it a squeeze before jerking off the top half, focusing on the tip. "You were never meant to be a spy. You'd be so much better off as my little pet, wouldn't you agree?"

You let out a loud moan, instinctively looking down. You didn't even realize you were so hard, but as you watched the head of your cock drool precum onto the ground, everything felt twice as intense.

"N—No!" You choked out, clawing desperately at the creaking door. "I'll never—I'll never be your pet!"

"No?" Dottore laughed, sounding so unbothered it sent a spike of fear through you, reminding you of just how fucked you were. Swiftly, he swiped his fingers over the tip of your cock before bringing his hand up to push them into your mouth, making you taste your precum. With the palm of his hand, he pressed it against your chin to force your head back.

You let out a groan, feeling the strain on your upper back and neck as you stared at him with fear and disgust.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he reminded, pulling out the communicator with his other hand. He slightly shook it, taunting you. "Don't you remember that actions have consequences?"

He pocketed the device as he slid his hand away from your mouth to bring it to the back of your neck, holding it tightly as he harshly pressed you against the cold wood. The side of your face ached, but, much to your horror, the pain only went straight to your cock.

"So just stand there and enjoy it," he said with a groan, his dick pulsing rhythmically as he savored the sensation of your walls clamping tightly around him. "Don't fight how much you like this."

"I don-" Just then, he rammed his cock into your prostate over and over, reducing you into a babbling mess that only proved his point.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, ashamed that you loved the feeling of him so deep inside you, but you hated that it was him fucking you. You could feel the heat in your stomach intensify with each harsh thrust, feel the way your balls tightened in a way you knew you couldn't stop.

"Please..." you whimpered, weak against the wet slapping sounds that filled the office. "I don't want to...!"

You came with a whorish moan, arching your back as your cock spilled cum onto the floor. You could hear the sound of Dottore's laugh through the haze of your orgasm as sparks coursed through your veins, knees nearly buckling.

"Yes you do," he groaned, voice slightly strained. You could faintly hear his labored breathing the closer he got to his own orgasm, noticing the way his movements grew sloppier and weaker. He reached around again, jerking you off despite the lurking overstimulation.

You tightened, sending him right over the edge as he slammed his cock inside you a final time, pressing himself flush against your ass as he came. It was uncomfortably warm as he throbbed in time with each spurt, savoring the way you practically tried to milk him dry.

But he didn't let it last long as he pulled out with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sight of you, shaky and vulnerable, before him. He graciously gave you a moment before commanding you to fix yourself, stepping back to adjust his own appearance.

"Now," he said, sternly, like he didn't just fuck you within a damn inch of your life. "Why don't you send a message to your organization stating that you're not going back."

He handed you the communicator with a smug smirk, relishing in your distress. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you accepted the device, reluctantly typing in a message before returning it back to him with regret written on your face.

"Oh, don't look so upset," he pouted, pocketing the device. You weren't sure when you'd see it again. "It'll be easier for you if you cooperate."

He made his way past you, opening the door, sending shivers down your spine at the sudden chill. "But right now, you have a lot of work to do."

cross-posted on ao3

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sandinthemachine · 1 year

Text

Mortal Remains

König x f!reader

written for the request: "You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes." With Either ghost or König? There's not enough fluff for my men.

I don't even know where to begin with this one. It's massive, the longest one I've ever written. I love it, and I hate it. It made me cry. I'm excited and terrified to see what everyone else thinks. I hope someone reading this feels at least one of those emotions while doing so (preferably not hate)

before I begin, thank you to @sprout-fics and @zwienzixes for being lovely beta readers, and a MASSIVE thank you to @itsagrimm for beta-reading, helping me work through ideas, giving me proper German translations, and all around being an amazing and supportive person. I would have given up on this without all the help.

Translations for the German will be at the bottom

Words: 12,450 (yeah...it's big just like him)

Warnings/tags: König is soft and pretends not to be, reader is afab but no pronouns used, canon-typical violence, piv sex, oral f!receiving, self-deprecation, lots of raw emotions, mental health is hard, fluffy ending

---

It started easy enough, as so many things do.

A week-long joint training exercise. Mixed teams, both 141 and KorTac. Something something bonding before the real mission. You hadn’t been listening.

You remember being excited to be teamed with Soap. At least you could get along with someone, you mused. You barely noticed the hooded figure, tall and sticking to the corners, merging with the lengthening shadows. What’s another ghost haunting your footsteps? Nothing special, that’s for sure.

The first four days fly by. Early morning patrols, always in pairs, tracking for signs of the other team. Finding nothing, you move to a different shelter, secure the area, sleep. Rinse, repeat.

The fifth day is different. There are ragged clouds cloaking the sun while the rest of the sky is completely clear. You’re not sure why you noticed that, but you did.

It was an early morning patrol, as usual, you and your partner sweeping around a centerpoint like you were analyzing a single massive clock. Northeast quadrant clear. Southeast clear. Southwest…a scuff in the dirt. You lean down, fingers tracing the air just above it, a black fleck catching your eye. You grasp it, finding it much larger than you originally expected and partially buried. You pull at the rubbery texture, curious. Distracted.

The ambush comes quietly. Perfectly so. The weight lands on your back with an abruptness that flattens your lungs, dropping you directly onto your hands. You might have twisted your wrist, but the pain of that is overshadowed by the thought of the immense beratement you’ll get from your NCO for failing so fast.

Yet the weight from your back is lifted as quietly as it arrived. You turn, rolling to your feet to find that it had been Gaz on top of you only a second ago. Now he dangles like a ragdoll in the air. The shadow holding him draws a knife, taps it against his throat. You're out.

Gaz sighs as he’s set on the ground, giving you a nod before marching off. You don’t return it, too busy staring at the man next to him.

You’d never noticed his eyes before. You’re used to Ghost’s eyes, dark and unyielding, cavernous black holes reaching into a skull long dead. Like he was born to wear the mask.

This man’s eyes couldn’t be more different. They’re pale, washed out, windows into a sky perpetually on the verge of snowfall, slumbering clouds cold and waiting.

They curve down at the corners, lending an air of melancholy to the only part of his face you can see. You wonder how he really feels behind that gaze.

You’re staring.

You clear your throat awkwardly, aiming to thank him before pausing. “I…I’m sorry, I never caught your callsign?”

The head dips down, draped fabric falling down his chest slightly. A nod. “We need to keep moving.”

And he’s walking past you.

Two days later, the training exercise finally comes to a head in a fierce brawl over the fake weapons cache. Knives and fists only.

The fight takes only a few minutes. Ghost on the opposite team notices your attempted ambush immediately, throwing his men after you. Your team is outnumbered, stuck in a hallway. But it doesn’t matter.

Ghost and the hooded man roll on the ground, tousling like a pair of tomcats, Ghost landing on top for just a second, raising his knife-

You’re there. Arm wrapped around his shoulders. Blade tapping against his throat. You’re out.

With that, the fight is over. Ghost moves with a grumble at the man under him. It might have been a threat. But the man doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy staring at you with grey-sky eyes wide. A child dressed as a dirty sheet-ghost. “I…I don’t know your-”

You thrust your hand out, yanking him to his feet. “We’d better head back.”

You feel him at your back throughout the debriefing. Rolling thunder clouds looming over your head, ready to burst at any second. Your tongue is between your teeth, lungs heaving. Soap whispers a joke in your ear, something about Ghost getting chewed out by the NCO. You can barely muster a smile.

You stay still as the meeting finally ends, waiting for everyone to filter out before you finally turn around.

As you turn, your shoulder knocks into hard muscle and you look up, craning your neck to take in the hooded face and the way his pupils are blown wide into dark pits. A gale you should take shelter from lest you be blown away. But for a moment all you do is stand there, watching your own pupils expand in the turbulent reflection.

Your teeth are carving marks into your tongue by now, and it takes you far too long to draw in a shaky breath and push past him. You have more training tomorrow. It’s sleep your body needs. Not…whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word as you depart, but his eyes track your every move before the door shuts behind you.

Of course this is a night where you can’t sleep. Of course. You flip and roll, hearing your bed frame smack against the wall every time you shift until you get so annoyed you shove it further into your room and flop down on it again. It doesn’t do anything, of course. Just makes your insomnia a little quieter.

It’s nearly midnight by the time you throw your legs over the side in frustration, shivering at the frigid air before throwing on enough clothes to look decent and marching down towards the shared kitchen.

He’s there. Your luck is just perfect tonight. You take a step backwards, planning to flee back to the darkness of the hallway, but he’s already turning his head, shoulders jumping just slightly as you enter his view.

You crumple a little as he notices you, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” Your voice is rough as you walk over to the counter next to him, yanking an expired box of cereal from the back of it. Your arm brushes his as you pull it out.

You spare him a glance as you pry the old box open, snorting at his narrowed eyelids. You bet he’s scrunching his nose through that silly hood, too. You reach in, hearing a series of crunches as you rifle around. “Ah, there it is.” You pull out the clear bottle, shaking it triumphantly in his face. “This’ll knock you right out. 50/50 chance you get back up tomorrow.” You trail off, eyes traveling up and down him. “Well, maybe a bit better odds for you.” You chuckle half-heartedly, but it dies a second later.

You puff your lips out in a shaky breath, running your tongue along your teeth before giving him an awkward smile and raising the bottle to him. With that you leave.

As soon as you take a sip you spit it right back out with a blech. You’d forgotten how nasty the stuff is. You toss it into the trash can and flop back down with an irritated groan. How hard is it to fall asleep? It’s literally laying there doing no-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, and upon swinging it open you find him, his looming shadow nearly blotting out the light from the hallway behind. It’s easy to forget how big he is when he’s not around. How strong he is. How…deadly.

But right now he’s leaning against your doorframe, hands tapping along his legs. “Have enough for two?”

You smirk a little at that, but as you step closer you feel the heat radiating from him, your shoulder blades clenching together as your mind begins to process something.

You’d sleep better for it. Perform better the next day. It would be good for you.

Your smirk deepens. “I have a better idea.”

As your hand tangles in his shirt you feel a tremble along his skin, but he doesn’t respond when you pull on him. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I haven’t had a drop. Shit’s disgusting.”

“Show me the bottle.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you fish the full monstrosity out of the bin to show him. He nods but still doesn’t move, and you find yourself rushing to assure him as heat rushes up your neck. “If you actually just want to drink, we can. We don’t have to do anything-”

“No. That’s not it.” Finally he steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him before he stalks to you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you hiss, moving to hold onto him again, your mind swirling with exhaustion and old memories that you just need out, right now, and he’s right there and he needs it too, you just know it as he swoops down to grab you and toss you on the bed, both of you a mess to rip your clothes off now that the facade has finally fallen.

After the fog clears you find yourself panting on your stomach with him above you, caging you in with his forearms. Each of his stuttering inhales brings his burning chest and stomach against your back. Before the heat can become unbearable he pulls away, breaths still heaving as he tucks himself back into his pants.

Your eyes widen in surprise when he makes his way to your bathroom and comes back, washcloth in hand, to softly clean you up. As he finishes he pauses, thumb brushing the edge of an old knife scar running up your hip. “My callsign,” he murmurs, fingers tracing its length. “It’s König.”

And with that, he leaves.

You were content for that to be the end of it. You’d each gotten what you needed, after all. And as you stretch languidly across your mattress the following morning, an unfamiliar relaxation settles along your tense muscles. Yes, you would be more than happy to leave it at this.

But as the next training drill ends you find yourself faced with your cold barrack and the prospect of another sleepless night. Before you even realize what you’re doing your legs are moving, ready to go to the kitchen and-

He’s right there, startling as you nearly open your door into his face. He takes a step back, but you’re already holding your hand out and his eyes are burning into you as he takes it and lets you pull him in, lets you shut the door behind you before he’s lifting you with laughable ease and carrying you to bed.

You’re already burrowing your face into your pillow by the time he comes back to clean you up. This time his palm runs over a puckered mass on your thigh, a nasty burn scar from failing to dive for cover fast enough. It still hurts sometimes, but the pain is good. Reminds you not to be so careless again.

As you drift off completely to the feel of his warm hand taking in the old wound, you fail to notice the way his head has turned up, eyes running over your face. He contemplates brushing a finger over your hairline, tucking the wild flyaways behind your ear. But no. That would be too…friendly. That’s not what this is.

So instead he spreads your blankets over your now sleeping form, and with one last lingering gaze, leaves you to sleep peacefully.

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the empty room. It was what you wanted, after all. You had gotten another restful night out of it, and he got what he wanted. It was a fair trade. A great trade, even.

And as the training drills continue and you feel how naturally your body flows, how efficiently it executes your will when you’re actually well-rested, you find yourself seeking his company out more and more. Soon the pair of you have built your own kind of routine, him coming to you the evening after each debriefing when the leftover sparks of adrenaline are refusing to die out in you both.

He always lays you down on your stomach, opening you up with his fingers as he patiently works you through your first orgasm before letting himself take you. He’s always slow at first, but he finds you restless and impatient, urging him to go faster and harder, to knock you out for the night, to knock everything out of your mind that you never want to think about again.

You try to look back once only for your face to meet his hand. With gentle but firm fingers, he turns your head away.

Afterwards he’s even more delicate, wordlessly cleaning you up with a touch light enough to leave a butterfly unharmed. Although he rarely meets your eyes, his gaze and fingers take in your body, each time finding a new scar for his fingers to brush over like a chaste kiss.

You’re asleep by the time he leaves, and you like it that way. The two of you can crash against each other like blizzards raging and howling until you finally break into clear skies. And afterwards, you’re soldiers again. Well-rested, sure. But soldiers all the same. No hard feelings, either. You know he understands.

Soon you two find yourselves assigned to the same training team more and more. It’s natural, an unspoken communication flowing between you, and your superiors see it in the skyrocketing success rates. They pointedly ignore the way your stares burn holes into each other, keeping their eyes fixed on powerpoints and mission statistics. Not their business, they tell themselves. What matters is that you two do your jobs.

And then finally it’s time for the mission, a deployment in the middle of a remote and mountainous forest with terrible radio signal.

Like your first training, it starts easy enough. You’re divided into two teams on two separate mountains, and it’s just your luck that they put you on the team with no one you’re close to. Not even König. Maybe the higher-ups were finally sick of you two.

But you’re an adult. You handle it. You swallow the unease that comes with the teams not being able to contact each other. It’s simply too risky, and the signals are shoddy at best anyway. Base will come in for extraction if the other team succeeds.

With practiced ease you push yourself through two weeks of empty trails and summer-camp camaraderie as the talkative ones share jokes around the empty fireplace and the quiet ones listen from the shadows and chuckle their approval.

Week 3, everything goes to shit.

You should’ve known. You really should’ve known. The weather out here can change in an instant, clouds materializing from a clear sky’s empty expanse like an angry god throwing his rage down from above. You should’ve known the people here would be the same.

Before any of you knew the safehouse was surrounded, they were already through the doors.

You remember waking up to the creak of the old door with a groan, not ready to start your watch yet. The man on watch had been short and wiry, and you marveled at how shadows warp themselves against the light, twisting and turning to make one man look like another, tall and burly and carrying a-

CRASH!

The windows burst inwards in a crescendo of sparks and you’re scrambling backwards, reaching for your

BANG!

Dust from the roof is falling on your head, in your eyes and you’re blinking at the haze, the sting, your hands feeling the solid weight of your weapon and yanking it against you, and you’re stumbling backwards towards the

BANG!

and you’re stumbling forwards towards the

BANG!

And you’re on your knees crawling crawling

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

crawling away from everything and your eardrums are hot iron seething in your skull and your eyes are being scratched by cats and there’s something warm on your face now and there’s something heavy thunking to the floor just next to you and everything is all dark, all the shadows are choking you and-

-grey. Not black. Not the black of the inside. Grey. A doorway. A hole in the wall. You’re on your knees, your hands are on the wall, you’re pushing yourself up, you’re running, and there are patters behind you and gurgling sounds and the volleys of automatic weaponry but your vision is finally starting to clear, you can see the treeline and all you need is to get there.

A roar surges behind you, and you spin into the sun. Heat slams into your body and you’re flung, a leaf in the wind, hard onto your back as yellows and reds surge in front of you or maybe it was behind you and now you’re a deer, eyeballs bulging out of your head and rolling in your skull as you run from a forest fire, angry and starving, only this fire has legs and they’re longer than yours and it’s following you, you just know it, you can’t hear it but you know.

You’re not a human anymore, you’re barely even an animal, you’re not thinking, you’re a scramble of limbs and an impulse. Run.

You try. You try so hard but there’s nothing carrying you, your legs don’t feel connected to each other anymore and they’re not even your legs you look down and they’re still there but you can’t…feel them?

Tilting. Tilting. Tilting.

Light. Burning light.

Fade to black.

No, wait. Not you. You’re still here. Your legs are wavy and jelly but still there.

You fling an arm out and feel something solid. Cold. Rough. Bark.

You made it to the trees.

There’s no time to celebrate. Behind you lights are still flaring, and with each passing second more bodies are falling to the ground, leaking out into the snow. You have to move.

The second safehouse is to the north. It’s your only way out, you know that. The rest of your team would be there.

Should be there.

Better be there.

Don’t think about it, don’t think. Just move.

The battle is fading behind you now and your blood is beginning to cool, settling heavy in your veins like the thick jam your mother used to make on warm summer mornings just as the sun’s rays flowed through your windows.

It would be nice to be there right now. Warm. Content. Full. Your stomach growls in agreement at the thought. You have some ration bars in your pocket, but you know it hasn’t been long enough to have one. You need to spread them out, make sure they can last.

Your stomach groans again, and you shake your head. To divert your attention, you take stock of the rest of your body.

You’re scraped and bruised, your head vibrating like…oh, what is it like? Like…your phone after you get added to a group chat you wanted nothing to do with. Hehe. You can barely remember the days when your problems were as simple as that.

You're letting yourself get too distracted. Anyways, as you were saying. You’re a bit battered and scraped up, alright. But no broken bones. No visible deadly wounds. And you still have your gun clamped to your chest with shaky arms. That’s all you need, really. Making it to the safehouse will be a breeze.

You’re halfway down the mountain as twilight begins to lighten to dawn, and there’s still no sign of anyone chasing you. It’s a bit warmer down here, and as you flex your fingers and toes you feel the sharp pins and needles radiate through them and force a smile. It’s good, you tell yourself. Means they’re all still there. You might just be in the clear now.

Then the sky darkens again, and it begins to rain.

Within a few minutes you can’t see your hand in front of your face in the downpour and you're forced to hide out. You find a fallen evergreen and burrow through its thick boughs, needles pricking your face and poking in your mouth with a sharp scent that settles behind your eyeballs as you force your way through, certain it will block out the worst of the rain. It doesn’t.

It’s past noon by the time the deluge finally lets up, and as you step out, cursing your shelter for all its faults, the slick earth shifts abruptly under you. With a cry, you are yanked off of your feet into a roll down the slope. You fling out your arms, grasping for anything solid, but the world is a mass of dirt and grey-brown snow-slush and you can’t stop yourself until your hip jams into a tree-stump. Hard.

You hiss, twisting your face upwards off the ground. Bad idea. The mud-slush runs down into your nose and you splutter, spasming and hacking up half the mountain. You move to wipe your eyes on your arm but only rub more dirt in them, gritting your teeth and hissing through them at the sting.

You push yourself onto your hands and knees with a whimper, gingerly feeling around your hip. Not broken. Just another bruise. What’s one more bruise? It’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

Your ankle is twisted. You’ve wrapped it as best as you can, but every time you put weight on it, you imagine a great big serpent with needles for scales is slithering under your skin, wrapping itself tight around the bones and squeezing.

Even worse, it's getting dark again. Fucking FUCK.

You should get yourself a thesaurus for Christmas. Fuck really doesn’t have much weight to it when you say it every other sentence.

Whatever. You’re fucking screwed.

Your clothes are soaked, you’re painted in dirt and runny snow and as soon as it gets dark temperatures are going to drop fast enough to freeze you right in place like a stupid fucking statue. Fuck this, fuck this so hard what do I do what do I do.

You bury your face into your hands, heels pressing hard into your eyes. It doesn’t matter that your hands have mud mittens anymore because your face is solid mud and you’ve had dark spots in your eyesight for hours and maybe if you rub them really hard this will all be a shitty dream your shitty brain made up and then you can wake up in your shitty cot with your blanket that’s too thin and it will be so fucking lumpy and uncomfortable and perfect. It would be perfect. Maybe König would be there.

What?

You’re breaking down and going to die in a few hours and you’re thinking of him? Some dude you fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?

He was really warm, though. And he was always so gentle afterwards. For hands that kill with such brutal precision, his fingers felt too delicate to be his when they ran along your body, mapping every scar and dimple like he was trying to memorize you. Like he was terrified that tomorrow he might wake up blind and never be able to see you again, so he needed to be able to recognize you by touch alone.

You didn’t even know what his face looked like, but you could get lost in those eyes, you think. You've learned that the skin above them stretches when he’s surprised, and the skin under them scrunches up when he laughs, so you think it must scrunch like that when he smiles, too. You’ve even seen the way his lids drift down to hide the way his eyes roll back when he’s bored.

What do they look like when he’s excited? When he’s angry? Sad?

You wonder what it would be like to look him in the eyes while you both fell apart. Would he look away and screw them shut? Would they water a little, as yours so often did?

Would he stay the night if you asked? Would he hold you? Would he…

No. This isn’t happening. No way in hell. You are not dying thinking of a random man you’ve barely spoken two words to. It’s ridiculous. It’s pathetic. You’re better than this.

You will not go out like this.

You yank yourself to a tree whose limbs burst forth in sprays of dark needles, your shoulders screaming at you as you pull yourself up on the branches, feeling like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. It’s pitiful. You swing your good leg up, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw pops as you pull yourself up to a thick fork and begin pulling down limbs above you, cutting through the ones around you, tying and weaving and undoing and redoing.

It is dark by the time you’ve finished, a thick nest of evergreen boughs settled under you and woven walls crushing you in. You have to curl into a tight ball to fit into it, but you can no longer feel the breezes from outside. You’ve stripped your clothes off and spread them along the walls as best you can, hoping they can dry just a little.

You thank the mud for clogging your nose. You don’t even want to imagine what you and your clothes must smell like by now.

Maybe by the time you meet up with the others you’ll smell so bad you’ll make one of the rookies vomit. Ghost did that last mission, and you and Soap nearly burst a lung as the poor guy emptied his guts over and over again.

You chuckle at that and try your best to fall asleep.

By the time you make it down the mountain the next day, your knees are knocking against each other with every step and your weapon is plastered with muddy slush that has frozen and melted and frozen all over again. The valley is even worse than the slope, with runoff from the rain congregating in a swampy mess that has you sinking up to your calves in some places. Lifting a leg in this feels like pulling yourself out of concrete, so you get really good at sliding each foot forward without raising it upwards at all.

You think the pressure from the mud is helping with the pain. You barely feel it when you move now.

Your jaw is clenched so hard you chip one of your molars.

You’re halfway through the valley when one of them finds you.

It’s funny how it happens. How you both stand in the mud staring at each other. How you both instinctively know who the other is through the curtain of earth camouflaging you both, yet each stand stock-still as statues anyway.

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

In an instant your guns are to your shoulders, fingers rushing to crush the-

Nothing happens. You squeeze. Squeeze again. The man shakes his gun and yells in frustration, the mud and ice having rendered your weapons unfireable.

But not unusable. The man’s head whips back to you with a growl and he lunges forward, his foot sinking into a deep patch and jerking him down face first. He throws himself up again, splatting forward another pace.

You slide backward, forcing yourself to slow down, to keep your feet under you as you move gut-wrenchingly slowly, searching for solid ground. He’s flailing and flinging himself towards you but the mud is slowing him down, and there’s a rocky patch right behind you. You’re going to make it.

He reaches you before you reach the edge, raising his gun and throwing his body behind a downwards blow. Yours is already coming up to deflect, but the blow sends you backwards, landing on your back with a splash. He’s on top of you, a hand shoving your face down as mud flows around it.

You thrash and wiggle, a scream cut off as your mouth fills with liquid dirt. Your hand is whirling all around and it catches something and you yank.

He howls as you pull his ear, sending him off-balance just enough to raise your head for a choking gasp before your palm is on his face, shoving him sideways. He rolls away from you, struggling to his feet as you’re on your hands and knees and your gun is in the mud but so is his. He tries to reach for it but he’s stuck, and in that precious heartbeat of time your legs are back under you, feet planted deep and wide.

He whirls towards you as you stand, throwing a punch at your torso that you know you can’t dodge, you can’t even move, so you throw your fist sideways, twisting, forcing all your strength into shoving from your rear leg so that when you catch his knuckles on your forearm they are savagely wrenched sideways with your momentum. His pinkie pops outwards with a crunch, and he falls back with a choked sob.

You grab your gun off the ground, throwing your whole body into a swing at his head, shattering through his palm as he tries to block it. You both fall sideways with the momentum but you find your feet faster, gripping the weapon through the slime coating it as you bring the stock straight down into his skull.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Your grip slides, dirt scraping more of your skin off with each blow, but he’s not moving. You stumble backwards drunkenly, falling onto your forearms again and army-crawling, gun held tightly in each hand, all the way to the edge. You flop on your back then, one eye on the body, and heave great breaths, coughing again and again until your body has enough and you curl inwards, choking out mud and throwing up even more. You try to even your breathing, try to filter the adrenaline out of your system so you don’t crash. In, out. In, out. In out in out inoutinoutinoutinoutin-FUCCCCCKK. You shake your head violently, over and over.

You take one last look at the body, only seeing it because you know where to look. A mud-covered shoulder pokes out of the ground, the rest already lost.

You can’t balance on your feet anymore, so you crawl away.

You don’t even bother to make a shelter that night. You crawl under a rotting log, ripping your last ration bar from your pocket and devouring it, licking the crumbs from your stained and tainted fingers. You curl up and fall asleep just like that, bones chattering and muscles spasming.

Helicopter blades wake you up in the morning. You’re on your feet, falling and jumping and running and falling, flailing your arms because you know those blades, that’s your team and they’re here for you and you’re finally free, you did it you did it you’re so proud of yourself you can’t wait to have a warm bath and then maybe even afterwards you can see-

The helicopter passes over you and disappears around the mountain.

You stare at it, deathly still. It’s just sweeping the area, making sure it’s safe to land.

But the wingbeats have already faded into the distance, replaced by a vast and engulfing silence. Time stretches out before you, and you’re still staring at the mountain.

Your stomach breaks the silence with a gurgle.

You flop down, shoving your face into the ground, and scream.

You press the button on your radio, cracking the caked mud. It clicks, and you hear nothing. Not even static. You click it again. And again, this time just to hear the sound. Rapidly you click it again and again and again.

You start laughing, your abs clenching and strangling your organs as you guffaw, thrashing around like a headless chicken, and thinking about yourself as a headless chicken makes you laugh even louder. Everything is just so funny, none of this is real, you’re on the Truman Show, you’re the biggest comedy in the world. It’s even funny that your laughter only comes out in squeaky wheezes. It’s all just a big joke. Haha. You can’t wait to tell someone.

You fall asleep just like that, grinning up at the sky with dirt in your teeth.

You wake up, stare into the sun, and go back to sleep.

You feel lighter.

Is this what it feels like to leave your body?

It’s not as bad as you thought.

You wonder if König will remember you.

The ground beneath you is moving, sliding under you and scraping along you.

There's no ground underneath you at all now, and something is pressing, and you feel your legs dangling and swinging all around you, the world spinning a jig and you the unwilling passenger. You think you might tell it to stop, but it doesn't listen to you.

You're yanked back into consciousness by a thundering vibration setting every bone against itself. You jolt upwards, feeling heavy pressure on your shoulders as your eyes roll back into your head. The world is black. Black and blue and blurred. Through the haze you begin to make out a white visage and two black voids that pierce through you.

This must be hell. You don’t want to be awake for your judgement.

Your consciousness drifts away again, blocking out the rumbling flight of the helicopter, completely oblivious to the warm bodies pressed in around you, speaking rapidly through their headsets.

Any more? Sweep around again.

There's nothing else here.

Ok. Let's bring these ones back, then.

You are still asleep as your body is carried into a hospital room, completely unresponsive as the nurses strip and bathe you with clinical precision. You don’t wake until hours later, seeing only a single nurse checking your vitals and bandages. Each hand and foot has been carefully wrapped, the angry red battlefield of blisters and exposed flesh meticulously covered in pristine, unblemished white. The nurse offers a smile as you fight through the haze, imagining you are underwater and slowly floating to the surface, watching the sun jiggle and warp through the abyss above you. Just bad blisters, the nurse is telling you. Very lucky. Very lucky. You think you might nod back. She’s right, of course. You’re alive, aren’t you?

Ghost comes by as you’re released the next day. They’ve rewrapped your hands in a bandage that gives you a little more flexibility, and he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the white fabric.

The mattress shifts as he settles beside you. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are trained on you. Black voids in a mask of white.

“You left me,” you finally whisper, eyes still on your hands.

“What?”

You look at him, trying to see something in the face to get mad at, but his eyes are just a little wider than before. Confused, maybe.

“The helicopter…” you begin, voice scratchy, and clear your throat. “The helicopter flew right over me.”

“That wasn’t our helicopter.”

“It was heading back from the safehouse.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” you huff, sinking into yourself. “I…”

You stop as he clears his throat, shoulders expanding in a loud breath. “It’s alright. You were knocked out pretty good by the time our boys found you. Happens to the best of us.”

You nod, swallowing again, and wish someone else was here to comfort you, literally anyone but Ghost. “Is…uh…is…umm…is Soap ok?”

Ghost grunts. “Johnny took one to the arm, but he’ll pull through. I was just going to visit him now.”

You push yourself to your feet, proud that you only sway a bit. “Can I-”

“No,” Ghost cuts you off. “You’ll have time to visit him later. For now you need to go and rest. That’s an order,” he cuts you off as you open your mouth to protest. Your jaw shuts. Call it obedience, call it cowardice, but you find you just don’t have it in you to argue the point. You promise yourself you’ll see Soap in the morning. Well, later in the morning, seeing as it’s somehow 0100 hours already.

When Ghost leaves you slump, any need for straight posture gone with the departure of your superior officer. Trying to keep your breathing even, you will your legs to carry your body down the medical corridor. Just a little longer, you promise them, then you’ll get the break you deserve. But your body has had enough of your unfulfilled promises, and you find yourself forced to sink onto one of the shitty metal chairs littering the hallway. Just a little rest, and then I’ll go back to my quarters.

You wake to the familiar sounds of agony. Before your body has the chance to disagree, instinct has you on your feet again, hands grabbing at the thin air where your sidearm should be. My holster, my holster, where the hell is-

Your eyes land on the white-washed walls. Too clean. Too smooth. And your hands aren’t moving like they should, strangled by white fabric. It finally sinks in that you’re far from the battlefield, far from any fight.

The sounds continue, drawing your eye to one of the many nondescript doors lining the corridor. Someone having a nightmare, probably. Or reacting badly to a procedure, maybe. Either way, a problem best left for the nurses with their iron wills and their tranquilizers. You have enough bruises already. Best not add a black eye to the list.

A pitiful whimper sounds through the door, one that has your heart twisting like a towel being wrung out, sending all the blood to your throat and stomach.

Fuck it. What’s one more bruise?

Your fingers curl the handle down, and you shrink in on yourself as the door swings open on its own with a creak. You catch it and hastily shut it behind you, trying not to make any more noise.

The room is small enough that even the military-issue cot feels too big for it. The room is made even smaller by the man lying in the cot, arms dangling off the sides as he thrashes, his feet hanging off the end. You can see the crumpled blanket on the floor and automatically avert your eyes. The hood is still on, but below it he’s wearing an undershirt and boxers, and you realize this is the most of him you’ve ever seen.

You press yourself to the wall as he spasms again, a leg kicking out and narrowly missing you, causing you to notice the thick white bandage wrapped around his thigh, and the dark line slowly being painted along it.

Hesitantly you flick the lights on, wincing at the burn that rushes through your eyeballs, but he doesn’t even react to it. You have no idea how to wake him up without breaking a bone, so you press your back to the wall, slowly skirting along the edge of the room and staying as far out of his reach as you can, praying to whatever old ghosts are listening that he doesn’t wake up and go straight into murder mode. Or, you know, default alert soldier setting. This is a stupid idea.

As you approach his head you lean over as far as you can, stretching one arm out until the socket pops in protest. You poke his shoulder and leap back.

Nothing.

You take a step closer and lean in again.

You’re immediately interrupted by the door swinging open with a much-louder creak. You and the nurse both pause and stare at each other for a moment, startled, and you sheepishly move to straighten and pull your arm back.

With viper-like speed an arm shoots out to grab your wrist, capturing it in a deadly grip and you yelp, whirling back to the man in the bed and raising your opposite arm.

You freeze when you see his eyes, so wide they’re more white than color. He’s stock-still, fixated on you like a mouse caught in a cat’s gaze. Paralyzed by fear, praying. Shaking.

His hand is…shaking. “Hey, hey,” you coax, hesitantly pulling your arm back in so you can place it over his fingers. “It’s just me, big guy. You’re safe.”

His chest heaves outwards, and you feel his hand relax a little before his head snaps towards the nurse as she takes a step closer, cradling something small and cylindrical in her hands. “It’s alright,” she speaks directly to you. “I can take it from here.”

König releases the breath he’s held, shoving himself backwards on the bed with a shake of his head, prompting the nurse to click her tongue at him before raising the needle. You realize it’s a lot bigger than you first thought. “You’ll be fine,” she’s assuring him. “It will hurt a lot less once it’s done.”

König’s head turns very slowly, back up to you, and for a second you’re confused at his gaze, wondering why he thinks you have enough knowledge to give him any medical advice. Then you notice the way his eyes seem just a little too shiny in the light, the way his other hand is clenching and unclenching around the bedsheet.

You’ve always known him as the perfect soldier, quick and to the point, pin-prick precise, a dancing whirlwind of death. More monster than man. You know him as the one who laughs with every good kill, mocking the reaper of death with a smile. Look at how slow you are. I got here first. He’s the one who dances on the precipice of fate and spits over the edge.

Even sprawled out like this, sweaty and trembling, you are well aware of every flex of his muscles, of the strength he holds back in his grip. Yet as you look into the eyes of the storm you find that for the first time you see no hint of the giddy killing machine looking back at you. The eyes staring back at you from this big soldier’s body are those of a fragile little kid. And he’s terrified.

You gulp, your tongue catching on the back of your throat. “Yeah…yeah, it’ll be ok. I’ll be right here.”

Finally he relaxes, slumping back into the bed, and the nurse takes the opportunity to give him the shot. You feel his flinch in a wave of pressure radiating up your wrist and forearm, but his gaze doesn’t move. He keeps looking into your eyes until his own begin to droop and he sinks even further into the mattress.

Before his hand drops from your wrist you catch it, the skin under your bandages protesting at the sudden flexion. You choose to ignore it, settling down on the floor next to his bed as your own eyes begin to follow his. Even as your head falls into your knees and your body finally gives itself completely over to darkness, you refuse to let go.

You’re woken by something warm trailing along your hairline. You jerk, smacking the back of your head into the wall with an irritated grunt. König’s arm hovers in the air just in front of your face, and you turn to see him pressed to the edge of the bed, looking a little guilty. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

You should be, startling me like that, you want to say. But when you open your mouth, what comes out instead is “No, it’s ok, I just…I wasn’t expecting it.”

König gulps audibly, and the cot creaks as he pulls his hand back, shifting his body even closer. “You stayed.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Never,” he hisses, and you find yourself staring into his eyes again, only this time they’ve taken on their old torrential intensity.

Now it’s yours that are as wide as a child’s. You gulp, feeling the muscles of your jaw flex and unflex. “Ok,” you finally murmur. “I’ll stay.”

And you do. For two more nights König stays in the infirmary, weathering the steady rounds of nurses and bandage changes with a steely resolve even as his fists flex and twist into the sheets. You stay with him all the while, but he doesn’t reach for your hand again, not after noticing your own bandages.

The second night you sleep in the cot next to him at his insistence. You’re hurt too, he reasons. You need a real bed to rest in. He scoots himself to the back edge to give you room, and when you wake up he hasn’t moved.

After the third night you wake to his hand resting on your arm. It’s a small gesture. Innocent even. Yet still you find yourself contemplating it, barely saying a word as the nurses come to remove his bandages. You grind your jaw as you take in the puckered line of stitches running from his knee up to the edge of his boxers, looking away politely as the nurses help him into a pair of sweatpants.

You don’t even say anything when you let him lean on your shoulders, using your own aching body as a sacrificial lamb to transport him back to his barrack. Once you get him into bed you hover in the doorway, taking in the shadows of the walls, twisting your wrists back and forth, a habit you picked up to alleviate the pain from flexing your fingers. They’re in even thinner bandages now, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Maybe there’s nothing to say. You found him in a vulnerable situation where he needed a lifeline. It could have been anyone, he was barely lucid. Now he surely wanted to forget all of that vulnerability and go back to a time where he hadn’t needed help from anyone. Not even you. Especially not you. He was a soldier, after all. Fondness wasn’t in the job description.

Best not to say anything then. Just…leave and get this over with. Just like that. Yeah…easy. Really easy.

Your move to shut the door behind you is halted by him calling your name. Your real name. You didn’t even know he knew your name.

He calls it again, quieter this time, and you lean back in the door, eyes drifting across his room to him. He’s still sitting on the bed where you left him, only now he’s hunched over to rest a forearm on his good thigh. “Come back here,” he breathes, voice cracking, and it hits you right in your stomach, settling there like a wounded bird, flapping and screeching at you to stay away, you’re already in too deep, you don’t know how this will end.

But it’s too late. You’re walking forward, the door swinging shut behind you. Locked. You’re already reaching out for the hand he offers, only for him to reach past the bandages and grab your wrist. You pause at that, staring into the hazy depths of his eyes, pupils bursting for you again. Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, he straightens again, face coming closer to yours as another hand snakes around your neck to help guide you down to straddle his good thigh, moving your forearms to rest on each of his shoulders.

The bird in your stomach has moved to your chest, and you’re positive he can feel your heavy breathing even through his mask with how close you are. His eyes look down to your lips, and you wonder if he is going to lift his hood up and kiss you, your cheeks flushing in anticipation as he leans forward.

Only instead he rests his forehead against yours, eyes drifting closed. You feel your arms drift upwards with his inhale. “Stay with me,” he exhales. “One more night.”

You nod against his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and finally letting your own eyes close. Your breathing is slowed down now, and you find yourself enjoying the warmth you feel radiating from everywhere you touch him. One of his hands has spread against your thigh, while the other still rests along your neck, thumb tracing up and down your jaw. You know you could fall asleep just like this.

König, however, has other ideas. As you slump even further to him, both of his hands drift to your hips. You notice the movement, sighing at the pleasant sensation of his hands running over your body. You don’t notice the intention until he takes a deep breath, and in one smooth motion he has stood and twisted to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. You gasp, feeling your heart stutter all over again, blood rushing to your core as you feel the fabric of his hood rub up your neck. His nose, you think.

Fuck, you want him. You want him just like this and any other way he’s willing to give, but you can’t, you shouldn’t, and you know you have to at least try to protest. You bite back a whimper as a hand drags up your inner thigh. “König, your leg.”

“I don’t care,” he growls. “Say my name again.”

You groan in protest and he pulls back, tilting your face up to his. “Is this not what you want?” He feels the way your jaw flexes and pulls away.

“Wait. No. I want this. You. I want you. Just…please be careful.”

He hears the last part, but he’s past giving a damn about his own body now. His hand is already undoing your belt and he’s leaning back to ease your pants and underwear off your legs, lazily tossing them to the side.

A harsh word escapes his throat as he looks down at you, but you don’t catch it through the blood rushing in your ears. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and unthinkingly you do, another growling swear reaching your ears. “So obedient for me.”

You hear the shuffling of fabric and feel a hand wrap around one of your knees, lifting it up for a warm tongue to swirl along the inside of it, for wet lips to place a sloppy kiss just above where his tongue had just been. His lips slide up again, and this time he sucks on the skin just slightly, and you feel your leg tremble as a tiny moan escapes you, but he’s already moving further up and this time sucking harder, and then further and harder and further and harder until he’s against your inner thigh and his teeth are sinking into you and you yelp his name, whining in frustration as he pulls back.

“No,” you pant, “don’t stop. Please.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his throat and his nose presses into the bottom of your slit. You jolt, squeezing your eyes tighter as it slides up through you before pressing into your sensitive spot, and he inhales.

“Fuck,” you cry, tangling your hands in the sheets only to choke on a sound of pain.

König pulls back immediately and you shake your head at him, a sob on the edge of your quivering lips.

“Easy. Watch your hands.”

You grit your teeth and nod, relaxing your fingers and turning your palms up.

“Good,” he purrs as his hands hook under the backs of your knees, easily throwing your legs over his shoulders. As he settles back down you feel the muscles in his back flexing against your calves and moan before his mouth is even on you.

He hums contentedly at the sound, running his tongue along the length of you before swirling it around your clit. His lips pucker against it and he sucks, pulling away with a soft pop that has you clenching your legs around him. He moves in again, lazily altering between sucking and tracing his tongue just around your bud, feeling the way you flex against him, hearing the way you react to each movement, and committing all of it to memory before shifting his head so he can dip his tongue inside you. He groans at the taste, the vibration of it radiating up under your ribs and down through your legs. You’re quiet now, feeling how close you are settling heavy over you, drowning you in deliciously sweet honey.

He feels the shaking of your legs around him and returns to your clit as he slowly works a finger into you, curling it upwards to stroke at the spongy part inside of you.

You break quietly, choking on his name as the pleasure strangles your muscles and sets them briefly aflame, fresh sensations flowing through you as he continues to touch you just so, only pulling away when you sink into the mattress and your legs slip from his shoulders.

You hear the bed frame creak as he pulls back, running a hand up your thigh before the shifting sound of fabric hits your ears, and you feel the mattress sink down in different places as he shifts.

“Open your eyes.”

You do as he says, your disappointment at seeing the sniper’s hood obscuring his face immediately squashed by the realization that the rest of him is completely naked.

You’re seeing him for the first time.

Fucking hell, what a sight.

Your eyes rest on the delicious curve of his cock first, marveling at the pink tip and the thick veins running along it. You had felt his size on plenty of occasions, but seeing it for the first time is a new beast entirely, one that has you biting your lip and wiggling your hips like a teenager all over again.

But soon your eyes are taken in by the strong curves of muscle outlining his hips, and your eyes are traveling upwards to the delicious bulges of his chest, your own heaving at the sight. You find yourself wanting to trace the outline of each hill and valley of muscle that flows along his shoulders, down his arms, to the hands, wanting to run your tongue along the veins like raised rivers spreading down his forearm and across the back of each hand.

You wonder what his back looks like. You wonder how the muscles of his neck shift as he moves, what the outline of his jaw is shaped like. You are greedy and want to take everything he has, and at the same time you are desperate for anything he can give you. You’re a peasant kneeling at the feet of your king, ready to lick the crumbs he throws you off the floor.

His head tilts playfully, breaking you out of your reverie. “You like what you see?”

Your chuckle catches in your chest, only a tiny puff of air leaving your mouth. “Yes.”

His eyes scrunch a little, and you imagine he is grinning as he leans over, balancing himself above you. He moves back a bit, hand adjusting your hips as he positions himself. He looks back up at you, and you nod eagerly, your hands reaching up to grab his shoulders. He clicks his tongue, glancing at them, and with a groan you put your hands above your head. He moves one of his own to grasp your wrists, keeping them pinned as he sinks onto his forearms.

You feel the head of his cock running up and down your folds, and instinctively bend your back to give him a better angle, earning an approving hum that makes you even wetter. But as he braces himself and begins to drive into you, a strangled sound smashes through his gritted teeth.

Oh no. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, only pressing his face into your neck, inhaling heavily as you feel his entire body stiffening against you. “It’s…it’s fine,” he hisses, his hand strangling your wrists. “Just …” he heaves another breath. “Ah... Ich… I…need a…moment.”

You sigh, wiggling a hand out of his grip to push his chin up. He lets you move his face back, and even in the dim light you can see the way the skin around his eyes has gone even paler than normal. “Get off,” you murmur.

He slumps, twisting his face out of your grip and keeping his eyes on the wall. He stays like that for a second before giving a swift nod and pulling out, maneuvering backwards on the bed and moving to get off.

“Wait!” you burst out, and he freezes. “That’s not what I meant.”

After another moment he looks at you in bewilderment, so you sit up and shift to the side, patting the bed next to you. Awkwardly, he crawls to it, nearly dragging his bad leg, stiffening again when you place your wrists on his shoulders. “Let me?”

After a second of staring into your eyes, he nods again, allowing you to push on him, laying him on his back before you straddle him and finally take your shirt off. You see his chest rise with a shuddering breath and before you really think about it you’re leaning down to lick a stripe up his sternum. Seeing his pecs jerk upwards on either side of your tongue emboldens you and you shift your head, running your tongue back down to circle over one of his nipples before you suck.

Immediately the muscles flex again and he pushes up into you. “Like that,” he snarls, loud and vibrating through your skull. You’re aching down there again, but you’re not done yet. You release him with a squelch, watching the patch of saliva glisten before moving to give the other nipple the same treatment, your heart leaping at the sounds falling from his mouth as he quivers under you.

“König,” you croon. “Touch me.”

He whimpers as you flick your tongue over the sensitive bud. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Grab my hair, squeeze my tits, just put your hands on me.”

You groan as he obeys, long fingers tangling tightly in your hair as his other hand spreads along your ribcage, thumb sliding over your breast. You sigh, leaning down to bite into his pec, moaning as his grip on you tightens. You kiss the mark left by your teeth before leaning back. His hands move to cup both of your breasts as you raise yourself up and sink down onto his cock. You’re too excited and you go too fast, and a sharp pinch of pain seizes at your entrance. You gasp, instinctively leaning forward to brace yourself on your palms, but his hands move to your waist, catching you before you hurt them any further.

“I have you,” he whispers, voice scratchy, and despite the pain you clench at the sound of what you do to him. He chokes on his next words, a groan coming out instead. “Do you need to get off?”

“No!” You whisper-yell back so quickly that he laughs, and despite everything you laugh with him. He runs his hands up and down your sides, feeling you start to relax a little, but not enough yet. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine.” You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. “Just need…a moment.”

“Hypocrite.”

You shoot your eyes open to glare at him, only to see his chest shake with another chuckle at your scrunched-up angry face. “Your leg is sliced open, it’s not the same,” you scoff.

His eyes glimmer with the start of a witty retort before one of his hands freezes over your bottom rib, drawing his lovely gaze away from yours. His thumb is circling around a tiny hairline of a scar, bone-white and soft. You’ve already forgotten how you got it.

“This one,” he murmurs. “It is new.”

“How…how did you notice?”

“It wasn’t there last time.” His tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, like the answer was obvious, and it takes you back to every time his hands ran over you as you drifted into sleep. How long did he stay there after you fell asleep? How long did it take him to commit you to memory so well that a patch of skin even you had forgotten was instantly recognized as something new?

Your body has always been a means to an end, a vehicle carrying you rather than a full part of you. Batter it, toss it around, whatever you need to do to get the job done. And when your body protests, you treat it like any other tool you can beat into submission. Like your first battered old car that revved to life with a well-placed kick.

But now all you can think of is his hands running over you with thorough determination, acknowledging each new mark with a gentle reverence that was more than you deserved. Getting to know you in the only way he knew how.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded to see this body as something more than a bruised vessel you’re obligated to carry around. He reminds you to see it as something more.

Fuck, you think you might love him.

“König?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

His head tilts a little, his hand still running along your rib, and your cheeks flush.

Before he can reply, you gulp a little. “I…I think I’m ready.”

He hums again, his hands moving back to rest on your hips. You stay still for another moment, looking into his eyes. You don’t think you can memorize his body, not like he has yours. But you have memorized his eyes, have burned them into your mind so clearly you saw them even as you were trapped on that damned mountain. Thinking about him.

And now you think he might've been thinking about you, too.

You feel him twitch inside of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you raise yourself up slowly, feeling his hands tighten and take some of your weight, following your lead as you sink into him again, this time with a sigh that echoes his own. Slowly, hesitantly, you raise yourself up and down, feeling how easily he stretches you, how easily he could break you.

But he never has. The only pain you’ve gotten from him was caused by your own impatience. As you keep going, finding an angle that has him dragging across your most sensitive parts and making you even wetter, you become confident that there’s no chance of pain, allowing yourself to speed up.

His hands are steady as ever, guiding you up and down, but beneath you his shoulders and chest begin to squirm and heave. His eyes wander all around, and his breaths are scattered and staccato.

And his sounds. You’d never known a man to be so loud, and now you know you’ve been missing out all these years. Every grunt, every groan, every moan and whimper goes straight through your core, winding you up faster and faster. As you get closer his sounds shift, and you realize he’s started to stutter out words.

His eyes are hazy and unfocused but you can still tell they’re trained on you, and you urge your body to calm down for just a minute longer, just long enough to hear what he’s saying.

You can’t make out any of the words, but his hands are even tighter on you now and the way his voice shifts from growling to whimpering settles into a melodic language that has you crying out for him anyway.

Beneath your trembling body, he keeps going. “Never..told you …du bist wie ein Traum,” another whimper leaves his lips. “Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist.” He gasps as you clench tighter around him. “Du bist…du…Du bist viel zu gut für mich…Dein Lächeln und …und…” His eyes are watering and you slow down only for his hands to dig into you, urging you to speed up again. “Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als …”

His mind is lapsing again, his determined confession faltering into a fervent prayer sent to the only god he’s ever believed in, to you - moving over him and taking everything he is giving you, making him wish he had more, so much more than the desert-dry heart of a killer whose hands can only ever pull things apart. His thumb is over the scar on your rib again and his blurry vision is taking in the white of the bandage wrapped around your hands and it has him wishing his own hands could build something instead of destroy it just so he could put you back together again. You’re coming apart around him, crying his name, and he’s thinking of flinging his body in front of you, taking every bullet and blade meant for you, because his body is all he has to give and he knows how to sacrifice it, he knows he’ll gladly lay it at your altar, bloody and broken, if it could only mean making sure he’d never be surprised by a new scar again. Maybe you’d even remember him a little when he was gone.

He’s trying to tell you all of that, the messy syllables punching through his throat. “Niemals, niemals, nie,…” but before he can finish he’s failing already, falling apart under you and screaming your name and emptying everything he has into you.

It’s not enough.

You’re laying on top of him now and he tries his best to be gentle but his entire body is shaking as he rolls you off and staggers to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him and sinking against it.

He shatters in a whole-body-wracking sob.

You’re never going to look at him again.

He tucks his legs in, squeezing his knees into his chest, squeezing even harder as a burn radiates out from the stitches, trying to rein in his ragged breathing in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can save this and cover up the fact that he’s crying.

It was just meant to be casual sex. He wasn’t supposed to start caring. That’s not what you wanted. It’s not fair to you. It’s not your fault he let himself get emotional. And now he’s ruined the only thing you two did have, he wanted to make you feel better and now he’s made you so uncomfortable and…and…

He slams his forehead into his knees and sobs again.

He’s pathetic. Pathetic to think this could be something more. Pathetic to think he could have something more.

Everything hurts.

That’s what he signed up for, isn’t it?

That’s what he deserves.

A knock on the door has his head jerking back up, hands clutching his knees hard enough the knuckles just might pop through the skin. “Go away!”

“No.” Your tone is flat as he hears a thunk against the other side of the door, imagining you leaning against it and sliding down, mirroring him perfectly. “Not until you talk to me.”

“No.”

You sigh. “That's how it’s gonna be? Well, in that case, to quote a man I…admire very much, I can make you talk.” You drop your voice, trying and failing to mimic his battle growl.

He snorts despite himself.

You take that as a cue to continue. “For one, I’m not leaving until you do. You’ll be stuck with my annoying-ass voice forever.”

“I like your voice.”

“Oh…umm…thank you. In that case I’ll…I’ll steal all your knives and I’ll draw a kangaroo on your door and-”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls.

“Guess you’ll never know if you keep that door closed. And that’s not all, I’ll…I’ll steal those cheap chocolates we get every supply drop. Don’t deny it, I know everyone joked it was Ghost but I saw you take them all. You love those.” You smile, laughing a little. “On the other hand, I’ll fly to Austria right now if that’s what it takes to get some chocolate you’d really like. I’d even get you some of those waffle things you were telling Soap about that one time I caught you both raiding the snack cabinets. Well, I’d probably eat some of those. But I promise to save most of them for you. Just…please talk to me. I’ll…I’ll…” you’re cut off by your own squeak as the door opens and you fall backwards.

His hands are already there to catch you, and once you sit back up he stays there, half-crouched and awkward, eyes anywhere but your own.

Slowly, you open your arms, watching his head turn back to you.

In an instant he’s lunged into you, burrowing his face into your neck with an awkward grunt as he stretches his bad leg out to the side. You try to change to a comfier position for him but the man is like a brick wall.

It’s nice.

So you let yourself stay there, wrapping around him as he wraps around you on the hard floor. It’s a softness unknown to you both, two soldiers carved razor-sharp from solid steel. But as you let yourself sink into him, you find yourself liking the strange tranquility of this moment, the way two bodies made for war can still drape over each other and feel peace instead. Against all better judgement, against any scrap of common sense you have left, you find yourself yearning for a few less battles if it can mean more of this. You let your eyes close, imagining it for just a little while.

After a while, he pulls back, moving to lean against the wall and pulling you so you can balance on his uninjured thigh. You let your head loll onto his shoulder, face turned into the hood. His chin rests on your temple.

“Are you cold?”

He grunts noncommittally, eyes half-closed. “Are you?”

“Nooo,” you mumble, burrowing into his neck. He shifts, maneuvering you off his lap, only to grunt when he tries to push on his leg.

“I got it.” You push yourself up, moving to the bed to retrieve one of the blankets there, carefully wrapping it around both of your torsos when you settle back onto his lap. Your legs stick out, but you don’t really care.

After a while you feel his heartbeat begin to pick up again and adjust yourself to look up at him. His eyes drift to you before he sighs. “Do you…still want me to talk?”

You nod.

“Alright then. I will talk. I do not think it is what you want to hear.”

You bite your lip and try to keep your breathing steady as he continues.

“Back in the med bay. No. Before that.” He shakes his head emphatically. “When we were assigned to two different groups…No…Scheiße, I…”

You run a shaky hand up and down his chest. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers dig into you for a fraction of a second, so quick you think you might have imagined it before his entire body is deflating, his head settling back against the wall. “They ambushed us. You weren’t there but…they hit us on patrol, hit us and ran before we could counter. I did not even see who hit me, I just look up one moment and down the next and the snow is all red and…” His voice drops to barely a whisper “Das war meines.” He trails off completely, a finger tracing circles on your shoulder. “I've been wounded before. I've accepted death before. This time...before I...while I was…” he exhales another irritated sigh. “I was on the ground and…wie sag ich das…ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte...I was thinking of you.”

He freezes, turning his head away and dropping his hands from you. But instead of moving away, you kiss a patch of skin just outside the hood, watching the muscle under it jump. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you think you can keep going?”

His head turns back to you briefly before he tilts it up to stare at the ceiling. “When I was in the med bay. Well, I…it went like this. I wake up and you are there and I think, König this is it, now you are finally dead. And then I feel the pain and I see the nurse and you were moving away and I couldn't…du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…” he shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. “Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…needed you to stay.” His head jerks down again, eyes boring into yours with all the intensity of a tornado, arms wrapping around you once again. “I need you to stay.”

You nod, holding him tight, the weight of the words unspoken tangling in your chest and constricting your tongue. Stay. With me. He won't ask for more than tonight, not when neither of you can even risk asking for a tomorrow. Stay with me. For as long as you have. A day, maybe. A month. Maybe you'll get out of this mess someday and get years.

Stay with me for a lifetime. Whatever lifetime we get.

You nod, whispering a promise into his skin. Always. Your fingers drift down along his leg, tracing just outside the stitches, your eyes following the line of gooseprickles that rise in their wake.

You feel more than you hear your name being whispered into your hair, and as you look up fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding it up over his hip, his ribs, his chest. Sliding around the edge of the hood, pushing it up, up, up. Until the fabric slides off. You gaze in awe, watching his jaw flex as his lips part to form a word whose sound hides in the back of his throat. Always. You look back into his eyes before surging forward, hugging him tight, tight enough to strangle, you think, but he’s already wrapping himself around you with equal fervor.

“You know,” you murmur, breath ruffling his hair, “if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

He huffs a laugh, the air catching in his lungs with a choking sound. His grip tightens.

When you wake you find you’ve been moved to the bed, but his face is still buried in your neck, unmoving despite the soft light filtering in your window. You smile a little, watching the early-morning sky, perfectly clear and pale blue.

It matches his eyes.

---

German Translations

du bist wie ein Traum: You are like a dream

Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist: I can’t believe you are here

Du bist viel zu gut für mich: You are too good to me

Dein Lächeln und…: You smile and…

Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als: I don't know how I am supposed to let go of you (eventually) but you (clearly) deserve so much more than me

Niemals, niemals, nie: never again, never again, never

Scheiße: shit

Das war meines: it was mine

wie sag ich das: how do I say this

ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte: I tried doing something, moving, but all I could do

du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…: you were there and then you nearly weren’t there and I could not breathe. I…

Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…: I couldn’t without you. I…

#könig #könig call of duty #cod #cod mwii #könig x reader

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

Text

No Matter What

Request (from anon): hiii if its not too much trouble could you do Reid x daughter reader where she had BPD and she has a anger breakdown??

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: Spencer helps his daughter with BPD through an anger breakdown.

A/N: Huge thank you to @huffufflejoy for beta/sensitivity reading and advising me on this work. Your help is greatly appreciated! Now for my usual disclaimer before my pieces that heavily involve any neurodivergent topic: I try my best to potray mental illness in the most accurate yet sensitive way possible. Please let me know if you have concerns or issues with my work. It's important to note that everyone experiences mental illness in different ways and this may not be indicative of the experience of everyone with BPD.

CW: Reader has BPD, anger breakdown, talks of schizophrenia, self-loathing, small amount of physical violence, reader is shorter than Spencer

---

Spencer had learned long before you were born that understanding from knowledge and understanding from experiencing were two different things.

No matter how much he had read about schizophrenia, he could never truly understand what his mom was experiencing. No matter how much he'd read about being a dad, it did not prepare him for actually being one. And no matter how many people he talked to, articles he read, or data he went through, he would never truly understand what it was like for you to live with BPD.

At first, his research led him to believe that he might be able to understand some of the experience. After his dad leaving him at such a young age, Elle's resignation, Gideon leaving with nothing but a letter to say goodbye, and Emily's fake death, Spencer always had an underlying concern that the people in his life were going to leave.

But to him it was just that- an underlying concern. Like how he prefered paper over computers, but wasn't paranoid about it like his mother had been during an episode in which she threw the TV out of the house. Or how he might tell someone "My daughter is my whole world", but if he didn't hear from you for a day his whole world didn't seem to fall apart.

Nothing about your experience would ever be comparable to his. All he could do was try to understand.

Spencer had just woken up when he heard the shattering. He got out of bed, trying not to get his limbs tangled in the sheets, but still moving faster than he usually did at 7 AM. When he threw his bedroom door open, he took in the sight before him. His genius brain tryed it's best to calculate what move to make next.

You were standing in the small kitchen, surrounded by pieces of porcelain. White knuckles were threaded through your hair, threatening to pull the strands out by the root. A look of distress was plastered on your face as your chest heaved. Spencer only hoped that he'd gotten here before the anger turned into a blackout.

"(Y/N), Sweetie," Spencer cooed. He walked toward you, careful to avoid the broken bowl. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Your voice was shrill in your exasperatedly irritable state. "I- I dropped the bowl and it broke, and now I can't make cupcakes for Henry, and I broke the bowl- I'm so sorry-"

Spencer tried to change the subject in an effort to calm you. "You were going to hang out with Henry today?"

"No, of course no. Why else would I be trying to make him cupcakes?" You snarled at your dad with degrading sarcasm. "All my other friends hate me and now he probably will now too and- and the bowl!"

It wasn't an unusual thing for you to say. Keeping surface-level friendships alive could be difficult with BPD. People didn't understand where the swing of emotions came from, and how you couldn't control the things you said when the mental bomb went off. They didn't understand why you would share a hobby with them, and then a week later, drop it completely. Even when you explained BPD, used your coping skills, and tried your hardest, it was difficult just to exist in society.

Henry made it easier. The two of you had been friends since you were small children. He took his time to understand you. He could calm your nerves, help you cope, give you reassurance, set healthy boundaries.

Still, your dad was you favorite person; your safe place. Spencer made you feel secure in a way that no one else could. It didn't matter how high you flew or how hard you fell, he was the constant presence in your life that you needed. That's why the underlying fear of losing him could make you spiral.

"It's broken! It's broken and I'm broken!" The sarcasm slipped away behind your anger.

"You're not broken," Spencer cooed.

"Yes I am!" You screamed at him. Tears of fury streamed down your face. The look in your eyes was enough to tell your dad that you were close to a breakdown, and he couldn't help but look nervously at the shards still littered on the ground.

Spencer took a risk, walking forward. He got to you in three carefully calculated strides.

"Come here," he whispered, though you were only inches apart and his arms were almost all the way around you.

"No, no-" you muttered. Your eyes were shut tight, arms pulled to your chest as if they were a shield over your heart.

Spencer wrapped you in a hug against your wishes, only pulling you tigher when your fists came towards his chest. Your muttering and sobbing and squirming continued as he held you as tightly as he could.

"I love you."

"I'm telling the truth."

"I'm not leaving you."

"You're worthy."

"I will always be here."

Spencer didn't know if the words actually helped, but he liked to think they did. As the pendulum of emotion began to fall and you stopped fighting in his arms, the only sound in the kitchen became the mantras he whispered and your heavy breathing.

"I-I'm sorry, dad," your words were barely desipherable between dry sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean- I'm so sorry. Please-"

"It's okay." Spencer kept his voice calm, soothing, reassuring. "It's only a bowl."

"I broke it and I got so-" you choked out the words as if saying them was physically painful.

Spencer had to remind himself that it was. Just like the way a panic attack could make someone's heart race or their palms sweat, the humiliation of being unable to control your emotions made your throat close. He wished it didn't.

"It's all my fault- I'm sorry."

Spencer looked down at your puffy face. Your lip trembled with anxiety. Salt stained cheeks rested in his palms. In the glassy look of your eyes he could see his own reflection, his own expression. It matched exactly how he felt; concern for you that came from pure love. He only wished you'd see that there was nothing in this world that could make him leave you willfully. There was nothing in this world that could take that love.

"I promise it's okay," he kept his voice quiet. "Can we clean it up together?"

You nodded.

"I'll be here so you're safe," he reassured you. But it was also for himself.

You nodded again.

"Okay." He gently let go of your face. "Let's clean up."

Together, the two of you carefully swept up the pieces of procelain. It took no more than two minutes to do, but Spencer couldn't help but spew a few interesting facts. They made you feel better, more relaxed.

"In Japan they use a technique called kintsugi to repair pottery," he explained. "Craftsmen take the broken bits and mend them together with gold."

The both of you rose to your feet, you with a broom and Spencer with the dustpan. "It actually makes the object stronger and more beautiful." He disposed of the broken bowl in the trash.

"Is this your way of telling me that every time I break I get stronger and more beuatiful?" you asked. It wasn't snarky or sarcastic- it was exhausted. "Because I don't feel that way."

Your dad took the broom from you, putting it back in the small storage closet. "Not quite," he said, then turned. "Because a lot of people believe the practice rose from the philosophy of wabi-sabi, which encourages people to look for and appreciate imperfection."

You blinked at him. "I'm confused."

He wrapped you in a hug. "It's my way of telling you that I'm not going anywhere. It doesn't matter to me how strong you are or how beautiful you are- how perfect or imperfect. I'm always going to be here, and I'm always going to love you, no matter what."

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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staytinyville · 7 months

Text

Stay Alive (12)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N NOT BETA READ (I did try the best to my ability) As normally! I love all your expressions over the whole chapter. Keep them coming! I love you guys!

Namjoon had settled you in the park area to give you space from everyone else. Your panicked state had affected some of the other patients so the large man thought it best to keep you away from everyone. However he had been called to go somewhere else, which prompted him to ask Taehyung to watch over you.

The boy looked around for you, shuffling over so as to not startle you. He tried to act the same way his brothers would with him when he was upset or uneasy. So he wanted to try his best at keeping you from getting even more upset.

“Everything okay?” He asked you softly, taking a seat next to you on the bench. He sat a few inches away, trying to avoid you. He wanted to gauge out the reaction you would have to him coddling you. Baby steps, as Hobi would tell him.

“Yeah,” You quietly told him, trying your best to give him a small smile. “I'm just worried about Jungkook.”

“He's okay.” The boy grinned. “I promise you.”

You seemed to calm down some when you turned to see Taehyung’s boxy grin. It looked so adorable on him that it made you smile just watching it. You giggled quietly. “Okay. I believe you, Tae.”

As the boy grew closer to you, wanting to place his arms around your shoulders a nurse called out to him. “Taehyung, it's time for your tests.” You both turned to face the nurse.

Your eyebrows furrowed as this was the second time another nurse had come in to ruin your time with the boys. The last one had come to take you away from Jungkook. While it left a bitter feeling in your chest to be separated from any of them at the moment, you knew the nurses were just doing their jobs.

“Already?” Taehyung frowned. “But I just did them.” His voice grew quiet as his shoulders dropped.

Your lips pulled into a frown as you felt a pang in your chest watching the boy look so crestfallen. Looking back over to the nurse, you noticed he had his arms crossed with a deep frown settled on his lips. He looked annoyed and it made you worry more for Taehyung.

“You did them a month ago.” The nurse rolled his eyes. “You know how these go. Don't make this harder.” He gave Taehyung a pointed look.

“But-”

“Taehyung, please go.” You softly spoke, turning to the boy. You didn’t want him to get hurt because he wasn’t doing what they asked. However, it did leave you anxious as you realized Taehyung did not like doing his tests. After being so worried for Jungkook, you suddenly become hyper aware of each of the boy's feelings.

“I'll find you afterwards, okay.” You gave him a small smile, hoping he would go along with what the nurse needed to. Hopefully the incentive would help him go through the tests without problem.

“Promise?” He asked, eyes wide as he waited for your answer.

“I promise.” He didn’t give you a smile back. Only nodded his head as he shuffled to get up. He followed after the nurse, head tucked down as he tried to look small.

Your heart began to ache as you thought about how down he looked. He seemed like a child going to get shots at the doctors. He knew it needed to be done but he still didn’t want them. You didn’t know what was wrong with Taehyung or what kinds of tests they ran, but you figured it must have been something he didn’t like to have looked the way he did.

There wasn’t much you could do, so you opted to get up and find something to occupy your time. You walked through the corridors, hoping to come across someone–preferably one of the boys. However, walking further along the hallways you sighed to yourself when none of them made an appearance. Maybe they had been watching over Jungkook.

As you were about to make your way towards the boy’s room, the door to the pool caught your attention. There was a sign on the door that read occupied which made you frown your eyebrows. You figured it must have been Jimin in the pool, however you didn’t really think much about the warning. You were a nurse after all, it was your job to watch over all of the patients.

You walked in without thinking, following along the locker room hallway and towards the pool entrance.

Your head peaked around the corner, hearing someone swim around in the water. “Jimin?” You called out. “You in here?”

There was no answer, so you moved closer to where you finally noticed Jimin swimming around alone. He seemed to be in his own world, hums falling from his lips.

“I'd rather be lost in the lights-lost in the lights.” You head tilted to the side when you realized he was singing to himself. As you got closer his lovely voice drifted into your ears once more.

“I'm outta my mind. Can you help me numb the pain?” His voice was like that of an angel that called everyone’s attention. Everything seemed to go numb as you shuffled your feet along the floor, getting closer to Jimin who had yet to notice you.

“Each night, you spin me up high. Emotions on ice.” Your head bobbed from side to side, as your mind went blank completely the more the man sang to himself.

Before you realized it, you felt yourself floating in an endless sea of darkness. You were no longer in the mortal world, you were drifting on your own in a dream-like state within your own mind.

“Let me have a taste. Give me a good ride. It's gon' be a good night.” Your feet touched the edge of the pool, dipping into the water as you made your way deeper. The man who was back under didn’t seem to notice the new presence.

“Forever, you and I. This will break me–This is gonna break me.” You continued to walk down the steps, the water soaking into your scrubs as your eyes seemed to be glazed over. While Jimin seemed to be under water, your head was still buzzing with his soothing voice.

“No, don't you wake me. I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me. Don't you try to save me. I need a way we–I need a way we can dream on.” By the time the boy had finished with his song, you were already shoulder deep in the water, continuing your way even deeper.

“Jimin!” Someone screamed, stopping the said boy from singing even more.

He turned to look at Jin jumping into the pool in a dive, finally noticing the presence of someone else. His eyes went wide as he saw your body fall over and under into the water.

“(Y/N).” He spoke up, quickly diving under to reach you at record speeds.

He was there before Jin even got the chance to pull you up. The boy hauled you up, dragging you to the edge to put you back on solid ground. Jin quickly pulled himself out of the pool, moving to hold you in his lap.

The older boy placed his head to your chest, sighing when he felt your heart still beating. However you were struggling to breathe as you had inhaled some water when Jimin broke his singing.

Jimin quickly took notice and stuck his hand onto your chest. His other went up to your mouth, pulling the water that had caught in your lungs out of your mouth. You began to cough it up, your hacking making the boys flinch as they worried for you.

When your breathing finally returned to normal, they let out a breath as you seemed to stay unconscious from the influence you had been under.

“What are you doing?” Seokjin scolded the younger boy. “You could've gotten in trouble. Do you remember what happened last time you killed a nurse?” He looked at him with worry.

“I had my sign up.” Jimin only sighed, looking away. He felt terrible for what had happened, however he knew it wasn’t his fault.

“How was she supposed to know?” Jin sighed, moving his hands to ring some of the water in your scrubs out.

As his hands came up between your shoulder blades, the man frowned when he felt a sudden electric sting touch his fingertips. Seokjin could feel the energy that radiated off whatever it was, causing him to frown. He was prone to feeling magic on occasions with how intune he was to nature, so feeling something like this come from you caused him to frown.

“What's this?” Jin asked, pulling you up to sit.

Your limp body moved along with movements, head pulled back as Jimin went to help his friend pull the neck of your scrubs down. Just under the cervical part of your spine, there was an upside down crescent moon shape with three raindrops under it. It looked like a birthmark, blending into your skin like nothing.

Jimin titled his head, eyes going wide as he looked up at his elder. “It's a spell marking.” The boy spoke astounded. He suddenly frowned as he looked back down at you. “You don't think Hobi-”

“No.” Jin immediately said. “He would've told us.” He shook his head, frowning as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Taehyung?” Jimin asked, his hand subconsciously rubbing at the mark.

“I don't think he knows how to do that yet.” Jin once again shot down Jimin’s thoughts.

Jimin looked at your face, watching as you seemed to be asleep completely. He was glad you weren’t out of it, hopeful that you would wake up soon. “What do we do?” He asked.

Jin pursed his lips before ultimately getting up. He easily picked you up in his arms, carrying you out the pool area. “We have to tell the others.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee ,

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radioisntdead · 9 days

Text

Maybe one day I could learn to love you..

Alastor x reader, Human au!

Summary:

Alastor and reader are put in an arranged marriage and, one of them falls and the other doesn't know where he stands.

Warnings!

Murder, death, inaccurate portrayal of the 1920's??, OOC, this was edited but there are probably misspellings around, not beta read [How do I acquire a beta reader??] Me projecting my Aroace vibes onto the reader and Alastor, reader is implied to be afab (is that the right term?) because 1920's but GN, also reader is put in a wedding dress.

Song

You and Alastor didn't know each other super well, you knew each other well enough to be friends but not super close, the only way the two of you even met was because his mother was a close friend of yours,

The two of you were "getting up there in age." and "should marry soon."

Frankly neither of you wanted to get married but you couldn't exactly express that to your folks, and Alastor couldn't bare to see his mother sad that she wouldn't be able to see her only child start a family.

There was only so many times you could use the "haven't met the right person'' excuse before they decided to set you and Alastor up.

You and Alastor sat at a café to see how things play out and long story short agreed that it would be beneficial for the two of you to wed, a marriage of convenience.

His mother would be satisfied in thinking her son wouldn't be alone when she was gone, and your parents wouldn't nag at you, saying you'd become a spinster.

You sat in a dressing room, in a beautiful white dress, your mother was right outside along with a few family members, you could barely make out their voices saying how excited they were.

You looked into the mirror, your makeup was beautifully done, hair done up like a princess's

Anxiety filled you, you wondered if you would feel like this if you were marrying someone you had romantic feelings for?

You shook your head and took a deep breath, standing up you opened the door, being greeted by smiling faces.

Can we become we,

You walked down the aisle, a painted smile plastered on your face.

No longer known as just you and me

Alastor continually smiled, not breaking it as the two of you exchanged vows.

he gently took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to lift your hand and kiss it,

You could hear a few folks in attendance cooing at the action, you could already hear the on-coming whispers of how 'in love' the two of you seemed.

Two separate lives now in unity

"You may now kiss the bride."

It was quick, a small peck before turning around to face your loved ones and others that were invited.

Stuck here together but

Unease filled you as the reception came to an end, after the concerning amount of dancing and drinking, it was time for them to bid the two of you farewell for your honeymoon, you hugged your parents goodbye, he did the same with his mother and the two of you stepped into the car and there you went.

Will this always be just an arrangement

You were uneasy as you got ready for bed, silently praying that you wouldn't have to do anything, but preparing yourself for the possibly that you would just have to grin and bare it, lay back and disassociate.

Thankfully nothing happened, Alastor bid you a goodnight and promptly passed out.

And neither of you brought it up, consummating your marriage was never a topic between you, and for that the two of you were secretly relieved.

You were glad you married Alastor out of all people. [Said no one ever]

Can we become more

As time went on you and Alastor became closer, and feelings began to consume you, sneaking in slowly, it started with you noting how Alastor preferred more bitter or savory foods as opposed to sweets, or how he preferred black coffee to tea.

It was the 1920's, you didn't have a term for what you were back then, and so you thought you were just not meant to be in love, that maybe something was wrong with you? Why weren't you wired like your peers were? You thought that maybe you were too young for feelings like that but you realized that wasn't the case as you grew

You remember talking with your friends, and while they were more prone to crushes or saying what they would do to someone based off their appearance, you always felt a little odd, you were reassured by them saying maybe you just had higher standards, or just hadn't met the right person yet,

But that didn't really explain the fact that you didn't look at a person and think that you wanted to bed them

Than half of a union we’re chosen for?

Alastor had a similar experience, although he had been different in other ways, after all he did killed people so that probably had an effect on it (it probably did but not in this case)

His dear mama just told him he hadn't met the right person yet, and he didn't have a reason not to believe his mother.

On his side he was going to avoid it as long as he could, and he did until he was matched up with you, and wedded.

It not only gave him a cover, you were a perfect alibi, it gave his mama peace of mind.

You were a good companion as well, you weren't overly touchy, you were smart and had your wits about, you could keep up with him,

You became a good friend who he just so happened to wed.

Where I am your best half

The romantic feelings you felt you clung onto desperately, afraid that if you let them go you'd never be able to feel them again, after all where would you find someone like Alastor? [In a Prison probably]

Not to mention the two of you were already married so that was already a done deal, this is the best situation to be in, right? Falling in love with a person you were already married to?

And I am yours

Your affections became more obvious by the day, lingering touches, acts of service becoming more frequent, spending more time together.

For Alastor it was becoming harder to hide the Blood stains that would get on his shirts from you.

Stuck here forever and hopefully not ending in estrangement

Alastor's mother absolutely adored you, you were a decent person, loving and caring to her son, not to mention you were such a sweetheart to her, helping her in the kitchen, helping her move around as it got harder to do in her old age.

It’s the step of faith, We have to take sometimes

His Ma sat him down one day while you were out running errands, telling him to cherish you more,

Not wanting to disappoint his ma, he slowly but surely began to return your affections a bit more, not by much but a little bit more.

If I’m, with you, I can take it

The two of you would go dancing at the speakeasy Mimzy worked at, cook together, he'd murder people behind your back, the two of you would spend time together doing projects like puzzles.

But if we are one, What happens to you and I

Alastor's mother started getting sick.

It started with a cough, which she dismissed to you and Alastor as just a cold, that didn't stop the two of you from making her meals and making her rest but it got worse, the cough turned into hacking late at night and struggling to breathe.

If I’m, with you, I will make it

The doctors couldn't do much, only suggesting medicines that would give her relief.

Will this always be just an arrangement? We’ll find out in time if we don’t break it

You were there with her, at one side while Alastor was at her other, Alastor held her hand as she breathed her last breath.

Can mine become yours, combining our dreams

Alastor was a complete and utter mess, after all that was his mother, the person closest to him besides you, gone.

He would never see her again, he would move to call her and tell her good news,

She wasn't there,

He went to call her at noon like he did every day?

She wasn't there, he had to train himself to not automatically go to the phone, if he found himself dialing her telephone he'd hear the phone operator ask who he's trying to call, and he'd have a moment to remember that the person he was trying to call was no longer with them.

Without keeping score

You were a shoulder to cry on, helping him keep sane, the two of you grieved for his mother together, you helped plan a great funeral, sparing no expense she was practically a second mother to you after all.

Always together, but never bored, No choice in the matter but

The world didn't end when his mother died, he was lucky enough to get a few weeks off but Radio waits for no one, and he was needed back.

This will never work without each other

He went to work, you'd listen in on the radio while doing whatever you did, working, vibing, I don't know what you did for a living.

Can we become we, start a new line on this family tree

Things healed, they would never be the same, obviously you can't bring back the dead, but things were okay, the two of you had each other especially after the stock market crash and everything that followed,

Two hearts connected by one beat

You had a special place in Alastor's twisted murdery heart, it was likely that Alastor wouldn't return your affections, but that was alright, you were content staying near him.

Your hand in mine and

The two of you were dancing, he held your hand as he twirled you around, looking into his eyes with your own lovesick ones you smiled

"I could never choose to love another"

It slipped out, it took the two of you a moment to process it, Alastor let out a sigh, a twinge of guilt? Or something else flashed in his eyes

"Maybe one day I can learn to love you, too."

One day would never come through, for your life was cut short before Alastor's, a bad flu had taken you out, folks often forget how deadly the flu can be.

Alastor was by your side as you breathed your last.

The world didn't stop spinning because you died, but he didn't handle it well, first his Ma and now you, two of the most important people in his life gone just like that, both taken out by some type of sickness, was this punishment for murdering people? The two innocent people he cherished perishing?

Alastor would more then likely never see you or his mother again because when he fell below you were safe and sound above.

While Alastor was clawing for power below you were living your best afterlife above, doing whatever hobbies your heart desired, moving forward with new friends, family that included Alastor's mother, and maybe a paramour? Or maybe not, you were okay with or without one.

Unfortunately for Alastor you were embedded in his memory, every once in awhile you would pop in late at night when he was trying to sleep or do something productive, plaguing his mind with what ifs.

On the other side you were blessed with ignorance, after all he couldn't haunt your memories, he couldn't pop into your mind with what ifs, and you couldn't miss Alastor if you didn't remember him.

Good evening folks! I need to quit killing the reader off, sorry this was delayed!

I was going to go a completely different direction with this but that would've had a happy ending

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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weemssapphic · 8 months

Note

Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead.

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight.

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback.

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer.

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own.

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you.

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous.

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

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#jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #flux gourmet #gwendoline christie #jan stevens flux gourmet

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bobaandasiandramas · 27 days

Text

Find Rest for Your Soul

Y/n is found unconscious by Hoseok and rescue owner, Sejin. Y/n is a mysterious Omega with no real memories and is trying to understand the warnings in her head. What or who is after her?

Alpha, Beta, Omega x F. Reader

Pairing: OT7 X F.Reader

Rating: M+

Trigger warning : none

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Hoseok found her in the living room. It was early in the morning when the sun was still rising, a small sliver of it was peeking through the curtains. The omega was sitting on the floor with her back against the front of the couch, staring out at the coffee table. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her with any sudden noises, but the floor creaked quietly under his feet. The sound must have reached her ears because her head tilted as if trying to listen more closely. “Good morning.” He whispered the greeting.

The omega didn’t respond verbally but she turned to look at him with unfocused eyes. It looked like she was looking at something in front of him, or maybe through him - perhaps it was words of the books that she loved so much just floating around. Her breathing remained steady as if there was no change in her current state of mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked, unsure if she would snap back to him - to reality. He moved closer, still slow as he remembered that she did not always come back in the best state of mind, sometimes thrashing about. As he watched for any micro movements from her, he moved inch by inch until he was at arms length from her. “Would it be okay to sit with you?” He questioned but received no answer, not that he was expecting one. She was definitely too far gone in her head, and so he used the quiet moments to observe her.

The difference in her appearance from when he first saw her was astounding. The bruises that once decorated her small wrists had faded away. Namjoon had decided to remove the bracelet and kept it hidden for now until they could figure out if it was a tracking device or just a health monitor. Though he was sure if it was a tracker someone would have shown up by now. Her skin looked healthier, soft to the touch, and clean. Jimin had really helped with her hair, getting rid of all the knots and maintaining it well, even after the stitches were removed. He finally focused on her face. Her face was less sunken since putting on a little bit of much needed weight. The dark rings around her eyes were still there but significantly less. There was a sort of beauty that she carried even in her current health, he wondered just how lovely she would look once she was fully recovered.

Hoseok knew she had a hard time sleeping most nights, he could hear her pacing her room. He often wanted to go in and check on her, offer her some company but he also didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. The alpha knew that Yoongi wasn’t the biggest fan of the omega, but it was clear to see the quiet alpha was trying. The pack appreciated it and in return everyone has a certain time limit with the omega. Most of the time she was with Namjoon or Jimin and then it was decided the Jungkook was the omega that would spend the most time with her and help her adjust back into a pack setting.

Hoseok knew she wasn’t part of their pack, but she felt right with them. He felt like she was meant to be with them. He was a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. He just didn’t know what the reason was.

“I remember the darkness, it was always dark, except when they came in. The light would trickle through the door - a tease to something we couldn’t have. It wasn’t real, the light - it wasn’t the sun. I preferred the darkness because every time I saw that light I knew something terrible would happen.” Her voice was just below a whisper, more like she was talking to herself instead of him.

For a moment he thought she was quoting a book, but it wasn’t the same. She always had a certain look upon her face when she quoted, but this was different. He leaned a little closer, interested in the words that she was providing.

“What terrible things happened?” It was a risk to ask such a question knowing that every time someone tried to ask her about her memories, she would spiral into the nonsense of her mind. At first she didn’t say anything, instead her fingers twitched right before she slid her hand from her lap to her knees. Hoseok watched as she tried to clear the fog in her mind, her eyes would focus and unfocus at her fingers. He was patient and willing to wait, maybe she wouldn’t say anything else or maybe she would.

“It was crowded at times, others not so much. There was no real organization among us, just lumped together like sheep.” Her scent started to turn sour and thick, the mood felt heavy like a rain cloud, dark and filled with despair.

The tears welled on her lash line and spilled over quickly. The alpha in him reacted before his mind could, he reached out and wiped the tears away, guiding her to look at him. “Oh, little omega, I wish I could help you more.” He whispered to her as she looked through him as he let his hand drop.

“Protect the littles. That’s the best we can do. That’s what they always say. I’m scared. I’m so scared. I can only protect them for so long.”

The alpha in him cringed at her sadness and won over his mind wanting to make it better. He reached out for her, pulling her toward him into a hug. Her body shifted willingly with him, settling on his lap, knees of each side of his hips and he wrapped his arms around her center. He tucked his face into her shoulder, rubbing his nose gently against her shirt. He poured his calming scent around them, hoping it would ease some of her pain.

She hugged him back, her arms holding his head gently to her body, her fingers carding through his soft locks of hair. Her bottom lip quivered as her chest began to ache. Her whole body started to tremble as she tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape her throat. She suddenly wasn’t close enough, she hugged him tighter as the first sob cracked out. “I’m sorry!” She cried loudly. “We couldn’t protect you Alpha!”

Hoseok stiffened in her embrace, the sorrow that poured from her was breaking his heart and he gripped her tighter. It was suffocating, a sadness he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He could feel it absorbing into his skin, twisting his own emotions to match hers. It was too much but he couldn’t bear to know she carried this all alone.

“I tried. I promise, I tried. I’m so sorry. Please, please…” The pleas that fell from her mouth were desperate and aching.

The sound of her cries had alerted the others in the house. The pounding of several pairs of feet coming down the stairs could be heard. Namjoon and Yoongi were the first to arrive, each sliding on their feet in the arched doorway. Hoseok could sense the other two alphas standing there and peeked over her shoulder at them. He shook his head, letting them know to not approach them.

Her cries and whimpers carried on as she begged for a forgiveness to something that Hoseok only expected was the start of her losing her mind. “I’m sorry Alpha, please forgive me.” Her voice was losing its volume as she crumbled into him, her face ducked into his neck as she sobbed heavily, her tears dripping onto his skin.

“Shh, it’s okay. We have you now, you hear me?” He asked gently as he rubbed her back slowly.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

The words ran in circles around her head, her cries stopping immediately but her body jumped with small hiccups of sadness. This wasn’t her alpha, her alpha was gone. Gone, gone, gone. She let go of the body she was holding and sat back to look at the face that belonged to it. Her eyes focused slowly as she watched him study her.

Hoseok called her name gently as he cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears that stained her cheeks. “Are you back with me?” His eyes flickered back and forth between her eyes, searching for her in the depths of her irises.

She reached her hand up to place over one of his. “I’m back, I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense, don’t be sorry. I’m here for you,” He looked past her shoulder which caused her to look back as well. The entire pack was there watching them. “we are all here for you.”

*******

It was hard to get her to eat breakfast that morning. Her eyes would cloud over and get lost in her thoughts. Jimin stayed with her at the table while holding her hand and trying to

encourage her to eat, pressing small pieces of fruit to her lips, praising her gently each time she did take a piece into her mouth.

Everyone else tried to go about their business while Namjoon and Hoseok spoke about what had happened. Yoongi had pushed the others out of the room, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s lips and the omega pouted.

Namjoon and Hoseok decided that since new memories seemed to have arrived and gone mostly well with Hoseok near her that he would spend most of the day with her, much to Jimin’s disappointment. They also figured that maybe it would be best to not try and snap her back to reality, unless things got bad.

Nothing had seemed to come to her mind since that morning, at least nothing that she voiced to Hoseok. Instead she just reached out her hand to hold his, especially as her mind started to wander, as if she needed him to anchor her so she wouldn’t float too far away. Hoseok watched her closer than he ever watched her before, if there was even a micro movement from her, he caught it.

At the current moment they were sitting on the back porch where she normally made flower crowns, she was humming a tune - nothing that Hoseok recognized. It was sad and slow, filled with dread and despair as she pulled her arms to wrap around her middle and curled into a small ball. The sight alone made Hoseok upset, he wanted to cheer her up but knew he needed to let her feel her feelings today and hopefully they would learn more about her. The waiting was torcher to him and her scent filled with agony was more so.

She turned her attention to him and looked him over with sad eyes. “...if you’ve been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.”

There it was again, that particular look she got when she was quoting a book. Hoseok gave a sad smile and offered his hand again for the hundredth time today. He watched her look at the hand before grabbing it gently and letting him pull her closer. Slowly he moved her wrist to his nose, he placed a soft but quick kiss to the skin there before his alpha side decided to scent her, his nose skimming the skin lightly as he pulled her closer.

Her eyes widened as she snapped back to reality, the fogginess of Narnia and the Pevensie siblings faded from her mind. Instead there was a warmth that filled her, something she had missed for so long. She couldn’t help the happy little chirp that passed her lips.

Hoseok froze, eyes snapping open - realizing what he did and dropped her hand immediately. She wasn’t his to scent, to mark - to do anything with. Just as he was about to apologize, she whined instead.

“Alpha, I’m so sorry.” She scooted back from him, head dropped to look at the ground - her seconds of happiness banished to the far depths of her mind.

That wasn’t what he wanted to happen. The alpha moved closer, refraining from touching her. “Why are you sorry? I should be apologizing to you. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re not mine to claim.”

She shook her head and moved back more. His words, while true, still stung her heart and she felt it tighten up, preparing for a new crack to form. “Do- do you not want me?”

Hoseok could feel his own heart crack. “Oh, Sunflower, how could I not want you to be mine?” He questioned and she paused, her head tilting a little to look up at him with her doe eyes. “It’s just wrong of me to do that without asking, you are not a part of our pack. You might have your own pack-”

“Sunflower?” She tested the nickname on her tongue, loving it immediately. So much in fact she stopped listening to him as soon as the syllables passed his lips.

Hoseok however panicked. “Sorry, it slipped. If you hate it-”

She smiled at him, shining brighter than she did in days. “I love it.” She whispered and moved closer to him this time, reaching out for his hands. They stayed silent for a moment as she looked over his hands in hers. She traced the love line in his palm and dragged her fingertips over his long fingers before her smile slipped away slowly. The omega looked up at him with utter seriousness. “Hoseok…” She bit her lip, gathering the courage to say the next words out loud. “I don’t have a pack anymore. Alpha is -” her bottom lip wobbled with emotion. She didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want it to be real. If she kept it to herself, then she could pretend and things could be a little better.

Lies. Lies. Lies. “Alpha is - is…. He’s dead!” She finally spat out before she clamped her eyes shut tightly, her hands dropped his and fell at her sides curled into fists. It felt like hours passed, her heart pounding so furiously in her chest that she could hear it in her ears.

“I’m sorry about your alpha.” Hoseok spoke as his hand touched her clenched fist. He watched her eyes crack open and she looked at him, truly looked at him.

“We tried to protect him.”

“I bet you did. I can tell. You loved your alpha.”

“With my whole heart.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry Sunflower.” He whispered back as he pulled her into a hug. Her body curled into his, he could feel the weight that she carried and held it for her.

****

Hoseok wasn’t sure how long they stayed out on the porch, but she sat in his lap and looked out at the fields behind the house while she kept her back pressed to his chest. He ran his fingers across her skin, healing touches as he poured his comforting scent around them. By the time Namjoon came to check on them, she was sleepily nuzzling under his chin and whining about not wanting to go inside.

Hoseok chuckled and carried her into the house, bringing her straight to his room to wash up before food. He sat her on the counter of his sink and grabbed a washcloth, wetting it and wiping it slowly over her face and neck. He chuckled as she whined and grumbled at him. “Would you like to get changed?” He asked her as he moved to run the washcloth over her hands. This was the most he has ever seen her act like a true omega and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he looked at her.

“Mmm’kay.” She nodded her head.

“What do you want me to grab for you?” He asked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with one hand while he threw the washcloth into the sink basin.

The omega gripped the front of his shirt and didn’t let him step away. “Can I borrow your hoodie? The blue colorful one that is really soft.” Her cheeks were flushed as she rolled the fabric of his shirt between her fingers.

“You want to wear my clothes?” His heart rate jumped with excitement.

“Is that okay?” She whispered.

“Absolutely, hold on.” He left her for just a moment and went to his closest to locate the requested article of clothing. The pullover was soft in his hands and he brought it to his face to scent slightly for her. He returned to the bathroom, she was no longer sitting on the counter, her shirt off but bra still on staring at her own reflection. He stood in the doorway for a moment and watched her touch her cheeks before moving down to her collar bones. There was disgust and loathing in her eyes. She twisted her body left and right, looking over the person who stared at her in the mirror. He knocked on the door and she spun quickly on her heel to look at him.

The omega looked at the hoodie he held out to her and she took it quickly, slipping it over her head. She closed her eyes in slight bliss as the softness of the fabric wrapped around her. After a brief moment she opened her eyes and stared at the male before her. He looked concerned and she sighed before gazing back at the mirror. The words popped up around her head and her mouth began to move. “I can’t remember what it’s like to face a mirror, And not hate the person staring back at me.”

The male blinked at her. “A quote?” He wasn’t sure, he watched her eyes dance around as if she was reading words but the way she said it was also as if she was telling him how she felt.

“Yes, but also the truth.” She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t know her, she doesn’t look right. She’s similar - but she’s not me.”

****

Namjoon wasn’t exactly pleased with Hoseok, he could smell him all over the omega. Scenting her wasn’t part of the plan at all. Though he couldn’t say the results were terrible. The omega seemed happy, hovering in the doorway of omega space. He looked her over as she sat at the table, waiting for the food to be served.

“She’s sad.” Hoseok stated, whispering low enough that she couldn't hear. “Her alpha is dead. She knows she no longer has a pack.”

Namjoon frowned and looked over to the other alpha. “We figured as much, but now at least it is confirmed.” He continued to put food on the plate for the omega as Hoseok grabbed a glass to pour her some juice.

“She asked me if I didn’t want her.”

Namjoon’s head whipped toward Hoseok. “How did that-”

“I accidentally scented her, lost in trying to comfort her and I apologized for it. She looked so broken down after I apologized and she just asked. I couldn’t tell her no, because that would be a lie in itself.” Hoseok looked up from the kitchen counter to catch her just turning her head to look back at them. He couldn’t help but return the smile that was on her face. “She’s lonely, Joon. I wonder if she became pack, officially, if it would help with her healing process.”

“We need to tread carefully with that subject. It’s a serious conversation to have with the entire pack.” Namjoon looked up at her as well, catching her attention and smiling back at her as well. “And what if it’s something she doesn’t want?”

Hoseok looked at her, studying the way she looked so small in his hoodie - but it felt right. “She can make up her own mind on that when we address the topic and whatever she decides we all need to be okay with.” He grabbed the glass from the counter and walked away from Namjoon and toward the table. “Here’s your juice, Sunflower.”

Namjoon could see the connection between Hoseok and her. It warmed his heart but he hoped this was the right thing - he would hate for anyone to end up heart broken. He followed in Hoseok’s steps, bringing her plate to her. “I hope you’re hungry Darlin. Jin made this especially for you.”

She smiled at him and accepted the plate from his hands. “I bet it’s delicious.”

****

I sat at the table with the two alphas. The food was delicious like I knew it would be. I couldn’t help the way I was drawn to Hoseok today, in fact I was already feeling a sadness over me because he was sitting too far away. I reached out with my hand for his and was happy when I felt him take my hand in his. I didn’t care to listen to what the two of them were talking about. I was content with this. I missed the feeling that Hoseok was providing. Maybe I was being selfish but I craved this so much.

As I finished my meal, the doctor took my plate and cleared the table. Hoseok offered to bring me to my room but I wasn’t ready to go yet. “Can we wait for Namjoon?” I asked quietly.

“Hoseok smiled at me. “You want him to join us, Sunflower?”

The nickname warms my entire body, starting from my chest and spreading all the way down to my toes and fingertips. “Yes, if he wishes to join us that is.”

“Why don’t you go and ask him?”

I nodded my head and let his hand slip from mine as I walked toward the kitchen to where the good doctor was cleaning up the dishes. I stood in the doorway just watching him for a moment as I thought about him and how he has helped me so much. I know he wants me to remember ‘The Before’ but I’ve tried and anytime I do I get scared. Sometimes I push through but then I get lost in the darkness. Hoseok is a good light, he gives me a path to follow to return safely.

I want to be close to everyone, and I know I have my own little habits with them all, a piece of me is comfortable with them all to a certain extent. Like a routine ingrained in my brain I know I have certain things I can do with them, holding Hoseok’s hands, making pretty flower crowns with Jungkook, cuddling with Jimin and touching Namjoon’s hands and face. I think I feel the most drawn to Hoseok, Jimin and Namjoon, they were the first ones I met. I’m most guarded with Yoongi, but not in a bad way - I don’t want to push him and make him uncomfortable. I limit myself for his own comfort.

“...darlin?” Namjoon’s voice breaks me from my thoughts.

I notice that he is no longer in front of the sink but now in front of me, hand reaching out to touch my arm but as I look down at his hand he drops it away. “Sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”

“Anything good?” Namjoon asked, I know he wasn’t expecting a real answer, most of the time they don’t. I can feel it anytime they ever ask me.

“I think so, it was about all of you.”

That caught his attention. “Oh, do you wish to share or keep those to yourself?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I could share. It’s nothing bad.”

“You don’t have to, ignore my curiosity.”

“I was thinking about the different levels of comfort I have with you all.” I could see a frown starting on his face. “Not in a bad way, For example,” I stepped closer to him and raised my hands to cup his face in my hands, I tapped my fingers gently on the skin of his cheeks. “This isn’t something I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing with Yoongi. My comfort with him isn’t touching…” I let my mind collect thoughts as I trailed my hands down the front of Namjoon’s chest. “It’s more of a verbal comfort with him. I feel at ease with his words because I know he’s speaking the truth when he talks to me.”

Namjoon grabs my wrists with his hands gently, stopping my wandering hands. “Is that so?”

“It’s true.”

“Then do tell, what about Jimin?”

I was startled. “Jimin?” I looked away from Namjoon’s eyes, he had a knowing look that I couldn’t stare at anymore.

“Yes, Jimin.”

“I feel the most with Jimin. Close and safe.” I blushed and hid my face in Namjoon’s chest. “Not to say I don’t feel safe with everyone else but with Jimin…” I trailed off as my heart rate increased thinking about the other Alpha.

Namjoon chuckled gently. “And what about Hoseok?”

A whimper fell from my mouth. “I-I…”

“It’s okay Darlin’. You’re getting to know all of us. I’m glad you feel safe with us because we will all protect you. Bonds are just sometimes stronger than others, it’s okay - that happens.” He let go of my wrist and suddenly fingers were under my chin guiding me to look back at him again. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

I nodded my head and lost my thoughts again. “Oh!” I breathed as soon as I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. “Would you like to join Hoseok and I?”

“What will you two be doing?” He asked as he released my face.

“I was going to sit with him on the back porch, he said he was going to listen to some music.”

Namjoon looked down at me with raised brows and a grin curled on his mouth. “Darlin’, that sounds wonderful. Are you sure you want me to join you both? I feel like Hoseok and you had such a good day together. I don't want to intrude.”

“It was my idea.” I whispered.

“Then I would love to join you both.” He slipped his hand into mine and led me back to Hoseok, who was waiting in the archway of the dining room for us.

Hoseok smiled brightly at us. “Ready to relax and watch the stars?”

*****

The temperature had dropped a little bit, but I didn't mind much. Not when the two alphas offered their warmth. I was sitting in Namjoon's lap this time, my back against his chest as I leaned into him. The alpha was hesitant about it, but I insisted that it wasn't too much for me. Hoseok’s head was resting in my lap and I looked down at him as my fingers played with his hair.

The music was playing softly, instrumental and soothing. Namjoon thought it might help me stay relaxed while I let my mind wander.

The look on his face said it all. I was to stay put. I hated it. So very much that I stomped my foot in defiance as I stared at him.

“Pup, I don't have time for this.” He grumbled.

“Not a pup anymore.” I argued.

He took two steps forward and closed the distance between us. “You’ll always be a pup to me. Now be good. Listen. Stay. Protect the little ones. I’ll be back from the hunt soon.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips.

I returned it and grabbed onto him, hoping that he wouldn't leave. The kiss however broke and he wiggled from my hold as he went to the beta, kissing them deeply.

“Love you, keep watch.” Alpha looked back at me and smiled before stepping out.

The memory was short and sweet but it was enough to have tears rolling down my face and onto Hoseok’s cheek. I felt my bottom lip tremble with emotion and I tried to stop it by biting into my lip.

“It’s okay Darlin’, let it out. We got you.” Namjoon’s voice whispered in my ear, his breath tickling the skin there. I felt his arms tighten around my waist and I sank deeper into his hold. I tilted my head to tuck into his neck.

Hoseok was moving as well, off my lap and sitting close, grabbing my hands into his. “Talk to me, Sunflower.”

I sucked in a shaky breath and tried not to whine. “I-it was just…” I let out a small sob. “- just a memory.” My fingers tightened my hold on Hoseok’s hand, afraid that he would let go.

“Easy Omega, I’m not going anywhere.” Hoseok stated as he squeezed my hands twice. I relaxed my hands a little, loosening my grip on him. It didn’t seem like he wanted to leave me but neither did my Alpha and look what happened to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Namjoon asked, mumbling softly in my hair.

‘No!’ My mind was screaming. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember it. I wanted to pretend and pretend. “It was about my Alpha.” I took my time, thinking of my words carefully. The sound of the music started to relax me again.

Hoseok lifted my hands to his face, nuzzling them with his nose before pressing gentle kisses to both of them. “It’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself.”

I almost sobbed from the comment alone. He could read me so easily. As much as I didn’t want to talk about it, or remember it - I knew I needed to. Maybe deep down I really just wanted to but I was scared. “He was going on a hunt - I was mad at him because he was making me stay home. Protect the little ones - it was what he told us to do.”

“Why were you mad that you had to stay home?” Namjoon asked.

“I was usually allowed to go with him and the others - not to hunt but just to be nearby. The energy everyone had after a hunt was always so exciting. I loved being with them when they celebrated - but for some reason Alpha told me I had to stay behind.” I looked at the stars while talking, I didn’t want to see their reactions. “I’m pretty sure that was the last time I saw Alpha during ‘The Before’.”

I could feel both of them tense at my words. “I don’t have good feelings about it. I think, and maybe I’m still missing memories, the next time I saw Alpha was when they dragged him from the other cell.”

“The other cell?” Hoseok questioned.

It was weird, I didn’t recall the cells before now. I brought it up like a known fact and it was startling. I could see it clearly now. Whenever the door opened, the light would flood in and the room was divided by two cells. Almost like a holding cell you would see in a movie for a jail. “There were two cells. They separated us. Why? It’s not like it would matter if we were together…” I could feel my mind wandering again. It didn’t make sense. They had the others first, they were all in the one cell together and then when we arrived we were put in the other cell. I frowned. “How did I get there?”

***

The two alphas looked at each other and then the Omega in front of them. She was in her own thoughts again, but she was still talking out loud. Every few moments a new question would pass her lips and they hoped for answers along with them, but of course no answers were concluded. Except for one. “I woke up already there.”

Then she was quiet. Staring at the stars while silent tears rolled down her face. She eventually closed her eyes and fell asleep in the doctor’s arms, still holding the other alpha’s hands.

Hoseok almost smiled at the fact that she was still holding his hands, feeling a little happier than he probably should that she felt as comfortable with him as she did. “I don’t think I ever want to let her go.” He spoke quietly.

Namjoon cracked open an eye and looked at the other Alpha. “I know Hoseok. I don’t think she wants to let go either.” He frowned. “Hoseok…” He trailed off as he looked down at the omega.

Hoseok looked up at him. “Hmm?”

“Did I make a mistake bringing her home?” He frowned as tightened his hold on the omega. “I told myself that we would help her and that I wouldn’t get attached. I’m not… at least not completely. I feel for her, and as her doctor I care about her state of mind. I see you’re attached, I know Jungkook and Jimin are too. I can’t help but feel this will eventually blow up in my face.”

Hoseok dropped one of the omega’s hands and reached forward, caressing the other Alpha’s cheek softly before bringing himself closer to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Joon, we are doing our best here. You’re doing amazing - you make the decisions that you feel are best for our pack. I stand by you with all your choices. This wasn’t a mistake. Don’t doubt it.” He whispered against the other’s lips before kissing him again.

Namjoon sighed as they parted. “Thank you.” he replied with a breathy voice.

*****

They stayed outside for another twenty minutes before Namjoon swooped the omega in his arms and carried her to her room. He sent Hoseok to go take care of the other Omegas while he got her settled. He placed her on her bed, pulling the covers over her and making sure she was covered up. He smiled as she curled onto her side and mumbled something before nuzzling into her pillow, dragging the covers to just under her chin.

The alpha leaned down and pressed his nose to her hair, not yet a kiss but a sort of affection nuzzle. As he was leaning back to straighten up a scent caught his nose. A very familiar scent. The alpha couldn’t help himself as he leaned down more toward the omega’s face and sniffed gently. It wasn’t her. He moved a little lower and stopped as he caught another whiff of it. ‘Yoongi?’ He thought to himself and dragged his nose toward the blanket just under her chin.

The scent was unmistakable. It was Yoongi. The scent dulled but not by years, by a week or so. The alpha couldn’t stop the smile that graced his lips. Yes Yoongi could be cold and over protective with the family but did he have a heart of gold deep down inside. While Yoongi might have not agreed with the Omega coming here, it was obvious he was trying in front of everyone but to see him trying away from everyone’s eyes? Now that was a victory in its own book.

Namjoon walked down to the pack room, standing in the doorway he watched as everyone was snuggling under the covers, shifting against each other to slip into blissful sleep. He found Yoongi at the outer edge of the nest, eyes closed but obviously not sleeping yet. Joon crossed the room quietly and nudged Yoongi gently.

The alpha cracked his eye open and lifted the blanket to invite Joon in. Once the other alpha was comfortable, Yoongi closed his eyes and sighed in content. Hands on his face almost made his eyes snap open, but then there were lips slotted perfectly against his and he groaned against the lips instead. Legs tangled, hands grabbing at each other, trying to get impossibly closer. Lips parted and breathless gasps escaped him as lips trailed down his neck, licking and biting sensually.

“I love you, Yoongi.” The words were whispered in his ears.

“Hmm, love you too Joon.”

“Thank you. I know you’ve been trying and I’m thankful for that and you.”

Yoongi looked at Joon, but the latter had his eyes closed - trying to drift off to dreamland. “Of course, Joonie. Anything for the pack.”

#Bts #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #find rest for your soul

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reallyromealone · 2 years

Note

Can I request Aizawa A/B/O with his male omega mate? Like maybe Alpha Aizawa forgets something important at home so his darling mate brings it to him and UA goes crazy not knowing he had a mate? (If not I completely understand. Also if knowing my age is important for request I'm 20 turning 21 in a few months)

IMPORTANT PAPERS

Aizawa x Omega male reader

⭐Warnings⭐

Fluff, omegaverse, male reader

A/N:Age isn't important unless it's nsfw content then I would recommend looking at my rules for that lol

And you sure can my dude

Also I am very anti all might and no I don't accept criticism on my feelings

(Name) was a bit confused as he was directed to 1-A, the halls empty as students were in classes and such as he made his way to the classroom only to see a sign that said "at gym Gamma" on it in his mates messy handwriting causing (name) to sigh and continue his journey to find his mate and not get lost in the maze of a school.

When he made it to the gym he was hesitant to open the door but eventually cracked it open "I'm..I'm sorry to interrupt but is this 1-A?" (Name) asked hesitantly to the students who stood around all might who looked confused behind the large grin "yes can we help you?" All might boomed out, something that would startle (name) if he wasn't already used to his mates close friends "I'm looking for Aizawa... Is he here?"

All the young alpha and betas looked confused, this didn't look like a hero at all if anything he looked like a house husband not to mention the Omegan collar he wore as omegas weren't really in the hero industry and if they were they masqueraded as betas.

"And why would you need him?" All might asked the omega with a slightly raised eyebrow "oh! Well you see he forgot some papers and lunch... So I brought them for him! Do you know where he is?"

"Well whatever you have you can leave and can be given to him when he returns, you may leave"

"I'm sorry but I can't do that" all might wasn't expecting the Omega to just outwardly reject his words, holding the papers close "he told me anything should be given directly to him"

"Well I'm sure he would prefer these papers to be with a pro hero instead of some Omega"

And the room halted at that, the dismissive tone and blase attitude that made (name) stare down at him "if that's the attitude you will have I will go and find him"

"You can leave the papers"

"Absolutely not, he said they have to be given to him directly if he forgets anything"

"I understand but if those papers are so important they should be with a pro hero"

"Pro hero or not these aren't going with you and I'm sorry"

"Who even are you? How did you get into the school"

"He's my mate"

The room halted as Aizawa walked in annoyed but proud of his mate for standing his ground and knowing if things escalated his students would step in "mate?"

"Sho!" (Name) perked up and trotted to his alpha happily "you forgot those papers and your lunch" (name) said happily as he handed the items to his alpha as instructed "I knew I was forgetting something..." Aizawa said as he took the contents "did you have any troubles?"

"Not many, I did get a bit lost after getting Nedzus directions to your class but it wasn't too hard"

"That's good"

"Can someone explain what's going on?"

Aizawa sighed at the blond before looking at his class "this is my mate (name) yes he is an Omega and yes when the dorms are built he will be coming with me"

"Aizawa it's highly unprofessional to have your Omega walking around here! This is no place for them!"

Aizawa glared down the number one hero before spitting out venomously "refer to him as if he's second class and I swear to god"

All might for once knew to keep his mouth shut as the class swarmed he mates "what's your name?" "What's your quirk?!" "Are you really mates with our teacher?!" "Are you also a pro?!"

(Name) looked a little overwhelmed at the students swarming him but put on a smile none the less, he just challenged the 1 one hero, answering a few questions from pups is nothing!

"One at a time problem children" Aizawa said loudly to the students who quieted down, the teacher already knowing he's not gonna get out of this without them learning something about him.

"Well to answer your questions, my name is (name), my quirk is (quirk) and he's my mate yes and no I'm not a pro"

All might looked annoyed at the omegas presence but chose not to say anything as the students looked at the new person with awe "how did you two meet?" Mina asked starry eyed and before (name) could answer Aizawa shut it down "alright back to class!" He grumbled and led his mate out by the small of his back "they're so lovely" (name) said softly and Aizawa rolled his eyes "get home safe ok?" "I will sho" (name) said softly as they kissed gently, Aizawa watching his mate leave with a warm heart.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #aizawa x male reader #aizawa x reader #omega male reader #omegaverse

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ghostedghouls · 10 months

Text

make it hurt

✢ in an attempt to save himself from more hurt, dew decides to hurt swiss the only way he knows he can.

✢ pairing: Swiss x gn!reader / Dew x Swiss (not romantically)

✢ genre: angst

✢ warnings: manipulation, dew is an asshole, trauma, swiss has a dark past, mentioned murder, hurt/no comfort, dew has issues i dont blame him

✢ a/n: the romantic pairing is reader x swiss, but the story focuses more on dewdrop/ dewdrop x swiss because I wanted to explore this dynamic (and also hurt swiss whoops). Also this got way longer than i wanted it to be so maybe i’ll have to do a part 2 bc i cant stand bad endings :( | not beta read sorry

Dew was known for being the most difficult of the ghouls. He was known for his temper and anger, the heated arguments and the venom in his words.

Dew was known for his low blows.

The other ghouls knew that Dew hardly meant the things he said in a fit of anger and rage. At first the words had stung. The fire ghoul had a talent for finding the most hurtful words and digging deep, reaching for things he knew would provoke a reaction from the others; preferably anger or hurt. And oh boy, was it hurtful at times.

But the better the ghouls got to know him, the more they learned not to take the words to heart, no matter how hard it was at times. They knew it was his way of protecting himself, his way of making sure the other person stopped digging into him, stopped prying open old wounds. It was his way of making sure nobody would ever break down the walls that he so carefully had built around himself.

But even though the ghouls tried to not let the words get to them, they always eventually did. Dew knew how to get under their skin, tear open their wounds so his own could stay closed. A low blow from Dew would usually end the argument, the other ghoul too angry, shocked or hurt to continue the conversation.

But not with Swiss. Not today.

Swiss stood his ground as the fire ghoul spat insult after insult at him. His arms were crossed in front of his broad chest as he listened to the never-ending stream of words, carefully picked out by the smaller ghoul to dig into Swiss’ insecurities and worries. But Swiss saw through Dew easily. He knew that he was trying to deflect from his own worries and traumas. So he stood there and took the verbal abuse because he knew Dew didn’t mean it. Never did.

Swiss was by far one of the hardest ghouls to truly anger. He was very forgiving, especially with the smallest ghoul. He tended to laugh things off or talk things out right away as to not leave an argument unresolved. If the other ghoul thought about it, he had never seen Swiss even remotely angry. There were times where he seemed pissed off but never really angry.

“Are you done yet, firefly?” The nickname sounded sour on Swiss’s tongue and Dew almost visibly recoiled. But he knew better than to show a reaction. He had to be indifferent, hide that he was vunerable. But the comment had thrown him off and his brain short-circuited long enough for Swiss to finally get a word in.

“You stand here and go about your little spiel like you always do, Dew. But we both know you don’t mean it. You can curse and scream at me all you want; it won’t change a thing. There wasn’t even a real argument to begin with. You got your fragile ego hurt and now you’re foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal.”

Dewdrop growled at that. Low in his throat as his tail swished angrily behind himself. It was true, and that was what angered the fire ghoul the most. Satanas, Dew had already forgotten what the whole argument was even about. He was only arguing for the sake of getting Swiss off his tail. To hurt the multi ghoul so that he wouldn’t end up being hurt himself. The other ghoul was entirely too calm for his liking and it scared Dewdrop. It scared him that he didn’t have control of the conversation. It scared him that Swiss knew exactly what he was trying to archive. Scared him that he was so fucking vunerable in front of someone after he had sworn himself to never be open like that again. He opened his mouth to say something he knew would hurt Swiss, but the other ghoul was faster to speak.

“Do you know what I think? I think you’re getting so defensive because you know I am right. You know you don’t even mean a single thing you say to us all the time. Because you’re scared to let someone - for once in your goddamn life - into that head of yours. Because you’re so fucking scared that if you let someone in, they will tear you down from the inside. Because you know you couldn’t take that again.” Swiss’s words seemed harsh but he was calm, somewhat encouraging even.

But Dewdrop was seething where he was standing. He felt like he was vibrating with anger. His fists were balled up so tightly, he could feel the sharp claws dig into his own flesh. His fangs were clenched so tightly, he was afraid they would break off under the pressure. If he’d had just a little less self control, he would have launched himself at the multi ghoul and ripped into him with claws and teeth. Copia and the clergy be damned. They would send him back to the pit for killing another ghoul, but he couldn’t care less in that moment.

Where did the multi ghoul get the audacity to dig into Dew’s head like that? Rip him open piece be piece and present him with his own thoughts. It sent him into a frenzy.

In that moment Dewdrop felt truly lost. There was no thing he could say to Swiss to make him stop, to make him leave. Dew nearly choked on his own spit. His throat felt tight as he tried to swallow. It became apparent that the fire ghoul wasn’t the only one who knew how to hurt others deeply.

Dew bared his fangs at Swiss and hissed. It wasn’t intentional, a leftover instinct from the pit that was generally considered bad manners by the higher clergy members. Swiss stood calmly but his tail jerked once, showing that he wasn’t immune to the feral display of agression from his bandmate.

And with a last growl, Dewdrop turned on his heel and left Swiss standing in the hallway. He felt humiliated and hurt. He was never the one to leave an argument, had never lost to the others. In his mind he was thinking of a thousand things he could do to hurt Swiss. The argument might have been over, but he wouldn’t - no, couldn’t - let the multi ghoul get away with this. He had to do something that would truly and utterly destroy the taller ghoul.

He was still seething as he stumbled through the clergy hallways. A few siblings he came across had fled once they saw him. Good, he thought, at least he was still respected by the siblings. They would never dare to talk to him the way Swiss did. Would never dare to pry into his head like that. They knew they couldn’t because he would rip them to shreds if they tried. Just like how he should have done with dear Swiss, he thought angrily, his fists clenched again.

He marched through the hallways for a little longer before something caught his eyes. And suddenly it felt like he was presented with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity sent by the hellish father lucifer himself.

You.

How had Dewdrop not thought of that before? Swiss’s little romance he had going on with you. It was still fresh, long months of ‘will-they-won’t-they’ finally turned into little kisses and shared nights. And that turned into actual feelings. Swiss had never officially told you how he felt, Dew knew that, but he could smell it on the multi ghoul. And he could smell it on you too. With renewed vigor (and anger) he walked up to you.

Should he grab you and hurt you? Should he leave your body bloodied with bitemarks and drag you back into the ghoul den? The smell of your blood would be so overwhelming it would surely sent the multi ghoul into overdrive. A perverted satisfaction spread through Dew’s body at the thought. The satisfaction of truly hurting Swiss in the most horrible way he could. To finally make the multi ghoul snap. Because with anger Dew could work. Anger he knew how to handle. But no, he thought. That was too risky. It would get him a ticket straight back to hell from the clergy. And it wouldn’t hurt enough. Wouldn’t dig deeply enough into Swiss’ heart.

It was like a light went off above the fire ghoul’s head as you turned around, smiling at him as he approaced you. He tried to keep his face stoic, to not let a toothy smile shine through as he finally decided how to wreck Swiss.

“Dewdrop.”, you said warmly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No. I just wanted to check in how you were.”, he said, feigning worry.

“Oh um.. thank you, I am fine- why? Is there something I should be worried about?”, you asked confused.

“I just thought after the whole thing with Swiss... y’know. That you might be hurt...” Oh satanas, it felt so incredibly good. Dewdrops eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you very clearly took the bait.

“What thing with Swiss? Did something happen?” you were starting to grow worried and Dewdrop nearly laughed at how pathetic it was.

“Oh no... he didn’t tell you yet, then. I’m sorry, I just thought he would have told you by now. Seeing how you two are pretty serious now I assumed he did tell you.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “But I guess he will tell you when he’s ready.... I just hope that’s soon - wouldn’t want you to get into a relationship with him under false pretences, right?”

You eyes grew wide with confusion and worry and as Dewdrop decided to slowly turn around and act as if he was going to leave, you quickly grabbed his arm to make him stay.

“Please.” you breathed out “What is going on? What do you mean with ‘false pretences’?”

“It’s not my place to tell you. He should tell you himself. It is a pretty big thing after all.” Dewdrop knew he already had you. He was only trying to make this even worse once shit hit the fan. He had to make sure you would talk to Swiss about it, maybe even end things with him. Oh satanas, how priceless the look on his face would be. He’d deserve it.

“I’m begging you to please tell me what you mean.”, you anxiously begged the fire ghoul who sighed in return as if he was doing this against his will.

“I thought he trusted you enough to tell you himself but maybe he doesn’t quite yet. It’s only understandable given his past, of course.” You were eating everything up Dewdrop was saying. And the best thing was, he didn’t even need to lie. Didn’t need to make things up about the multi ghoul because it was all true. Dewdrop leaned against the wall next to him before starting;

“Swiss wasn’t actually summoned with the rest of the ghouls. Not many people know this because he worked in the shadows most of the time. I just saw him occasionally while I was still working with Terzo.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth. The hurt still there, still fresh. “He didn’t eat with the other ghouls, didn’t spend time with the other ghouls. It was like he was kept away from the rest of the clergy at all times. I always wondered what his job was. There are no ghouls in the clergy that serve no purpose, so I was curious. I, myself, only got to know the truth recently.”

It was true. Dew thought back to the evening that Swiss had confessed. He had never seen him cry like that before. Had always assumed Swiss had no baggage, no hurt inside of him. But that evening, Swiss had sobbed as he told his mates about his jobs before the band. Explained how he had done the dirty work, had killed siblings and ghouls alike. Without ever questioning anything. How he had been the perfect killer all along. The other ghouls had been taken aback and the following days - even if they didn’t mean to - they had avoided Swiss. Those days had wrecked the multi ghoul horribly, to the point where he didn’t leave his room, not even to eat.

In the end they managed to talk things out. Nobody was truly mad at Swiss or scared of him. For fucks sake, they all were ghouls. They had all killed before. They just hadn’t expected something like this from chill, laidback Swiss. Swiss hadn’t asked them to keep it a secret but given his reaction the first time he confessed, it was pretty clear he didn’t want anyone else to know. This is why Dew knew his plan would work. He knew it would absolutely obliterate Swiss to be confronted with this part of his past again, especially if it came from you.

“Well it seems-... oh, I really don’t know if I should tell you this. You’re gonna be hurt.”, Dew tried to sow worries and it worked. “I need to know.”, came from you in almost a whisper.

“Well, there were certain ghouls that... did the clergy’s dirty work. I mean, it only makes sense to summon ghouls to do it, don’t get me wrong. And it just so happened to be our dear Swiss.”

“Dirty work?”, you asked, more in disbelieve than in not-understanding.

“Getting rid of unwanted people. Outside and inside the clergy. The perfect killer. Ghouls leave no traces behind as you know. Swiss does have some chompers on him, I will not lie...”

You gasped and Dew watched carefully as you stared in disbelieve. “But don’t worry. He would never hurt you!” Dew hesitated for a bit. “Probably, anyways. What do they say again; you can take the ghoul out of hell but you can’t take hell out of the ghoul?” He faked a laugh at the lame joke. A real smile crept on his lips as he watched you stare into space with furrowed brows, clearly worried about what you had just learned about your lover.

Dew knew he had to make the finale count, so he faked a worried face as he gently grabbed your shoulder. “I do need you to be careful though. Swiss was dangerous in the past, following orders blindly just because he was told to. He killed ghouls and siblings, some of which he worked with. He had no morales. I’m just confused that he hasn’t told you about this yet... I’m worried about what that means. He is a ghoul. You can’t forget that. A demon from the pit, summoned to fulfill a task.” Dewdrop stood taller as his hand fell off your shoulder. “He’s in the band now but we can’t be sure he isn’t still following some of his former orders.” That was the only lie. Swiss had promised that he had been released from that position ages ago, had sworn to his mates that he was telling the truth. And Dew knew it had been the truth... but you didn’t need to know that.

The guitarist left you standing in the hallways, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears of disbelief and sadness.

That evening Dewdrop sat in the common room. He listened to the muffled voices behind Swiss’ bedroom door. You two had been talking - arguing - for close to two hours. Dew was the only one left sitting there, all the other ghouls had left at one point, the atmosphere in the den too suffocating to bear.

When you had stumbled into their den a few hours ago, your energy had immidiately alerted all the ghouls. They had raised their heads as they watched you walk into the common area. Swiss was the first to approach you - of course he was. The energy you gave off must’ve been excruciating for the multi ghoul. The fire ghoul still felt the anger deep in his chest, barely any less than before. He wasn’t like Swiss, he didn’t forgive that easily. And Swiss deserved this. Deserved to be hurt just how Dewdrop had been hurt.

The multi ghoul knew something was off, so he lead you into his room without a word. You hesitated for a bit, worried. And Dew almost smirked as he watched you stand in the doorway of Swiss’ room. You looked back over your shoulder to the small ghoul.

You entered your lover’s room, closing the door behind yourself gently. The multi ghoul approached you slowly, gently reaching for your hands, encouraging you to tell him what was wrong. But as his hands brushed yours, a jolt rushed through you. Not a jolt of excitement, lust or happiness. No, this felt different. This was fear.

Hurt flashed across Swiss’s face as you moved your hands away from his reaching ones. And as you took a step back to increase the distance between your bodies, he felt like he would die right then and there.

“What’s going on, sweet cheeks?”, the taller ghoul asked, concern lacing his soft voice.

You didn’t speak for a second. Your head hung low, facing the floor, but Swiss could see the lines between your brows nontheless. His stomach twisted itself in knots as he just observed you for a second. Your hands were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and your posture was defensive, closed-off. And the way you smelled - it felt like a punch to the gut to Swiss. Fear, concern, worry, hurt.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong right now, but is there anything I can do to help y-” - “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Swiss was the one to take a step back this time. “What do you mean?”

“I deserved to know!” You raised your head and there were tears in your eyes. Not yet spilled but they were there and Swiss felt helpless.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something? Did you change your mind about... us?”

“No! I mean yes- no... I just-”, you stumbled through the words clumsily, not even knowing what exactly you were trying to say.

“When were you going to tell me you killed for the clergy?”

Swiss felt the breath being knocked out of him, his heart stopped for a second, a searing pain rushing through his chest before the organ stumbled into a rushed rhythm. His mouth hung open, his ears ringing. It was like his worst nightmare came true, and it was happening right now in front of him. He watched as the first tears fell and you whispered “So it’s true.”. The multi ghoul felt like he needed to throw up, his chest heaving and his tail erratic behind him.

Your eyes truly took him in then; The claws at his sides, the tail behind him, the grey skin, the tiniest peek of his fangs, the sharp ears and the golden eyes that shone through the slits of the silver mask. Those hands - those claws - that had caressed you many nights, had softly ran through your hair or across your skin, were the same ones that had the blood of so many people on them. His teeth, usually nipping you gently, had ripped out throats and limbs before. Had hurt and killed. murdered.

You swallowed thickly as a new wave of fear rushed through you. What were you doing? In the room alone with a killer and confronting him about it? If the things Dewdrop had said were true, then there was no way of knowing that he wouldn’t do it again. Your investigation in the library about those ‘special ghouls’ just before you got here, didn’t help either.

Swiss felt the instant shift from hurt to fear in you. He felt it deeply in his body and it itched at his insides. Satanas, he wanted to claw at himself, get rid of that feeling, rip it out from his insides.

He only recently had told the other ghouls about his past and the days following had been excruciating for him. It had created a rift in their relationship for a while. And even though everything seemed alright now, he knew they still thought about it from time to time. But they had been understanding, because they were also ghouls, because they had done similar things. He couldn’t expect the same understanding from you. A human.

Swiss watched your form shake as you cried silently and in that moment he wanted to die. He wanted to rush to Copias office and have himself be sent back to hell. Either by ritual or by a dagger to the heart.

As he started speaking, his own tears fell, his body rocking with sobs as he watched his relationship crumble in front of him.

Dew had felt a sick satisfaction as he listened carefully to what was being said. The two of you weren’t screaming at each other but the door did little to stop the fire ghoul from listening in on the conversation. The other ghouls sat strewn around the common room. Their own conversations had died down shortly after the smell of fear, hurt and sadness had crept through the cracks of the door.

The longer the argument went on the more suffocating the energy in the ghoul den got. Mountain had been the first to leave, excusing himself to his greenhouse to escape the all-consuming smell of a multi ghoul in distress. The girls had left together without a word. They didn’t need to say anything. Everyone knew.

One after another the rest of the ghouls left the den as the sounds of sobs grew louder from the bedroom. Phantom had scurried after the girls. Being a quintessence ghoul meant he felt everything even harsher than the other ghouls. And he couldn’t take it. Rain took his leave a little later after he couldn’t bear hearing Swiss cry anymore. It hurt too badly to stay.

The anger Dew had felt until just minutes ago was almost non-existent now. Instead, the ugly grasps of guilt had a tright grip on him, threatening to pull him under and drown him in it. He tried to tell himself that Swiss deserved it. That he didn’t do anything wrong. You did deserve to know what Swiss was, after all. But Dew knew it had not been his place to tell you. And not in the way he did. Using you to get a reaction out of Swiss. To manipulate you into thinking a certain way about the multi ghoul. His chest felt heavy with guilt, suffocating him from the inside.

He didn’t blame the other ghouls for leaving the den. The atmosphere was devastating. The smell of distress thick in the air. This was even worse than when Swiss had come clean with them a few weeks prior. And suddenly Dew wasn’t so sure what this would do to Swiss. He had been a wreck last time, there was no way of knowing what would happen this time.

Aether was the last to leave. He sighed as he got up from the sofa, turning to leave the den like the others had before turning back to Dewdrop with a snarl. It was so entirely unlike Aether, that Dew felt himself recoil at the gesture.

“You told them, didn’t you?”, he asked, disappointment in his eyes. Dew didn’t say anything but that was answer enough for the quintessence ghoul.

“You’ve said fucked up things before, Dewdrop. But this was a real low blow, even for you.”

And with that, Aether left the den without looking back at the fire ghoul still sitting on the couch. Dew’s own eyes stung with tears as he felt everything he had done crashing down on him. The tears didn’t fall though, because before they could, the door to Swiss’s room opened.

Your still crying form walked through the door and into the direction of the den’s exit. Swiss followed slowly, not daring to be too close to you. He stopped in the middle of the common room and watched with heavy sobs as you closed the door behind yourself. His eyes were transfixed on the door as if he was waiting for you to open it again. Open it and run back to him, leap into his arms and hug him, kiss him. Telling him everything was going to be alright.

But the door never opened.

Swiss turned to Dewdrop and when their eyes met, the fire ghoul felt like he was being pulled down into the pit. He had never, not even then, seen Swiss like this. Completely and utterly gone. Dew waited for Swiss to snap at him. To launch himself at the smaller ghoul and rip him to pieces. He wouldn’t have fighted back, he would’ve let it happen. He knew what he did was not excusable.

But the attack never came. Instead there was a shaky breath from the multi ghoul as he mustered up a bitter smile. “I hope you got what you wanted, firefly.”

He left the den as well. Where to, Dew didn’t know.

But the feeling in his stomach was so incredibly painful, he didn’t dare to move off the couch. And Dew had never hated himself more than in that moment.

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

I’m just gonna drop a little gift here…

LOOK AT HIM SO FUCKING GORGEOUS AND HOT AND 😩😩😩😩😩

Ok love you byeeeee✌🏻

LOOK AT HIM. I say nothing is perfect and then he comes along. And are we getting a glimpse inside of Smartie's mind?

Daddy? Sorry.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 760 Warnings: Discussion of Bucky being d-addy. Hehe.

A/N: Stud and Smartie nonsense. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

"You know what I don't get? The 'Daddy? Sorry.' thing," you told Natasha as you waited for Bucky to join you at the cafe for lunch. It was a beautiful day to sit outside. "Is it bad that I don't get it?"

"Not bad," Natasha replied, cocking an eyebrow at you and not questioning the out of the blue topic. "But what exactly are you not getting?"

"I guess calling a guy 'Daddy'," you shrugged, adding air quotes for good measure. "I've never done it."

"So, you haven't called Bucky 'Daddy'?" she smirked.

“No, I haven’t. I just said I haven’t called anyone that,” you said, holding your chin high when her expression didn’t change.

If there was one thing you appreciated about Natasha, she never made you feel dumb or embarrassed for any candid discussions you had with her. Even when she teased you, it was all in good fun. Bucky liked that the two of you became friends, though he preferred to be your main confidant. You felt the same way about him.

“But he isn’t just anyone.”

“I know,” you smiled, glancing around to see if he arrived yet. “He’s special.”

My future husband. I just know it.

“And you’re special to him, too. Can’t have Stud without Smartie,” the redhead said as you smiled more. It was nice to hear that. “Okay. In your mind, how would you describe a Daddy?”

You snorted a bit because you couldn’t believe this was where the conversation went. Well, you brought it up. You should’ve known your friend would ask questions. She did have a way of getting people to talk.

“Besides handsome?” you asked, getting a nod in agreement. You had to think about it before you continued. “I guess someone protective and maybe a bit dominant? Not in a controlling way, but in a ‘I want to take care of you’ kind of way.”

Bucky was the most protective person you knew. It wasn’t just physically standing up for you if he felt the need to step in and defend you. He cared about your mental well-being and feelings. And while he didn’t mind you taking the lead, he was very much the more dominant of the two of you. No matter what, you knew you were his number one priority in and out of bed.

“Go on,” she urged, taking a sip as she kept her neutral gaze on you.

A small smile touched your lips as you adjusted the hoodie you were wearing. It was Bucky’s, of course. “And I guess it can be playful and affectionate, like I want to tease him. Can you imagine if I called him that in front of everyone?” you asked, giggling as you pictured a couple of expressions he might give you from hearing the nickname. “But it’s also vulnerable, in a way, because it might sound awkward if I say it and he may not like it. What matters is that I trusted him enough to say it though and he might like it.”

I trust him to tell me the truth.

“Why do you think he’d like it?”

You looked at her without an ounce of shame. “Because it's that extra bit of assurance that I’m his.”

But it also says he’s mine, right?

Natasha gave you a rare wide smile. “Sounds like you understand it just fine.”

As if he sensed the two of you were discussing him, Bucky came into view. If your friend heard you whimper, she kindly didn’t call you out on it. Maybe she was used to you gazing at Bucky Barnes like he was a work of art that you had the privilege to touch.

Your brain tried to tell your eyes to quit looking at him like a creep, but you didn’t blink. You just stared at your man and tried not to drool as you took in his tight blue sweater and pulled back hair. His stance and size screamed “power” and you suddenly wished he’d bend you over the table and take you right there. There was also a softness about him that made you want to burrow in his arms and never leave.

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. OH. I fucking get it now. Is this a new kink unlocked? Wait, is it a kink?

“Call him ‘Daddy’ and I’ll pay for lunch,” Natasha offered as Bucky spotted you both and headed to the table.

“That’s a conversation for Daddy and I to have first,” you joked.

And knowing Bucky, he’d be happy with whatever you called him.

How do we think he'd react? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #roommate!bucky barnes #roommate!bucky barnes x reader #stud and smartie #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes ficlet #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #beefy roommate au #roommate au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sparklesannie

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 3 months

Text

Secret Secret Chapter 2

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

He recovered a lot quicker than you did. "Uh, hi! You must be the new translator ... it’s, uh, nice to meet you."

You blinked, unable to take your eyes off his face. Now in broad daylight, you could see that the dark hair you had previously thought black was actually a dark brown, and his smile, although forced, revealed dimples you wouldn’t have been able to see under the mask.

When you introduced yourself, your voice sounded off even to yourself. You coughed, hoping the other two would just think you had something in your throat.

"Right. I'm Bangchan- I mean, my stage name is Bangchan. But you can call me Chan! Or Chris, or Channie, or uh ... whatever you want."

"What do I call you?"

"Hmm, you can call me Alpha."

It seemed that he remembered your past interaction at the same moment you did, because he physically winced. It took every inch of your willpower and having to physically bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from mentioning it.

Jeonhui took a seat next to the manager. "Well, I suppose we should get started."

You pulled your chair out harshly, the metal legs grinding against the tiles with a high-pitched squeak. Chan sat down across from you, but neither one of you looked at the other.

What followed was the most uncomfortable 20 minutes of your life.

The manager, Soojin, talked to you about upcoming activities and the responsibilities you’d be in charge of. Promotional activities, concerts, statements, along with any help that of the other staff members would need with translations. It was a lot of work, but it was doable.

The only thing that stopped you from agreeing immediately-

You lifted your head, meeting Chan’s gaze for the first time since the meeting started. He looked embarrassed at having been caught staring, his eyes flickering to the windows behind you, neck and cheeks slightly flushed. His scent was faint, and it made you want to lean in closer.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

Soojin took your silence as your answer. "If the schedule doesn’t work, we can put one of the other translators in your place. Youd be in charge of two to three groups at a time, but you’d be working with someone else as well. Our former translators have more experience with the other groups, which is why we would prefer not to move them around, but if it’s too much work-"

"I’ll do it," You cut him off.

You knew their offer had nothing to do with you being an omega. As far as they were aware, you were just a beta. You could take the opportunity, work with another group you’ve never met, never slept with, and have no issues or drama to deal with. But even if it was a logical choice, there was a part of you that hated the thought of running away.

"Are you sure?" Chans eyes were burning a hole in the side of your head.

You met his gaze head on. And you raised your eyebrow. "Will that be a problem?"

His eyes darted down to your lips, then your neck, and they hovered over your clothed body. The smell of tropical fruit got stronger for a split second. You were close enough to smell the hint of arousal in his scent.

Lips pressed against your neck, sucking softly at the skin. You pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

There was a hand on your stomach, and it pushed your shirt up. His lips disappeared from your still wet neck, reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

Chan swallowed roughly. "No. No problem."

He looked away, and with the confirmation from both parties, Soojin and Jeonhui began to set up your workload. While Jeonhui would still be in charge of you at the company, you would report and answer to Soojin for as long as you were working with Stray Kids. You didn’t know how long that would be, but you were determined not to let your special circumstances get in the way of proving yourself.

If you were going to show that omegas could keep up with betas, you couldn’t back out just because it would be hard.

"Well, that seems to be everything for now. I'll have the work sent to you this afternoon so you can get started early tomorrow morning."

The two heads stood up, and began to leave the office room, but Jeonhui paused at the doorway as if suddenly remembering you existed.

"I have to get back to my work now, but if you have any questions, feel free to stop by my office. I suggest getting to know the rest of the Stray Kids staff and members, since you’ll be working closely with them for a while."

And with that she left the two of you in the room alone. The door closed shut behind her with a loud 'click'. There was a moment of silence, before you darted up, trying to make your way to the door as quickly as you could without running.

"Wait!" You paused with your hand on the handle. You didn’t look behind you, but you heard him push his chair back and stand up. "Look, I know this isn’t an idea situation. But I think we should talk about this."

"What’s there to talk about? We slept together, we didn’t know we both worked for the same company, it’s an embarrassing situation, but it was a one-time thing."

He was silent for a moment, and you were tempted to peek at him, to see what expression he was making. His scent didn’t give anything away, which meant he was still next to the table.

When Chan spoke next, his voice was quiet. "What about ... your status?"

"Status? I’m single," You drawled, hand gripping the handle tighter.

"Thats not what I meant."

"Wasn’t it?"

"I’m just trying- Look, can you at least look at me? Please, I’m not trying to get you in trouble or anything."

You spun around, eyes narrowed. "Trouble for what? You know what I am, and if you really wanted to avoid causing any problems, then you should keep your mouth shut and never bring this up again."

"You're pretending to be a beta," he accused, taking a step forward. "You could get fired if they figure it out, or worse, they could sue you for lying on official documents."

"Don’t worry, I have a good lawyer," You shot back.

Chan took a step forward, and you held your breath as his scent wafted toward you. "How did you even do it? How long can you keep it up before they realize? You're wearing, what? A synthetic scent on you?"

"Synthetic scents have a distinct smell,” You said, looking at the windows. "Pheromone based perfumes don’t."

"Pher- You're wearing someone else’s scent? How do you even get that? Actually, forget it, I don’t want to know."

"You really don’t."

"Is this worth it? Faking your presentation to get a job? Risking the chance of getting blacklisted from the entire industry?! What are you going to do when you have a heat!?" Chan exclaimed.

You rushed forward, smacking a hand over his mouth. "Hey! Are you trying to tell the whole world? Keep your voice down." He blinked but didn’t move. "My life and my sub gender are none of your business. You and I both know those stupid company policies are bullshit, and I have every right to work here. I know the risks, I know the dangers, and I decided to do this despite them because it’s my dream. So don’t try and hit me with this fake sympathy of yours, because I’m not going to suddenly realize what a mistake I’ve made a give up. So do us both a favor, and just drop it, okay?"

You both stood there for a moment, the sudden silence deafening. Chan reached up slowly, hand lightly gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away from his mouth. "The rooms are soundproof."

"Huh?"

"The room? It’s soundproof. I wasn’t trying to reveal anything about you to the world, nobody would have heard it."

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Seriously? Is that all you took-"

"And you're right," Chan interrupted. "Those rules are borderline illegal with how discriminatory they are."

You narrowed your eyes. "You're agreeing with me."

He tilted his head in confusion. "Did you expect me not to?"

"A minute ago, you were telling me that I was stupid."

"I never said you were stupid," Chan said, squeezing your wrist gently. Then he let you go completely, taking a step back to put space between the both of you. "Just this ... situation."

"And I told you, I know the risks."

Chan’s jaw clenched. "Do you?"

"I wasn’t joking when I said I had a good lawyer," You reassured him.

"It’s not the legal problems that worry me. There are worse things that can happen than just losing your job," Chan said softly, crossing his arms.

You blinked once, then twice, before it dawned on you. "Oh."

"This industry ... it’s a blessing and a curse. Believe me. But there’s a dark side to it. Even though you don’t hear about it, or see it, you know it’s still happening. And there’s nothing we as artists can do about it."

You swallowed. "Thats not legal."

He gave you a 'no shit' look, and you winced, looking away. The sky outside had begun to darken, storm clouds rolling in over the city, and the growing realization was beginning to make your stomach turn.

"Look, it’s not something you have to worry about. Okay? I won’t let them find out about you. I'll protect you."

You found yourself snorting at that. "I can protect myself just fine, Chan."

"I ... I don’t doubt that."

Silence settled over the two of you again, and you awkwardly hugged your middle, rubbing your arms to warm them from the growing chill.

Rain drops began to splatter against the windows.

"So, what now?"

Chan looked away from the windows and met your eyes again, giving you a shy grin. "You do your job. I do mine. We pretend as if today is the first time we ever met."

"And about ..." You gestured to yourself.

"I can keep a secret," he reassured you.

"Okay."

"Just-" Chan hesitated, biting his lip for a second before he regained his composure. "Just promise me you'll be safe."

"I will," You promised.

"And if you need help, come find me." There was a fire in his eyes, a determination to do right, but there was also a lingering worry in the way his lips pressed together.

You nodded your head. "I will."

-0-0-

You took Jeonhui’s suggestion, heading down to the first place she had shown you that morning. There were a handful of offices in the building for staff that dealt with management or advertisement, but the translators themselves only had two rooms, sharing the rest of the floor with the stylists.

You had already met the other translators briefly, but if you would be working directly with Stray Kids, you would be meeting with their personal staff members a lot more than with other translators.

You figured you’d start with the stylists, since you knew where to find them.

The first person you ran into looked like they were in a hurry, carrying a box full of scraps, so you didn’t bother them. Instead, you walked over to a young woman with blonde hair. She was holding up a long-sleeved mesh shirt in one hand, a bright purple fuzzy crop top with the other.

As you walked over to her, she layered the crop top over the mesh shirt, and you saw a vision begin to take place, the combination looking surprisingly good together.

“Who’s that for?” You wondered.

The girl looked up in surprise, giving you a wide-eyed look. “Uh, Lia. For their upcoming comeback.”

You nodded in understanding. “ITZY, right?”

“Yeah.” The girl trailed off with her response, eyes furrowed. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m the new translator.”

She perked up. “Ah, I heard about you! You’re the one they’re assigning to Stray Kids, right? I heard they were going on tour soon, and they needed a personal translator. Something about having issues on the TWICE tour.”

“Yeah, they had a couple scheduling issues in America, almost didn’t get a replacement on time. They didn’t want a repeat of it happening again, so they decided to hire translators to work directly for them, that way they wouldn’t have to rely on finding one in each city.”

The girl smiled. “Well, in that case, welcome to the JYP family. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of each other though.”

You nodded your head. “I was actually hoping to meet some of the stylists for Stray Kids? I wanted to get to know some of the staff.”

“Oh, I think Maya’s here today. She had to do some re-measurements for Changbin.”

“Don’t even get me started,” Another young woman said as she walked in behind you. Following behind her was a dark-haired man wearing an oversized hoodie, carrying three shirts in his arms. “I mean, two sizes in a month. I can’t keep making adjustments the day before your performances, Changbin!”

“Speak of the devil,” The blonde-haired girl muttered.

She mouthed ‘good luck’ to you and turned away, practically running off into the corner. The newcomer, who you assumed was Maya, had reached one of the many cluttered desks in the room to grab a pen and a piece of paper, angrily writing down numbers. The dark-haired man paused next to her with a pout.

“Sorry noona.”

“Don’t ‘sorry noona’ me. Just do me a favor and take it easy this week, okay? You keep building more muscle and your shirt will rip on stage. Or worse, your pants!”

“Okay, I understand.”

Maya turned back around, grabbing the shirts from Changbin’s arms, and moved to place them onto a pile of clothes stacked haphazardly on a spare chair. She paused as she put them down, eyes meeting your own.

“Um, hi?”

“Hi,” You said, lifting up a hand to wave awkwardly to her. “Maya, right?”

She slowly straightened up, eyeing you up and down. “Who’s asking?”

You introduced yourself to her, giving her a small bow. “I’m the new translator.”

“Right, nice to meet you. Do you need something?”

Her harsh tone threw you off. She had long dark hair that fell in soft curls over her shoulders, her eyes a piercing green that complemented her dark green sweater perfectly, and if it wasn’t for the ugly scowl she wore, you would have considered her beautiful.

You weren’t sure how to deal with this situation. You figured if you told her the truth, that you just wanted to introduce yourself to all of the staff members, she’d probably find it unimpressive. You felt like you had already gotten off on the wrong foot.

You couldn’t find your words, mouth opening and closing twice as you struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t make you look like a total idiot in front of this beautiful woman, and you were thankful for your scent blockers for hiding your distress.

Changbin came to your rescue without even realizing. “You’re the new translator? Hi!”

He distracted Maya enough that you came to your senses, immediately turning to the rapper instead. “Yeah, that’s me. I was told to introduce myself to staff and members, it’s nice to meet you.”

Introducing yourself to a stylist was apparently weird, but introducing yourself to a member of the team you would be working for? Totally logical.

They didn’t need to know that you had no idea one of the members would be here.

Changbin gave you a nod of acknowledgment, but Maya just shrugged. “Right, okay. Nice to meet you, you can go now.”

It was dismissive, and it rubbed you the wrong way. But you weren’t looking for a confrontation, not after your earlier one with Chan, so you reluctantly bowed to the two beta’s and took your leave. The blonde-haired girl gave you a sympathetic look as you passed her.

You made it to the elevator, deciding that maybe you should just give up on introductions and go home at this point, when a voice called out from down the hall.

“Hey, hold the door!”

It was Changbin, and he was running to catch up to you. You threw your hands in between the closing doors at the last second, stopping them from closing and allowing the rapper to make it onto the elevator. He shuffled in with a little huff of laughter, moving to stand next to you. The doors closed properly, and the elevator began to move down, but you noticed he made no moves to press any floor numbers.

“I’m sorry about Maya. She isn’t usually like that, I just left her in a bad mood,” He said, clearing his throat. “I hope you don’t hold it against her.”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry. I don’t mind, really, it’s just been a long day.”

“Have you met any of the other members yet?” He asked you.

The elevator reached the lobby, and the doors opened, but you didn’t move. You thought about Chan, who you had left in the meeting room upstairs less than half an hour ago, and wondered what he was up to now. Had he disappeared off to the studio? Had he gone back home?

Did the thought of you affect him as much as it still affected you?

You took a deep breath, your nose assaulted with the smokey scent of burning wood. It reminded you of summer camp, making smores by the campfire, telling scary stories in the dark, and awkward first kisses with your schoolyard crushes. It was comforting, somehow.

The elevator doors began to move, and you reached out once again to keep them from closing. “Yeah, I met your leader earlier.”

“Nobody else?”

“Haven’t had the chance yet, no.”

The elevator closed on your hand again.

“Hmmm. You should stop by the practice rooms tomorrow. You can meet the other members, and I can introduce you to our makeup noona’s afterwards,” he offered.

You blinked in surprise. “That … that sounds like a great idea, actually. Thank you.”

He smiled at you, and it was cheeky and genius at the same time. “Happy to help.”

The elevator doors hit your hand once more, and you finally moved to leave the elevator. Changbin reached over to press one of the floor numbers, and as the elevator doors finally started to close, he winked at you.

You shook your head in amusement. You said goodbye to the man working the front desk, the same one from the day you had shown up for your interview, but he only glanced at you as you passed.

-0-0-

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way.”

Sooyoung shook her head in amazement. “You fucked your boss. Oh my god, you fucked your boss!”

“He’s not really my boss,” You said with a laugh. “He’s more like my client.”

“Still! I mean, you know what his dick looks like.”

You winced. “Actually, I don’t?”

“Ah, too preoccupied with other stuff, huh? You naughty girl.” Sooyoung gave you an exaggerated wink, and you laughed so hard you snorted.

“Oh my god, shut up. I meant that I didn’t actually see anything because I was blindfolded.”

“What?! Oh my god you kinky bitch, I should have known!” Sooyoung exclaimed.

“It wasn’t my idea!”

“Oh my god, your boss is the kinky bitch?!”

“Sooyoung!”

She cackled, and it was contagious, making you join her immediately. The two of you had just finished dinner, a quick meal that Sooyoung had made, and were now sitting on the couch talking over a bottle of wine. You had let her complain about the PE teacher and her harsh comments for about an hour before you finally decided to let her in on your new development, knowing just how much she loved a good drama.

She was reacting just as expected.

“Wait, why were you blindfolded?”

“Well, I know now it was so I wouldn’t recognize him as an idol, but in the moment I kind of just thought maybe he was shy, or insecure, or something,” You explained.

“It definitely seems obvious to me that he was a celebrity of some kind, but I guess you were a lot more distracted with … other things,” Sooyoung said, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Especially because she was right.

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” He whispered, a soft cloth brushing against your eyelids.

His scent was heavy, your mind hazy from the arousal. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

“So that’s it then? You’re just going to … pretend it never happened?” Sooyoung wondered.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sooyoung downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. “You don’t sound very happy.”

“It’s not like I have a choice. This isn’t just some random one night stand I can call back when I need an itch scratched. We’re going to be working together,” You said, swirling your own wine around your cup.

“Ah, forbidden love. How tragic,” Sooyoung mused.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a forbidden love. It’s not even love.”

“Hmm, you sure about that.”

You stuck your tongue out at her.

“What about the rest of your day? Anything interesting happen?”

The two of you continued to talk about your day until you grew tired, deciding to retire to bed early. You got ready for bed, making sure your alarm was set for work the next morning, brushing your teeth, and getting changed into your pajamas. You paused as you grabbed your t-shirt from on top of your dresser, a familiar scent reaching you. You lifted your shirt up to smell it, but the scent was faint.

You leaned down and spotted a stray piece of fabric hidden under your dresser. You pulled it out, revealing a tank top shirt that was much larger than any other you would wear, the smell of it making your chest ache in recognition.

Chan had left his shirt.

You remembered him leaving shortly after you two had finished. He had received a phone call, and whatever was said made him rush to get dressed. He had told you it was a ‘work emergency’.

You remembered him leaving with his sweater on, but you imagined that he had been unable to find his shirt where it had gotten thrown, and probably decided to just leave it.

You closed your eyes with a sigh, and your grip on the shirt tightened. The urge to breathe in his scent was strong, and it took everything in you to open up your bottom dresser drawer, the one where you held old or ripped clothes, and throw the shirt in.

You slammed the drawer shut.

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