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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 9 months

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What were you thinking about when that buzzer sounded?

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: The latest chapter is finally here, and it is the penultimate chapter of the series. I hope to update this soon so you aren't left hanging too long for the finale, so fear not, I will put every effort into getting it written! Love you guys, and appreciate all the asks and comments you send me 🥰

Part 9 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

For a moment, while you swam between waking and sleeping, everything was dark. The floor felt like it was shifting from underneath you. Piercing noise filled your ears and rattled throughout your entire body. Barely a few seconds later your retinas were scorched by sizzling orange light.

This isn’t right.

What’s happening?

You felt yourself frown despite the crackling ache that hammered into your skull, the wrinkle in your brow was more like a molehill. Even in the brilliant glow of the light around you, you couldn’t make anything out. You were only seeing hazy shapes and thinking thoughts that were barely more coherent. The piercing noise turned into a low buzz, though the room still felt like it was on an unsteady foundation.

What happened?

Where were the others?

You strained a moment, breathing heavily and stretching your body out. Were you lying down? You looked downward at your crumpled form and groaned. You’d confirmed it alright, as if the cold damp ground weren’t proof enough. It was difficult to tell how long you’d been laying like that, however if the prickling in your arms and legs were anything to go by it had clearly been a while.

You were struggling to try and work out what had happened. It felt like you were fighting for the last plank of wood in a shipwreck, your head feeling like it had been knocked and rolling in the foaming waves for some time before you’d come to. Though finally through the spray of racing thoughts you were able to grasp onto something more, a dull thudding sound that rhythmically beat behind you. A groan of anguish followed not long after, and then something that sounded like a string of choked curses.

“Looks like your friend has awakened, Captain. Shall we give you a break…?”

You frowned deeper, but you didn’t get long to work out who those words belonged to before you were seized. Suddenly Your body was being hoisted up by a pair of rough hands and you were all but thrown down in a deeply uncomfortable metal chair. As if that wasn’t enough to contend with, the unexpected movement sent your stomach and head roiling into green sickness. As you slowly started to snap out of it, you came to realise you were being bound to the chair that you’d been slammed into. A couple of pairs of hands were grabbing you and fastening you tightly to the cold metal, leaving you all bound up like a christmas turkey.

“You don’t look so good, Sergeant,” the voice from before taunted, sounding from somewhere above you. “But that makes sense, ah? My men already gave you quite the head wound back at the market. I wonder…are you even hearing me right now? Has your head been cracked open too many times now?”

You choked down the lump that had sat heavy in your throat and jerked your head up, facing the dark shape that had cast such an oppressive shadow over your eyes. Whoever it was, was standing in front of the light. You had no hope of seeing them, trying as you were.

“Fu-...fuck you,” you muttered, blinking your eyes up at the silhouette of your tormentor.

The man chuckled, a raspy sound that came from deep within his chest.

“You’re not lost to us yet, I see.”

You gritted your teeth and continued to desperately try and focus your eyes on the man. Something within you was burning, there was bile trying to force itself upwards the longer you held your head up, though intuition told you it wouldn’t be much of a shame if you spat up on whoever it was that had captured you.

“Who-oo are you?” you demanded, throat too dry to carry the threat you wanted.

“Oh, Sergeant, your condition might be worse than we’d feared. Don’t you recognise me?”

You shook your head up at the shadow man, growing tired of your confused state. Even tied to a chair you still couldn’t seem to piece together how you got there. The last thing you could recall was telling Soap and Ghost to run, warning them of an oncoming party of men that were approaching the back of the truck.

The trucks.

That’s right, you’d stolen yourselves away on the trucks - you’d all been waiting to see where they’d set up camp. Except…. They hadn’t stopped at any kind of base. The trucks had stopped so that they could get some respite after having to quickly pack up and leave their old haunt - it had been Soap that had said something about that. Soap had translated something they’d said.

Then König had said something through the comms…what was it again? He’d said-

“Am I not keeping your attention, Sergeant? How rude.”

If the disembodied voice wasn’t enough to tear you out of your thoughts, the slap that knocked your teeth together was.

Fresh pain blossomed over your cheek and you groaned out. It only served to make you even more acutely aware of the sorry state your body was in. Everything was hurting and nothing felt right. You’d been in some scrapes in your life, but for the second time you were sure this was going to be the end of you. Slowly but surely, whoever it was that held you captive was going to rip you to shreds.

At the very least, you decided you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of finding it pleasurable. You weren’t going to beg for him.

“Maybe you need a familiar face to wake you up properly.”

You glared up at the man above you, ready to spew vitriol that could outspark a petrol fire, but you didn’t get the chance. The wind was knocked from you when the chair was kicked on its side and you’d gone tumbling with it. Back on the grimy floor again, you thought, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll fall in a puddle and drown.

Self pity had stopped you from immediately looking ahead. Though the moment you managed to concentrate on anything other than the searing pain that was winding itself around your wrists, ankles and back, you were unpleasantly surprised to see a thunderous face over on the other side of the room. One that looked much like you felt.

“Price?” you croaked, locking gazes with his wide eyed stare.

He couldn’t answer you back. Price’s mouth was gagged with a thick piece of cloth, something like an old tshirt scrap. The fabric was wrapped tightly around his face and it was trapping all the expletives he’d normally be hurling from exploding into the tiny room. You strained as you looked at him, what was that that was dripping from his face? Had he been bleeding that much? It looked too thin to be blood alone.

You’d never seen the Captain like this before, he was in a sorry state. His face was sporting a rainbow of different bruises, and, from below that, swollen skin that had bubbled up into painful lumps. His armour and his weapons had been stripped from him, his jacket and hat as well, his hair was limply slicked back on top of his head. His shirt had been partially torn and that too was wet, it looked like they’d used a knife on him - you could see the bloody evidence in the form of a thick cut that striped roughly through his pecks.

“Price,” you said again, not quite sure what else to say. “Captain!”

You’d never seen him look so vehemently possessed by rage. He hadn’t even been this angry when he’d called you out for the whole König debacle. No, now that he was faced with you lying on the ground and lost for words he was the most furious you’d seen him in his life. If it weren’t for the gag, you’d have been convinced that he’d have spit fire.

“Speaking more confidently, Sergeant. This is good. Maybe now we can begin, yes?”

“Begin what?” you spat. “You think you can learn anything from me?”

The man chuckled, the sound emanating as if from a wide rocky cavern. The sound filled the room uncomfortably, squashing you, causing you to wince just before you were picked up by the back of the chair and set right upright again.

It was when you finally widened your eyes, that you were more clearly able to see the man in front of you. The sight of him made your heart drop. It was John Rousseau himself. His determined gaze was set on you as if he’d ripped himself free out of the photographs on your briefing documents and sprung to life in all his terrible glory. Though unlike the photographs, - taken when he’d been captured earlier on in his life- he was smiling now. He held something of a more deadly glint in his eyes.

You were left speechless then. What were you to say to the man you’d been chasing all that time? Now that he was standing in front of you in the flesh, tight black clothes showcasing his rippling arms and powerful legs. You weren’t going to last long if he was going to keep kicking and hitting you, you knew that then.

“This isn’t an interrogation, soldier - I don’t need to learn anything from you. We’re in the middle of making a very special video, a little gift for your superiors. They will get the benefit of seeing that you are alive - mostly. And they will know we are serious in our demands. In return they will give us back my brothers. If not then…you will not remain alive for much longer, will you?”

Rousseau’s widening smile reminded you of a venomous snake slithering out a dark crevice for the hunt. If that weren’t enough to unnerve you, the sound of something metal being scraped across the ground and the following rush of sloshing water lapping against its edges was enough to do the trick. All at once you realised exactly what Rousseau intended to do.

Price roared from the otherside of the room, in the corner of your vision, struggling futilely against his impossible bindings. Though you didn’t focus much on him. A shadow crossed the room and you painfully twisted your head to meet the barbarian that made it. You watched as another familiar face, the man from the market that had killed his associate, stood silently above you. He held a cheap old digital camera aloft in his hands and smiled slyly, giving you your last glimpse of cruelty before a cloth was forced over your face and the world went dark once more.

They were going to do to you exactly what they had done to Price. Finally you knew why he was so wet. Your body shook.. You could hardly breathe. Though you had to. Your training demanded it. You’d been waterboarded before, though now it wasn’t going to be a test. This was the real deal, there was no end goal in sight. You could hear the bucket being lifted off the ground, it was almost too late to remedy your panic.

No, you had to steel yourself.

Deep breath in, soldier.

And Hold it.

Hold it.

-☠️-

Ghost and Soap stood over the group in front of them with expressions so solemn that they could've dropped birds from the sky. Soap kept wincing as he’d shift his weight and forget his bad leg, and Ghost couldn’t stop staring off to the side, clearly replaying what had happened, turning it over and over in his mind until his eyes glazed almost grey. It was clear to see that neither one could reconcile with what had just gone down.

After a moment of empty silence, considering what to say, both the men eventually recounted what had happened to the others, facing Laswell and the rest of the men with their blank eyes and flat voices as they tried to stay professional. No matter how hard they tried though, their minds still lingered on the soldier they’d left behind, ceaselessly wondering what had happened to you.

Around halfway through your impromptu truck ride, with you on top while the two men hid inside, Gaz had reported that his group had reached exfil and regrouped with the rest of the team. Most of the remaining soldiers had made it there, along with a very rattled Laswell who’d explained to everyone that the safe house had been compromised and Price had been taken by surprise, caught in a trap laid out by the first rogue truck that had left the compound. Ghost, Soap and you of course had heard this through Gaz’s comms, one of the last lines to remain working - the other’s had faced multiple blasts and close combat bouts.

From that moment, now that they had contact and were aware of where Rousseau was headed, everyone was concentrating on regrouping with your team. They were tracking your signal and speeding along in the last of the working vehicles, hoping and praying they could reach the trucks and bring everyone back.

The men’s eyes flicked between each other as they let the story unfold, remembering what it was like standing in the almost pitch black of the cargo container while you lay above them. The tension that had yet to leave their bodies, only had them straining their tired muscles more.

Soap told everyone about you hissing over the line from above, telling him and Ghost about the trucks slowing down. You’d asked for orders and Soap had looked warily at Ghost then, watching as the man loomed over him and quietly searched for an answer. He’d curtly told you to lay low and stay quiet, tell them if anyone got out. It wasn’t long before you reported just that, and Soap had plastered himself to the doorway, straining to try and hear what they could be saying out there.

His French was rusty, rustier than his Spanish, but he was able to make out parts of a conversation that had broken out. They were talking about how glad they were that they could finally stop, one said something about needing to piss, the other laughed with him and said it was a wonder he’d managed to hold it in through the blasts. Another man had approached them and shouted over, saying that they needed to check the cargo first and ensure it wasn’t damaged or he’d make sure they’d never piss right again.

It was at that point, that it was evident that you all had to move. Though none of you could think of a way to make it past the small army undetected, especially if Ghost and Soap were required to burst from the creaking metal doors. Therefore, they’d decided to go with the distraction that you’d come up with, not a great one, but one that gave them a semblance of a shot to get away nonetheless.

König had intervened, he’d cut into the conversation with a new level of fury and demanded that you rethink your plan. ‘You can’t do this! Don’t you dare go ahead with this suicide mission!’ He thought it was sheer stupidity to throw a frag out into the middle of the group and just hope that they were too distracted by the fallout to track the direction it had come from. He’d all but ordered you to wait for the team to reach you all, but you’d argued back, saying that they couldn’t count on not being discovered until then. They were too far away.

You’d told him you loved him over the line, seemingly uncaring what the rest of the team thought of it now, and said that he had to let you work. Next thing they knew, you were informing Ghost and Soap that you were sending the frag out. It was difficult to hear König’s frenzied screams after that, they were just higher notes floating on top of the discordant din that was soon to follow.

When you’d pulled the pin all hell had broken loose.

Ghost and Soap clattered from out of the truck and you scrambled down from the top, rejoining the two men before sprinting like hell into the thin treeline. The wood’s were no longer as lush in the place they’d stopped, probably by design so they would know if they were being approached. Unfortunately it meant they were able to track your group running away as well. You could hear the distant sound of their cries start to get closer again.

Gunfire had broken out, peppering the air with loud shots. What seemed like hundreds of soldiers but was probably a group of around twenty, chased you all down and shot at your feet. They were demanding that you all stop, shouting in English and French and possibly other languages too.

For a wondrous minute it had seemed like you all might get away with your lives, but just as you hit a thicker portion of the woods, a single grenade was tossed in your direction and all of you were sent flying.

Ghost took over the report then. Soap’s voice cut out as he remembered the sickening churn of his stomach just before he’d blacked out. He was struggling to keep aloft. Only the thought of you out there somewhere kept him standing, the thought of your determined eyes as you fought like hell for the two men that had been intent on icing you out. All because they thought you were going to break up the team from your fooling around… And what did all that matter now?

Ghost slyly knocked his elbow into Soap, getting him to stay out of his mangled thoughts before he continued. He told everyone how Soap had been knocked out when he’d hit the ground, but you and he were still awake.

Soap had managed to rouse again, but he was hardly up to walking after his dodgy landing - never mind running unassisted on that bad right leg. Ghost wasn’t feeling a hundred percent either after being slammed into a thick tree trunk, but he was able to carry on. He’d tried to insist that you should help with Soap and you could all run together, but you’d shaken your head and denied him any assistance. You’d told him to take Soap and send the others forward, he had to direct them to you, or they’d never find you all in time you’d said. You could defend yourself from there, you’d assured them you could do it.

Ghost had tried to reason with you, pleaded with you not to be a fucking idiot, but you weren’t hearing any of it. You pulled out your gun, like a knight drawing their sword for the last stand, and told him simply that he could insult you after the job was done and you’d recovered Price. You’d reminded him that when you were all home safe, there would be a meeting to discuss your forbidden relationship, and he could get all of his famous remarks on record as well. Ghost’s face soured at the memory, but from there everyone was all caught up on what had happened.

He and Soap had reached the others and then they had pushed forward. Only, they didn’t find you by the rocks, or in the place where the trucks had been. That spot was empty save for a few men that had stayed behind to try and fight them off and prevent anyone from following. It was then that they knew they’d lost you and Price and the mission was over. They had failed completely.

König had heard enough. He’d been listening to their little tale with a curled lip that quickly turned to a full sneer and with every passing second that he spent revising over the details of their quest of incompetence, he felt his body temperature rise by another degree. He was so angry, he was shaking.

He stormed forward, slicing through the team of men that stood between him and Ghost with precision, ramming the Lieutenant down before he could think to do anything. It wasn’t possible to stop him, he’d borne down on Ghost with an animal force and soon he was swiping and clawing at him like he might take out his throat. The screams that were bursting out of him were nothing short of feral.

“It should have been you! You should’ve stayed behind, you rat fucking bastard. You lead your team on a suicide mission and yet here you stand telling us all about how we failed. You failed, you failed Ghost! You failed Sneak! Do you hear me? I will tear you apart! I will rip the skin from your bones and burn what’s left of you and then I will piss on your ashes, you fucking swine!”

“König!”

Horangi tried to be his voice of reason, but König was too far gone. He was incensed.

As if it weren’t bad enough that the love of his life had professed their love while they actively ensured their own destruction, he now had to listen to the Lieutenant prattle on about what had happened as if you hadn’t been pressured into being the sacrificial lamb. It was too much to bear. His head was ringing with your love confession and with the thoughts of what those men could be doing to you even as he tried to tear Ghost apart. The images were inspiring him to further cruelty, echoes of past sins and future vows.

König continued to pummel Ghost, trying to target his weak spots with prejudice, but he didn’t get to keep the upper hand for much longer. The Lieutenant wasn’t going to allow himself to be turned into mince. He wasn’t any good to Price or you if he let himself face König’s punishment.

Ghost grabbed out at König’s wildly swinging fists and caught one, using the moment of struggle to punch him in the ribs and swing round so that he was on top of the Austrian. König howled and flailed like a banshee, but he couldn’t do much of anything once he was on his back. Gaz and Horangi had joined Ghost, they assisted in pinning König down and now his shouts were reduced to heavy breaths as he stilled against the pressure. He was like an alligator with its mouth taped shut, the moment that the binding came off he was determined to strike again, bite through his prey in one clean motion.

Soap stood watching in horror from above the little skirmish. His face was paling to an ill shade. It was then that it finally occurred to him that maybe you hadn’t thrown away your position on a stupid fling. You weren’t turning your back on your family, you had just found someone else worth letting in. Why else would König sound as if he was ready to face death itself for you? You both had to be far closer than anyone could have comprehended.

Soap was left blinking silently as he gazed up at Ghost and then to Gaz, wondering, had they realised the same thing?

“König you need to calm down,” Ghost advised, voice straining as he fought through the pounding headache that blossomed in the base of his skull.

“Ghost…” König trailed, thinking on his words for a moment. “Unless Sneak is returned safely, I will never be calm again. In fact, I will make it my personal mission to break you. I will take you to some god awful hole somewhere and make sure that you live long enough through your torture to forget what daylight looks like. Only once you’re empty, will I bury the shell of you alive!”

Ghost’s left eye twitched, the lid took a moment to settle. König could hardly have known that he’d strike a nerve, but as he saw Ghost’s expression behind his mask he let his mouth curve into a smug grin behind his hood. Even if he couldn’t hit him physically he could settle for mental warfare.

Ghost struggled not to take his revenge. There was a brief moment of inner turmoil where he wanted to reach out and smash every tooth out of the mercenary’s head, but there was a voice in his head that demanded he didn’t. They needed every resource they had to retrieve their missing Sergeant and Captain. As much as he hated König, he couldn't deprive the team of an effective member, and loathe as he was to admit it he knew you’d need someone to come home to.

Ghost rose up off of König then, silently glaring down at him before he looked over at Laswell. His golden lashes caught the light, and then so did his eyes, showcasing the dangerous glint that settled just underneath the surface.

“Well, until we find Sneak and Price, why don’t you just keep yourself under control. Yeah?” He said gruffly, stepping away from König before he got second thoughts about beating him to a pulp.

König was allowed back up again, only when the others were sure he wouldn’t try and tackle Ghost. He hated having all their eyes on him. He’d never felt so afraid in all his life and now he was being put under a microscope by people that, as much as he tried not to for your benefit, he despised.

Horangi was his saving grace. His old friend turned to the others and shooed them off with a jerk of his head before he turned back and gave König a sympathetic tilt of his head. He knew better than to try and offer any words of comfort or to try and stick around. König was beyond calming, it was obvious to see from his flexing hands and narrowed eyes.

König’s mind was a storm of emotions. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much, so deeply. He was furious with you, upset that you would throw your life away just to try and save the stupid teammates that had gotten you into such a predicament in the first place. His heart tore thinking of you trying to salvage your relationship with your brothers while they let you fall to the enemy.

Most of all though König felt terribly frightened. For once he had no control over the situation. He couldn’t smash his hulking body at the problem, nor threaten his way to the outcome he wanted. He just had to wait and hope that you would be alive somewhere and that you were ok. He could feel his breaths shorten at the thought of you being hurt by those awful men. Men just like him - men with no qualms about ignoring any sense of empathy in order to get a job done.

Was the world punishing him?

For some reason König couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened to you was his fault. Was it the divine justice? After all the people he’d torn through, all the faces he’d beat unrecognisably in the name of getting the job done, was one of his most treasured people going to be lost to him in exchange for his misdeeds? You were the one that had called him out on it all, how could you be the one to pay?

König felt dizzy, as if the world were spinning double time and the sky was waving and distorting in his vision. The light blue and purple hues were starting to fade with the closing light, and soon enough the sky would fall completely to black. Were you being kept somewhere dark? Did they have you bound and screaming?

He thought he was going to be sick.

All of a sudden he was locked in a glass cage, everyone around him was muffled and his body was constricted. He couldn’t breathe. He was cursing internally, gasping for air all the while.

Why couldn’t you have fucking taken me instead?

“König.”

König’s eyes flicked up, he jerked when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly he realised he’d been standing with his arms wrapped tightly around his body like a safety harness and let his hands drop to his sides. He peered down at the man connected to that stupidly brave hand and then locked eyes with Soap.He sneered, throwing the appendage away from himself before he gave into the compulsion to break it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” König hissed.

“Laswell’s ordered us to move, mate,” Soap answered softly.

König looked off to the spot that everyone had been gathered in before, and realised that they’d all begun dispersing into the transports. Everyone was heading along to the beaten up trucks and piling in like cartoon clowns. Ghost was at the head of them all, König didn’t miss him, keeping a wary eye on Soap and König as he directed everyone else.

König laughed darkly to himself and started walking. Ghost didn’t need to worry yet. There was still time to save you, they were all safe for the time being. While you remained alive.

“Kind of you not to leave me behind,” König said, his voice coming out harshly through his gritted teeth. “Better you stay away though. You’ll convince me give into my temptations if you give me too much opportunity, Sergeant.”

König expected Soap to turn tail and run ahead of him then, but was surprised and annoyed when he noticed him keeping pace as they walked to the trucks together. It made König wonder if Soap wanted him to break again.

“You and Sneak have been seeing each other off base, haven't you?”

König stopped in his tracks again and locked eyes with Soap, looking for whatever evil had to be lurking in the abyss of blue. However if there was any ill intent, he couldn’t see it in his body language. Soap looked at him in earnest.

“Why would you bring that up?”

Soap ran a hand through his frayed mohawk and looked away for a second, nervously meeting König’s eyes again once he gathered his courage.

“Well you’ve been…” Soap paused for a moment, searching for the right word, “datin’, right?”

“This is hardly the time for your morbid fascination with our relationship,” König sneered, finally walking ahead again.

“It’s not morbid fascination.”

“Then what?”

“This team has been Sneak’s life for a long time now - we’re a family. When I thought they’d gone behind our backs and fooled around, was going to break up the team for the sake of some fun I was angry…but I know that’s not what it was now. So I just wanted to say I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry are you? I would never ‘fool around’ with Sneak,” König growled. “You all wanted to see our relationship with each other as a stupid crush because none of you think of me as a person. I’m not some dog that they picked up off the side of the road, I’m a man the same as you. I love Sneak with everything that I have. And now you’re claiming to love them too after the way you acted? Sorry doesn’t cut it. You and Ghost, fuck, the whole 141 failed Sneak. Don’t come to me with your pathetic apologies, Sergeant.”

König didn’t give Soap any time to answer his verbal lashing, not that he had much of anything to say to that. How could he stand and defend himself when he’d been the cause of your guilt and the reason that you’d felt pushed to send him and Ghost to their safety while you fell? He was motionless as König picked a truck to settle into, picking a relatively empty section of the bed that only grew more sparse as the other men inside scrambled to keep their distance.

Soap stared a minute longer, but he was forced to move when he realised he was one of the last to load up. His feet marched automatically, but his head never left the conversation. He’d think about it until the moment he knew you were safe again. He had to be able to get his chance to apologise properly, he had to prove that he loved you no matter what, even if Price wouldn’t let you stay on the team. He could live without working with you, but he couldn’t go on knowing he’d been the cause of your death.

König watched Soap trudge toward Ghost and closed his eyes, willing his breaths to remain steady and for his tears to stay safely welled behind his lids. He couldn’t let himself cry. It felt too much like admitting that you were dead already. Then where would that leave him?

Instead, he put his hand into his trouser pocket and clasped at the little wooden bird that had stayed safely hidden inside. His thumb traced along the smooth stretch of the swallow’s back and towards its beak, gently landing on the tip. He silently hoped that wherever you were, you’d feel the gentle kiss of his spirit and know that you would be safe again. However improbable that was - it was the only thing that could give him any thought of comfort.

-☠️-

It’d been a long and sweaty ride over to the next town, for the start of the journey anyway. Toward the end, night was falling and the temperatures cooled dramatically, suddenly leaving the soldiers glad for all of the heavy layers they were wearing. It made some of them look at König, Horangi and Ghost jealousy, for once, wishing that they too had full face coverage in the chill of the dark winds.

Ghost’s eyes had remained far away for the duration of the ride. No matter what Soap or Gaz said, they couldn’t get him to focus much on them. He was completely distant. It was as if his consciousness was held hostage from within his body, like his mind was replaying the days events over for him and holding him to his mistakes. Though when Soap had been brave enough to try to confirm his suspicions of Ghost’s guilt he was greeted with a ‘fuck off’ for his efforts.

Gaz put his hand on Soap’s shoulder, then gave him a gentle look. It had Soap swallowing thickly at the lump in his throat and soon enough he was looking away, doing everything not to turn into a screaming wreck in the wake of his dark eyes. Gaz looked away too.

“We’ll get them back,” Gaz mumbled, patting Soap’s shoulder again before he removed his hand. “At least for now, we know that they have each other.”

“Aye, and how do we know that?” Soap said bitterly.

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t know that they’re together. They could be holding them separately or could have them blindfolded and gagged. Hell, they could’ve killed one of them and only taken one back with them - there’s a lot more risk having two soldiers. We have no idea if Price and Sneak are-”

“Shut the fuck up, Soap,” Ghost growled.

Gaz and Soap’s eyes flashed over to Ghost in an instant. His tone was hard, and his slouched posture straightened back and returned all of his missing height.

“We’ll get em’ back,” he vowed. “Or we die trying.”

Ghost had no way of knowing quite how daunting that promise would be in light of things to come. Though when they finally reached a safe place to stop and reconnect with command back home, the severity of the situation landed upon all of them like a ton of bricks.

Laswell and Ghost managed to wrangle an empty room and took a private call with General Morrison. It was then, in the dark of that claustrophobic room, that they learned about the ransom video that had been sent over during their journey to their makeshift base - a tiny village with a few homesteads and farm land.

The general didn’t seem to want to give much detail about the video, he was shifty with them both. It was only from some not so polite prodding from Ghost, that the General revealed that they weren’t permitted to have any dealings with the terrorist group.

“They’re going to splash this all over the fuckin’ press general. This is going to be a disaster, and you’re saying that our response to this is to just do nothing?” Ghost spat.

“It’s all about optics, Lieutenant, you know that. The Captain and Sergeant will be a great loss, but we can’t be seen to be releasing criminals like stray dogs after said dogs were convicted of kidnapping civilians and blowing up markets. We can’t make the deal.”

“Then fuck the deal!” Ghost said, glaring into the camera lens with hot fury.

Laswell baulked, quickly realising that Ghost was going to get himself into trouble if she didn’t step in. She put a hand on his arm and looked pointedly toward the laptop, hoping to appeal to any shred of decency that might be lingering in the greying general’s arsenal.

“I think Ghost is trying to suggest that we put a team together and we track them down. We get our people back and take down that bastard Rousseau once and for all, sir.”

The harsh lines in the general’s old leathery face settled and his stare was neutral once again. Laswell untensed too. Only Ghost was left seething, he wasn’t going to be calmed at a time like this. The only thing that would put him at ease was knowing that you and Price were going to be returned safely. That wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

“John Price is a good man,” the general said after a long pause. “I can grant you a small team, but it can’t be on record. If this blows up, you’re on your own.”

“And if it goes well it was all a great effort organised by the cunning officers who sat bravely by their desks.” Ghost muttered.

Laswell kicked out at Ghost from under the table and was grateful that the general didn’t seem to catch his snide remark from through the terrible connection. She quickly smiled toward the laptop and nodded curtly. She could work with a few men, and she was pretty sure she knew of where to get a few more.

“Thank you, General Morrison. We’re grateful for the aid. I’ll have my people try to find out what we can and once we gather enough intelligence we’ll move in on the target.”

“Good luck, Laswell,” The general said warmly, face going cold when he stared to her left. “Ghost.”

From there the screen went black. Ghost and Laswell were left discussing plans, Laswell messaging her contacts as they talked, both agreeing that they would find a way to reach out to Farah while they formed a potential team. It was all a matter of muscle memory. They sparingly used your names while they were talking. It helped to keep emotion out of it.

However, they didn’t get to remain like that for long.

They had to find the video so that Laswell could send it to her intelligence sources and as soon as they were exposed to those first few painstaking seconds, it was all so real again. This wasn’t one of their usual jobs, this was a rescue effort to save two of their own. Two of their family members, that as they were speaking, were being hurt in all manner of horrible ways just to emphasise the sincerity of Rousseau’s threats. He was so morbidly calm as he stood making his demands from in front of the horrible abuses just inches behind him.

When it came time to tell the others what was going on, Ghost and Laswell were practically as flat toned as the general. It was taking a lot for them to go through it all, to explain that at that present moment they had to sit tight and wait for transport to take them away so that they could go back to base and refresh and resupply while you and Price passed the hours in unknown amounts of agony.

No matter how matter of fact they tried to keep things, it didn’t stop König from speaking up and forcing everyone into reality. He waited until everyone had been dismissed to reappear in front of Ghost. His steps were heavy and slow, his strides purposeful as he got into the Lieutenant’s face once again.

“I want to see the video.”

“No.”

Ghost’s answer was simple, no nonsense. There was no room for discussion. He folded his arms and straightened his back, ensuring that he was able to steady himself against the bigger man’s potential attacks. Luckily for him he could see Soap and Gaz nearby should he try to start a scrap again. His personal animal control unit.

“What do you mean no?” König grit out.

“It’s not a good idea” Ghost reaffirmed. “You don’t need to see that.”

“I have to see it. I have to know what they’ve done! Show me the Video!”

“It won’t help, König,” Laswell said, appearing at Ghost’s side. “We watched it to the end and it was…it’s something that will haunt me for a long time. It was bad, but Sneak and Price don’t seem to have any permanent damage. Take that as a comfort and refrain from watching that awful thing.”

König clutched harder at the little bird inside his pocket, holding it so tightly that the beak felt like it was going to pierce a hole through him. He was so hot. Even despite the dreadful cold of the night, he felt like he was going to overheat and his limbs were going to vibrate out of their sockets.

“No permanent damage,” König repeated. “What have they done then?”

Ghost and Laswell exchanged a brief glance. The air was thick between them, like they were looking through water.

“We need to know,” Soap said, coming to stand by König. “When we find them, we’ll need to know how bad they are.”

“Soap, don’t do this,” Ghost sighed.

“He’s right,” Gaz said, taking his stand between the two parties. “Tell us what happened.”

“Or show us,” König said darkly.

Ghost glared through the dark hollows of his skull mask, it really did feel like he was the grim reaper. He was the harbinger of doom. It chilled him to have to think about the horrible sounds and the terrible things he’d seen. He even wished he had just looked away at some point, but he couldn’t, he had to force himself to face it. It was his fault they were suffering, he’d thought to himself.

“They were waterboarding them,” Ghost revealed, “beating them too.”

Everyone was quiet, taking in the information.

“That’s not all, is it?” König asked.

“They stripped them down with knives and left em’ tied up and naked on the chairs while Rousseau spoke. They posted it up on social media, the video is everywhere despite the efforts to get it deleted. They weren’t doing very well. I think Sneak had taken in a lot of water, they were covered in sick.”

König felt his palm slicken and looked down, tilting his head when he noticed his trouser pocket turn from beige to bright scarlet red. One of the swallow's wings had broken off under the stress of his grip and lodged itself splintered side down into his hand. Now he stood motionless, looking down at the mess with empty fascination. He didn’t even feel the sting of it. He couldn’t get past the sight of his blood, the same colour as the tint in his vision.

He slowly withdrew his hand and inspected the tender flesh, gently pulling the wing from his cut and depositing it back into his ruined trousers with the rest of the broken bird. From there his plasma continued to drip, a flow of bright red washing over his hands like a tiny trickling fountain.

“You said, your people are on this Laswell, yes?” König asked, not looking up to see the disconcerted stares of the 141.

“...yes,” Kate confirmed, hesitating to answer. “They’re trying to see if they can find a source or get any clues from the room they’re in.”

She was scared that this was going to König’s final tipping point. The room was too quiet, there was too much electric energy charging through the air. It felt too much like the calm before an earthquake.

“Ok,” König replied, his voice sounding far away. “I should go deal with this…I will clean this up. I will fix it. It will all get fixed”

With that he disappeared like a spectre, trailing out of the room and out into the night as if he might completely disperse into nothing. It was like watching a plastic bag float away in the wind, no one could be sure of where he was off to.

“Should one of us…y’know?” Gaz asked, directing his head toward the open doorway.

“Maybe go find Horangi and see what he says,” Ghost shrugged. “He knows König best.”

“And the rest of us?” Soap asked, feeling his own fists clench at the thought of the video.

“We rest up and wait until we can give those cunts the pincushion treatment,” Ghost said, looking down to Soap’s leg. “You think you’ll be able to heal?”

“I feel better already knowing we’ll take those fuckers down,” Soap said, a ghost of a smile playing on his face. “Payback’s gonna be a bitch.”

-☠️-

“Bloody hell.”

Your eyes snapped open and you looked over to Price, watching as he slowly rose up against the wall and struggled to right himself. Your gaze flashed off to the side as soon as the ratty old blanket that’d been draped over him started to slip. Not that you hadn’t seen what was underneath it already, at that point you were just trying to do him a courtesy.

“Good to know you haven’t left us,” you said weakly.

From out of the corner of your eye you noticed him rush to fix his blanket, the whoosh of material sweeping up his body was like music to your ears. Knowing that he had the wherewithal to cover himself seemed like a good sign. You offered him the best smile that you could, more of a grimace really, and scanned over his face. It didn’t look much better than from when he’d been sleeping. His left eye was swollen almost completely shut and his mouth was still flecked with dried bits of blood and god knows what else that had stuck to his beard.

If there was anything to be grateful for in that moment it was the fact that they’d dropped the buckets of water over you after they’d finished recording that awful video. It’d at least cleared the putrid sick from crusting into your battered bodies. Some relief. Not that it helped with the pain that pulsed through you like a lightning strike.

“Where the fuck are we?” Price groaned, spitting out a clump of phlegm to his side.

You winced.

“No idea. I only woke up maybe a few minutes ago,” you sighed. “I remember them dragging us down a hallway and then being outside…I dunno, things are spotty for me.”

Price nodded and cast his sore eyes around the cell, looking from the dark metal walls to the crackling painted floors, to the little lamp in the corner that cast long shadows from your bodies and to the few feet between you, and finally he looked to the solid door on both your right sides. He groaned then and shifted his position, almost fumbling and crashing forward as he forgot to account for the bindings on his wrists and ankles.

“Fuck me!”

You remained quiet, glueing your eyes to the floor. There was something that felt so inherently disrespectful about looking at Price when he was like that. You’d never caught him in such a moment of vulnerability before. It was like seeing your father cry.

“I think we’re on some kind of transport, a truck maybe,” you said quietly. “They probably have us on the move so that they can’t be infiltrated again.”

Price grunted, barely acknowledging you as he struggled piteously from his side of the tiny cabin.

You tested your own restraints again, peering down at the cable ties that were painfully stretching around your wrists from over the scratchy blanket. The fabric was old and stained, a faint smell of fish emanated from it that you preferred not to think too much about. Nothing about the situation gave you any hope- it seemed awfully like you were the characters in the movie that wouldn’t make it. Maybe they’d give you both a few medals for your sacrifices.

You shivered at the thought.

“Have you tried to break the ties?” Price asked, pointedly breaking you out of your stupor.

“I attempted it when I woke up, but I don’t have much strength,” you said. “My ribs feel fucked. They’ve bruised them, if they haven’t broken them all the way. Hurts to move.”

“Bloody mediaeval cunts!” Price cursed. “They must’ve been planning this for months now. We fucked ourselves listening to anything those animals had to say to us.”

“I guess we underestimated how far Rousseau was willing to go to get his brother back. All those other men too.”

“Didn’t count on a snake like him to get sentimental.”

“Well, he seems plenty sentimental. Got us back something bad for that little redecoration job we forced him to make,” you noted, seething as you tried to laugh off your predicament.

“Some upgrade he got,” Price said sourly, “Wonder how the fuck he managed to set all this up. By all rights he should barely have any men left after what we’ve done.”

“I dunno, he had a whole lot of pick up trucks and a couple transports on the move. Probably had about one hundred men still loyal to him in just that group. No telling who else he has scattered around.”

“There were other trucks? I only saw two. The one that I was chasing and the one that came up behind us. How many did you see? Matter of fact, how’d you even end up here in the first place, Sneaky?”

You held your breath - though not for long. Your lungs still dully ached from doing that too much already. At the sound of the whooshing air leaving your body and bouncing off of the metal walls, Price immediately narrowed his one good eye.

“What happened?”

“It’s…a long story,” you said quietly.

“I have time,” Price snorted, looking around the cabin for effect.

You huffed out a breath at him and clutched at your side, feeling the pain shattering up your ribs like the crack of a whip. This was it. Who knew if you were going to live to even see the end of the day. You didn’t even know what day it was, or if it was even day time at all. You were finally going to tell him the truth.

“Me, Ghost and Soap were all tracking the trucks after they blew the old base. Gaz, König and Horangi went to exfil to try and regroup with the other teams. We were all supposed to reconvene and try to find you together but...we got held down by their forces and Soap took a bad hit to his leg. I told Ghost to take him and go get the others. They didn’t make it in time though,” you said, voice cracking as you recalled the foggy events like a broken down projector.

“Why the hell would Ghost leave you by yourself against an entire force of men?” Price growled, body snapping to attention.

“Because I forced him to.”

“Why?”

“Because they can go on and do some good, they’ll be able to avenge us and keep taking down the Rousseaus of the world. I wasn’t worth saving,” you said bitterly.

“Don’t you fucking dare say that. Why the fuck would you say that, Sneak?”

The look in his eyes was enough to shatter a million hearts. His anger could’ve melted the walls down, it beat so palpably between you both. It only made you hang your head in shame to think you were going to disappoint him. To think that that fierce protectiveness was going to be overridden by disgust.

You couldn’t keep lying to him anymore. You couldn’t leave the world weighed down by your secret.

“Because I was only going to be kicked off the team after this mission. I…I went against your orders. I’ve been seeing König for months now. The guys found out about the relationship. It wasted time and caused an argument that could’ve got us killed if we’d hung around the base much longer. I fucked up Price, I went against my word to you and I’ve only gone and gotten us killed! This is all my fault!”

You threw your head against the metal behind you, feeling the tears weigh you down like canon balls and sobbed. No matter how pathetic you felt, you were at a complete loss of control. Everything hurt, your throat constricted and dried like sand, the noises you emitted were barely human.

It was all crashing down on you, the full weight of your cursed fate coming to fall on your lap.

This was all you deserved for going behind the team's back. You were probably going to die a slow horrible death, getting thrown in front of camera after camera until there wouldn’t be enough of you left to send back home. Every piece of you would be ripped away by whatever dark hole they chose to make a stop at, until you would become another part of the world’s fabric. Another soul for someone with willing hands to take.

Even despite that horrible line of thought, the thing that hurt you most was knowing that König would remember your last moments together spent in bitterness, and that would be all he’d have to hold onto. He’d think that you had turned on him again, he would be so full of hatred for what you’d done to him. You’d burst down his walls only to go and reinforce exactly why he’d had them in the first place. You wished you’d told him more than just that you’d loved him. You wished you could tell him that despite everything that had happened, he was worth it all, you loved every second that he shared himself with you.

You would still rather walk willingly to your death a thousand times than put König or anyone else at risk.

“...Sneaky. Hey! Are you listening to me…fuckin’ hell. Oi! Sneaky!”

Price’s voice somehow managed to break through the impassable swell of your emotion and soon his face was in front of yours, demanding to be looked at. You felt yourself frown, sniffling as you wondered how on earth he’d managed to shuffle all the way over to you in his condition. Even with his hands and feet tied, and his vision probably barely there, he had launched himself over to you and exploded through the barrier of your guilt.

“Listen to me. Breathe. In and out. In and out. Breathe with me! In and out. In and out…”

You gulped sickened gasps of air and tasted the salt of Price’s body in the back of your throat. It didn’t matter though. You didn’t care that he, and probably you, fucking stank. It was just nice to have him there, bringing you back from the brink of a full on mental collapse.

The same mental voice that had coached you through your torture, was the same that gruffly directed you now. Price always had your back. He didn’t let any of his soldiers go easily, and he had always tried to do his best for you. Even if you had spited him for keeping you from König, he was always going to be the man that felt like another father to you.

“Sneak, do you really think that this is your fault?” Price asked, finally breaking from his instructional regime. “Do you think it really matters to me who you’ve been shagging right now? I need you to stay on the level with me here Sneak, you’re not to blame for any of this happening.”

“Why?” you asked, coughing harshly as your throat tried to adjust.

“Why aren’t you to blame?”

“No, why aren’t you angry with me?” you wheezed.

You could hardly believe it. Your Captain was perched in front of you, a blanket barely covering his battered skin, and he was telling you that he was ok with the fact that you deliberately disobeyed an order. Had the torturers knocked a screw loose after all? You gawped him as if to convey just that.

“We might very well die here. I’m not going to waste my last moments angry with you. Especially when the reason I warned you off of that man in the first place, was in case he got you killed…It already happened once. I already lost Alex to love on the field, I didn’t want to lose you too, not to a man with enemies in the numbers of god knows what. Now you’re trapped here with me because you were too stuck on your own guilt to save yourself. You didn’t fail me or anyone else. I failed you, Sneak,” Price affirmed, bowing his head in shame.

The rough spikes of his hair were glistening and the skin on the back of his neck was washed out by the pale white light. He looked like a ghost of himself already. You shivered and bit the flesh inside your cheek, trying to process everything that he’d said.

Had you really been absolved? Just like that?

“Captain…”

He slowly lifted his head up and offered you a small smile, his grime speckled moustache lifting cartoonishly with it. You found yourself choking back your stupid tears and smiled at him in return, relaxing into the wall and soon into Price as he ambled to the wall and laid back with you, settling into your side.

“On the off chance we do find a way to survive this, I need you with me, Sneak,” Price said, his hoarse voice buzzing through you. “You can’t check out on me, ok?”

“Is that an order, sir?” you deadpanned.

“Affirmative. And If you go against this one, just know that my Ghost is going to make your ghost move puddles and dig ditches in the afterlife. Got that sergeant?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

-☠️-

“Do you understand what you’ve done! You are sending your precious special forces to their deaths! Know this; fellow brothers and sisters around the world,” Rousseau shouted, his voice booming off the dour cement walls. “Your government does not care about you, it is you the people that must rise up from nothing and take what is rightfully yours. I will continue to take down your soldiers until you give me back my family and allow us to take our territories without interference. Let's see how many deaths it will take until your governments take us seriously, uh!”

You winced as Rousseau grabbed you by the neck, though you could barely summon the strength to fight back. He’d taken you out from the transport and into dark deserted buildings more times than you’re sure that you can accurately collect. There was so little of you left anymore, you could barely hold onto your promise to Price. That last blow would be the one that ended you.

You cast a weary eye over to Price, tilting your head slightly to your left, watching him as he struggled to stay upright. He’d been wheezing for days now. There was a time you’d become convinced he’d already died on you. You couldn’t really remember when that was. They hardly fed you or allowed you to drink. They didn’t want to deal with the toilet trips - or the open bucket trips more like.

You’d both held on far longer than what you might’ve predicted, but now your time had run out.

You’d kept Price entertained with your stories about König, tried to force him to stay awake. After telling him a little about your relationship, they started flowing out of you like a great epic. You'd told him about the time you’d made him wear a bright floral surgical mask after he’d lost a bet to you, and then an old lady had approached him to say how stylish he was. You’d laughed till you’d fallen into a coughing fit when you remembered him surprising you back at your little apartment that you shared together with a rose in his mouth, and you’d had to clean the blood after he forgot to remove a thorn - he’d moaned for days about his stupid cut lip. You’d melted at the thought of him hugging you tightly after, not telling Price that König had huffed out to you in a pathetic whimper, telling you that he was sad he couldn’t kiss you with his mouth so sore.

Oh, König.

You whined, closing your eyes as you watched Rousseau arcing his thick metal bar high above you. Rousseau was ready to strike, this was really it. For both of you. He was going to make Price watch his Sergeant die and then he would surely be next.

You zoned out, falling back into the dark recesses of your mind.

Even if he was far away, it felt like König’s lips were whispering quietly in your ears. His spirit was with you, even if his form was elsewhere utterly devastated.

Think of better things. Think of me, Schnuckiputzi, and how you’d threaten to slap me for calling you that. I love you.

There’s nowhere you can be sent to that I won’t find a way to reach you.

Just keep your eyes closed and think of me.

Next Part Here

#König #König x reader #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2 #konig #konig x reader #a rocky start

756 notes · View notes

romanoffsbish · 9 months

Note

Could you do prompts 4, 14, & 20 with Wanda? Thank you!! <3

An Alluring Touch

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

Smut Prompts | WC: 1,665 Words

Meddling friends, and drunken games…

18+ — Minors DNI — Labeled

"Shall we play a game Romanoff?" Natasha rolled her eyes but turned to face the arrogant man anyways. The party had long since lost the appeal that the early hours carry, so she was just bored enough to humor him. "Depends. What do you propose we arrange Stark?"

The redhead saw his gaze float over to you, who was sat alone on a couch nursing a glass of wine, bored and completely unaware of the eyes around the room observing you. His focus then moved on to the witch a few paces behind with her heart eyes set on your beautiful face.

Natasha smirked at the notion. "Oh, I'm in."

——

Tony beamed, slammed the rest of his scotch, then clapped to get the entire room's attention. Everyone grumbled knowingly. "Now, now, don't get too excited," he taunted, "Everyone meet in the middle, it's time to play a game."

"What game?" Maria asked as she plopped onto a couch, a smile graced her face as Nat settled atop of her lap as it was her rightful spot. Her question was answered in a hush against her lips, she hummed in amusement, and leaned back into the couch with her lover.

"Well Hill, I decided the sexual tension in the room wasn't settling on its own," he teased, catching Wanda's glare with a returned smirk. "So, I've had Friday create an algorithm for a few random rounds of seven minutes in heaven. All of us with partners were spared."

Friday immediately followed him up with a textbook definition of the party game, many of the men in the room shifted at the raunchy end of her description. Then she called out: "The first participant will be, Y/N Y/L/N."

Wanda saw Bucky's eyes light up when your name was called and she clenched her fists. Tony and Natasha shared a humored glance, then as if Friday was in on the joke she stalled before deciding your fate: "Wanda Maximoff."

The witch sent Bucky a triumphant smile, then confidently made her way over to you. With each click of her heels on the ground your heart would skip, and when her hand was palm up before your face it had practically stopped. It took a second, but you softly accepted the gesture, and let her pull you up off the couch.

Wanda guided you away, the sounds of wolf whistles ignored as she took you off to the neighboring room, and guided you into the supply closet full of miscellaneous objects.

For an entire minute you just sat on a shelf and stared at your fiddling fingers. Wanda kept her eyes on you, trailing over your shy form while you were none the wiser. Until you finally had the courage to spare her a glance, catching on to her darkened gaze. You could feel your heart beating in your core at the implications. Wanda bit her lip, and decided to move in for the kill.

"Can I touch you?" Wanda watched you toy with the idea, then in a bold move you got up and straddled her lap. “Do whatever you want.”

Wanda’s eyes lit up, neither of you expected such a response, but being confined in a small space made you acutely aware of the tension. It was unbearable, especially when you could now piece together every other time you’d not seen the clear adoration. Your eyes fell to the way Wanda’s tongue darted out, preparing her lips for what was to come. Lids encased your shiny orbs, and your mind went fuzzy as you melted into the embrace of her plump lips with yours.

Wanda’s hands gripped your waist, holding you up as she moved her left leg between yours, there was nothing to hold her back from claiming and destroying you now, you were hers. You groaned in anticipated shock as your puffy folds dripping with arousal, thinly covered in white lace, brushed against the gruff feel of her favored corduroys.

The witch watched with her mouth agape, labored breaths following the opening as she was privileged enough to see your eyes cross and to feel your body shiver, with your pulse now drumming erratically beneath her fingers as she suddenly wrapped them around your throat, and pulled you in for a rough kiss.

Your bodies buzzed in sync, you were well on your way to climaxing, and the thought of your slick being so abundant that it would seep through the thick material encasing her leg made her pace brutal as she sought to prolong the high she had already become addicted to.

Wanda couldn’t think of anything else besides you as she swirled her tongue around your mouth and blocked the moans from leaving. Nothing else mattered. Not even your friends just around the corner. Or the anger she felt for Natasha and Tony manufacturing this first that she dreamed will be many’s afterwards.

You too dreamed of that as you screamed into the crook of her neck as you felt the unending heat between your legs from the friction of the contradictory fabrics brushing against your greatest sensitivity. Wanda was moaning too, and you just pictured her powers likely being used to stimulate her because she just couldn’t help it but to get off at the same time with you.

Nothing else mattered to you either. No one else. Wanda was all you had the room to know.

That knowledge of their existence had honestly slipped your mind after the kiss. Wanda had initially caught all of your whorish moans with her lips. But then she pulled away to kiss down the expanse of your throat, feeling the vibrations of the glorious sounds you were releasing as she nipped at the veiled muscle. Her core throbbed at the way you reacted to her thigh rubbing against you—she imagined just how much louder you’d be riding her strap, her heart felt purposeful; it’s oddly romantic.

"Tell me how it feels. It doesn't hurt does it?" You shook your head with a sideways grin that she felt against her skin as you’d just burrowed into her neck, your mind too far gone to process much of a coherent response at the moment. “Fuck Y/N, you’re just so beautiful, I am on the verge of falling apart, let mommy see you detka, please.”

You felt your walls shudder, physically and metaphorically as you pulled away with a shy glance up before your once trembling lower lip was caught between your grinding teeth. The pace had slowed significantly, your glossed eyes found her nervous pair. You offered her a confused smile, and she chuckled softly.

Wanda smiled, and began to pepper your collar with firm kisses, sucking and nipping at the skin every once in awhile to keep you on the edge as she’d only briefly tease your breasts.

"You're more than just a fling, my love." Wanda quelled your obvious fears with absolution, her hand briefly brought yours up to her lips, where she gently kissed your knuckles before she dropped it over her heart. “This only beats for you my dear, I adore you.”

Your body took that as permission to finally let go, and you slammed your lips into hers, teeth knocking as you silently screamed her praises. Her lips tore from yours a second later as her eyes desperately sought to see you losing it.

She wasn’t disappointed as she watched your chest rise and fall in stuttered ways. You were cursing softly as she kept rubbing you against her to prolong the ecstasy for you both. She could now feel your sticky warmth, and her heart beamed with unbreakable pride.

“Fuck, that was so hot Y/N,” she couldn’t hide the excitement, and you mirrored it. Wanda wanted to say so much more, but she heard the purposeful sounds of an assassin’s footsteps.

“Let's continue this in my room..." You nodded without hesitation and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek just before the calvary arrived.

Natasha swung the doors open with a smug smirk at the sight of your disheveled forms. Wanda's hair was no longer pristine, but instead it laid over her shoulders in a messy set of waves, and your shirt was no longer tucked into your skirt, the collar was stained with red

“Once you two get settled, consider giving Maria and I a ring,” the redhead winked, then walked away with a red tint to her skin that caused the both of you to giggle affectionately.

“I’m not a fan of sharing,” you admitted with a pout on your face. Wanda’s gaze softened and she pressed her lips to the crease between your brows. “Me either detka,” she said as her lips pressed against yours in a slow, steady kiss.

“What the hell is taking you girls so long?” Bucky asked just before shrieking, the man with military traumas was mortified into flushing bright red and vacating the room.

Wanda chuckled hot breath against the curve of your ear, her hands gripped your hips possessively as she whispered: “I’m glad he understands his place now; you’re mine.”

You whimpered, and your legs clamped around her thigh. Wanda kissed your cheek, then swirled her hand until you were sat in her bed. Hovering her lap in nothing, your needy hole that dripped the evidence onto her milky thighs just out of reach of the thick strap she wore.

“Ride me like a good girl who’s desperate for…”

“Her mommy,” you cut her off with glee. The woman gasped, her ego inflated and within an instant she had flipped positions. “On second thought, I think mommy will just fuck you into the mattress until your begging me to stop!”

You screamed in pure joy as her strap filled you in one thrust. Then the world faded to static as her hips bumped into yours, likely to bruise with the sheer force she was putting into her thrusts. With her you’d finally found nirvana.

——

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximommy

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chastiefoul · 2 years

Text

"This thing is heavy, can you hold it for me?"

genshin characters react to “this thing is so heavy, can you hold it for me?” and you held their hand instead.

characters: xiao, zhongli, heizou, kazuha, thoma, diluc, childe, albedo, eula, itto.

part 2!

xiao

he just held out his hand, no questions asked. xiao would never say it out loud but he’ll always be ready to help you in any way he can. so when you intertwined your hand instead, he only sighed, swiftly coming to a realization. “humans just keep finding new way to be entertained, don’t they?” he says exasperatedly, yet doesn’t seem to be letting go of the grip anytime soon.

zhongli

only chuckles a little, having used to your little antics. he squeezed your hand lovingly, and made a comeback of his own. “my lips feels a little lonely, perhaps you can help me with that. after all you owed me, no?”

heizou

quickly knows what you’re up to and decided to have a little fun of his own. “sorry love, my arm is still quite sore from the training yesterday.” he said, smiling cheekily. you saw his expression and immediately knows that he figured out what you were going to do. “geez, just play along once will you?” you pouted playfully, wanting to cross your arms when he suddenly intertwined his hand with yours, brings it close to his lips and kisses it. “you’d have to try a little harder if you wanted to trick a detective then, how about next time i show you how?” he laughs.

kazuha

“of course, love.” he held out his hand, and when that meets your hand instead, he was thinking for a moment before letting out a laugh. “i cannot believe i just fell for that, although now we’re like this, want to take a walk to where the breeze feels nice?” he says with his unwavering gentle smile.

thoma

“oh? well i can just use my other free hand then. where is it?” he says while smiling, finding no estrangement in the whole ordeal. this man is so devoted to helping people that he just keep asking where’s the thing you needed help for... eventually you told him that it was only a little joke to hold his hand. “oh! oh.” and you both just had a great laugh out of it.

diluc

“no problem.” he quickly says, without so much of a tone but you knew he’s always happy to help. and when you went to hold his hand he was quite for a moment before realizing your little joke. when you laughed and said you had bested the dark knight hero diluc just stared at you lovingly, your hand is still safe in his.

childe

was quick to figure it out but plays along anyway. “you’re right! this thing is quite heavy i better hold it everywhere i go so you don’t have to.” the man literally did not let go of your hand at all day with a big grin on his face, at some point people just looked at you and wondered had those two’s hands glued together?

albedo

his logical thinking just beats your little prank. “well based on the size and how well your hand is currently holding it, i’d say you’re okay, and the thing inside your hand seems weighted almost nothing so you’d have no problem carrying it around.” you’re a fool if you thought that’d work on him even for a second. “i just wanted to hold your hand, bedo.” you pouted. he only chuckled at your explanation. “there is a simpler way to ask for that, no?” he teased. “fine then, would you hold my hand?”

“certainly.”

eula

was caught off guard when she found that she was holding your hand instead. you only smiled happily at her and eula immediately knows there’s no way she could be mad. but just wait your name once again will be on her list of people she’d have to get revenge on. hmm, somehow your name is always on the bottom list?

itto

“of course!! this oni is not only the greatest but also the strongest one the world has ever seen!!” then he wiggled his fingers as if taunting this heavy thing you’re gonna put on his hand. so when you put your hand instead he just laughed out loud. “this is the heavy thing? this is nothing for me, but no matter!! i shall help you carry it whenever and wherever you like!”

it was really fun writing these,, let me know if you want me to make this for other characters!!

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sarahscribbles · 11 months

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OK but for 97. "I was good when you were gone! I didn't even touch myself." is SOOOOOO denial! Reader. Loki tells her she's going to come on a certain day (finally) then he gets unexpectedly called away on a mission for a few days and when he gets back-- JFJDIWHBEJEJ

Ask and ye shall receive!

𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩, 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟏𝐤

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐎𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You sense his presence only seconds before two strong arms are looping easily around your waist, pulling you tightly against his solid chest so he can nuzzle his face into your hair. The familiar scent of him settles around you like a favourite blanket - a heady mixture of soft earthy scents mingled with something subtly sweet that you’ve never been able to properly put your finger on.

All you know is that it’s Loki. The best thing that’s ever happened to you.

A quiet smile tugs at your lips and you wriggle back a little further into his embrace. “I knew you were there,” you say casually, continuing to stir your tea.

He gives your waist a squeeze. “Course you did,” he murmurs, gently moving your hair away from your neck.

You barely have time to enjoy the brief brush of his fingertips before they’re replaced with his lips. They move languidly against your skin, as though nothing matters more to him at this moment than savouring the taste of you. His lips are soft and warm, giving the illusion of a blissful afternoon spent in his arms, but when you feel the wet press of his tongue against your throat, you know he has nothing but filth on his mind.

A whimper falls freely from you just as your hips begin to rock slowly in search of…something…anything to take the edge off.

“Feeling needy, dove?” Loki taunts quietly, nibbling your earlobe while his hand slips beneath your shirt.

His cool hand running over your skin makes you shiver in delight and anticipation. Easily, he finds your breast, pulling it free from the confines of your bra to toy with an already erect nipple. He pinches and rolls it between finger and thumb to send a satisfying jolt of pleasure racing through you, making you crave more of him.

His touch has every nerve in your body flickering joyously to life, and when he squeezes that little bit harder, the groan that escapes you can only be described as debauched.

“What do you think?” you shoot back, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut while he continues to play with your nipple, and arousal pools like liquid sin between your thighs when his other hand quickly finds its twin.

Needy doesn’t describe what you’re feeling - it doesn’t even come close.

For the past week Loki has denied you release - for no reason other than he wanted to - and he’s been diligent in teasing and edging you each of those seven days, ensuring that you’re kept perpetually stimulated

Truthfully, you aren’t sure how you’re still capable of forming coherent thoughts. Night and day, all you can think about is getting fucked senseless on Loki’s cock.

He laughs softly right by your ear and the feel of his warm breath hitting your skin is enough to voraciously fan the flames of your own lust. “I think you’d let me mount you on this countertop if I wished to,” he says with a particularly rough twist of your nipples.

The bite of pain is intoxicating and makes your cunt throb. All you need - all you ever need - is Loki. His sinful tongue, his skilled fingers, his beautiful cock - you’ll gladly take whatever he’ll give you until you can no longer remember his name.

“Please, Loki,” you plead softly, already feeling a wave of pleasure begin to build in your core from how he’s torturing your breasts.

His touch is electric and you know without a doubt that you would let him mount you right here in the kitchen if it meant you got to feel that release.

“Mmm, you sound so beautiful when you beg,” he purrs softly in your ear. The tip of his regal nose slowly traces your jaw and he stops to place a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to let you come tonight, my little dove,” he whispers against your flushed skin.

The worlds roll over you one by one, each one stoking the embers of desire in your core to life until a raging flame is burning like hellfire in your core. The man is sin incarnate, he’s been sent by the Devil to ensure your eternal damnation, and with how soaked you are for him - because of him - your eternal punishment is firmly guaranteed.

“Is that a promise?” you ask, already feeling close to dizzy at the mere thought of an orgasm.

Loki’s teasing fingers pull and twist at your nipples just hard enough that a broken cry escapes your lungs - a cry that tells him just how much you’re enjoying the torment. Though, he no doubt knows that there’s little he can do to you that you won’t enjoy.

His teeth sink into your earlobe and pull until you shiver in his arms. “It is my solemn promise,” he says softly. You feel one hand drift along your stomach to slide beneath the waist of your skirt, and then he’s slowly, torturously, using a single finger to trace over your cunt through your underwear. “I’m going to make you unravel again and again and again.”

The ache between your thighs becomes almost unbearable, the searing heat of your desire threatening to fully engulf you if not sated. Loki’s finger traces agonisingly over your cunt, touching every part of you except where you burn for him most. It’s erotic torture and it doesn’t take long until you’re wriggling and twisting in his arms in a fruitless attempt to coax him closer.

His answering laughter is like spun silk in your ear - delicate, but teasing as he pulls his hand away before you can find even a modicum of relief in his touch. “You need to be patient, dove. It’s not even midday,” he taunts, fixing your bra and righting your shirt. The teasing, for now, is over.

Your fingers curl against the smooth surface of the countertop at the exact moment a strangled groan rises in your throat. You sound close to possessed, but you can feel the throbbing of your desire right down to your toes, and the thought of having to wait even another few hours for release is almost unbearable.

“You’re such an ass, Loki!” you whine, feeling hot tears begin to prick at your eyes with how badly you want him to fuck you.

You feel him gently smack your ass - nothing more than a love tap, really, - and his hands come to rest possessively on your hips. “I can make you wait another week if you’d like.” His voice is suddenly heavy with warning, and you know he has no qualms about adding another seven days to your torment.

Begrudgingly, you swallow back the retort that’s dancing on the tip of your tongue. “No,” you answer instead, irritation evident in the single syllable.

Loki presses his lips to your temple while his hands glide up to cup your breasts again, giving a final twist to your nipples through your shirt. “Then be a good girl and wait.”

Wait.

He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as though you couldn’t power a small city with how intensely the arousal is burning within you.

But he still expects you to wait.

Asshole.

A violet haze of unbridled lust settles quickly over you, and you spend the rest of the day attempting to ignore the burning ache swelling like a storm between your thighs. No matter what you do, though, all you can think about is Loki’s cock. Your every thought is about how he’ll feel finally sliding inside you after a week of teasing and how each vein will feel as he drags his cock along your walls.

You imagine how his hips will feel pressed flush against yours while he fills you to the brim, until you’re no longer sure where he ends and you begin.

You try not to think about it, you really do, but it’s impossible with Loki being intent on driving you completely insane in the final hours of your denial.

Five hours after sneaking up on you in the kitchen, he had you pinned against the conference room wall, kissing you breathless while ensuring to rub his thigh tormentingly along your throbbing cunt. The edge crept up on you with a vengeance, each rock of your hips against Loki’s thigh bringing you closer and closer. It was so close, so beautifully, wondrously close…

“No,” he’d purred, smirking and pulling his thigh away. “That is not allowed.”

“Loki, please! I can’t do it!” you had pleaded, desperately rolling your hips in search of his.

His strong hands were quick to pin them firmly against the wall, preventing you from chasing the pleasure you craved. “You will do it, dove,” he replied with quiet firmness, raising a hand to curl it beneath your chin. “Only a few more hours and I promise you won’t remember your own name.”

The rich timbre of his promise had arousal twisting like a knot in your stomach. Gods above how you wanted him. “I don’t think I can wai-,” you began, only to be cut off by Loki’s lips crashing down on yours in a kiss so passionate it almost made you dizzy.

You knew it was a promise of what was to come, a promise that he intended to ruin you as soon as night rolled around, but you wanted nothing more than to rip his clothes from his perfect body.

“Ten o’clock,” he’d murmured against your lips. “Be waiting in our room at ten o’clock.” He’d given you another lingering kiss and left with a wink to disappear behind the conference room doors.

The bedroom is where you’re waiting for him - where you’ve been waiting for him for the past fifteen minutes. You know he’s doing it on purpose - intentionally dragging out the final few minutes just because he can.

It’s infuriating, but you wouldn’t expect anything else from him.

When fifteen minutes melt into twenty you’ve had enough of his games, but you’re barely two steps towards the door when your phone starts to chime with an incoming call.

Loki.

“Where are you?” you whine down the phone, not even bothering to hide your impatience.

You’re expecting to hear his laughter on the other end and his smooth voice teasing you that you couldn’t wait even an extra twenty minutes, but when he speaks, he sounds genuinely contrite. “Darling, I’m sorry, I -”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because, in the background of the call, you swear you recognise the familiar hum of…

“Are you on the Quinjet?” you interrupt him, disbelief mingling quickly with your impatience. God, you want to murder him.

“Yes,” he answers quickly. “Darling, I am truly so sorry. This wasn’t part of the plan, but Stark insisted that I accompany Thor and The Widow on this mission. It won’t last any longer than three days.”

The burning flame of need coils inside you like a serpent prepared to strike. “Three days? Three days, Loki? I’ve already waited an entire week!’ you whine pitifully down the phone.

There’s a beat of silence and you know he’s moving to a quieter section of the jet where he won’t be overheard. “I know, darling, and I’m so proud of you,” he says, his voice an octave lower than before. “But you only need to be good for three more days. Can you do that for me?”

You huff a quiet sigh, knowing it will get you nowhere. “Yes, Loki,” you answer quietly, because, really, there isn’t any other option. He hasn’t given you permission to come, so you won’t.

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Good girl. Three more days and I am yours.”

They’re the longest three days of your life.

Each second of Loki’s absence feels like an eternity, and by the third day, you’re ready to climb the Tower walls with how desperately you need him. Every inch of you thrums for him, every pore burns for him and, night and day, he’s all you can think about.

You fall asleep to dream about his warm lips painting you purple and red.

You eat breakfast while daydreaming about his strong hands encasing your wrists above your head.

You shower to the thought of him easing inside you inch by beautiful inch, until he’s filling you to the brim.

If he doesn’t return soon from whatever godforsaken part of the planet he’s on, you’re going to put yourself in an early grave.

It’s when you’re preparing for bed that you finally hear the familiar heavy tread of his boots along the hallway, and you’re immediately wide awake, any and all need to sleep is quickly replaced by a primal hunger for the god approaching your room. When his footsteps stop at the other side of the door, you feel as though your heart is attempting to break free from your chest with how wildly its thundering, as though it's screaming out for its mate in the chest of your god.

The bedroom door opens slowly, tantalisingly revealing your leather-clad love inch by inch. You don’t miss how his eyes - soft as dew at first - instantly darken with untamed arousal when he sees that you’re awake.

And that you’re wearing that flimsy little gold nightgown he’s threatened to rip off you on more than one occasion.

You don’t break eye contact as he closes the door softly in his wake, but you feel the coil in your stomach twist at the quiet sound of the lock clicking in place and the faint green shimmer that passes over the door. You know without even asking that he’s cast a silencing charm.

Loki’s eyes travel slowly over you, drinking in the sight of your bare legs and pausing only briefly on your cleavage. You catch the quick quirk of his lips when those green eyes finally return to yours, a storm of desire swirling openly in blown wide pupils.

“My, my, dove, what could possibly have you awake so late?” he purrs smoothly, closing the distance between you in slow, measured footsteps that make your heart jolt with each thump on the floor.

You attempt to fix him with a hard stare. “If you even think about playing games with me tonight…” You try to sound firm, unmovable, but you both know that you’ll be his toy if he wants you to.

This man owns you body, mind and soul. There’s close to nothing you won’t do for him if he asks.

His hands find their home on your waist, and open adoration now mixes with the desire swirling in his eyes. “No games, dove, that I promise you. You’ve waited long enough,” he murmurs, letting his hands move to rest on your shoulders, gentle fingers pushing the thin straps of your nightgown down your arms until it pools in a golden puddle at your feet. “My good girl.”

You feel his hands ghost along your sides until they’re encasing your ribcage, fingers splaying across your back in tandem with the silken pads of his thumbs tracing your nipples as he leans in to kiss you. It’s slow and deep and his mouth moves almost lazily against yours, as though all that matters is tasting you. His touch is the diesel to your desire and sends flaming tendrils of longing flicking through you unforgivably. You want this man, you need him, and the feel of his skin on yours isn’t nearly enough.

Loki bites your bottom lip, pulling a strangled whimper from you while you lock your arms around his neck to pull him closer, deeper. Eager hands twist into his hair, savouring the feel of each silky strand that wraps around your fingers and tugging in just the way you know he likes.

You’re rewarded with a gutteral groan against your lips and a rough squeeze of your ass.

Strong arms stay locked around you as he walks you backwards to the bed, only stopping once your knees hit the mattress and you topple backward into the pillows with a quiet “mmph.” Even then, your own arms stay locked around him to bring him with you as you fall, because you don’t want to lose the feel of him for even a second.

And a second is all it takes for him to settle between your spread legs like a missing jigsaw piece, never once letting his lips leave yours.

You’re drowning in the feel of him beneath your fingertips, the taste of him on your tongue, the smell of him as he battles to be closer, and you don’t care if you never surface again. He’s as familiar to you as the beat of your own heart and the sound of your own breathing, he’s the anchor that stops you from drifting out to sea on your worst days and, gods above, you love him so much that sometimes it hurts.

“Love you,” you say when he finally breaks your kiss. “I love you.”

Even in the half light of the room, you swear you see the faintest trace of pink stain his cheeks. He hums appreciatively, a soft smile pulling on his lips. “I love you, my good girl,” he replies, and that smile twists into a smirk. “You have been good for me, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Your voice is shrill, almost a yell, but you’re so wildly desperate that you no longer care. “Loki, I’ve been so good! I didn’t even touch while you were away!”

He quirks a perfect eyebrow at you, mischief sparkling in his emerald eyes. “Is that so?”

His fingers trace along your inner thigh until they reach your cunt and it clenches in anticipation, but Loki grants you only the lightest touch, intentionally avoiding your clit until you’re bucking your hips beneath him in search of more.

“You’re soaking, dove,” Loki says, feigning surprise.

The smart reply that’s dancing on your tongue dies instantly when he pulls his hand away to slip two fingers between his lips, licking your arousal off them with a satisfied hum like it’s the finest ambrosia.

The sight is so lewd, so wonderfully, deliciously wicked that you’re certain you could climax by sheer will alone, such is the effect that this man has on you.

You roll your hips firmly against his - it’s an invitation and a plea in one small movement, and it’s enough for you to feel his hard cock straining through the thick leather he still hasn’t removed.

Again, you roll your hips, feeling suddenly emboldened by the firm evidence of his own arousal. Loki groans softly at the fleeting contact, and it sends a rush of power to your head when his own hips try to follow yours, almost as if acting of their own accord.

His green eyes are almost blown completely black, and your own desire - your own insatiable hunger for the man above you - is reflected back at you clear as crystal.

He needs this just as much as you.

“Imagine how I feel,” you murmur, tugging gently on his curls again for good measure. As expected, you hear the quiet catch of his breath.

Loki leans in until his lips are brushing teasingly against yours, and for a second you forget how to breathe. “My little temptress, as if I could possibly resist you,” he whispers softly, before claiming your lips in a kiss so fierce that your heart skips a beat.

It’s a kiss that sets your blood on fire and one that you feel all the way down to your toes. You need him closer even though you’re skin on skin, and when your hands begin to roam downwards, you discover that he’s finally magicked his leather away in an unseen shimmer of green. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held him like this countless times in the past, your fingers still explore every inch of him like it’s the first time. He’s firm and solid and safe. He’s the most beautiful thing that your hands have ever touched.

He’s yours.

Reluctantly, you pull away, because as wonderful as kissing him is, it’s not enough. You need to feel him inside you, need him to ruin you again and again. You need the reminder that you belong to him.

Maybe more than once just to really drive the message home.

“Loki…Lo..fuck…Loki, please,” you begin to beg just as his lips latch onto your jaw. They’re neither rough nor gentle, but you know you’ll be painted in his marks tomorrow - a patchwork of red and purple that you’ll display with pride.

“Please,” you continue in little more than a whisper, feeling your eyes flutter shut to bask in the warm glow of the attention he’s lavishing on you.

By now, your eager hands have reached his ass and you squeeze it hungrily in a vain attempt to force him forward. His cock is brushing almost maddeningly against your inner thigh and you don’t know how much longer you’ll last without it buried inside you.

Loki nips at your neck with his teeth in reply - something he knows will have you moan, and you do - and you respond in kind by curling your nails into the smooth skin of his ass.

“Shhh, dove. I am yours,” he murmurs quietly into your cheek, placing a final chaste kiss to your flushed skin before grasping your chin gently in one hand, ensuring your eyes stayed locked with his. “I want you to keep those lovely eyes on me.”

You obey easily, leaning into the touch of his large palm cradling your cheek and barely even blinking as he eases himself inside you. It’s slow - so slow that you feel every last beautiful inch of him until he’s filled you to the brim, and he releases a deep, guttural groan from deep in his chest once his hips are flush against yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything but bask in your welcoming warmth while resting his forehead against yours. Your name is a strangled whisper into the night alongside the single, shallow thrust of his hips into you. It’s barely anything, but you still arch into him and dig your nails into the soft skin of his back - a silent plea for more.

“You are Valhalla,” he murmurs, voice raspy as he claims your waiting lips in another lingering kiss.

You hum contentedly against his lips and clench around him just enough that he hisses at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Told you I’d feel good.” You can’t help but tease him, dragging your nails along his spine until he shivers beneath your touch.

His answering smirk is endearingly lopsided. “Little minx,” he responds, lifting one hand to flick your nipple.

It sends a thrill pulsing between your thighs and a moan tumbling unrestrained from your lips. Your hands grip him that little bit tighter, but he’s solid as a rock beneath your fingers, refusing to budge even an inch in spite of his earlier promise.

“Loki, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me…” You let the threat tail off because you can feel every twitch of his cock as it’s buried inside you.

His own resolve is hanging on by a frayed thread.

“I thought you’d never ask, dove,” he teases, and before you can give any witty reply, his hips are finally thrusting into you.

All you’re capable of is groaning and covering his broad back in little half moons as his cock drags exquisitely against you. It’s been so long that every ever forceful thrust engulfs you in flames and when his skilled thumb finds your swollen clit, his name is pulled from you in an unbroken stream.

He builds you up expertly, easily, and he’s all too quickly panting and moaning like a whore right in your ear.

“Look….look at what you do to me, dove!” His voice is ragged, and he’s fucking you so hard now that the headboard is beginning to bounce off the wall. “I am yours,” he repeats, sucking another bruise into your neck until you’re writhing beneath him.

“Fuck…Loki…’m…I’m gonna come!” you manage to force the sentence out, though it sounds like a garbled mess to your ears. You’re right at the edge, teetering deliciously on the precipice of bliss.

He finds your lips for an eager, sloppy kiss. “Good girl. Come for me,” he says hoarsely, and you instantly soar off the edge.

Thirteen days of denied release comes crashing down around you in a devastating wave and sends tiny white stars exploding behind your eyes. Loki’s name is all you're able to say and he’s made you come so hard that you feel boneless beneath him.

You grip him like a vice while you ride out your climax, listening to him groaning and panting endlessly in your ear. It’s what you do to him and it’s a thought so intoxicating that it makes you dizzy. It’s you - only you - that can reduce this god to a desperate mess.

You’ve barely come down from your high when Loki pulls out, flips you easily onto your hands and knees, and plunges back inside you.

“I hope you got enough rest while I was gone, dove,” he rasps out, gripping your hips so hard that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “Because I do believe I owe you three more orgasms.”

Tags: @infinitystoner @muddyorbsblr @coldnique @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @the-lady-amphitrite @joyful-enchantress @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @give-me-a-moose @springdandelixn @maple-seed @loopsisloops @kinky-faerie @mischief2sarawr @wintermischief @icytrickster17 @mischief-dream @littlespaceyelf @ashtheslut @lunarnights95 @ladyofthestayingpower @currish-rosewolfe @fandxmslxt69 @liminalpebble

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

Text

As Long As It’s Not About Love, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Fluff

Word count: 2141

Tw: Brief mentions of injuries/blood, spoilers for all SPN seasons, you get a dog (no excuses). Dean struggles to say ‘I love you’. Some pining, but it’s all resolved. This was written in an hour and you can tell.

Summary: The three times Dean wants to say the L-word, but he can’t. And the one time he does.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“From the first time we touched with our eyes Only magic could take away my heart. I am always afraid for my heart.”

For as long as you’d known Dean, you knew he could never say the L-word. You had known this when you became friends and you had known this when you became a couple. It never seemed to bother you. Friends around you had thrown it around like a casual thing, but Dean seemed to attach more meaning than most to that word. He never outwardly discussed it with you, but you knew it bothered him at times. It never bothered you, though. No matter how long the two of you had been dating, you found peace with his reluctance.

Dean, however, did not. He loved you - he knew he did, which was exactly why it bothered him so much. If his feelings told him one thing, but his mouth couldn’t voice it, where would that leave him?

He had tried to tell you. Many, many times. But there was always something, or someone that would interfere. More often than not, that was his own conscious.

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies, sweet lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The first time he almost said it, had been a sheer moment of fear. Hunting halfgods sometimes appeared to be more challenging than you were originally led to believe. He and Sam had sprung the perfect trap: you and Dean would serve as easy bait as Sam would try to sneak from behind. But plans always worked better in theory.

The god had been aware of your scheme, and had set his very own trap, leaving Sam unconscious on the floor the second he had opened the back door. Neither you nor Dean had enough time to react before you were both on the floor.

When you awoke, all three of you had been tied to a chair, your wrists bound tightly together, almost restricting the blood flow. Dean remembered all too well how he had felt that day. The halfgod had loomed over your figure, taunting and threatening you, almost enjoying the way the Winchesters reacted.

From the back of your chair, you managed to clumsily reach Dean’s hand, clinging to it tightly. When he felt it shake within his own, he would have whispered any words to comfort you, but there hadn’t been much else he could besides show the same stone cold expression, not daring to let the god know he had been pushing all the right buttons.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world? Fall forever and never look behind. But I must keep my heart from my mind.”

It was when you finally returned to the motel after slaying him, that reality began to dawn upon him. You had been frightened that day - mortified. And there was nothing either of you could do besides watching it happen.

When it took you longer than usual to get out of the bathroom, he had entered the room and found you upon the floor, your head in your hands as you silently wept out all the left-over stress. He had sat down on the floor beside you, not saying anything. His arms wrapped around you as he forced you into his hold, his embrace grounding you as you found yourself slowly coming back down to Earth.

The blood on his shirt was a rude interruption to your eyes. Where calmness had finally begun to settle in, you now found yourself reliving it again. Your sobs grew harder again as Dean began to gently shush you, his fingers tracing figures on your back.

Mumbles of desperation escaped you without full context, and - though he had no idea what you were saying - Dean knew you were trying to make everything make sense in your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” He muttered into your hair. “I…” His breath hitched slightly, a dawning feeling settling in his stomach.

He couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as it's not about love.”

The second time was after Dean came back from the post-apocalyptic dimension. You had stayed behind with Rowena, watching over Lucifer. Rowena had insisted she didn’t need the help, but Dean would rather have you safe in the bunker than possibly stuck in a world where angels ran haywire.

When Lucifer had shown up on the other side of the portal, his blood had almost run cold. First, he lost Sam - who eventually came back -, then Lucifer would be terrorising Jack, and to top it all off, the devil loved to boast about how terrified you were of him.

In truth, you had kept yourself standing for quite a while. You had almost gained his respect for it. But you were still a mortal, and you stood no chance against an archangel. Not even a fallen, half-fuelled one. Not when he was pissed.

Rowena had cast him out before he could deal any severe damage, so the words he had spoken to Dean had been nowhere close to the truth. He hadn’t gutted you, tortured you or put your head on a spike. Dean hadn’t truly believed all of his words either, but they chilled him to his core nonetheless. There was no easy way to check up on you; nothing would soothe him but perhaps his own mind. And it caused a terrible distraction to him in the whole escaping plan.

“Oh, the last time we touched with our eyes And the magic was stronger than the heart. Oh, I can't run away with my heart.”

When Dean finally resurfaced, he was met with your bloodied face, a hasty plaster just beneath your left eye. Confusion was evident on your face, but he dismissed it. The people behind him could be introduced later.

His bag immediately fell to the floor, a heavy sigh escaping him as he walked towards you in three long strides. His arms wrapped around you tightly, squeezing your back as his head fell in the crook of your neck.

“You’re safe,” He uttered, swallowing down the urge to let out a choked cry. “You’re alright.” His hands rose to your cheeks as you parted, his eyes staring into yours with relief. A comforting kiss was placed upon your lips as he revelled in the feeling of your warm hands covering his. You were alive - you were well.

“I…” Again, that dreadful feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. Your eyes showed empathy; you knew. He didn’t have to say it. He wanted to. He just couldn’t.

“I missed you so much.”

“So lay beside me now and tell me lies. As long as they're not about love.”

The third time was during Chuck’s impending doom situation. Worlds had already been destroyed, and you knew it was just a waiting game now until yours would be next. You had lived through apocalypses, dimensions and times, but impending doom had been your worst experience thus far. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Sam and Dean were adamant and stubborn, always ready to fight, but even now they began to see that perhaps, this truly had been the end.

“So, what’s next?” Sam sighed, multiple papers strewn on the table in front of him. You and Dean sat on the other side of him, a bored expression on both of your faces. “I hate to be the one to say this,” You sighed. “But I think acceptance is really all there is now.”

You felt Dean’s eyes turn to you. “Really?” “Yes, really, Dean.” You clarified. “We’re fighting God. We can’t win that one.” “We can’t just give up.” “Then, what do you suggest we do?” You shouted, all pent up frustration suddenly tumbling out. “Bring him a gift basket with a note ‘please, don’t kill us’? Maybe he’ll show some sympathy!” You rose from your seat, the chair falling on the floor behind you with your movement. “We’re going to die! The sooner we accept that, the better! Makes it a lot easier.” Though the last part was mumbled, you were sure the guys heard it too. You didn’t want them to respond to it. You turned around, heading out the library towards your room.

“Sweetheart, come on!” Dean called after you, also rising from his seat, but you had already disappeared. Sam cast him an apologetic glance. “Ah, save it.” His brother groaned, taking off after you.

“Shall we sail off the edge of the world Fall forever.”

A soft knock was heard on the door before the knob slowly turned. “Sweetheart?” “Leave it, Dean.” You groaned, curled up on the bed, which you had almost forgotten you shared. “No,” He answered, before the door closed. A moment of silence fell over the room before the bed slightly dipped behind you. A hand gently made its way to your shoulder, placing comfort there.

“How do you find any solace in all of this?” You muttered, hugging a pillow closer to you. “I don’t.” He answered honestly. “But we can’t afford to stop fighting. If I did, I would have been dead ten years ago.” “You were dead ten years ago.” You countered. A chuckle escaped him at your remark. You turned your head at the sound, showing him a faint smile.

“We’ll keep fighting,” He returned, his voice equally hushed. “Until we fall down. We don’t stop fighting until we stop breathing.” His hand lowered over your arm, finding your hand instead. As his fingers intertwined with yours, he gave you a pleading look: “Please, don’t stop fighting. If we can get five more days, I’d like to spend them with you.”

You let out a low scoff at that. Not in annoyance, but in agreement. You brought your hands up to your mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of Dean’s hand. “I love you, Dean.” You whispered against it, your eyes looking up to look into his. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“Take my heart away but, no You can't say words about love.”

When he finally managed to say it, he didn’t even think of it. Where he had once tried to find proper words for every situation, he had now come to accept things as they were.

When Jack had brought everything back, you and Dean decided to take off on your own. Sam wanted to leave the hunting life behind, and after everything the three of you had been through, you completely understood him. And to your surprise, so had Dean. Both of you had settled into a typical white fence house, the occasional demon traps hidden under doormats and salt lining every window. But besides that, you seemed to have found somewhat of a normal life.

Much to Dean’s demand, you had gotten a dog, caring for it as if it had been a child. Walks were always shared together, a great way for both of you to get some exercise without having to hunt everything that hadn’t seemed relatively normal.

“If the magic comes between us And we never meet again. Take a part of me away.”

And that was exactly how he had found himself in that situation. On a bench in a dog park, sitting directly next to you, your head on his shoulder. He never thought he’d find himself enjoying a simple life, but there he sat, watching his dog run with the others while both of you sat in blissful peace.

“I was thinking of going to that new steakhouse downtown tonight.” You mumbled, a faint smile on your face as you felt Dean’s shoulders shift slightly with his laughter. “Bought some pie for when we get home afterwards.”

“That sounds amazing,” He groaned. “Good,” You laughed, looking up at him. “Because I already made the reservation.” A fond smile crossed his face as he leaned his head against yours.

“God, I love you.”

Your body tensed simultaneously with his as his words were spoken. Lifting your head, you gave him a surprised look, unable to suppress the grin growing on your face. Dean copied your look, a low chuckle escaping him as he processed his words.

“I do,” He reassured. “I love you.” You laughed at that, your hands falling around his shoulders as you brought him in for a hug. “I love you.” He repeated between kisses placed on your collarbones. Then, he kept you at arms distance, unable to deny a second laugh. A firm kiss was placed upon your lips - one you gleefully returned. “I love you.” He spoke again, placing a second kiss on your forehead.

“God, I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

“'Cause maybe it's all about love, love.”

#november writings 2023 #spn #supernatural #dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Jensen ackles

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Note

i love your sapsorrow series — even more when i read that Shanks snippet where he thought he was safe OH GOD AHAHAHA please!!!

Ah, you see. They all think they're safe from the clutches of the foul curse of Sapsorrow. Their knees shall bend, their backs shall break and their hearts will perish before her mighty claim - should they ever fail in their task to woo their intended.

(Image Source)

Sands of Time

Themes: Sir Crocodile x f!reader, reluctant bride, enemies to lovers, kidnapping trope, rake!crocodile x royal!reader, forced proximity, longing from afar, injured x caretaker, time limit to love, haunting spectre, Sapsorrow fairytale au, suggestive themes, forced/arranged marriage.

Mihawk Sapsorrow masterlist here, Shanks Sapsorrow here, Masterlist here

Sir Crocodile's intentions below the cut.

“What is this? A fitting gift for an apprehensive bride. I shall gift this to my intended before we wed on the morrow. Perhaps it will be near enough for her to open her legs and share her bed tonight.”

Hunched over the writing desk, half-moon glasses drawn down the bridge of his nose, sat the hulking sir crocodile. He shook his head, unsure of what commotion was going on behind the door of his darkened office. A wedding? Unlikely.

Managing inventory, arranging wage statements and smirking at his half-composed letter to the lord of Kuraigana regarding his collection of debt; his ears pricked at a whisper of motion within the room.

“It has been found, reptile,” the echoing voice sinisterly whispered. A rumbled roar began erupting within the chasms of his chest as he released fragments of sand out to grasp the ghostly form of the witch to encase her spirit in a layer of dust.

“I was rid of you, witch. You have no claim over me nor my soul,” he growled, prompting the spectre to unleash a wave of echoed maniacal laughter. Her voice was haunting, her tone was low and deliberate as she taunted further.

“I was lost to you, but now found and will be placed on the finger of a bride within the hour,” she taunted, slowly raking her undead soul towards him. Strands of her hair began moving as if beneath the crashing waves of water, her sinister smile and unblinking eyes bore into the hulking man in front of her.

“What conditions have been laid to have you curse me, witch?” he asked, sitting back in his chair and removing his glasses, “I had your band stolen from me by the Don of Dressrosa, thus casting your curse onto him, not me.” He chipped the end of a thick cigar, drew it to his lips and ignited the tip with the flick of his flint.

“To answer first: she has laid no such conditions as yet,” the spirit confessed as nonchalant as a spirit could ever be, “And to answer second,” her spectral essence passed through the desk and stood still, towering over the form of the crocodile, “My curse cannot be given twice to the same individual.”

Sir Crocodile held his breath. His usually bored and slackened jaw was now clenched firm atop his cigar.

“What must I do, witch?” He spat, staring up into the cement eyes of the ghost of Sapsorrow as she smeared her sharpened canines down at him. As Sapsorrow began to bare another thought down onto the crocodilian man in front of her, an echoed voice rang throughout the room.

“I am not cattle to be bought with such an item, nor am I simply a broodmare to bear your spawn within my belly. You think this enough for me to share my bed on the eve of our wedding? I would never.”

Sir Crocodile bore his eyes into the ever rising smirk of the Sapsorrow Queen in front of him, listening to the echoing words ricocheting from the chasms of his mind and reverberating in his soul.

“If you desire me to be your bride, you will have me love you with all that I am. You will earn my affection, you will slave for my adoration - but my love will be only passed onto you when I truly think you love me completely in return.”

The malicious laughter echoed throughout the room, the sands currently revealing the Sapsorrow spectre falling atop the desk, littering the papers and ornaments scattered below.

“Make haste, Sir Crocodile,” she taunted him once more, “She is set to marry him on the morrow. That should put a damper on things, do you not you agree?”

Sir Crocodile began to shake, his shoulders stumbling below his aggression. He violently thrust his forearms down atop the desk, his balled fist of his remaining hand indenting beneath his powerful thrust, the tip of his golden hook sunk into the mahogany and encaptured it within his circlet.

“H-How,” he began, his voice staggering as his mind caught up with the conditions laying claim to his soul, “How could someone measure that? How could someone ever dream of proving that level of blind devotion?”

“Therein lies the rub, reptile,” Sapsorrow’s echo felt further from him now, flittering up towards the ceiling akin to the smoke from his sour cigars, “You may never truly earn it, and I may yet collect the debt of your soul.”

“You have a year,” her voice began to crack as it faded up further, “Until the sands of time pass the last grain to conclude its final hour, your form shall crack like glass and your soul will belong to me.”

-----------

Notes: I will be working on Shanks, Buggy and Sir Crocodile spinoffs once the Sapsorrow Au fic is concluded for Mihawk. If there is a gentleman you would like to see flung into this particular fairytale curse, let me know and I will aim to create it! I only have 10 rings to work with!

There are other fairytale au's in the making, if you enjoy an interpretation with your beloved characters:

@gingernut1314 is doing "The Luck Child" for Buggy

@writingmysanity is doing a "Hans My Hedgehog" interpretation for Corazon.

@sordidmusings is doing a "Three Ravens" interpretation for Sanji.

@cinnbar-bun has many a thought about the Crocodile, and I am looking forward to see what she comes up with.

Allow me to take the opportunity to thank @since-im-already-here, the "smol snail, fanatic in the making," for making me do this one. I love writing for it, and it's amazing to see how many there are of you that enjoys being whisked away with my words.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine @feral-artistry @i-am-vita

#one piece #x reader #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile fairytale au #sir crocodile sapsorrow spinoff #op sir crocodile #op sir crocodile x reader #op crocodile

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batarella · 2 days

Text

Bruce's Bathtime - Batfamily Sitcom

Bruce's mistake was thinking he could have a peaceful night in the bath on his day off when his manor is full of kids who share one brain.

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I LOVE YOU AND IM SORRY I DISAPPEARED BUT I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SWEET FOR YOU TO ENJOY. THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY "BATH" BY SAM AND MICKEY ON YOUTUBE.

WORDS: 1.7K

WARNINGS: NONE. IT'S WHOLESOME AND SWEET.

MASTERLIST

——-

Crime rates were always at an all-time low in time for the Superbowl.

Which meant Batman gets a day off. Duke was the only one on patrol that night. Alfred spent half an hour convincing him not to spend the night at the cave.

“Master Bruce, the bath has been drawn and I’ve taken the liberty of using the expensive lavender bath salts so you would not like to waste it.”

“You’re right, Alfred. I’m a billionaire and I find the fifty-dollar lavender salts a waste to not use.”

“Just get in the bath, Master Wayne. Just thirty minutes of quiet shall do you good. I’ve set an alarm.”

Since when did Bruce start working for him?

He did as told anyway. Bruce closed the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes to get in the tub. There were so many callouses in his body, he barely felt just how burning the temperature was.

It was just a minute in there when the first knock woke him from drifting off.

“Bruce?”

What the hell is Dick doing out of Bludhaven? “What?”

“Is the music room haunted?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I heard something inside.”

“Instruments tend to do that.”

“I did a headcount of everyone in the manor and everyone is accounted for except Duke who you sent out for patrol so I doubt it’s anyone but a ghost,” Dick said.

“Get out.”

“But I’m not even inside the bathroom.”

“Go away.”

“What if it’s not a ghost? What if it’s a spy?”

“The manor has more advanced security systems than the Pentagon, Dick.”

“That’s not a good point of comparison.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let the steam slow his rising blood pleasure.

“Just check the room. Could have been the wind.”

“I’m too scared.”

This man was almost thirty and was still giving Bruce the same amount of aneurysms as when he was eight.

“Ask Alfred to check for you.”

“Okay.”

He heard fading footsteps and let them lull him into sleep. He set his large arms onto the sides of the tub, sinking his mouth under the water.

“Father,” a voice said from out the door followed by three soft knocks by a small hand.

“What, Damian?”

“I need you to sign this letter from the school headmaster.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He doubted that.

“It’s for a parent-teacher conference.”

Bruce let the silence answer for him until Damian gave in.

“Someone attacked me in class.”

“Damian-“

“Okay, I threw the first punch but he taunted me first about how I was small for my age but I said that I’m of perfect size for my age and that I’m simply too smart to be crowded into elementary school children when my intellect belongs to that of a senior and then he asked what I was doing here and not in 5th grade and I said what was he doing here and not in 5th grade and he spat at me and now his nose is broken and they want you to cover the medical bills.”

Christ.

“Maybe you don’t have to pay it. You can call them yourself. You’re Bruce Wayne. You can get away with anything.”

“I can, but you’re not Bruce Wayne, so you have to deal with it.”

“Can you just sign this, Father?”

“Fine.”

Damian walked in, fanning the steam off his face and covering his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his own father naked, then handed him the letter to sign it.

“Make sure your handwriting is the same as when I forged it.”

His eyes could not have rolled further back into his skull.

The boy walked out, just two seconds before the next set of voices made him wish the gunman shot him in the head four decades ago and not just his parents.

“Bruce, could you tell Jason he’s not the only one who died and come back to life and that his robin costume doesn’t deserve to have to top display in the Batcave anymore especially since he’s here?” Tim said.

Jason’s voice was even more obnoxious. “I died first, asshole and no one else would have died if it weren’t for me so clearly, you should thank me. And my rebranding was better. You’re still technically a robin since, you know, it’s the other half of your name, so you don’t deserve to be memorialized.”

“You don’t deserve to be memorialized at all when you’re alive and not a memory. You’re not even the first robin.”

“You’re not the first anything.”

“I’m the first at a lot of things.”

“Replacement.”

“Glorified zombie.”

Bruce grabbed the cucumbers Alfred had laid out on the table next to him just so his eyes wouldn’t burst out in blood at how much he wanted to scream.

“Ask Alfred what to do,” Bruce said.

“Alfred is with Dick in the music room to look for ghosts. We need an answer now.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

“Tim threw my robin costume piled up with all their robin costumes when clearly, it should be in the display case,” Jason said. “And Tim wants to move my motorbike out of the cave.”

“You have so many motorbikes, would it hurt you to move just one?”

“No.”

“Bruce!”

Bruce counted to ten. “No.”

“No to what?”

“Everything.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying no to.”

“I could not care any less.”

“Can we please come in?”

“No, I’m naked.”

“We’ve seen you naked.”

“Not on purpose.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. Fine. We’ll get glass cases for both of you and we’ll pretend it’s a shrine as if you’re still dead. Happy?”

“Not from dying but sure,” said Tim.

“What about the motorbikes?”

“Put it outside,” said Bruce.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“Do whatever. Throw out the T-Rex in the cave for all I care.”

“Also, I need access to the batcomputers,” Jason said.

“For what?”

“Everyone else has access except me.”

“That’s for a reason, Jason.”

“Pretty please.”

“Get out.”

It took another five minutes of the two yapping at the other side of the door before it finally quieted down.

Then his phone started ringing. Duke.

That was when his blood pressure really started to spike.

“Duke? Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” he said to the phone.

“Me?” said Duke. “Oh yeah everything’s great! Not much crime when everyone’s watching the halftime show.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“Can I use the batmobile?”

Fuck a duck. “For what?”

“The streets are empty and you said I could drive it when there isn’t traffic.”

He hung up and threw the phone into the water before Duke could say anything else.

He had five minutes of quiet this time. Then Steph was at the door. “Bruce!”

An aneurysm. One of these days, he might actually have one.

“What now?”

“Can I change rooms?”

“Why?”

“Dick said there’s a ghost in the music room and my room is like five feet away and I don’t think I can sleep there anymore.”

“You slept there last night and everything is fine.”

“Ghosts can be quiet, Bruce, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. And you’ve made a lot of enemies, so I won’t be surprised if anyone’s settled in to haunt you.”

You’d think he wasn’t in a house full of vigilantes who fight the city’s most dangerous criminals.

“I haven’t killed anyone, Stephanie. I keep all my enemies alive.”

“What if it’s not your enemy? They don’t have to hate you to haunt you. Can I please just change rooms?”

“Move wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Can I move to the bedroom at the west wing?”

“That’s mine,” Bruce said.

“You have a bedroom? I thought you never slept.”

“Fine. Take it. Just get out.”

“Really?” Steph squealed. “The master bedroom. Sweet!”

It took less than five seconds before the next reason for his headache started pounding at the door.

“Bruce! Jason is trying to hack into the batcomputer!”

“I did not!”

“He did!”

“The World’s Greatest Detective is just mad I guessed his password on the second try.”

Bruce sank into the water, drowning their yapping until it had blurred out. He held his breath for seven minutes straight. He could die. That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just when it was finally quiet, again, Bruce rose up and found Damian sitting on the toilet.

He continued to look unbothered even when he looked at Bruce straight in the eye.

“Do you mind?”

“I’d like to use this toilet.”

“There’s fifteen bathrooms in the manor, Damian.”

“I like this one.”

“I understand I have not spent as much time with you, but this is not what your tutors mean by father-son bonding.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t mean to bond with you. I just like this toilet.”

“Fine. Please. Take your time.”

He did take his time. Damian sat there for a whole five minutes and pulled out a book.

“I wasn’t being serious. Get out of here.”

“Relax, father. It’s your day off.”

Bruce eyelids fluttered closed and he refused to open them until his son left the bathroom.

The next knock made a blood vessel pop. “Bruce. It’s me Barb. So sorry to bother you but I found another group of conspiracy theorists on the TikTok who made a list of billionaires who have never been seen in the same room as Batman and you’re the front liner of that list. I know you told me to never engage with these things but it’s at fifty million views right now and they’re making edits of you as Batman.”

“Make more bot accounts and pin it on Elon.”

“On it,” said Barbara. “So sorry to have disturbed you!”

He’s going to have a talk with Alfred to block off the whole floor the next time he draws these baths.

“Bruce?” It was Cass. “I hope it’s alright if I take Steph’s room. I took the liberty of putting a speaker in the music room so Dick would tell everyone there was a ghost in the manor and Steph would move out.”

The alarm went off. His thirty minutes were up.

One of these days, Bruce might finally break his no-kill rule, and it won’t be for the Joker.

---

A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES AND I HOPE THIS WON'T BE THE LAST

TAGLIST

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#BATMAN #bruce wayne #batfamily #wayne family #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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