Oh my!! I just read your lee know req and god please spare me my knees are weak. Can i request a lee know dilf? I’m sure its perfect!! 💗 btw i love you take lots of rest! Mwah!
𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞
Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader
Summary: Dating a single dad who coincidentally happens to be your next-door neighbor does not come without its fair share of hardships (and fun)
Warnings: Language, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Single Dad AU, Secret Relationship, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), implied age gap, Brat!TamerMinho, Bratty!Reader, Oral, Dacryphilia, Needy!Minho, Slight DDLG, Dom/Sub undertones
Seriously so domestic, you have been warned <3
Dating had always been difficult, and up until very recently, you had been perfectly content as an unwilling participant of crush culture. Seldom men have grappled your attention, and the ones that do are often doomed to give you the ick. Every man was either too loud and obnoxious or too nonchalant and non-empathetic. You had given up on dating altogether until fate sunk its talons into your love life.
What're you wearing?
The message came at the dead of night while you lay supine on your couch. Minho rarely sent text messages, preferring to call or email like the archaic man he was. It sent you crazy with admiration.
Wouldn't you like to know?
You grinned as you sent the message back, chewing anxiously at the ends of your sleeves like you were a child awaiting their scolding.
Yes I would. That's why I asked.
Almost immediately, you could tell Minho was needy. He was naturally very blatant and authoritarian, but he became even more so when he found himself slipping into arousal. You could picture him through the screen, and the mental image had your stomach warming with delight: his hair shaggy from his hands running through it all day. His dress shirt, unbuttoned. And perhaps maybe he was reclined backwards on his big leather couch. Nursing is phone in one hand a whiskey tumbler in the other.
What are you wearing.
Comes Minho's message a second time. This time, the tone felt far more demanding despite being the exact same words. You immediately knew that if you would not comply quickly, you might be in for a punishment. Oh how you adored punishments.
Wrong punctuation. It's 'what are you wearing?' No full stop. And you have an adult job? Smh...
You're so undeniably tense that you fear your jaw might crack from the pressure that it's clenched and you hold your phone close to your screen. For 60 agonizing seconds there is not response and you can definitely picture the look on Minho's face with his tongue poking tje inside of his cheek while he shook his head and murmered a quiet and appalled "진싸" to himself.
Come over. His next text reads. The kid's asleep. Come over.
You dreaded taking the very short walk to your next door neighbor and boyfriend's apartment and yet, the opportunity to piss Minho off even more is just too difficult to pass up. A slow smile grace's over your face as you send back an 'aye aye captain' before slipping on your slippers to make the short journey to his apartment.
Before your fist even hits the surface of the wood, the front door is ripped open and Minho's pulling you inside. "You've been holding out on me?" He grumbles, before forcing kisses down the side of your neck. "Why?"
In a flurry of trying to kick your shoes off at the front door as Minho leads you both to the couch. You try to control Minho's frantic groping at your sides and try to ignore his bulge pressing against your thigh. When pulling you onto his lap, you're not quite sure what to make of your thoughts and emotions.
All you feel is a sharp pinch on the skin underneath your woolen sweater and you yelp, "What the hell-"
"Answer me?" He says, glaring at up you with an aura of seriousness. Your legs ached as you straddled Minho's lap, and conversation seems impossible. "I wanna know why you suddenly think it's okay to start being a fucking bra-
"You brought it!? I can't believe you actually brought it-"
A small, excited gasp cuts through what was to be the most embarrassing scolding of your life.
Like the breaking of an ancient spell; you and Minho push back from each other on the couch, you detangle your limbs and you keep a distance. You're almost grateful for the little boy padding into the living room, tiredly rubbing his eyes.
Minho watches his son run towards you on the couch with furrowed eyebrows. Nothing but confusion swims across his darkened irises, and you shrug slightly before uncovering the thing that has apparently been in your hands this whole time. Minho had been so clouded by his own lust that he barely saw the children's book you had clasped in your hands. He watches how you and his son exchange pleasantries like long-lost friends. The both of you practically beaming.
He is only able to intervene on your very important conversation when he notices you handing his son the book.
"Woah- hey, what's going on?" Minho's hand instinctively goes to the back of his son's head as he looks down at you curiously, "What's this?" Minho asks.
"The reason I'm here," you make awkward little jazz hands which Minho's son finds very amusing before you clear your throat. You give Minho an inconspicuous wink.
"Your son... he-"
"I just can't stand how you read bedtime stories to me, Dad."
Minho swings his head downards, his eyes wide.
"You said you liked how I read-"
"No, Dad," theres a roll of his 4 year old eyes and you smile, "You like how you read. Its not very fun for me-"
And that's how you spent a majority of the evening reading a bedtime story for a sleepy little boy until he finally slipped away. You didn't mind it. The story was buying you some time from what you knew was a very aggravated Minho, and all you could do was chuckle to yourself as you read.
This was all so incredibly short-lived because the kid eventually did fall asleep, and you could feel your insides twist as you closed his bedroom door, making your way back to the living room. Every step you took felt like you were skinking deeper and deeper into the earth, and you swallowed very thickly when you rounded the corner to find Minho staring idly at the wall. He was slouched slightly on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned even further.
As you rounded the couch, you spied an empty whiskey tumbler on the coffee table. You shiver.
"Had fun, then?" Minhos hisses almost petulantly.
You roll your eyes as you lower yourself onto the couch beside him.
"If only you weren't such an incompetent bedtime reader then I wouldn't-"
But his hand was already squeezing at the base if yojr throat and you gasp, raising and lowering your body as your lips parted in what was very clearly excitement.
"You and this fucking mouth-"
"A-Are you going to punish me?" Minho regards you for a split second underneath the shadow of his lashes before he breaks out into a chuckle. You tilt your head in confusion, which is only tripled when his hand goes from your throat to the top of your head. "Good girls aren't supposed to like their punishments, are they?"
He knew what diction to use to have you slipping into subspace, and all you're able to do is nod as you shift closer to him. You lick your lips, so completely rattled with tension of all the endless possibilities. Would he spank you? No, perhaps that would cause far too much noise... would he edge you-
"Only slutsnlook forward to their punishments, you know that?" Your nipples tighten against the fabric of your sweater and you nearly moan again. Minho's hand on your head is so heavy, so unmistakably manly it has you spiraling.
"And punishments are no fun if you enjoy them." The hand on your head gets heavier and heavier.
"Minho-"
"Knees." It's all he says before you're toppling to the ground at his feet. Your heart is pounding out of the confines of your very chest, and you lick your lips suddenly feeling so incredibly dehydrated as Minho drags you to his knees. He sits back, letting his head rest on the back of the couch as he says, "You know what to do, don't you?"
The weight of your punishment suddenly hits you tenfold as you bring your shaky hands to undo Minho's belt. It wasn't a 'punishment' at all. Not in the way you wanted.
Instead, Minho was quite content letting you pull out his cock and service him. Making you wait as long as he was forced to.
Minho's jaw clenches when you pull his cock out of his briefs and the sound has your bottom lip trembling.
"P-Please, Minho,"
"Shut up," he mumbles into the air with his head still thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.
Consequently, you nod into the open air as you spit into your hand and begin to pump his hard length with every bit of precision. You can feel your clit beg for some kind of friction to the point that your need becomes painful.
"You're too slow," he whispers, clenching his eyes shut in frustration, "Too fucking slow." You speed up the pace, watching his lips fall open and feeling utterly intoxicated by all the pretty sounds Minho makes for him all from the both of your hands wrapped around his cock.
"F-Fuck-" You twist your wrist, suddenly spurred on by his reaction.
"I don’t want your hands," Minho huffs, "I want your mouth" and you bend your head dutifully before closing your warm mouth around the head of his cock. Minho's head immediately snaps up from the couch, and he is completely and utterly wrecked. He digs his fingers into your hair, forcing you down onto his cock, "Make a mess. You know I like it when you make a mess, Dove," You're practically whining around his cock and he hisses.
Trails of spit and precum drip out of your mouth along with nasty tears that run down your face, reddening your eyes. Minho's cock twitches in your mouth at the very sight of you. "Look at you," he whispers, "Fucking look at what a mess you are for me," You're nodding frantically, his large cock hitting the back of your throat now-
"I'm gonna fucking cum in that pretty mouth of yours and yojre gonna take it, aren't you, baby?" He frantically moves your braids out of face, all the more the see your completely fucked out expression despite not even receiving any stimulation. It has him lifting his hips to rut into your mouth and just as you choke, Minho's voice cracks, "Shut a good girl," he praises as he looses control, "Shut as good fucking- FUCK-" His cum fills the back of your throat at an alarming rage and yourenforced to clench your toes and swallow, there was no other option. He pats down your head lovingly as his hips snap up against you and you whimperbsnd moan around his cock, only prolonging his orgasm
"God, you're so good to me, baby," he whispers, coming down from his high but not without any aftershocks, "You're so fucking good to me,"
<3
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König mistakenly shoots you on the battlefield
König x Gender-neutral Reader
Word count: ~4500
*SLOW burn but when my writing finally has that spark this fic catches FIRE and FAST so be prepared!! 🔥🔥
*⚠️Angst Angst! ANGST!⚠️
*THABK YOU SO SO SO MUCH TO AZZY MY NO.1 FAN FOR THIS AMAZING IDEA!!!! 🥰🥰🥰I LOVE *YOU* VERY MUCH!! 🥹🫶🫶💞💞💞💞 💞💞💞💞💞THANK UVFOR ALWAUS LIKING MYNPOSTS AND BEING SO KIND TO ME YOU MAKE EBERY HOIR SPENT WRITING WORTH IT AS I AM ALWAYS EAGER FOR YOUR MESSAGES😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓I AM *YOUR* NO.1 APPRECIATOR IN ALL RHE GALAXIES🌌🚀✨🌠QNDVWISH U ALL THE BEST ALWAYS!!!!!!🫂🫂💗💗 THIS ENTJRE POST IS DEDICATED TO YOU !!! 🥹(,,havinf said that, i hope u arent TOO taken aback bu tje level of angst here 💀💀REALLT went overboard and I completely apologize 💔)
TWs: König is in love with you. König's sanity slowly deteriorates as the fanfiction progresses. Mentions of attempted suicide, graphic depictions of gore, potentially triggering depictions of depression. König has suicidal thoughts after shooting you. König experiences intense trauma after shooting you and has survivor's guilt.
*Reader's callsign is "King". Implied age gap. One-sided pining from König... but the ending is purposefully kept ambigous (as you, the reader, can interpret the final interaction however you like)! Can be read as a standalone if you have never read any of my works before. <3
*To clarify to those that have already read my works before, this is *NOT* a direct continuation to 1.my fluffy 2.series! This is a separate imagine, but DOES take place in the same KönigxKing microchosm. Whether the following events take place in an alternate timeline or happen at some point in the future/past is for you to decide. Idk man i just write the fics I don't do the world buidling 🗿I write sotires without thingign about the greater picture u honestly think my one shots will tie to a greater plot?☹️No 💔
...
Right from the beginning, König had a gut feeling that this mission was going to go wrong.
It was a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, making him feel queasy on the helicopter ride as the both of you with an additional three others were scheduled for contact in a few minutes' time.
You were just a recruit, and this mission was far too intense for someone with next to no experience in an active warzone for it to be their first. He knew the dangers of missions like this, knew how things could go horribly wrong in an instant.
It wasn't that he doubted your ability. Not at all. From the corner of the room he would silently supervise as you sparred another person, monitoring your movements incase your opponent had the upperhand and you needed guidance.
However, he had never needed to intervene, as he was impressed with your quick reactions and your controlled steps as you'd move on the balls of your feet, arms held up in front of your face. Ambition was in your eyes, your face scrunched up in concentration as you calculated your next move.
You'd defend yourself up until the moment you'd pounce and in a blink of an eye be on top of your opponent, your entire weight pressed on their theirs on the ground. Whether it was another woman, another man, or even a person with bigger bulk you were clearly disadvantaged by, you'd never give up, and took on any challenge with an impressionable passion of a young recruit.
Once they'd be the one to tap out, you'd immediately push yourself off them and offer them a hand, asking them "Are you alright?" in a concerned tone as you were pulling them up. "Sorry for getting aggressive there, sir/miss! I hope I didn't hurt you!"
To which they'd respond with boisterous laughter and a strong clap on your back, you doubled over as they were congratulating you for knocking them off their two feet and telling you to keep up the good work. König couldn't wipe the triumphant smile from his face, filled with pride at your personal victory.
Once you'd be the one to tap out, you'd part ways honourably, never disrespecting the person that came out on top. If anything, your loss only added fuel to the fire burning in your eyes, driven to work harder. He still admired you, and would be the one to pull you up as he dusted you off, telling you that you did a great job regardless.
"Thank you, sir!" You'd reply bashfully, face red from effort and embarassment. "Though, I'm sure I made a fool of myself with how I was flailing my arms just then..."
"Nein. Not at all," he'd say, eyes glinting with something that you couldn't quite recognize. "You did very well."
Target practice displayed your accurate aim, wool seeping out from the heads of dummies and the targets regularly replaced as the wood would cling in pieces, the center blasted into smithereens by repeated bullseyes from you.
Always lingering nearby to assist, you would gratefully accept König's help and allow him to demonstrate how to operate another gun with an appreciative smile on your face, your genuine eagerness to learn making König's chest tighten. You seemingly never knew the effect you had on him.
You were a naturally skilled soldier, he had observed, and he knew that you'd make an incredible addition to the team, he couldn't deny that.
Yet, he couldn't shake off this feeling as something more grave.
All personel debriefed and the plan disclosed a week prior, the superior went over the plan once more back at base. A large blueprint spilling over the table with weak spots and areas to beware were annotated, his forefinger pointing at different areas of interest. Sketches, photographs, and jottings were displayed from a projector for all to see as you listened closely.
König's jaws were grinding against each other in agitation, having doubts about you being deployed on this mission.
Despite this operation being portayed as an in and out extraction, König knew better. He knew what the stakes were. Intuition urged him to warn you, to confide in you about his doubts and even considered crossing your name off the list and assigning you elsewhere last minute without anyone knowing.
But the thought that he could be controlling you — a young, innocent recruit — and even considered doing something so foul didn't sit right with him.
You were your own person, and he couldn't be your shadow, couldn't act as a human shield against all that was cruel and gruesome in life. You had chosen this job, and therefore must have had at least some idea of what your responsibilities would entail, some knowledge of what soldiers go through in pursuit of glory.
Instead of being so pertubed, he should keep it together, he thought, should maintain a stoic façade. He was your superior — your colonel, for God's sake — he was someone you aspired to be, someone that should be an inspiration, a role model, someone that could have your back and be a reliable body to fall back on.
Not someone that couldn't keep it together when you around.
Especially when he shouldn't have been having feelings for you.
You, a young person vulnerable and easily influenced by people older than you, by the likes of him.
It wasn't right. He wasn't right for what he was feeling, for what he had been thinking. It wasn't right for his feelings to cloud his judgement, wasn't right that abusing his power had even crossed his mind, let alone been tempted to act upon it.
Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. "König? Are you alright, sir?"
Turning his head to face you, he nodded with false certainty, containing his worry in an attempt to appear confident for you.
"Ja, King, it's okay. Just thinking, that's all."
You quirked a brow, not convinced. "Hey."
Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, a serious expression was on your face, which caught König off guard and made his eyes widen. "If you're thinking that I'm going to get myself killed then you've got another thing coming, because I will NOT get shot by the enemy."
His back slumped over a little, averting his gaze for a moment. "Nein, sie haben recht."
"Ich sollte nicht zulassen, dass meine Gefühle mein Urteilsvermögen trüben." König mumbled something else under his breath in German, then quickly shook his head and laughed, looking into your eyes again.
Tension in his body was eased a little. "No, you're right."
A little. Because he wasn't going to dismiss the thoughts gnawing at the back of his head as mere paranoia.
You perked up. "Good, glad we've got that cleared up, sir! I want you to know that I won't disappoint!"
His heart skipped a beat at your smile, so eager to please and make him proud, that he shuffled uncomfortably, trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. Now wasn't the time.
Idly fidgeting with his combat knife as the helicopter blades hummed above, he went back to thinking over all the possibilities and different ways this mission could go awry:
...What if these were the wrong coordinates, or the helicopter would be attacked the minute they landed? The thought of an ambush wasn't an irrational one — it had happened before, he reminded himself — so he had brought a few more weapon crates than necessary for safekeeping.
...What if the helicopter's signal was intercepted and everyone including the pilot were destined for a fatal crash? Counting the number of parachutes and noting the fire exit, he could rest a little easier if an emergency like that was to arise, yet it still did little to soothe his nerves.
...What if you really did get shot? In case that happened, he had alerted some operators beforehand to serve as re-enforcements, one of those on board including a skilled army medic, under the guise of needing more manpower in case things went south. After all, this extraction could not have go wrong. It shouldn't have gone wrong.
But... what if you died? König wouldn't know how to deal with the feelings associated with your death, knowing that he had loved you from afar yet never acted on it. At least he'd be able to keep his shameful secret a secret, and you'd pass away never knowing what he truly saw you as, truly thought of you.
He had little time to figure out what was causing the trepidation to stiffen his muscles as the helicopter suddenly swerved and lowered, landing kilometres away from the designated building yet on unstable ground nonetheless. Any moment soldiers could attack it if they had known the group's location, so the blades kept spinning and the engine kept running for an immediate getaway.
König assumed authority. "Everyone remember the plan?"
Four heads nodded in sync.
"Gut. Then you all know what to do. I will enter from the side with my Lieutenant—" he said, gesturing with his head at a masked operator beside you, "—while you three—" referring to you and two others you were only vaguely aquainted with, "—storm from the back. Ja?"
König's eyes stalled on you for a moment longer than necessary. You were going to be alright, he told himself. He'd keep you in his field of vision and could provide you with cover once you regrouped when you'd really need it.
"A quick extraction," he reminded, eyes stern yet heart disbelieving. "Simply go in, get the data, and go out."
A final nod of the head from König as he and his associate separated from your group. You headed towards the back of the building, fully alert, aiming behind corner incase there had been someone waiting to assassinate you.
Doors creaking as one of the men pushed, the three of you filtered in noiselessly, attempting to be as discreet as possible and wincing when the door slammed not so quietly. Guns cocked and silencers attached, you advanced in a line, blending in to the shadows.
As you walked, there were no signs of life, and the storehouse seemed abandoned. No machinery was being operate. No voices could be heard.
All was still and quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Feeling the hairs on your arms and neck stand on end, you shuddered. You made eye contact with one of the men in front of you who had more expertise, and he looked on edge, eyebrows creased in focus under his balaclava. None of this felt right.
Suddenly, something small rolled over towards you all. Blinking once, twice, you let out a panicked scream and dived for cover.
"Grenade!"
All hell broke loose.
Bullets ricocheted over your head, guns blasting from so many directions you couldn't pinpoint their source.
Slowly recovering from your momentary shock, you gripped your rifle tight and started shooting back, hidden behind a load of wooden crates. When you saw your hooded colonel crouching in a corner, you relaxed. With an encouraging nod from him, that was all you needed to go change positions, and you lunged forward. All was going smoothly at that point.
So engrossed in eliminating the threats in front of him, however, König only came to the realisation that you weren't there when he didn't see your figure in his peripheral vision.
Panic consumed his senses and circulated through his veins. All at once, he was frantically scanning the immediate area, searching for any trace of you.
You were thrashing and kicking as you were being pulled by rough hands, your fingers reaching for your holster through gritted teeth, yet it was just out of grasp. You were thrown harshly against the wall, and the enemy towered over you, feeling high from his power trip and excited to exert authority he had never had up to now.
Just as a knife made its way to your throat, your hand finally found your side arm and shot a bullet between his eyes, body falling on top of you like a sack of potatoes.
You convulsed involuntarily, hyperventilating under his weight and the sudden situation. Noting your surroundings, your heart sank.
You were in no man's land, full view of soldiers shooting at your team. The extraction point was just in sight, exactly how and where it was illustrated on the blueprint.
So far, no one had noticed you, too preoccupied aiming down their sights to see you shuffling under a corpse. You could enter those headquarters right now, could be proclaimed a hero of this story, and make your colonel proud and finish before schedule.
The risk was too big. You were bound to get shot.
Yet, against all better judgement, you dashed for the entrance, taking advantage of the element of surprise as three men turned towards you with wide eyes, not expecting to see you enter. Two were haphazardly shoving papers into a half-open folder thrown on the table.
Three shots fired before they could scramble for a gun, you rushed towards the desk. Scanning the material, your eyes widened in shock. This was it.
Now, your only choice was to crawl back into the line of fire. Soldiers still kept shooting with their backs turned, endless ammunition right at their disposal.
You were totally helpless on your own. Just one pair of wandering eyes from the enemy and just one shot in the back of the head would be all that would take to end your life at that moment and make all of your efforts go to waste.
Although an atheist, you mouthed a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath, and sprinted.
Seeing sudden movement headed towards him, König acted on instinct, and pulled the trigger on you.
His heart stopped.
Time slowed as your body fell in slow motion, more bullets piercing through your gear.
Realising his mistake immediately, he almost vomited his own stomach out at seeing you fall lifelessly on the ground, eyes wide and body dropping on impact.
"Scheisse, cover me, verdammt!" He yelled over his shoulder, all rational thought ceasing.
Breathing rapid and strained, he rushed towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your body — growing weaker by the minute — and headed straight for the first sign of cover he could see. Behind unstable and temporary refuge that could be blown to pieces, König was at a loss at what to do.
He had expected everything, evaluated every possible scenario, every possible outcome, even prepared a lifeline for you on the off-chance that you'd be injured in action.
Yet he hadn't anticipated that he would be the one to shoot you. Never.
Shaking violently, König could barely get any words out. "—S-schatz, please please please—"
Hesistant hands hovered over your wounds, conflicted, as blood was staining your uniform, wrenching König's heart. His mind kept repeating you did this. You did this. You did this.
You needed urgent aid, and you needed it right now, yet he didn't deserve to touch you, his hands clenched into fists as he didn't want to break you further, treating you like fragile glass that could shatter into pieces under his touch if he so held you.
He was the one that did this to you. You, the young recruit he was so hopelessly infatuated with, a person who he had cherished and loved from afar, the person who made him feel good things for the first time ever in his life.
He did this to you.
He was the monster in your closet, the threat that König had desperately attempted protect you from all this time, the threat that you were told to eliminate on this mission. The enemy.
The enemy that had mistakenly shot you.
"Es tut mir so leid, I'm so sorry—" König's mind couldn't function properly, speaking in broken mix of English and German. He couldn't gather his thoughts, couldn't think.
"—I'm so so so sorry. Please don't die, bitte vergib mir, forgive me, forgive me, schatz. Forgive me. Ich liebe dich, schatz, do you hear me? I love you."
Bullets whizzed past you both relentlessly, both of you still caught in crossfire. König's lips were moving yet you couldn't hear what he was saying to you, couldn't feel anything as you slowly lost consciousness, slowly closed your eyes.
A calloused hand tapped your face in desperation, your vision blurred.
"—Nein, nein, King! Stay awake! I'm calling for the re-enforcements now! Please, don't die on me— I'm so sorry..."
Shaky yelling through the walkie-talkie, voice cracking. "This is your colonel, König! We're retreating right now! One of ours is wounded! Send the re-enforcements right now to this location! I repeat, we are retreating! I am calling this mission off!"
"What? Are you crazy, König?!" A break in character from the commander, before immediately assuming professionalism once more. "Proceed with the mission! You are on the verge of breaking their defenses! You will enter their headquarters and be able to—"
"Nein. That was an order, commander," he hissed through gritted teeth, nearly crushing the device in his death-grip. "We are retreating. I am calling this mission off."
A pause. Then: "Copy that, colonel. We are sending your re-enforcements to cover you as you exit. Your helicopter is waiting. Hold out for thirty seconds longer."
Sighing with relief, he suddenly thought his heart stopped beating when he saw you laying there motionlessly, eyes closed. Desperately tapping at your cheek did nothing to awaken you. He prayed that you'd survive, willing time to go faster.
At last, loud whirring from above gave him the only comfort. Not waiting a second longer, König picked up your limp body and dashed outside, the helicopter lifting off as the rest of the crew threw themselves inside.
Opening your vest to inspect your wounds, he saw a blood-soakes folder secured tightly to your chest.
It was the data. You risked your life for the mission. You risked everything to accomplish the task and he had shot you anyways.
"—This is your colonel, König. We have the data. Mission accomplished, I repeat, mission accomplished. King has the data."
The radio crackled with an indistinguishable response, yet König heard nothing, blood rushing to his head and ringing persisting. Medics wasted no time to wheel you into an operating room, tearing your limp body away from his arms. He avoided the celebrations and cheers for their colonel, leaving everyone dumbfounded at his reaction. Shouldn't have he been proud? The mission was a success!
Yet the mission wasn't a success, and if anything, he felt shame. No one knew why their colonel holed himself up in his room aside from himself.
The news of you in critical condition in the hospital broke König.
As much as he wanted to see you, to check on your health and be the one to see your first signs of recovery, he couldn't. He couldn't bear to witness the colour drained from your face as you laid unmoving on the bed, the slow beeping from the heart rate monitor machine the only indication that you were alive.
He just couldn't. Not when he caused this. Not when he fucked up this much.
Using the gym as a coping mechanism for a while, he trained harder and more often than ever before, only wishing to make the pain go away. When he wasn't at the gym all throughout the day or at odd hours of the night, he'd toss and turn in his bed, having nightmares about your body bleeding out below him as the shot relentlessly echoed in his head. Or worse, he'd imagine himself shooting you again, only this time he'd find the barrel of his gun was aimed at your forehead execution-style, your unassuming face suddenly exploding into bloody pieces and what was left of your bewildered expression still remained even after he had pulled the trigger.
At those, König would spring upright, screaming "No!" in anguish.
He'd be panting heavily, bedsheets drenched in his own sweat and feeling like he was suffocating with each rise and fall of his chest. When the situation sunk in, he'd clench his fists so tightly his knuckles went white, shaken to his very core. On those nights, König wanted nothing more than to hurt himself, to compensate for the injury he inflicted upon you and how he had completely disgraced you.
At one point, when he had finally had enough, in his blind craze snatched the pistol laying by his bed, flicked the safety off and aimed it at the same place he had shot you, just to break down in despair when no bullet came out, the clip hidden in his bedside drawer.
Hand tightly squeezing his heart through his soaked t-shirt, he was repulsed by the fact that he was completely healthy and could walk freely while you lay injured and dying.
Under his watch, you had been injured. Under him, your body had crumpled. And it was his fault.
In emotional turmoil, he soon lost all ability to function. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and could hardly find the motivation to get out of bed most of the time, convinced that he had killed you, convinced that he was a monster. Responsibilities were kept on hold, the next best person taking his place. No one questioned the new arrangement, despite the shared confusion from everyone on base.
He couldn't take this. He couldn't take this any longer. He would have rather died, sacrificed himself in any way possible if it meant that you could live another day, as you could make a greater impact on the world than he ever could. Could be a better person than he ever could.
It was his fault. He shot you. He had shot you. He had shot the recruit that he had hopelessly fallen in love with, yet only he himself was to blame for it for his lack of control, for his inability to be unaffected by his feelings.
One day, a knock on his door pulled him out from his trance.
Prior to the interruption, König was staring at the cement wall, his eyes unfocused, completely still and barely breathing. He wasn't himself.
Immediately straightening his legs and nearly tearing a tendon from how fast he got up despite having been so inactive for the last few days, he stomped quickly towards the door, his face glum yet eyes glinting with the merest hint of hope.
Hand reaching for the handle, he had readied himself, expecting bad news coming from a surgeon wearing a medical mask and a blue uniform, a solemn expression as they devasted him with your passing.
All but the latter was true.
"Colonel König, sir. The patient is awake. You may now visit them if you so wish."
Blinking a couple of times, König thought he had heard incorrectly.
"...P...Pardon?"
Repeated were the words that König was shocked to hear.
"King is awake, sir. Their condition is a stable one. Our team thought to notify you first since you were on the mission with them."
Gasping, König could barely breathe. He felt like he was drowning, drowning despite his head breaking out from the water. "What... I... where?"
"Ground floor, room twelve. They're on medication as of this moment yet are fully awake."
König nearly fell to his knees. You were alive!
You were alive! He hadn't killed you! He thanked the Gods, and could barely keep composed, barely able to stop himself from dashing to the center of base and yelling into the sky in pure joy.
"I— thank you... so much."
Running faster than he had ever ran in his whole life, he was at your door in minutes.
Yet, as his fingers reached for the door knob, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, hand poised mid-air.
What if you didn't want to see him after the whole ordeal?
What if you resented him, and would spit in his face the moment he walked in?
What if you hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him ever again?
Hesistantly knocking twice, he nearly had a heart attack when your voice broke through the door:
"Come in," you called simply; your voice was hoarse, but it was clearly still you.
Taking a deep breath, König pushed the door open.
There you were. He was having heart palpitations at seeing you awake and looking at him.
The light coming through the open curtains made your skin glow despite how pale you were, eyes sparkling and crinkling in happiness despite the dark circles and heavy bags under your eyes, hair splayed out behind on your pillow, resembling a halo, despite how greasy it was.
He had missed you. So much.
Then his heart sunk as he reminded himself that he was the reason for why you were here, why you were in in this state to begin with.
Seeing König, You shot him a daring smirk despite how numb your face felt. "Hey, König, sir. Did you visit me at all? I'm sure you missed me."
Waiting in anticipation, you kept looking at him excitedly. At the lack of response and his refusal to meet your gaze, it faded completely. "—Wh—what? You—"
"Not— not even once? Not—"
Tears were welling up in your eyes. "—you didn't come see me even one time?"
Maybe you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. Maybe you should have thought that König would not have time to spare in his busy schedule.
Yet you couldn't not get your hopes up when as soon as you woke, your first thought was of König. Although the grim reality hit you hard like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, you still wished to see him.
And yet, he hadn't wished to see you at all. He had avoided you like the plague.
"Scheisse—"
König started pacing the room, head hung low as he weighed the pros and cons. Indecision.
"—Do you really... do you really want to know why I didn't visit you, King?"
You nodded meekly, lip quivering.
He finally made up his mind.
If you rejected him, at least he'd rest easier knowing that you'd live, and continue to be happy for you from afar. He'd still support you, still be your colonel, still love you even when you found someone else.
"I... I put you in this position, King... It was all my fault," he begun, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tone softed as he finally stopped, as still as a statue, a metre away. From this angle, you saw how bloodshot his eyes were, how they sagged in sadness, how dark circles had formed from lack of sleep. His pale blue eyes were dull, glued to the ground.
"Not only did I lose sight of you on the battlefield, I also shot you. Shot my own—" Pausing, not knowing how to refer to you.
He carried on. "I couldn't live with myself. I still can't live with myself. I'm walking, uninjured, as you are laying in bed, recovering from an injury that I am the reason for. From bullet wounds that were the result of me."
Voice hitching slightly, he tried to keep his breathing under control. But he couldn't.
"How could the monster that shot you enter your room and dare to look at you? How could I watch you cling to life, while I walk freely despite causing you this— this agony? What right do I have looking at you after putting you here?"
You allowed the tears to spill down your cheeks.
He stopped, eyelids drooping, finally meeting your eyes.
"I have feelings for you, King, I—" Trembling "—I do. But... I shouldn't be feeling this way. You have your whole life ahead of you and I—"
"—I've... aged... I'm not the same man I was before. I've witnessed things far too disturbing to ever share with you. I... I know that you should be with someone better and I—"
Although still in a daze and sedated by the drugs, your thought process was still clear enough where you could be sure about this.
Reaching with a tentative hand for König's larger and rougher one, you squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with a heartfelt expression.
König smiled for the first time in ages.
Through that gesture alone, König knew that you forgave him.
He allowed his breathing to stabilise, wanting nothing more than to start over with you.
...
Note: MY FAT FUCIIJF FINGERS SLIPPED AND I POSTED THIS EARLIER THANI WAS SUPPOSED TO OJ MY GOD I AM AN IDIOT 🤡🤡
Edit next day: how tmdid this fet 100+ notes im sobbing 😭😭. thabk you everyone for readijg this angst fest!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️
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