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queenofthekings · 3 months

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𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮

Summary: Your story of survival in New York, and the promise you made to Eric.

Author’s note: If I get anything wrong about New York, pls don't yell at me I'm just a Brit who's never been and is relying on the movie and my friends for help lmao. Special think you to @littlexdeaths for helping me with this, without you I probably wouldn't have gotten this finished. And if any of you see a reference to The Enemy, no you don't.

CW: 18+, fluff, descriptions of injuries, horror, spoilers for a quiet place day one.

Word count: 1.5k

Tagging: @espressomunson.

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You’d first met Eric in class, his accent being the first thing you noticed about him. Like him, you’d travelled far to attend law school in New York and both of you would talk frequently after classes about life back home and how different New York was compared to it.

The more you got to know each other, the more romance blossomed between you. He would always wait for you before class and go in with you, sitting beside you just so he could brush his fingers against your hand or whisper something funny into your ear to distract you.

You were expecting him to ask you out on a date, but then the world fell apart.

When it started, you were with a couple of your classmates, just laughing and joking around and then it stopped.

You barely had time to react before something akin to a bomb exploding just down the street caused everyone to start screaming and running all around you. Your lungs and eyes were burning from the smoke, and you could barely see but all you knew was that you needed to run. You had no idea where your friends were, but you hoped they were just hiding somewhere, and you’d see them soon as you darted into a bookstore.

With shaking hands, you got out your phone and dialled Eric’s number, silently praying he’d pick up only it went straight to voicemail. “Eric, it’s me. If you get this, stay where you are; I will come for you, okay? I will come find you. I’m so fucking scared right now, but I hope you’re still out there and you’re safe.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you were too scared to, what if he didn’t feel the same way? God, feelings were hard when the world was ending.

You ended the call and looked around you, trying to find anything of value, picking up a map and a small nightlight you could use as a torch. You weren’t entirely sure where you could go but staying where you were clearly wasn’t an option. Shoving your things into your backpack, you hesitantly walked back out onto the now quiet street, trying your best not to walk on any broken glass or rubble.

Tears began running down your cheeks as you walked, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. You had to come to terms with the idea that you were the only one left; your friends were gone and so was Eric, even if that thought killed you.

As you walked, you wished you could listen to your music to drown out the silence with the occasional bursts of screaming but you knew it was too dangerous, you had to be alert at all times.

As night started to fall, it began pouring with rain and even through your hooded jacket, you were soaked through. You ran towards some shelter as fast as you could, you ended up finding an abandoned church and slipped inside the door as quietly as you could.

Being careful to avoid the puddle from the hole in the roof and the massive hole in the floor, you made your way to one of the pews and finally rested.

Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, but you managed to get maybe a couple of hours, better than nothing, you supposed.

In the morning, you looked over your map to find the best route to South Street. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew it had to be done, even with the number of blisters you’d gotten on your feet from walking so much the day before.

Sliding off your shoes, you assessed the damage and wondered if you should trek out to find a pharmacy to get some band aids but just as you were about to put your shoes back on, you heard a commotion from the hole in the floor, with two people climbing out of it.

You froze as you slowly made your way over towards them, your heart pounding in your ears as you saw Eric. You couldn’t quite believe your eyes as you got down onto your knees next to Eric’s head, a shaky hand on his shoulder.

His eyes opened and instantly locked with yours, slowly getting up to embrace you, even if he was soaking wet. You tried your best not to cry but after everything you’d both been through, you couldn’t hold your emotions back and neither could he; you both held each other and cried quietly.

Eric refused to let you go, and you refused to let him go – even for a second. You slept together wrapped up in each other’s arms that night, finally getting some decent sleep at last.

In the morning, you could tell Sam wasn’t doing well and both you and Eric offered to go get her medication, Eric refusing to let you go. Reluctantly, you allowed him to go but not without giving him a kiss on his cheek, a silent promise that you’d see each other again.

You stayed with Sam, initially playing tic-tac-toe together but eventually getting to talk about each other’s lives before everything went down. Went to school together, had a massive crush on him you wrote on the notebook, causing both of you to laugh silently.

“He talked about you a couple times,” Sam whispered. “Always wanted to find you, now it makes sense why.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but in your heart you hoped it meant that he felt the same way about you. You kicked yourself for letting him go with just a kiss on the cheek and not a proper love confession, just more reasons to make sure he came back safely with Frodo in tow.

The four of you stayed in the church until the next morning, deciding to venture out to find Patsy’s. You and Eric never let go of each other’s hands, not for a single second.

But when you were out in the open, you’d knocked over an abandoned suitcase, the sound echoing throughout the silent streets. All four of you froze for a moment, before you knew you had to lead the monsters away to give Eric and Sam a chance.

Pressing a kiss to Eric’s lips, you pushed him away and sprinted away in another direction, screaming as much as you could to draw them towards you. It didn’t even fully occur to you that you could die in the process, but as long as Sam, Frodo and Eric made it out, that’s all you cared about.

That was the last time Eric saw you, saving his life. And all he could think about in that moment was how much time he’d wasted not telling you how he felt. And now, you were gone.

By the time Eric got onto the final boat with Frodo, he finally allowed himself to cry, to mourn over the loss of both you and Sam. At least he still had Frodo to comfort him, he closed his eyes and just stopped to listen to the purring cat in his arms until it jumped out of them. His eyes opened instantly, feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack as he looked around for that black and white cat.

Until he saw him at someone’s feet, his eyes filled with tears, clouding his vision but he could tell the person was walking towards him. Wiping away his tears, he got a good look at the person. He blinked several times, not quite believing his eyes.

It was you.

Battered and bruised, a long cut down the left side of your face, but still you.

You smiled once Eric noticed you, the cut across your face contorting a little so it almost looked like a half grimace. You took a seat next to him, handing back Frodo. “Hi,” you said, your voice a little croaky after not being used in what seemed like forever.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice just as croaky. “I thought I’d lost you, too.��

You shook your head, petting Frodo. “I was almost a goner,” you pointed to your face. “But I got saved at the last second, I don’t even remember by who. I thought I’d died, but my face hurt too much. Couldn’t even see out of my left eye at first, but I knew I had to get to here.”

“You still look beautiful,” he moved a stray hair away from your face, not even flinching like most people did at seeing your cut.

You pulled a face, letting out a small hiss in pain as you forgot the cut for a moment before you rested your head on his shoulder. “So what happens now?”

Eric sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t know, but one thing I know for sure; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head once again. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all I want right here; I have you and we have Frodo.”

“Good. Even then, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go,” he whispered, capturing your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

#spilled ink #a quiet place day one #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eric x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction

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astronicht · 13 days

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Hi I hope this isn't presumptuous, but so, that post you made about Tolkien making the lads leave their weapons outside the hall and CS Lewis thinking the hall was gonna get burned down by a lady who also wanted to kill herself... what's the historical precedent for that? Is there a trope in medieval lit where people like... do that? I ask because uh. I am obsessed with Children of Hurin and there's a scene where that like, happens. And I'm obsessed with that scene, and would love to know if there's like, cultural/mythic context that would enrich my knowledge!

OH BOY, sorry I'm getting to this late, it's been uhhh a summer, but one, this is a very good question!! And two, yes there is absolutely precedent, particularly in early medieval literature, and high medieval literature set in the early medieval (circa 500-1100 AD) past. I'll let someone else debate how often people actually historically locked their enemies into a hall and burned them, but especially in Old Norse literature (and if Fellowship felt like it leaned a little more on Old English literature, Two Towers, where Eowyn appears, felt a little more Old Norse) this is common. Off the top of my head, you've got many Icelandic family feuds ending in burning the whole family in their hall, like Njal's Saga (Old Norse), Attila the Hun dramas (yeah he's a big guy in the burning halls circuit, but actually not in the way you might expect) like his cameos in Volsung Saga (Old Norse) and Nibelungelied (Middle High German), and my vague recollection of a few Irish and Welsh versions that no search engine is giving up for me right now.

This, predictably, got long and slightly off topic.

Disclaimer: As usual, I should say I come from an Old English-centric background, and Old English literature is actually notable among all its neighbors for not burning down too many halls. Second disclaimer, all links are not proper citations, they just go to wiki.

Hall-burning in literature is, to my understanding, part of the concerns of a few early medieval cultures in which revenge is not only expected but in many cases legally reinforced and codified, and one in which conflicts could spiral to engulf -- figuratively, or literally and in flames -- entire families. Many medieval Icelandic sagas are focused on this exact type of destruction of whole families or friendship/community units. Most relevant of these to Eowyn, Two Towers, and the vibes of Edoras (since alas I am only partway into RotK and can't speak to Children of Hurin yet!) is Volsung Saga, which is set on the Continent, not Iceland, and actually has to do with Attila the Hun. As mentioned before, an incredible amount of stuff turns out to have to do with Attila. We will come back to him!

So, on the particular post you're talking about, a few people iirc have replied pointing out that the hall in TT is clearly supposed to be based on a hall from Old English literature, namely the hall in Beowulf, which famously did not actually get burnt down. And that's all true! I was not posting with much nuance; I was mostly having a joke at the expense of CS Lewis. However, I was also referencing a very very common trope in Old Norse/early medieval stories, and I personally think JRR was as well (AND I think Beowulf was also very consciously referencing the exact same motif anyway) (no one has to agree with me, a tumblr blog, on any of these points).

The thing about the hall when our heroes approach is that the scariest damn thing in that hall is Eowyn. Certainly not every hall-burning story requires a woman with no other recourse to set the fire (in fact, the "warrior band approaches unknown hall which might have a grudge against them" is a trope that can get you killed in a pretty homosocial environment, as I guess Aragorn at least was aware, being a big reader). Still, the presence of a woman who is swiftly running out of options does fit what I'd consider one of the or perhaps The best known version of the early medieval burning hall trope: Gudrun, who shows up in at least a dozen different texts in both the Scandinavian and the German language traditions, including Volsung Saga, a text which itself often gets paraded around as the basis of lotr (which I'm sure it is, in that JRR appears to have simply and very fairly based lotr on every piece of early medieval vernacular literature I can think of).

In a portion of Gudrun's story (which of course changes a bit in each retelling), after her first marriage she is unhappily married to Atli, who is none other than our main man Attila the Hun. After Attila kills her brothers for reasons (in one version, her father), seeing no other way to take the necessary revenge and no other way out, she kills the two sons she had by him, serves them to Attila for dinner, has Attila killed, and then sets fire to the hall with everyone in it. After this, she attempts to drown herself.

The self-destruction of this act is a really important beat, and has only gotten more-so as a comparison to Eowyn the further I've read into RotK (currently, I'm at the houses of healing after merry and eowyn take on the witch king). It's a lot clearer in the book than the films, for me, that Eowyn going off to battle was not so a straightforward empowering and/or freeing move, despite allowing her some agency, but more the one path she saw as available to her with which to die with honor (which was pretty much exactly what Gudrun was facing as well). Like Gudrun, whose first husband was a great hero but has died, Eowyn's romantic choice is a hero who is presumed dead (sorry Aragorn they did Not believe in your ghost skills). In fact, in some versions Gudrun does put on armor and fight with her brothers before they're killed. She kills Attila with her own hand, with the help of another man who needs to avenge a blood feud against Attila.

So while Eowyn didn't get forced into marriage to Attila Wormtongue (with apologies to both historical Attila and that one historical skald also called Wormtongue who was reportedly hot) and burn the whole place down, she's still trapped, and like Gudrun chooses destruction alongside her household.

Reading her arc feels so much like watching Tolkien write a fix-it for Gudrun. What if she got this one little chance, and this one other little chance, and this one more -- tiny little shifts in the narrative that allow her to get out, and not through fire, and not through death.

Anyway, this got away from me. I hope it added some context to the Children of Hurin arson case! Thanks for the ask

#ask replies #astro lotr #how long is this ah man #cw for some discussion of suicide in fiction? blanket cw for norse sagas tbh

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4ttack-ur-heart · 1 year

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Levi HC’s: Massage oil

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Warnings + genre: none & fluff

Summary: Your back has been killing you so Levi gives you a massage.

“Fuck.” You whined out, your hand reaching to grasp your lower back. Training has been rough over the past few days and you slept wrong last night, making your back extremely sore.

Sitting up straight, you made your way through the halls. Opening the door to your shared room with Levi, you spotted him already sipping a cup of tea by the window.

“I was wondering when you were coming.” He wondered aloud.

“Yeah, the new recruits were struggling today so that meant overtime for everyone.” You grumbled and shuffled through your closet for some pajamas.

Levi hummed in response and set his cup down. He came up behind you just as your stripped yourself of your jacket and shirt, his nimble hands instantly went to your shoulders in hopes to lighten the stress in your body.

“Agh!” You yelled out and tensed up as Levi’s hands started to work on your shoulders. He halted his movements immediately.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He placed a hand on your hip to turn you to face him. His eyebrows furrowed in concern at your pained expression.

You sighed as you tried to relax your back. “Yeah, just really stiff and my backs been killing me.”

“Get comfortable then lay on the bed, face down.” Levi ordered.

“Why?”

“I’m going to massage your back. You’re clearly in no position to relax right now, and it’ll only worsen when you sleep.”

“Levi, you don’t have to, I’ll be fine.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, what happens when your back gives out on an expedition? Don’t be stupid, let me help you.”

Sighing in defeat, you knew he wasn’t going to let up. Besides, a massage did sound nice, you just didn’t want to bother him.

“Ok.”

“Turn around. Let me crack your back.” You obeyed.

Levi made you cross your arms over your chest and he wrapped his around yours.

“Breathe in then exhale on three, one, two-”

“Agh!”

He lifted your body up and you moaned as your back cracked with the motions. Several loud pops echoing in the room. You were heavily breathing at the sensation. It felt so good and hurt so bad at the same time.

“Lay down.”

After changing into more loose clothing, you flopped on the bed and regretted it immediately when your back seized up again. “Shit.”

“Not the brightest are you?”

“Shut up and get to work.” You huffed and Levi chuckled as sat neck to you and lifted up the back of your shirt to reach your shoulder blades.

Levi was amused by the way you reacted to his hands. How you moaned as he went lower, then started muttering nonsense when he applied more pressure. After a few minutes of him trying to loosen the knots, he noticed your grunts and groans were out of pain, not pleasure. Wordlessly, he got up.

“Stay here.”

Levi disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments and came out with a small bottle.

“What is that?” You craned your neck over your shoulder to try and see.

“Hush, I liked it better when you were moaning.” Levi shifted one leg over your thighs so he was straddling you. He tugged at your shirt. “I need this off.”

You moved to take off your shirt, leaving you only in a bra. About to lay back down, Levi plucked the band of your bra and made it snap against your skin. “This too.”

Before you could move, Levi had already unclipped it and was moving the straps over your arms, flinging the item over the bed to join your shirt.

Now that you were completely bare on the top half, you finally laid back down and Levi popped the cap off the bottle.

A sudden rush of liquid squirting on your back made you flinch.

“Stop moving, I don’t want the oil to stain the sheets.”

“Oil? What’s that for?”

“Hange recommended it to me when we were in town last week.” He replied and gently started to rub it into your skin, soft moans escaped your sore body. “They had the same problems you did and Moblit actually bought it for them, and I figured if it worked for them then there was no harm in trying it. It’s supposed to ease the friction and moisturize your skin.”

You nodded only half-listening. The way his warm hands mixed with the oil against your back felt euphoric. With every push and dip, Levi’s fingers worked the oil into your back. It wasn’t long before you felt the eventual pressure release of the knots and tension.

“Mm, Levi.” You moaned through closed eyes. His fingers were slicked with the oil and you could smell the aroma of peppermint and lavender.

It felt way too good.

“How long has this been going on for?” Levi asked after a few moments of silence. His hands suddenly moved to just below your shoulder blade and started to work out the knot.

“Ah-! A-about a a week I think?” You groaned as his fingers rubbed circles into the spot.

“Tch, and I’m just now finding out about this?” He asked and a stern look crossed his features. You felt his eyes burn through the back of your head.

“In my defense- ooh~” His hands found another tense knot. “I didn’t wanna bother you, we’ve been busy all week and I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly not.” He argued. “Are you even stretching before training?”

Yes, you are.

Mostly.

Sometimes.

Okay, maybe not in the past week.

“Your silence is all the answer I need.” Levi chastised. “Let me make a deal with you.”

“Hm?” You didn’t care what it was, your mind was too clouded with relaxing under Levi’s touch. Levi suddenly pulled away and your skin tingled at the loss of touch, practically begging for more. He got off of you and grabbed a towel nearby to clean his hands of the oil.

“If you can’t fucking take care of yourself that’s fine.” He started and helped you sit back up so you were shoulder to shoulder. His forearm secured itself around your bare breasts so you wouldn’t feel as exposed. Steel blue eyes bore into yours, but soon they melted into a soft gaze.

Levi’s hand guided your chin and his lips met yours in a sweet kiss. “Then at least let me do it.”

————

Tag list: @cullenswife @sad-darksoul

#aot x reader #aot imagines #attack on titan #aot fluff #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #aot drabbles #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #levi drabble #Levi oneshots

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heavenlyraindrops · 6 months

Text

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Four ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Four Warnings: slight profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Four]

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time.

Say, a couple years ago, you never would’ve considered the possibility that you could end up in a room full of rubber ducks. In Hell. With Lucifer Morningstar. Or, what sort of situation could lead you into it.

But you supposed that life was full of surprises.

You ran your finger along the side of the head of a random rubber duck you had decided to pick up. You heard a small gasp, and a hand shot out to snatch it out of your hands.

“Careful,” Lucifer gasped. You stared at him blankly.

“You don’t know what they can do…” he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.”

He smiled at you. You crossed your legs, staring down at him in his chair from your perch on the table. “So, is this what you do with your highly important, influential, immortal existence? Create an army of rubber ducks?” You teased lightly. He tipped his head back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe.”

You tilted your head, and your eyes drifted over to a painting on the wall. Standing up, you walked over, feeling golden eyes train into your back. You pointed at it, turning to face him. “Who are they?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard- he just stared at you as if you had threatened to strangle him. You furrowed your brows in concern. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. That’s my daughter and my… ex wife.”

“Oh,” you managed to utter, feeling a strange mix of regret and guilt burrowing it’s way into your chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-“

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “Ask away.”

“Are you sure?” The reply was a simple nod.

Curiosity killed the cat. You winced, trying to banish Sera’s voice from your head.

“Her name is Lilith, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

You shifted from foot to foot. “What’s your daughter's name?”

“Charlie- Charlotte.”

You returned to where you originally were. “I take it she doesn’t live with you in this huge, erm, house?”

Lucifer smiled wryly. “No, she… she’s off doing, uh…”

“You don’t know, do you?” You sighed. He shook his head. “It’s alright. Do you two not talk?” He shook his head, again.

You dragged over a chair to sit next to him, and reached out for his hand. He didn’t shy away from your touch as you intertwined your fingers. The cold metal of a ring- you glanced down- his wedding ring, pressed against your skin.

The air slowly filled with a thick silence, until he broke it.

“She left to chase whatever dreams she had a while after Lilith left.” His next words were bitter. “She just left- Lilith, I mean. Just disappeared.”

You glanced at him, and he laughed. “But whatever. It’s been years. She’s clearly not coming back. I’ll just have to move on.”

“You’re clearly not trying,” you pointed out, tapping a finger against the thick gold band. He sighed, then looked up at you suddenly.

“What?”

“I’ll take it off.”

“Seriously? I didn’t mean-“

“No, you’re right.” He stood up and went over to a drawer in the corner. You watched as he pulled the ring off his hand and dropped it in one of them, then locked it with a key sitting on the top. “Catch.”

You caught the key as it came flying through the air towards you. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it. Or toss it, I don’t care.”

You buried it in the depths of your satchel. “Fine,” you muttered. You could see his pleased smile in your peripheral.

♱♱♱

“Fuck! [name]!”

You yelped as you fell into a giant pile of rubber ducks. The smell of- well, rubber- attacked your senses, almost suffocating. You gasped, emerging in a flurry of rolling yellow ducks to see Lucifer standing over you, stifling his laughter.

“Do you not have, like, places to keep these…” you gestured agitatedly at the colony of artificial creatures surrounding you. “Specimens?”

“They’re ducks.”

“I know they’re ducks.”

He grinned as he offered his hand towards you.

A scream sounded out outside. Two black shapes zipped across the red sky, the scene framed by the window you were staring out of. It was behind Lucifer, framing his silhouette as he turned around to glance outside. The scream had dissolved and the shapes had disappeared. Lucifer glanced back at you.

You stared at him and gulped, frazzled.

“Are you sure your… friends aren’t looking for you?” You took his arm and he pulled you up. But didn’t let go.

“I hope not.”

Lucifer stared at your face, intensely, as if he was trying to memorise it. You flushed and turned away. “Maybe it was a bad choice you made, seeing me.”

You laughed nervously. “It’ll be fine. Plus, you hardly left me with much of a choice.”

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “We all have choices, angel.”

It knocked the breath right out of you.

You stared at him, then turned away again. “Sure, whatever.”

You heard his low chuckle behind your back as you walked away.

♱♱♱

The pentagram would be closing soon.

You grappled with the window, until Lucifer sighed and pushed you to the side, gently, opening it up for you. It swung open soundlessly as you clambered onto the windowsill, wings poised for flight.

“Angel, wait.”

You stared at him as something closed around your wrist. You looked down. A bracelet. “Huh?”

He held up his own wrist. The bracelet on it was identical to yours. “First thing I’ve made since a rubber duck.”

“…a bracelet.”

He held his finger up to your lips to silence you. You flushed. “Not just any bracelet,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “It’s for communication. And you’re the perfect person to help me test it out over long distances. You press the stone on the front, and mine will buzz and light up. Vice versa.”

“We are worlds apart.” The sentence seemed to strike a strange feeling in you, one of melancholy. Lucifer, however, seemed unfazed.

You knew that, deep down, you’d give in anyways.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

♱♱♱

The morning light filtered through the window and onto your bed as you emptied out your satchel. Your notebook and pen dropped onto the covers soundlessly. The apple bounced off the corner of the frame, rolling across your rug.

As you leaned down to pick it up, you heard something else clatter onto the floor.

You turned and stared at the ground where it lay, next to your foot.

The key, glinting in the pale light.

You kicked it under your bed. It spun away into the shadows with a final flash.

You sighed, shoulders relaxing, and sat onto the bed, leaning over your arm, staring at the bracelet. The stone in the middle was flat, in the shape of an apple, and a

metal snake coiled around the band of the bracelet. Pretty.

You pressed the stone. Buzz.

It lit up as you touched it. A few seconds ticked by.

Buzz.

You flinched as it lit up and vibrated, by itself too, then let out a deep breath. He was on the other side. It worked.

Knock knock knock.

You stiffened.

The knocking started up again, more relentless this time. You scrambled forward, quickly picking your way across your living room and opening the door.

“Lute?”

She smiled thinly, crossing her arms and glaring at you. The look on her face made your heart sink down to your shoes and dribble out in a puddle onto the floor. You gulped.

“[name],” she said coldly. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows

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hauntedhokage · 4 months

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ｆｒｅｅｆａｌｌ

summary: Sae wasn't particularly interested in building relationships or bonds with the people around him. Until you came along, wife of one of his new teammates and the sweetest woman he'd had the honor of knowing.

word count: 3.7k

warnings/tropes: mutual pining, cheating (not reader or sae tho), emotional cheating (on reader’s side), divorce, non explicit sexual content

To Sae, team engagements were unbearable, he used to not go to them because he had better things to do than talk to the idiots he played with. Then you came along when your husband was traded to the team, suddenly evening recovery after training and practicing all day didn’t seem as important. He was strategic about it; feigning an interest in the rest of his teammates and their lives as well, saying that his manager thought it would be good for him to actually get to know the people he traded passes with. The entire locker room was in shock, but you had commented after a match that friendliness looked good on him even though it was clearly killing him to be nice.

And he watches as you lean into your husband at one dinner; the man who was so undeserving of you, who didn’t worship you like you deserved. You were ethereal, the way the sunlight made your eyes sparkle, or how your jewelry seemed to look brighter against your skin - even down to the wedding band that he longed for you to have a reason to take off - it was all worthy of worship and your husband didn’t give you that. Not that he was wishing for unhappiness to befall you, that was a storm cloud you didn’t deserve to be under due to how nice you were. The only person who saw right through him, who caught the way he looked at you and looked at him the same way.

He will never forget the way you’d run into him at a team dinner for the players and their spouses to celebrate a big win. You’d gone to the restroom, and he had gotten up to do the same a few minutes later and ended up almost knocking you over. On reflex he reached out to steady you, but his hands didn’t want to leave where they landed on your arm and lower back. Your skin was so soft, that he knew after you’d shaken his hand since that was a normal greeting where you’d come from, but to hold you like that was something else. Something he wanted to get that chance to do again, which had been difficult for him because he had never really been interested in a woman like he’d been interested in you.

“You should be more careful,” he had warned, carefully helping you regain your balance before he finally stepped away.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting anyone. You’re like a brick wall, Itoshi.” Your teasing came with a pat to his chest before your hands tried to smooth out any imperfections caused by his catch. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Anytime you need it.” And you smiled, cheeks flushed as you stepped around him to head back to the table where your husband was. He hated that he had to let you go after you’d been so close, after you’d touched him so carefully. It was the sweetest torture to be so close to you, seated beside you at the table and noticing the way you’d look at him out of the corner of your eye. The thought of a chance brought his mood up significantly, and that he knew you definitely had noticed. The chance of what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but the way you put your hand on his shoulder as you and your husband made your leave - a small squeeze that he hoped was meant to be affectionate - he hoped that whatever that chase was it was a bit more than friendly.

Then there was the time after one of their matches and you had headed to the back of the stadium where the locker rooms were. He had known that you and your husband had gotten into it before the match, the man couldn’t stop talking about it and how he needed to fix the problem, so when he ran into you he was almost happy that you looked conflicted about being back there. He’d asked if you were okay, something that you hesitated to answer before you nodded with a smile so fake but he couldn’t call it out. Instead he gave you his phone number, watching as you typed it and sent him a text with his name, telling you that you could always talk to him if you needed an unbiased opinion on anything. He was mostly unbiased, just not when it came to your marriage, but you didn’t need to know that.

And you had taken up on his offer, to the point where he was sure you talked to him more than anyone else. He knew he talked to you more than anyone else in his life. He’d never pushed past the line of friendship, never wanting to ask for you to be unfaithful to the man you admitted to him you were gradually falling out of love with. The man who you were concerned was pulling away from you emotionally while you were basically emotionally cheating on him with how often you spoke to Sae and all the information you shared with him.

Emotional cheating was an interesting concept to him, something that he felt was actually stupid. Having a friend that you confided in shouldn’t be considered cheating, since neither party was sharing their own feelings for one another, just simply talking shouldn’t be considered cheating. If it led to infidelity, then the physical act of cheating was the actual cheating that occurred. But he wouldn’t argue with you, you didn’t like it when he pushed back on that concept but he knew how you felt while you knew how you felt. Agree to disagree worked out for the two of you.

You’d been friends for almost a year when the news broke. Your husband had been supporting a mistress since he’d been traded to this current team - for as long as you’d been in the country. Which was one issue, the other issue was that the news hit the media with the mistress sending screenshots of texts and pictures sent between them to an online news page and her instagram. The entire internet had seen the dick of your husband of almost four years, and had been tagging you recently in instagram posts and blowing up your comments on all social media sites they knew you were on while trying to get information or more to add to the story the news sites were spinning together. He was surprised your phone was even on, telling him where you were when he asked to which he responded with his own information about having a concussion. He’d done something stupid when he heard the news, revealing emotion his team had never seen in him before. A woman as sweet as you didn’t deserve to be treated like that, you deserve much better than that.

You hadn’t formally invited him, but he makes his way to the hotel you were at and knocks softly on the door. You look more put together than he’s expecting, but lets you walk into his arms and leads you back into your room. He's surprised when you arrange yourself around him on the bed rather than being the little spoon, but he’s not arguing since the lights in your room were a bit too bright for his taste so pressing his face into your neck without you fighting it was perfect for him.

“Do you really have a concussion?” you ask, your fingers stroking his side as he nods into your neck. “I thought you were more careful than that.”

“Got a bit reckless after I heard about what he did. I like you too much to let him get away with hurting you. The entire team is pissed, too.” The answer is honest, pulling a sigh from you as you nod. “You didn’t have to let me in.”

“No, I know. But if I had to see anyone after the shitshow he’s stirred up, I’d want it to be you.” Did you really like him that much? He supposed you had to with the way you looked at him, talked to him, even the way you baked specific treats for him that were in compliance with his strict diet rather than the ones that his teammates were okay with eating “just one” to break theirs. “This is why I put away my own savings, being a soccer wife can crash and burn at any time. It’s just unfortunate that the media is so involved.”

“What happens now?”

“Right now we’re separated. I didn’t want to stay in the penthouse which is why I’m in a hotel,” you start, sighing as he nods slowly. “He’s trying to put off the divorce filing, since he’s fucked regardless of where we do it. Divorce due to infidelity? Not liked by any country’s divorce court.”

“Do they know you’re here?” Who they are needs no elaboration - they were always the media that ended up everywhere when there was a scandal afoot.

“No, they’re currently more focused on him and his idiot mistress. The scorned wife isn’t as important until the divorce is filed and money gets paid out.”

He sighs into your neck, and you feel the gentle press of his lips against your skin. He always took such good care of every part of his body, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about how they’d feel against your skin. They’re soft, not at all chapped, and they’re quite comforting to have on you. You wished you could rebound so quickly, but to be caught with your divorced husband’s teammate made you look as bad as him. Maybe this would be all you had, a soft rendezvous in a hotel room here and there where you could just be you and Sae could just be Sae and you didn’t have to worry about the media or the team or your soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Sae?” The only response you get is a grunt into your neck, and you kiss the top of his head as you try to formulate your next question. This affection wasn’t completely abnormal, hugging Sae was pretty common for you since you treated him so well. It’s kissing that’s a bit out of place, but it’s comforting in this time of crisis, so you’d take it where you could. “What’s this thing between us? I mean, we’re close and I think we know more about each other than anyone else, but is there something that can come after all this blows over?”

This has him pulling away so he can look at you, blue eyes soft with a look you had only ever seen pointed in your direction. You’d always known that you were something special to him, and he was special to you - probably the only person you confide in about the woes of your marriage and this life you chose to lead. In turn you get to know more about him, how he felt about soccer and this team he was on (a bunch of sub par morons but the money was good), even a bit of the history between him and his brother.

“I love you,” he starts, his and cupping your cheek as your eyes begin to burn with the tears welling up in them. “I have for a while and I know that you’ve known that. I just didn’t say anything because you were married and I didn’t want to put you in a position where you might feel uncomfortable or in a spot where you had to choose.”

“Bastard made that choice for me, anyway.”

“As for what happens next, that’s your decision. I don’t want you to feel like we have to rush into anything, I want you to feel protected from the media or fans of the team too.” His hand moves from your face to hold your hand, fitting enough that it was your left hand that still bore your wedding and engagement rings. “I care more about your comfort than any label we might have. I’m here for you and with you in any capacity you want me to be.”

His fingers go for your rings, and you don’t fight him when he slides them off your finger and turns away to set them on the nightstand behind him. His fingers are laced with yours when he turns back, this time pulling you into his arms so you can rest your head on his chest. The admission of feelings isn’t returned, but he’s not expecting them at this point in your processing of what was happening in your life. Your marriage and intimate details of it had been revealed, an upset mistress releasing texts about how your husband was upset that you hadn’t put out, how you made him mad sometimes with how you baked for his teammates, how he fell out of love with you but stayed because you made him look better for the public.

Funny how that turned out.

And he lays under you, watching as you go through your various social media accounts to delete any pictures of you that had been posted - even tweets or pictures where he’d simply been mentioned. All of them were gone after a few minutes of looking. Next comes your camera roll, that one taking a bit longer because of how long you were with that guy, but you were relieved when you had everything deleted. He’s surprised when you open your camera and take a picture with him, casually resting beneath him as he watches you.

“Take a better one,” he requests, kissing your temple as you smile for your camera. His phone vibrates on the nightstand with the message you’d sent, and his hand sets to running along your side with fingers dancing delicately along your curves when you finally lock your phone and let your eyes close. “How long do you want me here?”

“How long can you be here?”

“As long as you want me to be here. If nobody knows you’re here, there’s no real concern about people seeing me leave.”

“At least stay the night? We can figure out the rest tomorrow.” The request is met with assurance that he’d give you that, and you pat his stomach in thanks. “I guess it wasn’t fair for me to call his mistress an idiot. She was pretty smart to release to the media. He said he’d tell me and never did, so she made sure I’d find out. Real girl’s girl, I guess.”

“I don’t think embarrassing you in front of the world is something a girl’s girl would do, but alright.”

“It just sucks, y’know. He was once so good to me, he loved me, but I guess pain goes both ways. I think he knew I fell out of love with him, too.” You murmur with a sigh, sitting up when Sae requests it so he can take his shirt off to avoid further wrinkles. But the purpose is defeated when he just throws it to the side before he lies back down, arm spread to the side in an invitation. “If we did get together, it’d have to be private for a long while. I’d hate for you to look like a wife stealer despite him doing what he did.”

“I’d want it to be private anyway. People are a bit crazy when it comes to me, you shouldn’t have to put up with it.” You pull your knees up to your chest when he says that, unsure how you felt like that. Your previous husband wanted to show off wherever he could, to have Sae want to tuck you way was a direct one-eighty from what you knew. “I’ll show you off where it matters. You’re more to me than just a shiny trophy.”

You don’t think he knows how beautiful he looks spread out on the hotel bed. Red hair a direct contrast against the white pillow case, sunkissed skin on full display with a couple bracelets and the necklace he usually wore standing out but so fitting on his form. His usual indifferent expression is replaced with a mostly relaxed smile but still laced with concern as he watches you sit on the bed.

You’re crying before you register it happening, and he sits up quickly to pull you back into his chest. Providing comfort where tears were involved wasn’t his specialty, and that was made obvious in the way that he carefully rubs your back and stayed quiet. There weren’t words he knew to provide, but you knew he didn’t understand that being there was enough - you’d have to tell him when you weren’t sobbing.

“S-Sae,” you whimper, clinging tightly to him as he kisses your head. You’d been strong for so long, it was okay for you to let it all go. At this time he can only shush you, pulling you into his lap to keep you close as you cried. It was all he knew how to do, and eventually he’s laying back on the bed with you curled into his chest half asleep.

“You'll be okay,” he whispers, kissing your head again as you hum. “You’re strong, you’ll make it through.”

And you do end up okay. Your divorce was finalized a month after, the payout you received for the infidelity helped you pay for an apartment, but you didn’t spend much time there. Sae’s apartment had become a second home, the spare bedroom turned into a space for you to hide away in when you didn’t want to sleep in his bed. You were very concerned with ensuring he didn’t feel like a rebound, despite never having done anything more than sleep in his bed and share the occasional hug, but he let you have the distance you wanted when you asked for it.

When he gets a better offer a few months later, he asks you to go with him. It’s another country, another team, another new environment. But it was a fresh start, too, and he’s happy to hear you say yes; to go with him, to live with him, to be with him. And you relax considerably in your new home, grateful for the space from your ex-husband and the team who felt sorry for you. The letter that sat unopened in your suitcase left there until you decided that it was time to reopen that wound. You don’t think you’ll ever open it, not really wanting or needing closure from your ex-husband, you’d moved on well enough without it.

Right now was about christening every surface of your new home by making out with Sae wherever he could get his hands on you. Sex was something he wasn’t initiating until you did, a boundary he’d put in place after you first kissed him. His hands would wander, but never in a way he thought would make you feel like he was pushing you to sleep with him in that way. His favorite spot that he’d had his mouth on you was the kitchen counter, slotted between your legs with his hands on your thighs and the way you sighed into his mouth as his hands moved up your sides made his soul sing.

“I’m so grateful to have you,” you whisper when he pulls away, a smile on your face as you catch your breath. “I love you, Sae. I know you’ve known, but I needed to make sure I told you outright.”

“I love you, too. But you’ve always known that.”

You only nod, hands holding his cheeks as you lean in to kiss him again. He’s so in love with you, never had he felt something so strong for another person. A ring he gave you sat on your right index finger, nothing too glamorous but he wore a matching one in the same spot - eventually he was sure you’d have matching rings sitting on your left ring fingers, but that time would come when you both were ready for such a commitment.

He’d make sure to appreciate how you shone in the sun, the little laugh that left you when you were surprised with a kiss, especially the way your hand would seek out his while you were in a car with him. Lunches on the patio while you’re sitting in his lap, the fingers of his non dominant hand trailing up and down down your spine - the time he got to spend with you cherished since you weren’t traveling with him for matches. The privacy you two had added another layer of peace in your relationship, not needing to worry about appearances or media speculation on where your relationship was at. He could just be Sae, and you could just be you. Happy and in love and ready to take on the world together.

And when you start having sex, Sae thinks about how fucking stupid your ex was. You’re gorgeous when your face is flushed, your lips parted as you can’t stop begging him for more or keeping your mouth on him as he makes love to you. Not to mention how you feel around him, never had he ever had a partner like you - pushing him onto cloud nine and catching him when he fell with his own peak.

When he brought you into new locker rooms to christen his new space while you’re wearing a jersey with his name and number on it, watching you try so hard to keep quiet so you wouldn’t get caught and get him into any trouble - not that he cared. He was Itoshi fucking Sae; he did what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. And if that was taking his girlfriend in a locker room, then he was going to do it.

Your relationship is made public two years after you’d moved with him the first time; an instagram post from you showing off the ring and your fiancé, showing that you were happy. This was a media storm that Sae welcomed, something positive rather than the negative press he attracted due to his attitude. You loved him dearly, and he loved you proudly.

That’s how it should be.

#itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae fanfic #blue lock fanfics #blue lock fics #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x reader #sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae fluff

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staytinyville · 4 months

Text

Burn It (Pt. 1)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Eventual!Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Namjoon x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi,

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household,

↣ A/N: Honestly I always get inspired by all the historical stories on here and I just really wanted to sit my ass down to write. Part two might just have smut y’all so tell me if you want lmao. Also can you please tell me what you guys think of my writing? I don’t know I want to publish sometime soon but like if I suck at writing why bother.

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You usually slept on your back, worried about the day someone came into your room to do something. It was all you ever thought about the moment you were told why your parents truly made you the queen.

You weren’t a light sleeper by any means, so you knew the moment someone stepped into your room something was going to happen. It wasn’t one of your guards who would announce their presence or even your family who you knew the staff would call out to you the moment they slammed the door open.

You didn’t dare to move. Not when you could hear their steps in the room that were clearly trying to be quiet. Anyone who wasn’t trained to listen in to their surroundings were bound to be caught off guard by whoever it was. However after spending the last few years in fear of being killed in your sleep you taught yourself to pick up on the smallest of things.

You felt them reach the side of your bed, but still you didn’t move. You took in a deep breath, waiting for them to strike. When you made to move your body just the tiniest of bits, your eyes flew wide open at the person who suddenly had you pinned to your bed–a sharp blade placed against your throat.

You swallowed softly, looking up into the face of your assassin. The light from outside the room was barely enough, but you could make out the scar that ran along the right side of his face. His cheeks that look round. The band that was tied against his forehead. The blonde hair that was neatly wrapped in a bun.

You didn’t make a sound though, only allowing your eyes to follow along his face. You could tell that after a moment, he began to grow confused, his eyebrows pulling together and head tilting to the side.

You made no show of trying to fight him off. You didn’t even breathe harshly. Instead he watched as your eyes scanned over his face, eyes glittering in the moonlight that showed through the curtains. It left him baffled as you kept an even expression to it all.

“Why aren't you terrified?” He asked, clenching the blade’s handle.

“There are things more terrifying than death.” You whispered, catching his attention.

There was a sad expression behind your eyes. He could see it hidden behind your facade. He almost faltered when he came to the realization that you were waiting for him to move the knife. But his resolve came back, quickly shaking his head to clear it.

“Then you should be thankful.” He sneered.

He pressed the knife deep just barely breaking the skin. But he stopped completely when all you did was fall limply and close your eyes. His breath got caught in his throat, feeling conflicted over the way you were acting.

He was told about how much of a tyrant the queen was. How she would strike at anyone who dared to even breathe in her direction. She was cruel and followed in her parents footsteps of ruling the kingdom with fear. Those who worked in the castle that were part of the rebellion had all said she was an emotionless person who didn’t even bother to look at when someone was being punished, not bothering to spare them her time.

She was a menace, someone who didn’t deserve to be on the throne. But yet, here she was under his grip awaiting death to come to her without so much as a fight. She was hiding things behind her eyes that would be released come death. But Yoongi didn’t feel it in his heart to kill someone like that. Someone who was willing to give up their life for something haunting them.

He couldn’t stand to see others that way. Not when he had been there before.

You felt the blade lose its pressure, opening your eyes to look at him once again. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you questioning me when I have a knife to your neck?” He sneered, pressing the knife back to you.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Quiet.” He growled, slamming a fist into the pillow next to you.

“Why aren't you calling for help?” He asked, moving to hover above you, his knife next to your head.

“Who will be there to help me?” You whispered once more in that sad voice.

“Your grace!” Someone called from outside of your bedroom.

The man’s head snapped to the direction of the door, hearing the handles begin to twist to signal someone was going to come in. The assassin was quick to jump off the bed and out into the night without so much as a second in between. You rushed out of your bedspread, not caring about being in your nightgown. All you cared about was getting to stop the man.

“Wait—”

You froze at the bottom of the steps that lead outside, catching as he turned around to face you under a lamp post. You could finally see his face in its entirety. The scar ran along his eye and down to his cheek. You were still as his face seemed to burn itself into your memory. You wanted to call out for him, ask him what he was doing.

But there was something stopping you. The way he looked at you like he was torn. It was gone in a flash just as he was following the calling of your name from your bedroom.

“(Y/N)?” You turned to find your personal guard looking around the room for you. “What are you doing outside?” He asked, walking up to you.

“Couldn't sleep.” You spoke softly.

“What brings you by?” You asked the man, turning to face him.

“I heard a man's voice. It was hostile.” He looked around the room just to make sure, moving things around that created dark spots.

“You have sharp hearing, Namjoon.” You smiled softly.

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” You walked closer to him, causing him to look at you.

You watched as his eyes went wide, hand reaching out to touch your neck.

“You’re bleeding.” He wiped his thumb along the miniscule cut the man’s knife had left.

You moved to wipe at it yourself, coming with bloody fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing to yourself.

“I probably just scratched myself in my sleep.” You told him.

Namjoon was perceptive, but he wasn’t going to question it because he knew you. No matter how much he wanted to care for you when you got hurt, you were someone who kept to themselves. You weren’t going to allow others to know your pain.

“I’ll clean it for you.” He said.

You allowed the man to do as he pleased. You suddenly felt much too tired to allow yourself the time to clean up the wound. Besides, you always enjoyed your moments with Namjoon. He had been there since you became the so-called queen. He watched them put the crown on your head. Watched with a harsh breath and flare nostrils as he knew the truth behind it all.

The only one who did.

As you felt is large hands press softly into the skin of your neck you almost wanted to flinch at how easy it was for him to actually kill you. There will always be people out there much more skilled than you ever could be. Much more powerful.

Tears welled in your eyes as you thought about it. You felt useless–like you life was miniscule. And it was in the eyes of your family. You didn’t realize a tear fell down your cheek until Namjoon moved to wipe at it.

“Are you truly okay, my queen?”

Namjoon’s acknowledgment of your title had you squaring your shoulders, looking at the man with a small smile on your face.

He was right. You were the queen–the one everyone called her majesty or bowed their heads to when you walked. It wasn’t your parents–your sister who walked with a smaller crown. It was you. Even if your family was the one who told you what to do in the end–you were the one who the kingdom saw as its queen. And you knew it was time to step into that role.

The time that passed was a long one. New bruises and wounds turned up on your body–hidden behind the hanbok you would wear. They would never dare to strike you across the face, not when the entire kingdom could see. They had images to keep up and people to boss around. It was their kingdom but you were the one they hated.

You still walked with your head held high, nose turned up as you tried to remain emotionless. You had learned to perfect the look with all the eyes that followed you everywhere. You didn’t dare to showcase any kind of emotion. You knew if you did they would see it. And they didn’t want their subjects to know the queen was being ruled by fear.

“Choosing a warrior for the princess is a perfect way of having her protected.” Your father’s general walked alongside the both of you.

“Here are the fine gentlemen who decided to take up the mantle. It gives the common people a chance as well to be part of the royal court.” He explained looking over the men he had watched train to be the best warriors they could be.

There were a total of 50 young and older men all standing in rows with hands behind their backs and legs spread to shoulder length. You didn’t bother to look at them because you knew that your family had already chosen you.

“Thank you, general.” Your father smiled brightly. “We would only want the best for our daughter.”

He turned to you, the grin on his lips making your stomach turn as you tried not to sneer. Your eyes immediately dropped from his face, turning around as you finally began to scan the warriors who suddenly raised their heads at your discretion.

“Your grace, please be sure to choose wisely. Munhee is your twin sister–she deserves to be protected just as much as you.” He offered in a sickenly sweet tone.

“Of course, father.” You spoke monotonously.

You begin to walk through the men, only picking you head up to give them a glance but continuing forward. You could see some of them gulp in worry while others let out breaths from your monotonous look. You were only courteous, meeting some of their eyes in order to make them think you were actually picking on your own.

You continued on through the rows, trying your best to act like your parents had told you to. But there was a second–just one second–where your facade dropped and you came to stand still. He stood in another row, a bit shorter than those next to him. But he still kept a stoic face–facing forward in the position the general had them all stand.

He was to the right of you, giving you the opportunity to see the long scar that ran down his face. There was a flutter in your heart that was created by anxiety. But it was fear, it was an anticipation that would lead you to win.

No one noticed the way you stopped to stare or the way you started to breath harshly. Namjoon had been the only one, eyes moving to scan the crowd as he tried to find what made you stop. Your father continued forward with the general speaking to himself as he thought you were walking alongside him.

“I hear that Sooyoung is quite the—”

“Him.” You interrupted your father.

“What?” He stopped, turning around to quickly find who you were looking at. “Who?”

You moved with calculated steps towards him, but he didn’t move from his position.

“The one with the scar?” Your father spoke bewildered, glancing between you and the man. “But your grace, you can't possibly want—”

“I'm positive he is more than capable of taking care of Munhee.” You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the man. “He looks like he's been through tough battles.”

“Oh well, I don't remember seeing him during training much.” The general frowned as he squinted his eyes at the scar on the man’s cheek.

“He does seem to have a memorable enough face.” The general tsked but moved to turn away and back to the front of the rows of men. “Step forward boy!”

With one last look at him, you turned to Namjoon who was following closely behind you. You watched him take in a breath, eyes scanning the man over as his eyebrows pulled together. Your face remained emotionless, turning around while lifting your nose up. You could see your father sneering as he began to follow behind you.

“State your name.” The general asked once all of you made it to the front.

“Agust.” He spoke deeply.

“What an odd name.” Your father waved off.

“Sounds western.” The general nodded to himself.

“Are you positive this is the one you will choose your grace?” Your father spoke up.

You could see the fury behind his eyes, the one that was clearly telling you to back out of the problem you had placed them all in. But you looked at him the same way you always would, not daring to move your head from his stare. You felt Namjoon grow closer to your back, his warmth seeping into your clothes. You moved your hand from under your sleeve–a silent request to tell him everything was okay.

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate.

“Very well. The ceremony shall take place later this afternoon.” The general spoke up, humming to himself as he began to gather the other men.

Yoongi watched as you didn’t give your father another look, walking away quickly with both your father and guard on your heels. Your robe billowed behind you as you fast walked, but he was quick to notice the way your father rushed up to you and caught our arm before the doors to the palace shut behind you all.

“(Y/N), what is the meaning of this?” Your father sneered, gripping onto your arm tightly. “We decided already who would be the royal guard.”

“I'm sorry—” You flinched, unnoticed by the way you spoke with no emotions.

Your lips turned downwards, a sneer waiting to overtake your face at the way your father was clutching tightly onto your wrist–enough to know it would be bruised in a little bit. Your hands clenched up, nails wanting to scratch at his arm for hurting you. But it wasn’t the right time.

“We will talk later.” With one last tight squeeze your father threw your arm from his grasp.

It made you jerk backwards, teeth clenched as you were quick to soothe the ache.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon walked closer to you, fingers lightly falling down your arm to take a look.

“Yes, I'm fine Namjoon.” You spoke, your emotionless voice causing him to straighten up.

As your gaze landed back on the closed doors the only thing that crossed your mind was the scar along that man’s cheek. There was no mistaking that mark–it was one that seemed to alter your way of thinking all together. You were brought back to the night that he held the knife to your neck. Made you bleed and a small barely noticeable scar being left behind.

Your hand went up to your neck, feeling the uneven skin under your fingertips.

“Namjoon, would you protect me if someone was to come and assassinate me?” You suddenly spoke up, looking towards the doors that lead to the courtyard.

“What kind of question is that?” The man gasped, looking at your incredulously. “Of course I would—with my life.”

“Why?” You said absent mindlessly.

“Because I am your royal guard—”

“Did you know there are people trying to kill the queen?” You stopped him, turning to face him completely.

He gulped, watching as you grew closer to him. “Isn't there always? But that won't stop me from protecting you.”

“It's a rebellion, isn't it? People wanting to kill me.” You quietly spoke, watching as his eyes scanned over your face before falling to your neck where he could see the scar.

His breathing began to grow rapidly, as he tried to come up with an answer. “They don't want to kill you—”

“So you know about it?”

“(Y/N), I swear I know nothing about it—” He began to sputter.

“Namjoon, you are the only person I can trust in this palace. The only one who knows the truth. And now I want you to be honest with me. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” You demanded.

He suddenly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your grace. There is a rebellion that is out to kill the queen. But it's not you they are after, it's Munhee. At least the one they're really after is Munhee.”

There was something that seemed to lift off your shoulder hearing those words. It didn’t make you feel any better however it did make you understand that there were plans that needed to be put into motion. Plans that you were going to accomplish with certain people on your side.

“(Y/N), did something happen?” He asked.

“That man.” You spoke up. “The one I placed as Munhee’s guard. You know him. I saw it in your face when I chose him.”

He watched as your nose twitched and your eyes went glassy. “Namjoon, are you part of the rebellion?”

“Never!” Namjoon shouted, taking a step closer to you. “I could never do you harm or wish for something as cruel as that to come to you. You mean everything to me. I will stop at nothing to protect you from those who wish you harm.”

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment at his confession. His eyes expressed just how much he meant every word. Namjoon was the one person who had been with you since you were a girl hiding in corners from the abuse you would suffer at the hands of your family. He has seen you at your worst. Which means you had to be better for him.

“Then how do you know him?” You asked.

“I don’t personally know him. I’ve only ever seen him around the kingdom a couple of times.” Namjoon licked his lips, answering truthfully.

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. “However, there could be someone who might.”

The ceremony wasn’t anything spectacular. Only the army was present and those of the palace staff. After the general proclaimed his speech to those around, he handed you a sword which you took in a tight grip walking forward towards Agust who kneeled at the stop of the stairs.

“It is an honor to serve the royal family. As royal guard to the princess you shall take up the mantle as her protector.” You prattled off.

“You shall put your life before hers to guarantee her safety. Do you accept this position?” You spoke loudly, keeping your eyes downcasted on the man who was kneeling in front of you.

“Yes.” He spoke up, keeping his face down to the ground.

“I hereby name you a royal guard to princess Munhee. May your sword always be sharp and your will always stay strong.” You ended, making him rise to grip onto the sword you were handing over to him.

As he reached out for the sword that laid on your palms, your sleeve had moved down your arm, giving him full view of the darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on your wrist. He watched your hand suddenly clench onto the blade of the sword catching his attention and making him look up into your eyes.

Your face still remained emotionless, but you made a small movement to get him to take the sword. He was quick to take it, bowing his head once more as he began to sheath the blade. Your hands fell to your side, causing the sleeve to fall over your wrist once more.

There wasn’t much left of the ceremony other than you giving an emotionless speech about how you were grateful to the army for what they did. Once everything ended on a normal tone, the royal family turned around to enter the palace with the new royal guard in tow behind the entire entourage.

“I can't believe this is the man you appointed!” Munhee screeched. “How stupid can you be!? Haven't you already done enough!?”

She had been stomping her feet in front of you but quickly turned around to strike you across the face. Your face whipped to the side, not expecting the hit but you didn’t dare to make a sound or move a hand up to cradle your wound.

Yoongi watched with an emotionless face as you seemed to keep up the facade. Your guard was quick to step up to you, getting between you and the so-called princess. Yoongi glared at all of you, eyebrows pulling together at the debacle.

“You insolent girl. You deserve everything that is coming your way.” She sneered at you.

“Munhee!” The old king sneered. “Do not strike her face!? How many times have we told you!?”

His eyebrows only seemed to pull together deeper, trying to figure out what the whole dynamic was between everyone. It seemed you only remained emotionless as your large guard took your arm softly.

He didn’t understand what your place was in all of this. You were the queen who was above all of these people. And yet they seemed to take pleasure in screaming at you. You didn’t give any reaction to their words or actions–allowing them to do as they pleased. You were no queen after the whole thing.

“Namjoon, take her to the healers quickly before she bruises.” Your father turned to your royal guard. “They have to fix it before she goes out in public.”

“Of course.” Namjoon spoke through a clenched jaw, softly pulling you along.

You didn’t give Yoongi another look, keeping your head up as pieces of your hair fell out of your headpiece and into your face. He watched you leave before turning around as he heard the princess stomp closer to him.

“Ugly, good for nothing.” The princess sneered, quickly turning from him. “Don't look at me. Your face belongs in a cell.”

The way she had her lips pulled up and nose scrunched up made her look ugly. It seemed she had done that face so much it stuck to her skin. It was clear she was your twin somehow but for some reason Yoongi found himself claiming your face was much easier to look at.

“Forgive me.” Yoongi spoke monotonously.

“What do we do with him?” Munhee didn’t pay him any mind, turning to her parents.

“We'll have Namjoon teach him for now.” The old queen spoke carelessly. “Until we have a reason to get rid of him we can't do much. That would mean forsaking the general and his warriors.”

“Stupid traditions.” Munhee rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep him out of my sight. And give him a mask for when he is. I cannot stand to look at him.” She gave him one last sneer of her lips, stomping away with her parents in tow.

“Of course.” Some guard for your parents announced.

He began to walk away, so Yoongi assumed he was to follow after his superior. He was taken out of the back gardens and into another part of the palace. There were curtains that were billowing out of the room that gave it enough breeze. The guard takes Yoongi around the building towards the doors.

“You may stay here for the time being.” The guard explained, opening the doors to a wide spacious room.

“I will be sure to inform Namjoon of your whereabouts.” He bowed his head before turning to leave.

Yoongi had assumed he was left alone, watching with a raised brow as the guard seemed to walk away quickly. However when he suddenly felt a presence behind him, he was quick to turn. He watched as a stunning man seemed to tilt his head in confusion at the man.

He was dressed in a translucent robe that draped down his body. He wore expensive looking jewelry and was cleaned much better than even the royal family themselves. Yoongi could smell the perfumes the man wore from where he stood a good three feet away.

“New concubine? But no one said anything about it.” He spoke with a deep voice, but his eyes held childish wonder.

“Concubine?” Yoongi questioned.

“Are you not one?” The man asked, stepping closer to the scarred one. “Isn't that why they brought you here?”

“I was appointed as royal guard to the princess.” Yoongi immediately answered, keeping his stare on the handsome man.

“Makes more sense.” The concubine nodded to himself, lips forming a perfect pout. “Princess Munhee would never choose you.”

Yoongi suddenly frowned, giving the man an offended look.

“Taehyung, don't be rude.” Someone behind Yoongi spoke up.

He quickly turned around finding another man dressed the same as the one in front of him. However, this one seemed to have puffier cheeks and shorter in structure. He also carried himself more sensually–confident in what he looked like.

“I still think you're very handsome.” He smiled softly at Yoongi. “My name is Jimin. This is Taehyung. We are concubines for Princess Munhee.”

Once more the assassin was left confused. Why weren’t they concubines for the queen herself? It wasn’t really known that the princess had some of her own.

“The princess? Not the queen?” He spoke out loud.

“She doesn't have any.” Taehyung answered.

“Well except for Jungkook but he's just for show. He says he's never been with her let alone her bedroom. He's still a lucky bastard though. I wish I was (Y/N)'s concubine.” He pouted, crossing his arms in a childish manner.

“You like the queen?” Yoongi asked baffled.

“Like?” Taehyung tilted his head to the side. “I love her! She's so kind and patient. She always treats our wounds after we've been with Munhee. She gives us extra sweets when she comes to see us. Anyone would fall in love with her.” He sighed dreamily.

Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear all that was falling from the poor man’s mouth. He only saw someone who had been brainwashed into thinking the queen was someone kind and nurturing. It did leave him a bit baffled to remember that it was the queen who had been striked across the face by the princess but that didn’t mean her emotionless heart wasn’t real. It was clear by the way she didn't react to the way she was treated.

“She is a tyrant. How can you stand to live here as concubines? You don't get to see your family and as you said, you get wounds from the princess—”

“Exactly. From the princess.” Jimin interrupted, coming to stand in front of Yoongi.

Jimin looked at him with squinted eyes that made him look seductive. But his words made it seem like Jimin was waiting for Yoongi to figure everything out. “There are things within the palace that are not correct. You'll find that out soon enough.” He told the man vaguely.

The door suddenly open and all three men turned to look at who had entered. Taehyung beamed at Namjoon who gave the two concubines a bow of his head. Jimin only gave the man a small smile twirling around to go back to whatever it was he was doing before Yoongi had entered.

“Agust, please follow me.” Namjoon called for him.

Yoongi gave the two concubines one last look before following after the larger man. He began to lead him back to the main building, Yoongi trying to memorize the journey.

“My name is Kim Namjoon—you can call me Namjoon. I am the royal guard to queen (Y/N). We will be working together closely.” He explained.

Yoongi paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thought about the woman. “The queen—what did they do?”

“They gave her a cold patch.”

He lead Yoongi to another section of the palace that seemed to be full of different kinds of staff. It was close to the rooms of the royal families so Yoongi only assumed it was the building he would be staying in.

“This is where we stay. We share a room along with the other royal guards.” It was a quick thing before Namjoon took off once more from the guard quarters.

As Yoongi was looking around, trying to find escape routes or hiding places he didn’t notice Namjoon had come to a stop causing him to bump into the man.

“What are you doing here? Do you know the risks of getting caught? You should leave before something happens to both you and the queen.” Namjoon quickly spoke, causing Yoongi to look at him oddly.

Namjoon had a stern expression on his face but he didn’t care to reach out to kill the smaller man. It was clear that Namjoon knew who Yoongi was the moment he came into the palace. Namjoon was someone often spoken about within the group. One of the people who worked within the palace had explained that Namjoon would do anything to protect the queen from harm.

However he also said that Namjoon would be more than willing to be on their side. It left him at a confused headspace over the bigger man.

“I know that more than anything what will happen. I have a mission to complete. I can’t go back without results.” Yoongi spoke harshly.

“For what? A murder that is unjustified?” Namjoon glared.

“You know as well as everyone else just how justified it really is.” Yoongi retorted.

“I know you’re out to kill the wrong person. If you think you were the only one thinking about infiltrating the palace, you would be wrong.” Namjoon has his arms crossed, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate the scarred man.

“Namjoon?” A soft voice spoke up behind them.

“I’m here, your grace.” Namjoon turned around to face you, watching as you walked closer to them with smaller robes that were easier to walk in.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You spoke up calmly, staring Yoongi down.

“Cut the small talk. Why did you choose me?” Yoongi sneered, knowing the three of you were alone from others to keep from saying what he wanted.

Namjoon glared, about to take a step towards him but you subtly moved your hand out to keep him from getting closer.

“Did you not want to be chosen? Isn’t that why you infiltrated the army and applied to be the personal guard for Princess Munhee?” You questioned him.

“Why did you select me?” Yoongi pressed again.

You took a moment, irking him as you looked down at him.

“I don’t know.” You merely shrugged.

“I can kill you right now.” He placed a hand on the sword you had given him, causing Namjoon to reach for his own.

You stopped them though when you walked closer to Yoongi. “You can but it won’t solve your problems.”

“It will solve many.” He sneered.

“That’s what you think.” You told him.

He felt something in his chest watching you. He knew it was you, knew by the little scar that was under your head from the knick his blade had left months ago. Knew by the way you softly stared at him waiting for his next moves.

However you were different now. Different in the way you spoke—the way you held yourself. It was nighttime then though, he has never seen you before. But speaking with you now it wasn’t the same as the woman who was awaiting death with open arms.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked.

“Who?”

“The girl who waited for me to move my blade. The one who was hoping I would.” He spoke quietly, keeping you stare.

“I found a better chance.” You told him, speaking in that voice that told him how there were worse things to fear other than death.

“One that lets me live the way I want. My personal guard will make sure to tell you of your duties. Do not mess it up.” You added sternly.

You turned around, Namjoon giving Yoongi one last harsh stare before turning to follow after you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you.

“I have suffered my whole life just for others to come and kill me in place of my sister.” You spoke softly looking down at the paper you had been writing on. “I’m done being the decoy they know they need. The plaything they would have their fun with when they were angry.”

You looked up when knocking comes from the door. “I was made the queen. And as far as the kingdom knows I am the Empress who rules. So that is what I will be.”

The double doors open wide as Yoongi struts his way in. Namjoon stands behind you with his hands clasped in front of him. He glanced your way, taking note of how you don’t bother to look up at him. From what the other concubines have claimed of you, Yoongi has yet to see it.

“Sit.” You tell him, going back to writing a letter.

He listens to your demand, sitting cross legged in front of your table as he waits for you to say something. It takes another 10 minutes before you do. By then Yoongi had a frown on his face from having wasted time sitting in front you, waiting.

“I have something to ask of you.” You told him.

When all you got was a raised brow, you continued. “I need you to take this to your leader.” You rolled up your letter and pushed it forward towards Yoongi.

“Leader?” He questioned.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” You clenched your jaw. “Someone sent you to kill me. And now I want to send them a letter.”

“Are you mad?” Yoongi scoffed.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But you get tired after so much.”

There it was again—the jab at your past. The jab in Yoongi’s chest that made him rethink about killing you. It was the suffering he heard in your voice. The one that didn’t care about what happened to them because they had already been through so much.

“I don’t get it.” Yoongi told you.

“Don’t get what?” You questioned.

“This!?” He says pointing to the letter you wanted him to send to his leader “Everything around the place. I came here knowing one thing but come to learn it’s not right.”

“Information can get lost in translation.” You waved him off.

There was so much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with those in the group about the whole thing because he had been training with the army for the past couple of months. All he knew was that the queen was a tyrant who treated the people of her kingdom unfairly.

But now he wanted to know if he was looking at the right person.

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demanded.

“What is that?” You asked him.

“That a queen would allow someone beneath her to strike her.” He told you.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You asked him.

“Not what?”

“Beneath them?” You take a deep breath thinking over something. “At least in their eyes.”

This made him stop for moment. After witnessing the actions of her family Yoongi came to realize there were things wrong with the royal family. And after hearing the words of those who worked closely with them it was clear that the choice he made of sparing you was one that left his conscious free of guilt.

“Are you trusting me?” He questioned you, realizing that you were about to tell him the truth.

“You’re going to find out sooner or later. In case you haven’t—I’m not the real queen. I’m only the one who takes the harsh blows of the tyranny my family causes. I’m just their scapegoat.” You explained.

“If you do your job right there should be no consequences. You have my word.” You told him.

“Which job?” He questioned.

“You should know which one, Min Yoongi.”

Pt. 2 Y’all? Be sure to apply to my permenant taglist so you can be added to Pt. 2 if I come out with it lol.

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#kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #bts min yoongi #min suga #suga smut #suga x reader #suga bts #yoongi #bangtan sonyeondan #agust d #bts fic #bangtan #bts suga

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wintertime-in-june · 5 months

Text

Colonel's Punishment

Colonel!König x NewRecruit!Reader

MDNI 18+

You stand to attention, waiting, as the two Lieutenants go about their uniform checks.

One stands before you, hands on her hips, looking you up and down.

"Regulation bra?"

"No bra."

She notes to herself, brow furrowed, clearly displeased. Despite this, a wicked glint was clear in her eyes as she proceeded with the check.

"Underwear?"

She leant forward pulling your waist band and looking down.

She tuts seeing the deep red panties you wore... clearly not to code.

She let the waist band snap back, noting down this further violation.

You let out a little huff knowing you were going to get scolded... or worse.

The Lieutenants seemed to have it out for you since day one... and it was only day two. Making snide remarks about your gender, your looks, just waiting for your to slip up... so much for girls supporting girls.

They were practically begging for any reason to...

"Send her to the Colonel."

The other woman replied to the one checking your uniform as they discussed with great fervour how you would be punished.

What a couple of sadists, you thought to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and huffing. One tapped away on her device, clearly notifying the Colonel that a mischievous recruit was being sent over, the other stood with her arms folded, a look of triumph on her face.

From their experience the Colonel had no time for young recruits, he didn't like to be disturbed and hence, gave the most brutal of punishments. In their own formative training, they both had suffered the agonisingly long workouts the Colonel doled out... Time to repay the favour they thought, sending you, the only female recruit in the cohort to face his wrath.

You were going to be put in your place.

As you walked through the empty corridors, your combat boots squeaking beneath you, you couldn't help but feel a little scared.

You'd heard stories of the Colonel... none of them good, they all involved the words killing machine or ended with a recruit crying so hard they threw up, what a lovely sentiment.

Your brow furrowed slightly as you glowered, looked at the ground as you trudged along. What a couple of bitches you thought to yourself, these Lieutenants definitely had some sort of made up problem with you if they'd sent you here on your second day at base, literally your first day of training.

You stood in front of the Colonel's office, your arm noticeably shaking as you held it up and knocked on the door.

A few seconds passed, no reply, a few more, nothing, then...

"Ja."

You heard his voice, you jumped a little, startled despite it being natural that he was in fact in his own office.

Does this mean you should come in? You didn't know, so you turned the nob slowly, tentatively pushing the door open and peeking you head in.

You saw him, sat at his desk, he didn't look up, he merely lifted his hand beckoning you in.

Your heart was beating even quicker now, perhaps you should have just sucked it up and worn the uncomfortable undergarments.

Realising you had been frozen for quite some seconds you scurried in, carefully closing the door behind you.

You stood in front of his desk as he finished writing his sentence, putting his pen down and looking up.

He picked up his phone, re-checking the message that had been sent to him as he stood up and walked to the front of his desk.

He leant back on the desk before placing the phone down and crossing his arms.

Your eyes travelled up and up, slowly until they met his piercing blue ones, peaking through his hood.

You gulped. He's tall, taller than you knew. You had seen him on the first day, up on the staging with the other commanding officers but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer towering presence this man truly gave off.

He smirked under his mask, unbeknownst to you. When the Lieutenants had said they were sending over a rule breaking recruit he certainly hadn't expected you to walk into his office.

To put it frankly you looked like you wouldn't hurt a fly, like you couldn't hurt a fly, like the fly would hurt you.

He had re-read the text just to check. You hadn't punched someone, you hadn't stolen a weapon, you hadn't even disrespected a higher up, you had simply broken the dress code. How amusing that they would bother the Colonel with something so insignificant.

Perhaps it was the Lieutenants he should be having a word with over wasting Colonel's time but alas you were here.

He scanned you body, it was small but then again anything is to him, it was frail, the way you stood there was just... delicious. Practically quaking as you waited, so unsure of yourself, eyes shinning, fucking adorable.

"So Kleiner, do you know why you have been sent to my office?"

He wanted to play with you a little, make you scared.

"I violated the dress code, sir." You reply in a quiet voice.

He smiles a little under his mask, heart clenching, your voice, so fucking cute he thought to himself.

"Ja, I see, no bra?"

He leaned forward a little with his question, his immense stature still looming over you forebodingly. You couldn't help but look down, shying away.

You have a small nod of your head.

"And your panties?"

He leaned forward a little uncrossing his arms and beckoning you with his finger.

"You show me."

You pout a little as you pull down your waist band slightly, showing him the red from your underwear. Clearly not the regulation white ones.

"Ah, yes, I see, ze red ones, very cute."

He teases, leaning back against the desk and re crossing his arms.

You can't help but blush a bit.

He felt his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of your underwear, you are just so precious.

"They're comfier." You reply in a whisper.

He chuckles at your response, muttering an "I'm sure they are" as he headed back to the other side of his desk.

"Now your Lieutenants have recommended that I send you on the 'twenty, thirty, fifty'."

You tilt your head questioningly, he sees your lack of understanding.

"It is twenty pull ups, thirty push ups and fifty laps followed by an afternoon of hard labour."

You bite your lip in nervousness, you couldn't do that, even if you wanted to... Your mind began to wander as worry consumed your thoughts.

That was until you heard a low chuckle.

"...but, look at you!"

You look up to the Colonel, surprised by his laughter, before looking down at yourself.

What did he mean? What was wrong with you? Your brow furrowed.

"Süß." He mused. You didn't know what he was saying, but you could only assume the worst.

"So ein schwaches, kleines, unschuldiges ding, damit ich zerbreche."

You gulp as you stand and wait. Your knees are shaking, does he notice? You hope he doesn't notice.

He lifted up his hand, beckoning you over with two fingers. You oblige, stepping towards him and meeting him on his side of the desk.

"Now Kleiner Rekrut, I will not make you do that punishment."

You can't help but let out a breath of relief, premature given what was to come next.

"Take down your pants. You will be punished the old fashioned way."

Your eyes widen, oh no, this is so embarrassing you thought to yourself as you stood there like a rabbit in headlights.

You didn't move, you didn't even speak, you just stood.

He let out a sigh, turning his chair to you before latching his large hands onto the waist band of your pants, tugging them down in a few large pulls, your underwear remaining up.

You let out a little gasp as his hands landed on your waist before hoisting you up and onto his lap in one swift motion as if you weighed nothing.

Your front was now lying on his legs, ass poking up. You moved your hands to cover your face. Fuck, this was so embarrassing. Day two and you were going to be spanked by your Colonel...

Your legs dangled helplessly as he held you in place.

He pulled your panties up slightly, exposing more of your soft, supple, flesh. So delicate, so tangible, right in front of König for him to touch.

He couldn't help but lick his lips. He loved this, he was relishing in the moment, he thought it could not get any better...

*Smack*

You let out a gasp of shock as he spanked you, his large calloused hand brought down onto your soft ass.

He felt his dick harden fully, immediately. Why did you have to be so adorable little mouse?

The jiggle when he lifted his hand made him suck in a sharp breath.

He brought his hand down again, another smack reverberating off the walls of his office and eliciting a whimper from you.

This time he kept his hand on your ass, massaging it a little after the smack, a pink hue forming along with his large handprints.

Again and again he spanked you, soon your whimpers turned to small moans that you tried to muffle with your hands out of embarrassment.

You heard a tut followed by a low chuckle as König massaged your ass after another harsh smack.

That's why you felt his fingers wander from your ass to the small wet patch that had begun to form on your underwear.

"Oh, little Maus... do you like your punishment?"

He pushed his finger against the wet spot, smiling sadistically under his hood. You whimper as he did so, trying to wiggle away but only making his contact more intense.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Colonel." You cry out in a little whimper.

Without warning he lifted your hips slightly with one hand before pulling down the red panties you adorned, revealing your sopping wet cunt.

You felt him rut his hips upwards, hardly able to control himself. Having a little recruit sprawled over his lap, their sticky, little pussy on display, it was too much for a man like him to bear. He'd never seen one before... well, not in person, he'd seen plenty in porn, that was for sure, but never one as perfect as this.

Without thinking he pushes one of his thick digits into your tight hole, you let out a little moan, his cock twitching in his pants.

"Scheiße." He practically growls, feeling your tight, gummy walls gripping him.

He began to pump his finger in and out, watching carefully as you sucked him back in, clenching down when he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you.

You couldn't help the moans that spilled from your lips, his finger are thick, thicker than your own pathetic little ones that couldn't even hit the spot, he did it with ease.

His eyes glazed over as he thought, if this is how you squeeze just one finger, imagine you taking his thick cock. He wanted to put another finger in, just to see something closer to the size of his cock but he knew you could not handle it, not yet anyway.

He curled his finger slightly causing you to squeal, arching your back into him shamefully.

"C-Colonel." You stuttered out breathlessly, scared of what was to come.

His pace only increased as he plunged his large finger in and out of you, lewd squelching noises sounding like music to his ears as they mingled with your mewls.

His thigh grinded against your clit, unintentionally, adding to the building knot in your abdomen.

He let out a groan as his own hips rutted against you slightly, his pace on your poor pussy unrelenting.

With a string of high pitched moans, your little hole clenched around his digit, slick spilling out onto his already soaked hand.

As you rode out your high, grinding down a little on his thigh, he groaned, thick white ropes staining the inside of his boxers.

"I-I'm so sorry Colonel, so sorry." You cried a little as the realisation of what had just happened set in.

You had just cummed on your Colonel's hand, during your supposed punishment.

He gently pumped his finger in and out of your hole, despite your orgasm passing, wanting to feel the sweet pulsations. Easily gliding in and out with your slippy arousal, man how he wished this was his cock, although he knew there would be more push back with something so significantly larger.

He inserts his finger one last time curling into that gummy spot that made your back arch, causing you to wiggle.

"Would you say, you've learnt your lesson little maus?"

"Y-yes sir." You stuttered out through shaking breaths.

"Gut." He removed his fingers, allowing you to wiggle from his lap, helping you down and to stand up straight with his other hand.

As you began to pull up your pants he stopped you.

"A- a- a, give me those. They are confiscated." He said sternly, putting his hand out for your wet, little red panties.

You pursed your lips, taking off your trousers and removing your underwear, balling them up and placing them in his outstretched hand.

As you pulled your uniform back on, he wiped your juices from his hand onto the soft material. He was definitely going to have some fun with these later...

You blushed a deeper red at the thought of the Colonel keeping your underwear.

You turned to face him, waiting for his orders, should you go back to training? You should probably stop by your dorm first and get some new underwear...

"Come here." He beckoned you over once more.

You took the step towards him and he spun you round by your hips. He then pulled your cargo pants down to just below your plush ass, red and pink from his hand prints.

"You're going to be a good girl now." He said squeezing your butt with his two hands, leaning forward and placing kisses over the sore flesh.

You wanted to hide from embarrassment, but you couldn't deny the wetness dripping from your hole as he played with your ass.

"Yes Colonel."

"Gut, gut. I kiss you better, now you may go back to training." He said pulling your pants back up and placing a final smack on your ass.

You brought your hands to your face in embarrassment, trying to cover the blush unsuccessfully.

"Yes sir." You managed barely above a whisper.

As you went to turn the nob to his office door he spoke once more.

"Maus, I think it's best we keep your little punishment between you and me." He smiled under his mask. "Wouldn't want the other recruits to know I was going easy on you, ja?"

You nod, giving him a small coy smile as you exit the room.

...maybe you should get in trouble more often.

Rough Translations:

Kleiner: Little one

Süß: Cute

So ein schwaches, kleines, unschuldiges ding, damit ich zerbreche: Such a weak, little innocent thing for me to break.

#WinterTime #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig smut #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig cod #cod konig #könig call of duty #könig #konig smut #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #könig mw2

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omegalomania · 6 months

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ok listen obviously like everyone else i am Fucking Devastated but the fucking sHRIMPLICATIONS here are KILLING me.

the two last "new" songs we got before the hiatus were alpha dog and from now on we are enemies (equally fucked up song btw) and pete namedrops alpha dog as the last song they wrote before the hiatus and it's such a. it's SUCH a fucking. augh.

like it's so painfully and clearly a farewell. the lyrics all telegraph it. your time has passed. never means forever. walk off into the sunset. the discussion of how much effort is required to maintain this life and how they already feel burned out, past their prime when they were all in their mid-twenties and early thirties. and the sheer fucking POETRY of the way it was the last song they recorded - tell rock and roll i'm alone again - until they announced their triumphant return with save rock and roll in 2013. welcome to the new déjà vu.

and oh yeah the last word issued in the song's studio version is the word "abracadabra," which pete cites as the word that christian bales character in the film “the prestige” says he will utter before he disappears from prison. "abracadabra" was a key word in the viral ARG-esque marketing campaign leading up to the release of believers never die...right before fall out boy seemingly vanished off the very face of the earth.

and, OH YEAH, the first shows they played after reuniting involved a multi-song medley spanning all the stages of their career, with one of those songs being the first time they ever played alpha dog, albeit partially.

the notion of the wizard through the curtain speaking to a sense of bitterness (at least if pete's ten year old genius annotation is anything to go by) which is the exact same phrasing to the way joe would later talk about the band's fraught, strained feelings leading up to the hiatus in a podcast with kerrang while promoting his book.

many people have pointed out the parallels between flu game and alpha dog - the way they both discuss the exhaustion of being so visible and constantly putting yourself out there and how taxing that is, especially when you're simultaneously trying to cover up how hard it is. how isolating it is, when the whole world is squinting against the starlight feathering off you. it's worth noting that these parallels are not merely implicit, either. "flu game" is in and of itself an explicit reference to a famous game michael jordan played while sick in which he claimed that he didn't want to give up, no matter how sick and tired he was. and how did pete annotate a specific couplet, ten years ago?

we must make it hard to look so easy doing something so hard

another explicit reference to michael jordan, years and years prior.

and this is the first time they've ever played alpha dog in full. nearly 15 full years after the hiatus started. by now, fall out boy have been together for far longer than they've ever been apart. by now, fall out boy has been in their "posthiatus" era for longer than they have their "prehiatus" one.

i dont really have a conclusion to this. just, i dunno man. something about the repeated lyric "never means forever" on a greatest hits compilation titled "believers never die." something about i'm a star vs. so much for stardust vs. no more stardust. something about motifs that span decades, that span years of hurt and cracked-open wounds that have now been poured over with liquid gold, mending them anew. something about reclaiming old scars and ugly histories and reforging them into something filled with streaming starlight and sun-drenched smiles.

abracadabra.

#*making poasts #id in the alt text #im pure fucking wrecked about this in case you couldnt tell. im also tired as hell #this might not be articulate to anyone else but im feeling a certain type of way abt it #fucked up for them to debut this one in full when i tumblr user omeglomania was not even there. fucked UP.

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aquitainequeen · 4 months

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Bits and pieces of worldbuilding/setting that I really liked in Furiosa:

We only see one wheeled vehicle in the actual society of the Green Place, and it’s a pedal bicycle, and it’s being used as a blade sharpener. Right after that we learn that the Vuvalini travel by horseback, so the intruders’ bikes stand out all the more as ugly and alien in this place of abundance. (Also, for a piece of symbolism, from what I remember the raiders had killed a horse and were butchering it for the meat.) At the same time the people of the Green Place are familiar with petrol engines; Furiosa and her mother are clearly experienced with motorbikes since they know how to ride, sabotage and (in Mary Jabassa’s case) fix/upgrade them, a nod to the future when the last of the Vuvalini will turn back to petroleum to survive.

Dementus’ followers eating the peach that Furiosa picked, marvelling over it; a fresh piece of fruit is precious in the Wastelands.

The History Man has clothes covered in writing as well as his skin, and he has a tattoo kit so that he can constantly add more words to himself!

I really appreciated that Dementus’ subordinates actually had personalities and lives outside of the narrative that we’re shown; for example, it was great to see ‘Mr. Norton’ join the war band via a battle to be the last person standing, and steadily rise up the ranks off screen until she’s part of Dementus’ inner circle and taking part in his worst atrocities.

We get to see what happens to the serfs when the Citadel is attacked -- there’s no room for them in their lord’s fortress and their only shelter is holes scraped in the earth. Shows us precisely what Immortan Joe thinks of his followers.

What’s an excellent way to show that the Guardian of Gas Town is a man of wealth and taste? Why, reveal that up in his high tower overlooking his domain, he possesses a massive mural of an absolutely gorgeous painting from before the end times that he recreated himself, with only some pages from a book for reference!

I’m sure we all remember that moment in Fury Road where the Dag cuts that terrifying chastity belt off of Cheedo, and Angharad firmly says ‘We’re not going back,’ and that’s all that needs to be said about how horrendous life in Immortan Joe’s harem was? Well, now we get to see numerous women in light airy clothes, drifting about the harem, one of them coming up to Furiosa and telling her with a smile that she’s safe now – even while all of them are wearing those dreadful belts.

#I will add further thoughts to this but for now I am exhausted #furiosa #mad max furiosa #furiosa a mad max saga #furiosa: a mad max story #Also bit of meta:#Dementus at first kept his 'daughter' gagged and in a tiny cage #Immortan Joe keeps his 'wives' in a rather larger cage and allows them to speak #but locks up their genitalia #Furiosa spoilers

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adestayskz · 3 months

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CASE 143 | HAN JISUNG

twenty-seven | i can explain…(written)

The sun, the sound of the waves, the holidays, the cocktails by the sea, the beach.

The vacation had finally started for L/n Y/n and she was feeling good.

She was with her friends, her small group of friends.

The group consisting of Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Minho and Han Jisung had not yet arrived.

She wished Minho had come with her but unfortunately, he had decided to come with his initial friends.

She only dreamed of one thing, to see him, to hug him, to kiss him.

But she knew she couldn't.

Because Han Jisung and Lee Minho were best friends and he wouldn't do anything if Jisung was around, he was way too respectful for that and his best friend was more important than everything else.

And to be honest, she didn't know how she was going to react when she will see Jisung, he broke her heart but damn, she still loved him and she knew it. She loved him so much, but she had caught feelings for Lee Minho too and it was killing her little by little.

But were the feelings she had for Minho were as strong as those she had for Han Jisung?

Even she didn't know it.

She felt so good, so safe in Minho's presence.

But she also felt so good with Jisung.

Her heart ached for both of them.

And she hoped Minho wasn't a band-aid.

_________________

The rest of the boys had arrived and she was there, looking at the two boys in the distance talking to each other.

Lee Minho was handsome, so handsome. She often caught him looking at her, his eyes sparkling, filled with love and care.

And she wanted to run into his arms, kiss him and make love to him.

But her gaze fell on Han Jisung, who was already looking at her, a beer in his hand, the reflection of the sunset on his face and she felt her heart beat faster.

He gave her a slight smile, a blush rising to his cheeks.

She sighed, lost in thought, chewing on her food slowly.

How was she going to do it?

________________

Sitting on the bed she shared with Bahng Christopher, she was on her phone, Chris was outside with Han and the other boys.

L/n Y/n needed to be alone when she heard a knock at the door and it opened, Lee Minho's face appeared in her field of vision and she gave him a big smile, she got up and without really thinking, she went to him, pulled his arm so that he came into the room and placed her lips on his. He chuckled lightly, kissing her back, placing his hands on her waist.

« -I missed you, kitten..

-I missed you too, Min..»

He deepened the kiss, pushing her towards the bed, once she was lying on the mattress, he got on top of her, starting to touch her everywhere, exploring her body.

He was about to put one of his hands under the young woman's t-shirt when suddenly the door opened.

Y/n pushed Minho off of her, her eyes widening.

« -J-Jisung.. »

Han Jisung stood there, his eyes filling with tears.

« -W-What the hell..?»

His words were only whispers but in the heavy silence that had settled in the room, Y/n and Minho had heard him very clearly.

Minho slowly approached Jisung but he backed away.

« -Sungie..i-i can explain..

-So Y/n is the girl you love? Did you you fucking lied to my face, Minho?

-I didn’t mean to..I didn’t mean to f-fall in love with her..

-But you did! You fucking lied to me! Oh my god, I can’t believe you !»

Without waiting for a response, Han Jisung walked out of the room, heading straight outside to get some fresh air.

Lee Minho ran after him, grabbing his arm once outside.

But without expecting it, Jisung turned around and punched his best friend in the face.

Minho didn't say anything, because to him he deserved it.

Jisung pushed Minho, pearls of water running down his soft, pretty face.

« -What did I do to you? WHAT DID I DO TO YOU FOR YOU TO FUCKING BETRAY ME LIKE THAT?

-You did nothing, Hannie..

-LIAR ! I THOUGHT YOUR WERE MY BEST FRIEND! I WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE THAT TO YOU ! OR I WOULD HAVE AT LEAST TOLD YOU AND NEVER STEAL YOUR GIRL !»

Minho looked at him, his heart was beating very hard in his chest, he pursed his lips to avoid crying.

« -I-I TRUSTED YOU MINHO ! I TRUSTED YOU, FUCK !»

Hearing the screams, all the other boys came to see what was happening, Christopher approached Jisung.

« -It’s enough Hannie..let’s take a walk, yeah..? »

L/n Y/n walked outside, her eyes red.

« -Ji, baby..»

Han Jisung looked at her and shook his head, his breathing began to accelerate, his vision was blurred, he felt oppressed and he turned on his heel, leaving away from the two people who had betrayed him. Christopher followed him.

They walked in silence for a while, Jisung trying to calm his panic attack.

He stopped suddenly, turning to look at Bahng Christopher, his eyes red and swollen.

« -W-why did they do this to me, Channie..?»

His voice was breaking, as was his heart.

« -I think they grew closer to each other, Sungie..Minho didn’t mean to catch feelings for Y/n, but he did. I think he tried to fight it, for you, but..Y/n, she caught feelings for him too, and he couldn’t take it anymore..He loves you, but he wanted to be selfish for once.

And Y/n, I think she loves you too, she doesn’t know what to do, and you broke her heart, Hannie..So she went to him, but she loves both of you..»

Han Jisung broke down in the arms of Christopher, crying all his heart out.

_________________

Lee Minho was crying his eyes out, his body was trembling, his heart was screaming in pain.

Y/n sat next to him, stroking his back.

« -You did nothing wrong, Min..

-I-I’ve lost him..»

And Lee Minho really hated himself right now, because he lost his best friend over a girl.

preview | masterlist | next

taglist: @maybeimmia @hans-quokka-coffee @sillygoosegoose @arikazu @katsukis1wife @15092000volcano @jeonginplsholdmyhand @weirdowithaphone @privhace @rundontwalkshesaid @hannoahs-third-eyelash @cookiesandcreammy @urfaveviet @hinanitiram @moony-9 @hulachan @aalexyuuuhm @pochacco-baby @sillyhal @blhhfsi8 @skzswife @sellomaybe @han-doolsetnet @hibuki-chan

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arealphrooblem · 5 months

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Kidnapped by the Boss Part 7

Hey guys! Sorry it's been like a million years since I updated anything! I got burned out for a while and I'm slowly getting back to it. Hopefully with summer break looming, you'll see more of me!

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

Part one here

Part six here

"What is this?”

It looked harmless, a small metal rectangular wrist band with no buttons or engraving or adornment of any kind. She didn’t trust it, regardless, not that that mattered to Rook, who kept his explanations to himself as he grabbed her hand. She tried to jerk it back, but his grip turned bruising and iron tight as he latched it shut.

It hugged tightly on her, a nearly imperceptible hum against her skin. Only a tiny seam remained on the bottom, with no button or latch or catch to open it.

“What is it?” she demanded, swallowing down a flutter of panic.

Rook rolled his eyes. “Relax, princess. It’s just a tracker.”

“A tracker?”

“Yeah. Consider it your freedom. Now you can go anywhere you want and no one has to worry about you slipping out to somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Are you going to come fetch me if I go somewhere I shouldn’t?”

“No. I’m just going to push a button and an electric current will take you out until someone finds you.”

He gazed back, utterly impassive, and Val couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare her or not. She refused to be cowed though.

“How strong of a current are we talking about?” she asked

A smirk spread slowly across his face. “Why don’t you get near an airport and find out? If it doesn’t kill you, then you’ll have your answer.”

Val jut her chin up, meeting his smirk with a glare. “Do you get a kick out of trying to make me afraid? Does it make you feel tough?”

He snorted and stepped closer to her. She stood stock still as he linked their arms together.

“You’re in enemy territory, Val,” he murmured, ducking his head down close to her ear, like he was sharing a secret. “I’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “My king wants you down for lunch in his office. I’ll show you the way.”

The king’s office looked much the same as it did when he was Eugene the Prime Minister. Papers scattered in random piles, post it notes scribbled with cryptic notes only he understood. Reminders taped on walls, the desk, the door.

A table was cleared off, the papers clearly dumped on the desk. A spread of soup and sandwiches sat on it, the king sitting in one of the chairs, waiting. Val was hit with a pang of nostalgia, because this set up looked exactly like the ones they had during campaign season. She didn’t know if he did it deliberately or if this was just how he ran his life.

“Afternoon, Val,” he said with a smile. “I see you have your tracker now.”

“And potential execution device,” she added dryly.

He shrugged. “Only a stupid person would need to worry about the electric shock and you are not stupid.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

He smiled again, ignoring her sarcasm. “Have a seat.”

She reluctantly joined him and helped herself to a sandwich, knowing this whole charade was just to watch her eat. Rook did not join them, preferring to lean against the wall next to the king. It felt a little unnerving to eat under both of their stares but she knew there’d be hell to pay if she didn’t.

And she had to admit, the food was painfully delicious.

“You now control the lock on your door,” the king said (Aris? It still didn’t feel right but neither did Eugene). “You may stay or leave your room as you please. All unlocked areas of the castle are open to you, as well as the grounds. If you wish to head into the city, Rook will escort you.”

Rook’s mouth fell open in outrage. “You cannot be serious! I babysit her enough as it is and you want me to take her out for ice cream and shopping? Who is protecting you while I run bullshit errands with her?”

“Hey! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have a shopping addiction,” she snapped.

“Like you wouldn’t jump at the chance to blow all the king’s treasury just to fuck us over.”

“What the hell am I going to be buying to drain it — a super yacht?”

“Children, please.” The king — Aris — held up a hand. “It’s not an ideal situation for any of us, but the two of you will have to give each other a little faith.”

Val and Rook let out twin snorts of derision and then shot each other matching glares.

“As I was saying,” Aris said with a warning look, “you have been given a probationary amount of freedom, Val.”

“Probationary?” So this was temporary?

“Yes. Your privileges will change depending on your actions. If you stay obedient, prove yourself, then you freedoms will grow. If you try to circumvent your restrictions, you will lose your freedoms and live in a cell much less cozy than the rooms I’ve given you.”

Obedient. Like a toddler. Like a dog.

Not for the first time did helpless rage well up in her throat like acid. So many retorts and screams crowded her mouth that it rendered her speechless, unable to choose which to say first and terrified to say any of them.

Eug— Aris — looked at her in such smug satisfaction, as if proud of himself for bestowing a phenomenal gift. If Rook wasn’t in the room, Val could have hit him. Her fingers curled in on themselves to fight the temptation regardless.

“Do you have any questions?” Aris tilted his head slightly, studying her.

She used to love having his full attention on her — something made rare and precious because of his busy schedule and bouts of scatterbrained day dreaming. Right now it made her skin crawl, adding fuel to the feeling of constantly being under surveillance, never able to relax.

“Can I go now?” she asked tightly.

His gaze ducked down to her half-eaten lunch. “You haven’t finished your food.”

The rage leaped up, like a kerosene drenched campfire. She felt reckless and wild with it and without a second thought, flipped her plate off the table to watch it shatter to the floor, food spraying over the lush carpet.

“I’m done,” she said. “Now?”

She had no idea what her face looked like at that moment, but whatever Aris saw on it made him sit back in his seat.

“Yes,” he said slowly, warily. “Of course.”

Val stood so far that her chair fell backwards. “Thank you,” she bit out, dripping venom, before striding out the door.

She had no idea where she was headed, and she didn’t care. Val picked a direction and walked as fast as she could towards it. If it led her to a so-called restricted section of the palace, then maybe that would put her out of her misery.

The padded footsteps sound too close and too late to react before a hand grabbed her shoulder. Val whirled around, fist striking out in pure instinct at the warm body behind her. In less than a second, that body gripped her wrist and shoved her against the wall of the hallway.

Rook.

Of course.

“Someone is very cranky today,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk.

“Let me go,” she snarled, pushing ineffectively against him.

Rook complied, releasing the bruising grip on her wrist and taking a wide step back, hands up in mock surrender.

“Not many people can scare the king, but I think you managed it just then,” he said.

“What the hell do you want? You have a tracker now. You don’t need to stalk me anymore.”

“We never finished our tour. I wouldn’t want you wandering somewhere you shouldn’t and getting electrocuted on your first day.”

“I’ll figure it out on my own, thanks.”

Rook gave her that same kind of stare Aris did — an assessment. Complete with head tilt. They must spend a lot of time together.

“You’re very angry for someone who was just given a significant amount of freedom that they quite frankly don’t deserve,” he said slowly.

She gave him a poisonous look. “I am not talking about this with you.”

And now that smirk again. “Thank god. I’m not paid to be a feelings person. But I think I know what you need.”

“A long walk off a tall cliff?”

He snorted. “Tempting. But no. Follow me and find out.”

It was probably a stupid decision to follow the most untrustworthy person she’d ever met, but having more opportunities to hate Rook offered her a welcome distraction. So, against all sanity, Val followed him down to an elevator and watched him push the basement button.

“Is that where you keep the torture chambers?” she asked, half joking, half . . .not joking.

“Sometimes it feels that way,” he muttered back.

The elevator dinged and opened to gleaming wooden floors and bright lights. It looked like the reception of a swanky business more than a typical basement. Down a short hallway sat an interior room lined with windows and inside sat various mats, weights, and other equipment.

“You brought me to the gym?” she asked dubiously.

“Yep.”

He made a bee line to a tall metal cabinet and pulled out boxing gloves. “Catch.”

Too fast for her to react, they hit Val square in the face and fell to the floor. She sent him another glare as he snickered before bending down to pick them up.

“You want me to hit something?”

Which actually sounded great, come to think of it.

“I want you to hit me.”

Oh even fucking better.

It felt too good to be true. But Val watched as he pulled out two wide padded circles and fitted them over his palms before he stepped onto one of the mats.

“You gonna put them on or are you chickening out?”

She yanked them onto her hands, their weight surprisingly heavy and then followed him onto the mat.

Rook held up his hands in the mock surrender pose.

“Hit these as hard as you can.”

“You’re serious?” She eyed him dubiously. “What if I hit you in the face?”

“You won’t.”

“You sure? It seems real tempting.”

He grinned. “The day you land a hit on me, I’ll smuggle you back home myself.”

As much as she wanted to deck his face, Val knew a trap when she heard one. Instead, she followed his instructions, landing a blow square against the right hand pad.

He didn’t even budge.

“Come on, Val, I know that’s not all you got. You were so full of rage earlier. Don’t tell me it left already.”

Oh, it didn’t. But she felt nervous putting her full effort in. Either it would hurt him and he’d make her pay or it would be pathetic and he’d mock her.

“You can’t laugh,” she said.

“Oh, I’m going to laugh. Now fucking hit me already.”

She took a deep breath and then slammed her fist against the pad with all her might. He never lost his footing, but she was pleased to see his body sway a fraction.

“Much better. I knew you had it in you. Do it again.”

“What’s the point of this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Stress relief. I love hitting things when I’m mad. And if you’re hitting me then you’re not hitting my king. So come on, Val. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He asked and she delivered. Val channeled all the injustice, the fear, the grief that the last week had brought her into her fists, driving them over and over into Rook’s padded hands. She didn’t stop, not when her arms started to shake, not when sweat soaked her back, not when a lancing pain hit her shoulder with each impact. It was mindless violence with no victim and it blocked out everything else.

“Ok, okay, Val. That’s enough.”

His voice echoed distantly and she dismissed it instantly. He took a step back and she chased him. It wasn’t until he wrapped his arms around her from behind, trapping her arms against her sides.

“That’s enough Val,” he said in her ear.

She was breathing like a winded rhinoceros, her chest burning with it. But with each slowed breath, exhaustion threaded itself through her limbs and tugged. Eventually she slumped against his chest, happy to let him take all the weight of her. Even then he did not budge.

She was too tired to be angry now.

“Your form is absolute dog shit,” he said, his grip cautiously loosening. “But you have some potential. I could train you, if you wanted.”

“Train me?” With supreme effort, she pulled away from and turned to face him. “Train me in what?”

“Boxing. Mixed martial arts. Basic self defense. You can have your pick.”

“You want to teach me how to fight?” She crossed her arms. “Is this some kind of trap? What’s the catch?”

He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no catch. It would get you in shape, get your mind off things. Give you some sense of control.”

“And then I could use it against you.”

He had the gall to laugh at that, head thrown back. “Not in a million fucking years.”

“You think I could never be a threat to you?” Now she felt insulted. “Is it because I’m a woman?”

Rook rolled his eyes. “The scariest people I’ve ever met have been women. But a few weeks or months of the basics is never going to match years of intensive training. If you ever manage to hit me, it’s because I let you for your pride.”

He held out his hands for her gloves and she pulled them off with surprising reluctance.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you the way back to your room. You need a shower.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly.

But a tiny flicker of gratitude wormed its way through her chest as she followed him back to the elevator. The exercise had cleared her head. She felt soothed, the tightness in her chest dissipated. Rook undoubtedly had ulterior motives for helping her, but he still could have let her drown in her own rage until she did something stupid that he’d gleefully punish her for.

Instead he gave her a much needed outlet.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Let me know in a comment if you want to be tagged!

Part 8 here

Taglist

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #villain x civilian #original fiction #writeblr #named characters #kidnapped by the boss

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crazyyluvr · 6 months

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heyy I've heard your requests are open! Could you do like a Jason Grace x gf reader where the reader has severe anger issues, but since Jason is rlly calm he is the only one who can handle her, and calm her down? I'm such a sucker for sunshine bf! X grumpy gf! trope haha

How to Anger a Demigod as a Horse 101

pairing: jason grace x gf!ares!reader

summary: in which you're very tempted to murder Hazel's magic (magically annoying) horse, but Jason's there to prevent that from happening.

genre: fluff, grumpy x sunshine (i think)

no particular place in the heroes of the olympus timeline, but they're on Argo II.

wc: 1.2k

warning/s: cursing, jason may be ooc, she/her pronouns, anger issues, jason's nickname for reader is pompeii because volcano n stuff

note: thank you for your request anon <33 i hope this lives up to your expectations. enjoy!

short oneshot under the cut :: not edited

The Argo II became more of a home to the eight demigods during their months of travel. Even though the ship would most probably get destroyed beyond even Leo's repair by the time they finished their quest of destroying Gaea, that didn't stop them from finding comfort within the Celestial bronze walls.

During that morning, most of the demigods were in the dining room, enjoying their breakfast. They were all tired and sluggish, since the night before wasn't kind to them. Usually they would take shifts when it came to guarding the ship, but everyone was awake last night due to the mini army of winged terrors that came across the flying ship, which caused them to set down on the sea near the land.

They all slept for less than four hours, and they all wanted nothing more but to add to those hours of sleep.

"GODDAMN THIS STUPID HORSE!"

Well, most of them slept. It seemed that one of them didn't find sleep as luxurious as the rest did that night.

"How does she have this much energy? It's like, seven in the morning," Percy groaned, almost faceplanting into his blue pancakes if it weren't for Annabeth's quick reflexes to hold her boyfriend's head up.

"I SWEAR TO MY DAD'S ROMAN COUNTERPART I WILL TEAR YOU TO TINY LITTLE PIECES YOU HUNK OF SHIT!"

"She's a daughter of Ares alright," Frank chuckled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "Only she can be heard this clearly when she's all the way on the other side of the ship."

"What horse is she talking about? I thought the stables were empty," Piper wondered, not bothering to tame her typhoon hair as she sipped her orange juice.

"THAT'S MY SHIRT YOU DUMBASS — ARION THE FUCKING HAY IS RIGHT THERE — STOP CHEWING MY DAMN SHIRT!"

It seemed that Arion decided to pay them a little visit now that they were set on a monster-free dock. That would explain Hazel's absence from the table, and how she reappeared in the doorway. She turned to Jason, who was trying to shovel as much food into his mouth as he could so he can go to the stables.

"She's gonna explode again," Hazel panted, putting a hand on her knee to support herself. "I tried getting her to breathe, like you normally do, Jason, but she's not listening. She might actually go through with killing Arion this time."

Jason swallowed, wiping his mouth as he stood up. "I'll go handle it. You," he pointed to Hazel, "eat."

Leo looked up from his rubber band helicopter to stare at his best friend. "Good luck, buddy. She hasn't bit off your head yet, but that could happen any day now."

Jason chuckled. "Thanks, Leo, but I'll be fine." He left the room.

More cursing and shouts that sounded dangerously close to war cries made Jason quicken his pace as he crossed the deck to go down into the stables, where he could see flickering shadows of a girl and a horse.

"If you bite at my shirt again, I'll shove a grenade down your throat and use your insides as monster bait."

Jason stopped walking, to see if you could actually control yourself this time.

Chomp.

"THAT'S IT, I'M GETTING MY GRENADES —"

You're thundering footsteps grew louder as you approached the doorway to leave the stables. Jason stepped forward just as you were about to exit the room, putting a placating hand on your shoulder. "Woah woah, slow down there Pompeii. No need to resort to violence so quickly, hmm?"

Strands of hay were poking out from your hair — which wasn't as messy as Piper's but it was well on its way there. There were dark circles under your angry eyes, indicating that you didn't sleep a wink that night. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were balling your fists, and heavy breaths escaped your lips. Jason swore that he could see a little bit of smoke coming out of your ears.

"That goddamn horse is gonna die," you seethed, your chest rising and falling from your angry inhales and exhales. "Step out of the way, Grace."

Jason shook his head, a calming smile on his lips as he moved his hands to your hair, picking out the hay before resting on your flaming cheeks, flushed with annoyance. "Breathe with me."

"I gotta give that stupid piece of shit what it deserves —"

"I know, I know, but you gotta breathe with me first, okay?"

"But —"

"Breathe. In..." He took a deep breath in, sending you a pointed look when you didn't follow. His scolding glance made you mutter some colorful words under your breath before following along with him.

"Out..."

You exhaled with him. You could feel your anger boil down, and Jason saw and felt your shoulders let out the tension in it.

"In..." you closed your eyes.

"Out..."

You opened them once you sensed that Jason was done. "How are you feeling?" He asked you.

"Better. Still a little annoyed, but I'm better."

"Remember what we said?"

You glared a little at Jason, before sighing and looking away. "I shouldn't act on my anger unless necessary."

"And was it necessary now?"

"No..."

Jason's smile grew, putting his palm under your chin to make you look at him so he could give you a small peck on your lips. "You look like you haven't slept. How about you rest in your cabin for the day, let the rest of us handle the monsters and the bird crap on the deck?"

You shrugged, acting like you didn't really care, an act that didn't convince Jason, judging from the way you leaned into his touch. "Sure, whatever. As long as someone else makes sure that damned horse is gone by the time I'm awake." You casted a heated glare at Arion behind you. The horse simply snorted, bending down to eat the hay that you were trying to get him to eat instead of your shirt moments before.

Jason nodded, his blonde hair swaying slightly with the movement. "Deal. Let's get some food in your system before you head to bed, okay?"

"Fine."

You let Jason lead you out of the stables and into the dining room, where everyone was.

The silence that followed your arrival was awkward and tense, like they were still waiting for some aftershock of your anger.

They finally breathed when you and Jason squeezed into a chair and Jason gave you food that you ate in silence, a pensive expression on your face as your eyes were focused only on the food in front of you, paying no mind to the stares of your fellow demigods."

"How do you do it?" Leo sighed, launching his helicopter, which flew out of the room. "Even back at camp, not even her siblings could contain her. That takes skill, man."

Your half sister Clarisse, despite being known for her issues with controlling her anger, could hardly restrain you when someone decided to tick you off.

Jason shrugged, staring lovingly at you, his girlfriend, cheeks slightly puffed from the food you were chewing. "I don't know man. I just do it."

But deep down, Jason knew the truth. You would never calm down unless you let yourself be calmed down by someone you completely trusted.

Being able to make you see through your anger was not a skill Jason had, it was simply the one of the perks of being your boyfriend, and the one person you trusted more than yourself.

And Jason would rather jump into Tartarus than let anyone else have the privilege that you entrusted to him.

#jason grace #jason grace x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #percyverse #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #percy jackson #piper mclean #annabeth chase

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