Stylish Niichan

Ooh, Hayato owns a Switch 😄 never noticed that before haha

Wonder what kind of games he plays (probably baseball games lol)

ah hi! I love your writing so much so I’m so excited requests are open. Could I request a short fic (if possible) of fem!reader x alucard of them both pining for each other for a long time & maybe one day they just snap b/c it’s too much & make out? (Or… more than that if u want.)

A classic! This is the first ask since I opened requests and here’s a scenario that fell down the hill. It then snowballed turning into a fic that is excruciatingly in Alternate Universe territory *guilty laughter* hope you like some of this, anon.

To be free

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T

Count: 1.6k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Angst, It just happened, Adrian has 0 idea what to do with this, Here's some unsavory Alucard traits, He means well but ugh, Context of battle, Mention of death, alternate universe, dark fantasy AU, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Alucard POV, more tags coming

Summary:

The murder of Lisa never happened. Instead, sometime in the future there is strife in the vampire world with an alliance of rebelling war chiefs over territory and Dracula is forced to respond. Reader character is an apprentice learning the doctor trade under Lisa, and a friend of her son.

Will post part II soon but wanted to share this for now

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Wallachia, 1485

“Faster!” comes the sudden strike, the wooden staff colliding with your shoulder.

“That hurt!” you hiss, ducking your head as a flash of gold gains on you.

“Well for god’s sake, move your feet!” Adrian snaps, falling upon you with frightful ease.

You retreat, movements slower, your legs fumbling. “You... you’re awful...” you pant, “This is too much, even for an average recruit!” you barely parry before being flung aside by another vicious strike.

You gasp as he’s upon you again, leaving you struggling to regain your balance. “I do not train you to be average,” Adrian throws in the tone he only ever uses with the other soldiers. “I train you to stay alive,” he kicks your legs from under you before you can preempt him.

You swear, cry out and grab at his shoulder; a surprised son of Dracula crumbles together with you in a heap to the ground.

Your faces come to be so close you can see the hint of swirling lights in his eyes. “That was unfair,” you whisper, breathless.

“Who ever said war is fair? Do you think the enemy will care for your codes of honor?” Adrian asks, unaffected by the effort—he’s not even flushed—his forearms propped on either side of your head. “Now pay attention and stop wasting my time, else you find someone else to teach you.”

He’s mainly like this, nowadays. Morose, at times even scowling, having little to no patience. His words scald often, and this change came and stayed with him for a while now. When Adrian tries to rise, however, your thighs turn into a vice around him; a sudden shift of unexpected strength, and then you’re sitting atop him, pressing him into the earth.

You grin, holding him down, finding some familiarity in it. You’d slept beneath cold skies back to back, huddled against each other for warmth before; you knew him in a physical way, one demanded of practicality. When you lean closer to his face, you see ice and even distaste, and stupid words gurgle in your throat. “I do pay attention, more than you think,” you say with a hint of satisfaction, which soon fades at the look he’s giving you.

“Rise to your feet, please.”

“I listen. I hear your words, harsh when once they’d been kind. I feel this wall you’re raising higher and I don’t understand why. I’m not your enemy. I’m...” your voice fails when his eyes narrow. “I’m your friend. Come back.” You watch his face, the shape of the mouth you know, down to every detail.

“I am right here, to my dismay. Now rise, don’t make me ask again.” But he does not do so himself, possibly giving you the choice of dignity.

“Tell me why you do it. Why you’re so dismissive, why you seem to make yourself scarce whenever we’re in the same room for long.” Why he acts like this task is something he loathes, even though he was the one who offered to include you in his daily routine when you’d made your wish to train known. You sound wanton in your demand now, you know, but he near always pushes you to the end of your tether lately. Today had been another rushed, supremely uncomfortable sword fighting lesson besides. Why are you like this? The words bite into your tongue, but you dare not ask them, afraid of what they might bring; you don’t want to fight him, not now.

Before, when Adrian welcomed you to stay for the friendship you had, he was open in manner and kind; but lately there is no reprieve, and you sense the tension in him as though it were a living thing. It turns him into a merciless trainer and hard to please—it also makes him ten times more infuriating to be around.

Adrian gazes up at you, inert, but the tension in you seems to bleed into his own body. “I do it for you,” he answers late, his voice gentler like a bleak reminder of before. “I do all of it for you.”

“I should be grateful, then?” you mutter into his shuttering stare. “For this?”

A softness to his eyes, a clench to his jaw; you feel compelled to do something you have not the courage to.

“Move.”

Defeated, you nod and rise, quietly regaining yourself as Adrian comes to his feet. You retrieve your staff, back turned to him. “I think I’ve had enough for today.”

You start when your weapon is roughly pried from your hand. “As you wish,” Adrian says. The hardness in his voice makes you flinch, like talons leaving raw and festering places in their wake.

As you turn, he’s already leaving the practice yard with rushed steps. You fall limply against a tree trunk, covering your face with your filthy gloved hands, wanting more than anything to be free of this.

Having reached the armory, you wipe your sweaty brow with your hand, then attempt fluid movement. The leather practice armor you’re using until a better suited one is ready hinders your motions. You blow a stray wisp of hair out of your face, yet panting from exertion. It has to be done; it has to be done. 

You attempt to undo the fastenings and utterly fail, resenting having to train in full battle gear, but one tireless tutor insists this is the way. With a huff and a pull, your attempts cease. 

A heavy hand is on your shoulder; heavier than it used to be. It urges you to turn.

“You slouch,” come the soft words. Deft fingers aid you out of the constraint posed by the armor and you go still, throwing the speaker a brief, scathing look he cannot see, focused as he is on his task. 

“I try,” you say.

“I need more focus, mere blinks of moments matter here,” Adrian says without looking at you.

Before you reply, he finishes and turns away, arms raised and hands pulling at the tie in his hair.

His aloofness is even more biting than usual; has something happened? You’ll need to speak to him, because you can't help but feel somehow... you can't define it exactly. A heaviness, a weariness over your heart as it beats. You can't but feel he's being unfair.

This familiarity in your concern, though natural now, has taken long to develop. The two of you crossed paths once, had bled to stay alive and became close along the way through a string of unbelievable though unavoidable events. You still laugh at the absurdity of it sometimes: meeting and befriending the son of Vlad Dracula Tepes, meeting Lisa his mother and becoming her aid after Adrian offered for you to stay until you found your bearings. You, finding Dracula with a family of all things.

Having nowhere else to go, you stayed, of course you stayed. This was a household, the semblance of a strong-knit family, or at least—for you—the proximity to one. And if you were being bluntly honest with yourself, you starved for this: a purpose, a goal. It led you to accept the schooling suggestions from Lisa Tepes. It had you deciding to train in arms so you could defend yourself if need be. And you, well… you were apprentice to his mother now, learning her trade, living here, eating and walking and seeing him—though thankfully (or painfully), less and less lately as the days pass.

You stare out the window, to the shadow lengthening across the trees and the horizon, over a scattered front where white smoke billows eerily into the air against the violently bruised sky of evening. Beneath it, two factions will inevitably clash. You shudder, chewing the inside of your cheek. “How stupid. I should learn to save lives, not take them,” you murmur, placing your gloves on a rack in the training hall. 

“Remember, these are vampires. And you may end this, it was your wish afterall,” Adrian looks over his shoulder at you.

“I know.” You turn from him, rummaging in your own things, hiding the flash of pain on your face. “But I have to learn.”

All is prepared, and you overheard the others speaking of it at the recent council. They would start at the following evefall to be stationed along camp lines across the valley. You turn your head left and right, roll your shoulders, grimacing at the stiffness in your upper body.

“Here,” Adrian says, approaching and presenting you with a vial containing a clear liquid.

“What is it?” you reach and take it from his hand. 

Adrian walks away and takes a seat at one of the long tables laden with pieces of armor and weaponry. He rolls the sleeves of his crinkled shirt up to his elbows and reaches for a whetstone, then his sword. His golden flecked stare turns on you, briefly. Cold light creeps through narrow glass windows, finding him. “A salve, did Mother not get to those yet? Use it on your muscles in the evening.”

You swallow. “No, not yet. When are you leaving?” 

He lowers his eyes as a metallic sound scrapes away the silence, and you watch him whet the sword placed horizontally in his lap. “Tomorrow.” Another wail of the stone, like glassy cries of pain.

Of course, you knew; merely wanted to hear him say it. You near as Adrian works, continuing to sharpen and wipe the blade with a cloth in turns. “Are you afraid? Are you well? I know you were reluctant to join this, I—” But it was he who said that in wisdom, we too know fear. It keeps one alive, it keeps one fighting.

“I'm well,” Adrian cuts in. The answer is impassive, his eyes averted from yours, set on the motion of his hand.

His stilted replies leave no room for doubt—the wall is up and you’re more than eager to get out of here. You sling the bag with belongings over one shoulder. “Good eve, Adrian,” you say. “Actually rest, you’ll need it.” And without lingering, you turn, leaving him behind with as much dignity as you should possess.

Part II

i’m actually losing my mind ✨ please give it back

𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑫𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑼𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

— Bakugō Katsuki, Todoroki Tōya, Ryōmen Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi, Eren Jaeger x f!reader

cw. suggestive, mild chocking, hair pulling, finger licking, biting, jealousy

M.list

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Resting on the edge of his office desk, the number one hero stares back at you as you furrow your brow and blink your long lashes, “Katsu you need to come home and rest” you complain after for the sixth night in a row your husband hasn’t come home, making you worry.

“I can’t” he growls pointing his calloused thumb at the large windows, “they need me out there” — “our kids need you too and so do I”, and silence falls when you raise your voice — when you make to leave Bakugou roughly grabs your wrist.

You bump into his hard chest as he pulls you to him, bending just enough to press his lips to yours and force his tongue past your lips. In an instant, your mind fogs when he lets go of your wrist and grabs your neck bringing his other hand to your ass, squeezing it hard.

Continua a leggere

TALK DIRTY TO ME

how konig, ghost, and price talk dirty in bed.

thirsts : open

—

konig is surprisingly vocal when he’s rutting into you, though it’s probably not in the way you think. most of his words come out in hushed whispers laced with obscenities. he seems to lose any sense of shame he usually has because he’s just too drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him.

“feels s’fucking good—“ he mindlessly babbles out.

his large palms are stretched out on both sides of you, fingers digging into the mattress, while he keeps you caged underneath him.

“such a greedy pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…”

you can feel his hot breath fanning your face while his darkened eyes are stuck — transfixed — on the creamy white ring that covers his cock. the sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls.

“just begging for me to fill ya up,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. the noise somehow flips a switch in him and has könig fucking into you even harder.

“s’that what ya want? need me to fill ya up, fuck a baby into this pretty cunt?”

price just exudes dominance in all aspects even with his dirty talk, his words are more praising than anything else though. he’s always coaching you through things and telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he knows it gets you off and he also just can’t help but spoil you.

“mhmm, just like that, baby.” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock.

there’s a smirk on his face that he can’t even be bothered to hide when he hears you whining at the praise. he thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. you could be such a brat sometimes, he’d have to deal with that later.

“doing so well,” he says with a groan as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. “but you don’t think you’re gonna make me cum just from this, do you?”

it doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, the tip prodding against your sweet spot just right it has your toes curling.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” his movements are slow and controlled, he knows you’re close — he can feel it — but he’s not going to reward you unless you use yours words.

“come on, princess. all you have to do is beg and i’ll have you screaming for me…”

everything ghost says is absolutely filthy, he is all about the little details. he doesn’t actually notice what he’s saying in the heat of the moment, all he knows is that his words have your cheeks flushing to a pretty shade of red, and he loves it.

“you’re such a fuckin’ slut for me even your pussy knows it.” he practically growls. “look at this sloppy mess you’re making.”

he ruts the tip of his cock against your slit, coating your folds with his pre-cum. “jus’ gonna slip in with how wet you are..”

your arm is slung over your face as a way for you to hide your embarrassment, you know he’s right, there’s no way you could deny it. something about the way he talks to you when he’s pent up like this has your pussy throbbing.

“fuck, need to be balls deep inside this cunt.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you, the fat head of his cock slowly splitting you open as he makes you take in more and more of him.

the veins on his length rub your slick walls deliciously and it’s not surprising that you’re already twitching and creaming all over him as soon as he bottoms out.

“that’s it, there’s my slutty girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “stop using that pretty head, all you need to do is cum for me.”

OMG HI i follow your other blog and i absolutely adore all your stuff <3

i’m just here to request but please don’t feel pressured cause ik you’re really busy with life, college and all your blogs etc.

how about mikey, draken and whoever else you want in a scenario where they hear rumors that the only reason the reader is still with them is cause they’re scared to leave cause yk they be dangerous

angst to fluff pls!

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃

PART TWO — baji and hanma

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: sano manjiro and ryuguji ken

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: stop bc this is kinda sad like poor boys but also i rly like this prompt omg. i got lazy and only did two but also thank you !! so glad you like my other blog bby <3

✿ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍

draken hasn’t spoken to you in days, and you’re at your limit. it’s the text on his phone he wakes up to that forces him to trudge to your home.

‘it’s over if you don’t explain what’s going on.’

he stares at the text for far too long, can’t find it in him to face you—he doesn’t think he can handle it. but he figures that if he’s bound to lose you, it shouldn’t be like this.

you open the door unimpressed, cold and distant as he walks in with slumped shoulders, sitting on the edge of your couch hunched with his elbows leaning on his knees. for such a large build, your boyfriend looks oddly small as he waits for you to supposedly crush his heart.

“what is going on, ken? why haven’t you spoken to me in days? are you tryna end things?” you ask question after question. “at least do it like a decent person, you coward,” you spit.

he looks up at you, eyes uncharacteristically lost, pooled with so many emotions, you can’t quite read them all. but the one that stands out is defeat.

“i’m not the one who wants to end things,” he croaks, laughing bitterly. “how…how could you think i’d hurt you,” he whispers, voice shaky. frowning, you forrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in confusion.

“what? what do you mean?”

“i heard what people have been saying,” he mutters, glaring at his lap. his fists clutch the fabric tightly, knuckles almost white with the force with clenches them with.

draken’s never known a home, not really, but he likes to think he’s found one in you. and it stings, it feels like a layer of him has been ripped off, leaving him raw and sore at the thought that maybe this hasn’t been home all along.

but he still can’t help but feel like it is, and he can’t bear to lose it. he wants to be enough, needs to be enough for you to stay—wants you to see that he’d hand you his heart while it still beat if he could, if it was for you. but perhaps you believe otherwise, and it leaves him in despair.

“what have they been saying, ken?” you pry gently.

“that you wanna leave,” he raises his voice, staring at you desperately—his eyes beg you tell him otherwise. you flinch slightly at the sudden noise, but it makes him falter, eyes draining of any hope left. “i wouldn’t…i—i could never,” he whispers. “i’d never hurt you.”

there are tears pooling at his eyes, and they shock you, making you quickly come forward, cradling his face in your palms. despite his mind screaming no, he leans into your touch.

“of course you wouldn’t, kenny,” you agree, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “why would i think you would?” he buries his face into your stomach, taking in your words as he hugs you close.

“i thought…i just heard—” you cut him off.

“it’s okay,” you soothe, tracing the tattoo on his temple with your finger. the familiar action makes the tension in his shoulders ease—and you always manage to do that, you’re what keeps him upright. “it was just a misunderstanding. i don’t wanna leave. and i could never think you’d hurt me,” you promise.

it’s warm in your arms, and they cage him so securely—they give him a purpose and a home and a sense of belonging all at once. and he’s not sure how he’ll function without them, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to. the gentle drag of your finger across his temple reminds him you’re here, and he knows he’ll go whatever lengths to keep it that way.

“love you,” he whispers hopefully. leaning down, you peck his lips sweetly.

“love you too,” you smile.

✿ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘

mikey wanders through your campus halls with draken beside him, on their way to wait outside of your class to finish when he hears whispers in the halls, turning his head with a raised brow. everyone keeps a distance from him, and he’s used to that, but the words he catches through the quiet murmurs make his heart plummet and mind wander.

“that’s the boyfriend.”

“he’s that delinquent.”

“poor thing can’t even leave him, he’s too dangerous. i’d be scared to if i were dating him.”

frowning, mikey stares down at the floor, fists and jaw clenched. he feels a hand on his shoulder, and before his best friend can offer any words, he’s off, turning and making a beeline for your room, barging in and marching right up to you.

“mikey? babe, what are you—hey! let go, i can’t leave right now, i have a test tomorrow—mikey, are you listening? hello?”

but he pays no mind to your words, bottom lip trembling slightly and shoulders tense as his grip only tightens, making your eyebrows furrow in concern. you let him lead you out of the doors and behind the building, his eyes meeting yours.

and they shock you. they look hurt, betrayed even, there’s hints of doubt and fear behind his irises, and it makes your heart shatter. reaching your hand up to cup his face, you pause when he pulls away, turning his head to the side. you can make out the small tremble in his lips this time, taking a step forward to carefully get closer.

“so, is it true?” he mutters. tilting your head, you stare at him bewildered.

“babe, what are you talking about? is what true?” staring at you with tear glossed eyes, he crosses his arms.

mikey’s always been a bit doubtful of what really compelled you to say yes to him. maybe it really was fear, maybe the only reason you’d indulged him was for the sake of your own safety. or worse—perhaps you’d realized he wasn’t what you’d wanted, too scared to leave him now for fear of his name.

but he could never hurt you, he’d known that from the start. but it dawns on him that maybe you don’t know—you might not know just how much he really loves you. and the pain that you might not love him back as fiercely, or love him at all, is scalding.

“you wanna leave me?” he breathes, voice shaky. “what’s stopping you, huh? think i’ll hurt you or something?” this time, a tear escapes him, and your face softens, hand reaching to cup his face again. he lets you this time—because truth be told, even if you tear his heart to shreds and toss it aside, mikey is still yours to have. it’s always been you, and he doesn’t think it ever won’t be.

“who put that idea in your head, silly,” you smile gently, brushing the tear away with your thumb. pressing a small kiss to his cheek, you bring him into your arms, rubbing his back with one hand and carding through his locks with the other. “‘m not scared of you,” you whisper. “you’re just a big baby deep down,” you tease. but the message is clear, and he’s grateful, clutching onto your shirt tightly as he sinks further into your embrace.

“but the…the people—”

“what do they know, baby? they just run their mouths,” you soothe, turning to press another kiss to his temple this time. “i love you, you know. wouldn’t ever wanna leave.”

“promise?” he whispers—and he should be surprised how quickly you can mend the withering of his heart, but he knows that as long as you’re there, he’ll be okay.

he’ll always be okay if he has you.

“promise,” you murmur.

“kay,” he mumbles. “love you too.” and he does, you know he does, your heart in sync with his, always.

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝓜𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 💖💕🌷

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟBADBOY!AONE  ･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ Warnings: nsfw, mentions of violence, degradation, minors dni!

✧ notes: f!reader, v. short writing, no proofreader so sorry for any errors! this is my first writing ( /)w(\✿)

concept: aone is a sweetheart by all accounts but has a rebellious streak once he enters university. you’re his longest friend and crush, luckily you both got into the same school! or is it—

aone felt pent up for years, angry with how the world treated him like a walking danger sign. that acceptance letter to a distant university in tokyo changed everything, “if that’s how they see me, that’s what i’ll be”  gentle!aone we’ll miss you!

✶ badboy!aone transition is subtle at first. black nail polish? painted. hair? slightly longer with an undercut. wardrobe change? all black with chains and obscene graphic tees. finally, came the crop tops, baggy jeans, and fishnets now being his everyday wear. (don’t worry he’ll grow into his leather and biking phase soon)..

✶ badboy!aone starts wearing knuckle rings as an accessory after seeing it in an action movie. harmless enough until he gets in a fist fight with ignorant boys harassing you. now he won’t leave home without em.

✶ badboy!aone pierced as many things as he could in a two-month span. within reason since his siblings were worried. this included a septum, eyebrow, cartilage, and nipples.

✶ badboy!aone tones up even more than before, protein and weights become an everyday routine. he’s rather obsessed with bulking up to defend his crush.

✶ badboy!aone is a short fuse, he won’t tolerate men ogling you or standing too close. will tower over the perpetrators, occasionally jacking them up until you talk him off the ledge. high key scary dog privileges, very intentional.

✶ badboy!aone is more vocal than you’d ever seen in the 20 years you’ve been friends. he’s quick to call out unfairness or dick behavior from his boys. not for heroic reasons, he’s just annoyed at the stupidity it breeds.

.・゜゜・ nsfw ・゜゜・．

speaking of breeds.. ✶ badboy!aone is addicted to breeding. once you give him the go ahead, he will stuff you to the brim with his seed. daring you to spill even a drop, lest he fill you up until it oozes while he’s bottoming out.

✶ badboy!aone loves exhibitionism. the thrill of claiming your insides in the aisles of the not quite empty grocery store and you clenching at the anxiety of getting caught fueling his adrenaline. “s’too tight pretty girl, loosen up will ya..”

did i mention he’s huge

✶ badboy!aone loves to see you completely fucked out. a drooling, babbling, cum filled mess since you’re the prettiest with teary hazy eyes and mouth agape. he will train himself to outlast you, even while pussy drunk and sloppily ramming you to make certain you never forget your place.  

✶ badboy!aone has no respect for your schedule. he’ll pound you 10 minutes before class and cum in your panties. challenging you to sit in class and marinate in his load, promising a reward if you’re a good girl for the next hour long lecture.

✶ badboy!aone is a degradation prince. he will constantly comment on how desperate you are for his cum to seep from that filthy hole.

“tch.. you must enjoy being a fuckin’ cock sleeve.. what else do i expect from a desperate little loser like you..”

Anything (König x Reader)

The 1st instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I have no idea how we got here

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence || Graphic description of injury || Graphic language

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s nest atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

____

Next Chapter

Yes hi, I just wanted to tell you that your bad boy Aone is PERFECTION. I usually prefer the gentle giants (hence why Aone is one of my favorite characters!) but the way you wrote him as a bad boy had me drooling haha!

i am so happy you liked it! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡ i think he’s a dreamboat, gentle giants are my fav too. it was my first time writing so im actually fangirling, thank you!!

should decorate this blog but i don’t know how to glam it up