#i might as well just roll in the dirt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

briefinquiries · 2 months ago

Text

Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead.

“You wanna come in with me then?”

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him.

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face.

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to.

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve.

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings.

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you.

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last.

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed.

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat.

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm.

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin.

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly.

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker.

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone.

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose).

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.”

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel.

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze.

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun.

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled.

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful.

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting.

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.”

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned.

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.”

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly.

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear.

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!”

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage.

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue.

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure.

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose.

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face.

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils.

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up.

“Easy, T–” Boone said.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone.

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him.

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently.

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word.

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more.

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin.

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.

You felt grateful when they didn’t push.

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation.

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat.

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted.

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind.

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes.

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word.

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out.

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour.

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name.

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines.

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves.

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you.

“Better?” he asked, handing you one.

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak.

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight.

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter.

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–”

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.”

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt.

“I’m the sorry one,” he said.

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you.

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth.

“I just–” you paused again. “I–”

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.”

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened.

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off.

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?”

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked.

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said.

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked.

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly.

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

#twisters #twisters imagine #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens x reader fic #twisters x reader fic #twisters fic

1K notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 6 months ago

Text

I bought a roll of chicken netting to fence off my vegetable garden—which I haven't planted yet because it's been raining every single day for like two months and I didn't want my young tomato plants to rot, but the weather is finally improving. I'll plant my garden next week, and I wanted to trim the grass around it and clear the area of weeds, but then I remembered I have animals that can do this job.

So I opened the pasture in front of the (future) garden. Currently it looks like a long pile of dirt, because that's what it is (well, compost + llama manure + dirt)—but look how long it is! I'm feeling ambitious this year and I have quintupled the length of my initial hügelkultur mound.

You might be surprised to learn that Pirlouit was the first animal who noticed the opening in the fence and got out. It's not actually surprising because Pirou has a fresh grass-dar—but Pampe was very much surprised & vexed.

Everyone looked really happy to have access to this new little area!

Initially I thought I would be able to continue preparing the garden while they were eating, but I quickly realised I was too paranoid for that. I mean, it's Pampe vs. a small temporary fence meant for chickens. Enough said. I didn't dare to turn my back on her even for a minute, so I ended up just sitting in the grass next to them with a book, which was really nice.

Pampe decided to lie down in the grass to eat more comfortably, something Pirlouit still deeply disapproves of.

Poldine however thinks it's a brilliant idea.

Update: all my llamas are now horizontal, eating like three Roman emperors. Only Pirlouit continues to mind his table manners.

Of course this peacefulness couldn't last, and after stuffing herself with new grass for half an hour, Pampe remembered there was also a new fence to think about.

She decided to lie down again 5 centimetres away from it, so she could inspect it and strategise while maintaining a demeanour of relaxed innocence.

I was not relaxed.

You are exhausting.

At 7:30pm I started feeling torn, because I don't like to miss apéritif time but—could I run to the kitchen to get a glass of apéritif and some biscuits and run back before Pampe had time to do anything? (The kitchen is 15 metres away.) (I feel like this detail doesn't change anything and if I inserted a poll here everyone would massively vote "Pampe will have time to escape")

But you would be wrong!! When I returned from my quick and suspenseful dash to the kitchen, guess who was on the verge of doing something illegal...?

PAMPOLDINE. Bad llama!! She was interested in tasting the flowers on the other side and she was pretty bashful when I shooed her away.

I believe the only reason Pampérigouste didn't escape is because she assumed her daughter was about to, so her family's reputation was maintained, she would get to see me run and curse llamakind and straighten the fence grumpily, and she didn't even have to get up.

Which goes to show that she doesn't escape due to a deep and unquenchable thirst for freedom, but to aggravate me personally.

I settled on my ash wood throne to have apéritif, comfortably seated in full view of all the animals—

—so of course Pampe immediately got up and went to inspect the fence on the other end of this little pen, behind the hazel tree that was blocking my line of sight, in the one place that I couldn't see from my seat.

I had to get up to see what she was doing (and angrily wave a stick in her direction until she moved away) and when I returned to my tree stump there was a little insect swimming in my wine. Pampe lay down again, pleased with herself.

When it was dinner time and I kindly invited everyone to return to the pasture (Pirlouit & Pampelune complied without fuss), Pampe suddenly lay completely flat in the grass, in what was clearly an attempt to make herself invisible and be forgotten all by herself in this barely-fenced area, kind of like children who dream of being locked in a toy shop overnight.

I haven't taken my eyes off you all evening. Of course I can see you.

I had to poke her with my stick until she deigned to get up and leave (Poldine followed), but all in all it was a very successful little outing. I might do this regularly throughout the summer to keep the grass trimmed in this area, although the difficulty level will be greatly increased when I have to patrol the fence and protect my vegetables at the same time.

I'll add that when I went out later in the evening to close the chicken coop, Poldine & Pampelune were far away, grazing together under the plum trees, meanwhile Pirlouit and Pampe were still queueing in front of the part of the fence that was previously open. Both waiting for me to let them access this heavenly garden again (but with different motivations)

#crawling along

1K notes · View notes

gallavichsreddie1128 · 8 months ago

Text

Older (Dean Winchester)

Description: Y/N has a crush on Dean but they have a 20 year age gap. How does Dean react when she finally tells him?

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,743k

Y/N watched Dean as he washed Baby. His big muscular arms on display with the tight white shirt that had dirt on it. Baby was soapy and wet as Dean wiped her down. Y/N was trying not to drool as he went in circular motions cleaning the car. She was too into the scene in front of her; she didn’t notice Sam coming up to her side. “Stare any longer he might just notice your obvious crush on him.” He said to me, making her snap out of it. She turned towards him and rolled her eyes. He chuckled and handed her a beer. She took it from him and took a drink. “Ya think maybe he’s too old for you.” He said. Y/N pushed him and they both laughed. She sighed and looked at Dean again. He was pouring water on the soapy car. She sighed and got up from her spot and walked into the house. She needed a cold shower to erase the dirty thoughts from her mind.

It was days later that she’d be staring at the older man as he made breakfast. They had just come back from a hunt and Y/N was hungry so Dean offered to cook for her. Sam was getting some sleep but the other two were wide awake. “How do you like your eggs?” He asked her as he got them out of the fridge. “Over easy.” She said and he cracked the two eggs on the pan. She watched as he put the bread in the toaster. “You really didn’t have to make me anything.” She said as Dean put the eggs on the plate. “But I wanted to. You deserve it putting up with us.” She laughed as he set the eggs and toast in front of her. She thanked him. “Well I like putting up with you guys.” She said. He got his plate and sat across from her. “What, you got a crush on one of us?” He joked but she didn’t laugh. “Nah we’re probably too old for you anyway.” He said. She stared at him without saying anything. She shook her head and went back to eating her food. “Yeah totally.” She said.

She woke up 7 hours later in bed and yawned. She remembered the cringey things Dean asked her this morning and she sighed. She thought for a second when he asked her that she was caught. Luckily Dean was oblivious.She got out of bed and stretched. She walked out of her room and noticed Dean at the table on the computer. “Where’s Sam?” She asked. “Grocery Shopping.” He said and nodded and sat down across from him. He looked up from the computer at her. “So back to early convo you probably like Jack don’t you?” He asked. She looked at him confused. “No, not the antichrist.” She laughed. “Do you even like anybody?” He asked. “Dean, can we not talk about this?” She asked not wanting to expose herself. “Yeah sure.” He said and went back to research. The silence now,awkward and unwanted.

Why was Dean so curious about who she had feelings for or if she did? She honestly thought that Dean was too old for her but that’s how she liked it. They were eating dinner and she had a glass of wine. Dean sat across from her and Sam sat next to Dean. Jack and Cas sat next to her. Everyone was in a conversation except her. She never talked much while eating. She sometimes butted in with Jack and Cas but other than that kept quiet. Dean noticed her silence and wondered if it was about his question earlier. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. After dinner was over she helped him clean up.

She didn’t say anything to him so he figured he thought correct. “I’m sorry about the question earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He said. She looked at him. “You didn’t.” She said and poured herself some more wine. “If I did I would completely understand-” “Dean.” She interrupted him. He looked over at her and she was holding the wine and her upper body on the table a little. Her boobs are perfectly on display. “What are you-” She took a sip of wine and smirked. “I told myself I’d never fuck anyone old enough to be my dad.” She states. He stares at her in shock. She stood up and walked closer to him. “That was until I met you.” She said seductively. “Wait you like me?” He asked her confused but kinda turned on.

She nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And before you give me any of that age bullshit. I’m 22 i’m an adult.” He stared at her as her hands ran over his chest. “You have no idea what you do to me Dean.” She says and her hands lower themselves to the bottom of his shirt. She tugs on it and he looks down seeing what she was doing. “Y/N are you sure?” He asked her. She looked up at him with lustful eyes. “Are you sure Dean? Think you can handle me, old man?” He chuckled and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.She laughed as he took her to his room. He threw her on the bed and smirked. “I’m 42 sweetheart not 72.” He said and took off his shirt revealing his amazing body. She was almost drooling at the sight. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down in a kiss. He moved his lips against hers as his hands traveled her body. He lifts her tank top up a bit and she pulls away from the kiss. She sits up and removes it showing her white bra. He looks down at her boobs and cups them. “Wow you’re so sexy.” He says and moves his hands to her back. He unclips the bra and she lets it fall freeing her boobs. He smirks at the sight and leans down to put one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasps his name and her hands go to his head as he licks and sucks. Her hands moved to his jeans and she cupped his growing erection. He moans against her nipple. “Dean take these off.” She breathes out. He pulls away from her nipple and gets up to remove his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers. She moves herself to the end of the bed and pulls him closer to her. “I didn’t know if I want you in my mouth or inside of me.” She says and he chuckles. Her eyes staring at his long hard cock. “Both would be ideal but right now I really need to be inside of you.” He tells her and pushes her back on the bed.

She smiles as he pulls down her panties. He gets back on her and kisses her again. She runs her hands up and down his muscular back. He pulls away and sighs into her mouth as he lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly and she gives a sharp gasp. “Are you okay?” He asked. She nods. He pushes in deeper and her noises fill his ear. She hadn’t had sex with many people and certainly not with a guy this big before. Once he was in her all the way he let her adjust to him. They stare at each other as she adjusts to him. He got lost in her eyes not believing that this was happening right now. She pulled him out of his thoughts when she thrusted up. She moaned as the pain was gone and she was full of pleasure. He started moving his hips and she let out little moans. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened. He didn’t let his eyes close as he watched her facial expressions. He groaned as her hips started matching his. She grabs his neck and moans his name. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathes out and she opens her eyes to look at him. “You feel so good inside of me.” She whimpers. He leans down and starts kissing her neck. She gasped and pulled him closer if that was possible. “Dean, go faster.” She begged and he moved as fast as he could.His hips pounding into her hard and fast making the bed screech. His lips left marks on her neck. Neither of them cared at the moment.

He pulled out of her some and angled his hips. He slammed back in her and hit her g spot making her scream. He covered her mouth with his hand. “Gotta remember sweetheart we aren’t the only ones here.” He groans in her ear. She tried to keep her sounds to a minimum but with him pounding at her g spot that didn’t work. “Dean, you feel too good.” She mumbles in his hand. He nods. “Fuck I know baby. You feel amazing.” He moans. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. He was twitching inside of her signaling that he was close too. “Baby I'm close.” She moaned and he groaned out a me too. She gasped out feeling him fill her up which triggered her orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her orgasm hit her. She bit her lip trying to hold back the loud noises that threatened to spill from her. Her hips moved up as she rode out her high. Dean watched her and almost became hard again. Her hips slowed and she opened her eyes seeing Dean already looking at her. “That was hot.” He smirked. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah well thanks to you.” She smirked back. He pulled out of her causing her to moan.

He got up and went to the bathroom and got a wet towel. He came back and cleaned her and him up. “Such a gentleman.” She teased. He laughed and threw the towel in the laundry bin. He collapsed next to her and yawned. “Tired old man?” He turned to look at her. “Baby I could go another 5 rounds.” He said. She turned towards him and smirked. “Prove it.” She said and he smirked. Sam couldn’t sleep that night but Dean and Y/N weren’t complaining.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

1K notes · View notes

nymphea0 · 1 month ago

Text

The Duke And His secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story.

Warnings : mentions of nudity, use of power, mention of sleeping pills, Bird corpse, some light mature content.

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van J.

Word Count : 3.25K word.

Hi Neva again... i didn't post any story a few days ago, mybe? i always forget that i have a tumblr TvT... hope you all are doing well and having a nice day, i never expected my last story character manhwa Ishakan will be liked so much, i'm glad you all like my story, mybe after this story i will update Ishakan's story soon.

Well, for your information. Solche, the author who made Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Has 3 other stories too!, Solche has a style of writing stories in dark romance but realistic version? I'm not so sure. And all the stories, every ML character is a complex character in each of the 3 stories, Matthias is the darkest black character among them all, He is the definition of Black Fleg, not a red flag, but black!, I wonder if you all like it if I write this character again? Like Bastian and Bjorn?.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my first oneshot story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

12-xx-01xx

Birds chirp throughout the Arvis paradise forest, so green and beautiful, so fertile and very pleasing to the eye to see every corner.

But the beauty must be broken by the loud sound of the nobles' annual hunting rifles in the Arvis region.

The sound of horse hooves and the barking of hunting dogs accompany every corner of the Arvis paradise forest.

Three pairs of teenagers are running along the outskirts of the road that is indeed not passed by the nobles.

Layla Llewellyn, Kyle Etman, and you.

Each of you holds a small shovel to bury every bird carcass from the nobles' hunt that lies pitifully along the hunting path.

"They're crazy! How could they be so relaxed hunting such beautiful animals!" Again, it will always be like this, where Layla will complain and cry, and Kyle will calm her down, while you, well you just sigh and dirty your dress.

Lyla is the niece of the gardener of the Arvis residence, Kyle is the son of a doctor, while you, you are just the daughter of an Earl from an empire quite far from the Berg empire.

Your soft and smooth white dress is now dirty from the dirt from the action of burying the bird's corpse, while Kyle is busy calming the crying Lyla.

While you are busy digging the ground you feel someone watching you, slowly raising your head, looking straight there your Amethyst eyes collide with sky-blue eyes, the eyes of the young duke of Arvis, Matthias Von Herhardt, Arvis's perfect work from the Berg empire, a skilled hunter, the , Lyla's natural enemy who loves birds.

There he is, on his horse, still fully dressed for hunting, tall, handsome and masculine, no wonder all the women in Berg want to marry him.

That's what's in your mind, you just stare at him for a moment then go back to burying the bodies of these poor birds.

"Come on Lyla, there's no point in crying, let's bury them properly"

Kyle's voice was very loud but gentle when calming Lyla who was busy crying

In the end you spent the afternoon together burying the carcasses of birds from the nobles' annual hunt.

Walking in your now dirty white dress, it was certain that the maids and especially your mother would scold you.

Lyla she just looked at you and smiled guiltily with Kyle beside her who also looked at you guiltily.

"Well, you guys should take me to hidden places in this Arvis forest, as payment for me burying all the bird corpses" Kyle and Lyla spoke softly excitedly, especially Lyla who hugged you tightly.

"Of course!! We will definitely take you to a place you've never seen!"

Look at these two cinnamon rolls, they are so cute!.

You still remember when you first arrived in the Berg Empire, the Arvis region, your mother's hometown. Your father is an Earl who fell in love with your mother, the daughter of a Baron from Arvis, they met at the annual event of nobles from all over the world held in the Berg Empire.

From their love you came, your father loves and cares for you very much, you inherited your mother's soft and beautiful face, while the rest, like snow-white hair, and your Amethyst Eyes you got from your father.

The combination of your father and mother, this is also what makes your grandmother and grandfather spoil and love you very much, they are like seeing your father but the female version.

In addition to the fact that your father loves your mother and you very much, your father made a small agenda that every 2 years you, your mother, and your father, will visit the Berg Empire, your mother's hometown Arvis.

The baron's residence is very different from the earl's residence where you live, if the Earl's residence is full of white buildings that have intricate carvings and statues that you will wonder which is the main residence, then the Baron's residence is only a 2-story building that is not so big with a fairly large yard.

Well, whatever it is, home is home.

That was when you first met Lyla and Kayle, at that time you were still 11 years old, and now you are 14 years old.

This is the second time you have visited your mother's hometown. For you, Arvis is beautiful, especially the forest, but your instincts say that behind the beauty there must always be ugliness that is hidden tightly, but you don't know what the ugliness is.

After separating from Lyla and Kyle, you were scolded by your mother to the fullest. That is a sign that your mother loves you very much.

While your father just laughed out loud seeing your condition.

"Well, I thought our stray kitten likes to explore Tera, look at her hair, Hahaha" laughing out loud until he almost spilled the coffee in his hand.

"Don't defend her Vincent! This could become a habit!"

Finally you and your father knelt down with your mother holding a broom standing upright scolding the two of you who were behaving immaturely and childishly. The baron's residence is as comfortable as Arvis' heaven and the servants greatly adore your harmonious family atmosphere which is very different from other nobles.

Your father's name is Vincent Zeredith Von Alvern. A noble from an empire quite far from the Berg Empire.

Your mother's name is Teresa Von Adelaide.

Your father is a noble with the title of earl of the Alvern Territory.

And your mother is the daughter of a baron from the Berg Empire, the Arvis Territory, the Adelaide Baron family.

The afternoon where this is your second day in Arvis, you visit the Berg Empire, Meet the emperor and empress.

After visiting your father and mother let you go exploring within a period of only the Arvis forest and nothing more.

Running excitedly, the lilac dress that fits your body moves gently in the wind, Your snow-white hair moves gently as you run, you wait at the usual place where Lyla and Kyle and you chatted 2 years ago, at a large tree, a willow tree.

You stood under a willow tree looking around the beautiful Arvis Lake, butterflies flying around you, various colors.

You sat looking at Arvis Lake while waiting for Lyla and Kyle to come.

Unfortunately you did not know and did not realize that, at Arvis Lake, someone had been watching you closely.

Matthias as usual at the age of 17, did his noble routine as a duke of Arvis and.

That afternoon was very hot, naked, Matthias swam around Arvis Lake in the Annex, a private place that not many people visited, while swimming, Matthias saw the willow tree that Layla usually sat on, the same tree where he caught Layla accidentally seeing him swimming naked.

For Matthias Layla was just an ordinary girl, a girl who went through a normal life path in Arvis.

expert layla what matthias saw was you, busy laughing softly playing with the butterflies around you, your long and soft white hair for matthias was like snow in spring.

If lyla is the sun and a little bird, then you are snow and a kitten.

Matthias already knows you even if you don't know him.

Imperial palace berg

Matthias, 11 years old.

With his mother Elysee von herhardt, and his grandmother Norma Catharina Von herhardt, chatting with various nobles from all over the empire.

Looking around matthias' eyes accidentally saw the other side of the room where he saw a girl who he thought was 8 years old.

A petite body, a soft and smooth blue dress, the type of noble child in general, but that white hair, for matthias it was like the white color of snow.

Time passed quite a long time, but the main event was not over yet, bored looking around and only chatting with the old noble. Matthias excused himself to go to the imperial garden.

Tak

The sound of his leather shoes with quite sharp heels made quite a loud noise in the middle of his journey to the garden.

Upon arriving at the garden, Matthias saw the girl again, the same girl he saw at the imperial party.

There the girl stood in the middle of the rose garden, busy looking at the roses that were as red as blood, a stark contrast to her snow-white hair.

Whether he realized it or not, little Matthias was already by the side of the girl who stole his attention.

"Do you like roses?"

In Matthias' entire life, it had never occurred to him to start a conversation first, but here he was, talking to a girl who he estimated was not that far from him.

The white-haired girl turned around and looked at Matthias in confusion.

Bright amethyst eyes met sky-blue eyes. Purple and blue.

Matthias in his life he had never seen someone with amethyst eyes like the girl in front of him.

Usually the colors he saw were hazel, gray, yellow, blue, dark blue, and green, but purple... that was something new.

The snow-haired girl answered.

"I like it, why ask?"

Matthias was not sure but as if his mouth moved on its own and answered.

"I also like roses just like you"

That night. Matthias never asked the name of the snow-haired girl with purple Amethyst eyes.

Neither his mother nor grandmother knew that he met a girl who was not much different from him, at the annual noble event in the corner of the world.

For Matthias the snow-white-haired girl with purple amethyst eyes was his secret, his little secret that he didn't want people to know.

Matthias swam in the Arvis lake, annex, staring at you who was busy looking at butterflies, not realizing that someone was staring at you.

He saw you 2 days ago, with the doctor's son and the gardener's nephew, for Matthias Kyle is a volatile teenager, Layla is an ordinary girl and you, for Matthias you are noble lady who befriends a commoner? Clearly that is a deviation from social life of aristocrat.

A deviant noblewoman who hangs out with commoners.

Busy burying the carcasses of birds hunted by nobles and himself.

For Matthias, Layla is a girl who likes to cry, is troublesome and goes the wrong way.

And you for Matthias are a deviant noble lady, who really likes to dirty your dress, you look like a cat who is not aware of being covered in mud all over her body.

Chuckling softly, how could he forget you. you, the same girl he met 6 years ago, his little secret.

That afternoon you were busy playing with Lyla and Kayle, walking slowly along the Arvis forest path or people call it Arvis heaven.

Busy staring at the wild flowers and you saw a wild rose bush, with white and pink colors that clashed. Once again you ruined your dress, well anyway the roses were beautiful and you didn't expect a white stray kitten to be caught there.

Feeling pity and sympathy you knelt down which made your dress that was already torn by the thorns of the wild bushes become even more damaged by the dirt of the ground, slowly releasing the white kitten. which was caught between the tendrils of wild grass you didn't even realize that your chain bracelet with amethyst diamonds was caught there, fortunately there were no wounds on the cute cat, you put the kitten gently on the ground.

The white kitten was busy licking its tiny feet, you had to restrain yourself from squeezing and kissing the kitten affectionately.

You were busy admiring the white kitten until you didn't realize a horse neighing sound was right not far behind you, you turned around slowly, there you saw, the young duke Arvis in his hunting suit, you saw him holding his rifle, the rifle was pointing right in the middle of the position, between you and the white kitten.

You felt that this young duke wanted to hunt the kitten, quickly you stood up and in a position to block the duke's rifle

"Don't! Duke do you also hunt a cats?! Aren't birds enough for you?"

Looking annoyed at the duke arvis who had now gotten off his horse.

Walking slowly the young duke arvis stopped in front of you, he was tall, sturdy and fit, the body type of a trained soldier.

You were only as tall as his chest, amethyst and blue eyes collided with each other.

"Duke? Do you know who I am?" A soft and deep voice came from the duke in front of you.

"Who doesn't know the duke, the perfect work of god from the arvis region, the young duke herhardt, Matthias Von Herhardt"

You answered casually which was answered by a chuckle from him.

You almost wanted to slap his face, you didn't know why but you didn't like the way he chuckled! Just almost.

"You know me, but I don't know you, why don't you introduce yourself to me?" Matthias' soft but deep baritone voice spoke to you.

You introduced yourself to him.

"Which family are you from?" Matthias asked you again.

"Alvern, Roshanette Empire, Alvern Territory"

Answering casually because you don't want to be familiar with this man!.

Silence fell on the two people, the man was busy staring at the woman, while the woman was busy staring at the kitten that was right under his left foot.

Because you didn't want to linger there with the young duke Arvis, you gently picked up the kitten.

"Nice to meet you, Duke, have a nice day"

Then you went to take the kitten away from him.

Matthias he was still standing there staring at the place where you were standing in front of him.

You were so small, so fragile, Matthias was sure that if he touched an inch of your hand, maybe you would be crushed in his grip.

When he was about to return to his horse, Matthias' eyes accidentally caught the soft gleam of the wild grass tendrils.

Walking slowly towards the weeds, crouching down and there Matthias saw, the diamond chain bracelet that had an amethyst color was caught around the weeds.

Grinning slowly, Matthias took the bracelet, even when the bracelet was in his hand, it was very small, Matthias measured the hole of the bracelet on his finger, and it only fit 3 fingers.

Chuckling softly Matthias returned to his horse while carrying the item he took happily and he was not sure whether to return it or not.

Unfortunately for Matthias that was the last time you and him met.

7 years, 7 years Matthias has not seen you, he still keeps your bracelet that he stole secretly take and never returned to you.

For 7 long years, he had to go through 2 years of war, a time when he pretended to be engaged to his distant cousin, Claudine, many rumors fell on him saying that he was playing behind his back with Lyla, the gardener's niece just because Matthias liked to make her cry like accidentally throwing her hat to the lake and almost drowned.

Or hunted migratory animals just to say the sentence that Layla was just an ordinary girl and to make layla know her place .

His engagement with Claudine ended in failure because Claudine loved Rittie, her other distant cousin.

And the engagement between Layla and Kyle, 2 unstable teenagers who were strange in Matthias' eyes.

That night Matthias, his grandmother and his mother ate quietly, only the sound of spoons and forks could be heard

"Matthias, how long will you continue to reject proposals from several noble families?"

Elysee his mother looked at Matthias with tired eyes.

While his grandmother just chuckled softly.

"Are you really with that garden girl ?!"

Elysee stared at Matthias' eyes uneasy.

Matthias he just ate and drank quietly he didn't even answer his mother's question.

"Matthias Von Herhardt! Answer your mother!." Staring fiercely at Matthias, her only child, Elysee, gripped the fork and knife tightly in her hands.

"Mother, even flies will be attracted to dirt rather than rumors of nobles"

Matthias spoke with an authoritative language, if traced, Matthias said that did his mother prefer to hear rumors of nobles that were not true?

Before Elysee had time to speak, Matthias said again.

"1 month, give me 1 month, and I will bring a wife, mother"

After saying that, Matthias left the dining room.

You, 21 years old, very young and beautiful, you are currently at the age where noble ladies get married.

But instead of getting married, your parents asked you to focus on studying and pursuing your dreams, make yourself happy and have fun.

You are studying medicine, mental health and psychology.

You are currently in the Berg Empire, after 7 years of never returning.

Unlike 7 years ago where you were with your parents, this time you were alone, considering you were old enough.

You visited only for a moment, to see Kyle and Lyla who were getting married.

Currently you were at the baron's residence of your mother's family, even though your grandparents had passed away, the baron's residence was still well maintained.

You spent the remaining 2 days shopping and helping Layla.

The 3rd day, you spent your time in the Arvis forest alone.

Staring around the forest that you passed through 7 years ago with Kyle and Layla, you didn't expect that now they would be getting married.

You stared at a flock of birds flying, until you felt a cold metal object pressing against the back of your head.

Turning slowly, exactly about 3 feet away, stood the duke of Arvis, Matthias von Herhardt! The man you least wanted to meet!

Matthias stood in all his glory pointing his hunting rifle at you.

Matthias thinks you are too much, leaving without saying goodbye and then coming so suddenly, how can he be calm when his heart beats so fast just by muttering your name, just by seeing you breathe.

You haven't changed at all, for Matthias you are still the white-haired girl, the noble lady who got into the hang out with commoners, and the noble lady who is like a stray cat who likes to dirty her dress with dirt and mud.

"Duke, do you intend to kill me?"

Asking Matthias carefully.

Instead of lowering his muzzle, Matthias chuckled and said

"Why is that? Are you afraid of me?"

You looked at Matthias in disgust.

"Everyone would be afraid if a stranger suddenly pointed a gun at their head"

Again, Matthias only answered with a laugh that seemed to be mocking you.

"Well, it's not wrong"

Unfortunately, that afternoon you spent being forced to accompany Matthias hunting! He used his authority, saying that you were in his territory, and someone who was not from this territory had to obey the orders of the one who held the highest position.

You felt like slapping, hitting, and swearing at the man sitting on his horse! As for you?! You were walking holding his rifle that you were sure weighed almost 4 kg!

This duke is crazy! He must be the incarnation of the devil!

"Lady, are you cursing me?" Matthias grinned slightly, looking down at where you were walking while holding his rifle.

"I'm not the duke, why should I even do that?"

Answering half-truthfully. You almost rolled your eyes in annoyance!

Matthias he just grinned slightly looking at you, it was very clear to him that you were cursing him, it was very entertaining for him, your expression really wanted to make him bite your cheek in annoyance. He had to be patient, just a little longer, and you would be his.

That afternoon you spent your time reluctantly becoming Matthias' assistant.

You are only 5 days in the Berg Empire after that you will return to the Roshanette Empire, Alvern region.

Unfortunately for you it seems like it was just a dream for you.

You don't know what what happened to you, after becoming Matthias's hunting rifle assistant that afternoon, right when Matthias was taking you back to Baron Adelaide's residence.

You felt like your head was hit by a very hard object, before you even had time to be inside the residence, you only saw darkness and a warm arm hugging you.

The Annex, another residence in the main area of the Herhardt residence, was Matthias's main house, Matthias's main residence as a duke and where he relaxed and was himself. Surrounded by the clear Arvis lake which was connected by a pier that was integrated with his residence in the Annex.

Slowly smoking a tobacco cigarette, Matthias stared at you there, his little secret, sleeping soundly in his bed.

Matthias knew this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, he had held himself back enough, looking around the room, which was currently very messy, furniture was destroyed, clothes were scattered, and the bed was very messy.

Matthias has claimed you as his, maybe you will hate him, but Matthias doesn't care, it took him 7 years to realize that he loves you, love? Matthias wanted to laugh so much, in his entire life, he never thought he could fall in love and feel love.

Slowly extinguishing his cigarette, Matthias walked towards the bed, opening your legs a little, that's where Matthias saw the remaining traces of your love activities left behind.

Chuckling softly, Matthias looked at you, your eyes were swollen from crying, even though you were on sleeping pills, you were still able to refuse him.

Looking at your ring finger which now has a diamond ring embedded in it.

Tomorrow Matthias will marry you, make you Duchess Herhardt and tell your parents in the Roshanette Empire, that their child is married.

Matthias only needs 1 week to find a wife, which is you, and 1 month is a phrase that Matthias plays with and gives to his mother as another form of sentence, namely

"In 1 month I will give you a grandson and bring a wife , so be patient mother, soon you will have daughter in law and became a grandma".

Matthias has got you, his, his life, his woman, his wife, the mother of his children, his little secret.

Even if you try to run away from him, Matthias will lock you away from the outside world, whatever it is you are his.

Kissing your forehead softly, Matthias looks at you with love, passion and a deep sense of possessiveness and obsession.

You are his little secret, his secret that he really doesn't want anyone else to see, hear or interact with. Because you are his.

His secret, his little secret.

*Source Image : pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Oneshot.

Special Story for my Love; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut

Tag list; @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

#obsessed #possesive #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #matthias x reader #cry or better yet beg #Matthias Von Herhardt #nevaerah

500 notes · View notes

eupheme · 9 months ago

Text

— are you mine?

joel miller x f!reader

rated t - 4.4k

tags: over-protective and soft jackson!joel, partners-to-lovers, mutual jealousy, secrets, miscommunication and rumors, light angst, valentine’s day

a little valentine’s day gift for the lovely @sweetercalypso - I was so thrilled to get you for the Space Sister’s exchange! I really hope you like it! 💌💕

A change in your usual patrol schedule, a dash of over-protectiveness, and a gossipy partner leads to you desperately wish you could turn back time.

Because how can you face Joel, after this?

"I don't like it."

His voice comes from next to your shoulder. Rough and low - your eyes drifting over heavy, muddied boots, then up. Trying not to linger where his strong arms cross over a broad chest, the pull of fabric against skin where the sleeves are rolled up to elbows.

"Don't like what?" You ask, as your plate and mug join the pile of others in the bin to be washed. Finishing up a quick breakfast in the mess hall before your patrol shift begins.

A second lingers, before Joel answers.

"Don't like the thought of you out there without me."

His answer makes your stomach flip, butterflies already sprouting at the unexpected encounter. You hadn't thought you'd see Joel until later - an unexpected change in last night’s schedule. Sending him out from evening until dawn, and leaving you with a new partner for this morning.

"You're the one that swapped shifts." You point out, finally glancing his way. Seeing the pull of his brows, the shift as he leans against one of the heavy wooden support beams, "Anyways, I won't be alone. They have me with William."

The mark between his brows deepens, "Don't know if I like that, either."

Your own eyebrows raise, "What's wrong with William?"

He doesn't answer - the dark pull of his gaze breaking, as his eyes drop.

"Heard rumor there might be someone in the woods," Joel changes the subject, "Dirt kicked over the ashes, footsteps leading off to the east. No sign of anyone, but that don’t mean they ain’t hangin' around.”

He's worried, you think. Your hand reaches out, hovering for just a moment before you're clapping his bicep, instead of his bare forearm.

"Just because there was someone there, doesn't mean they're bad." The touch lingers for a moment, before your hand is dropping - shoving into your jacket pocket, "Besides, it’s daylight now. We'll be fine. Always are."

His look is dark, at your words.

An optimism lingering in you that has long been leached from his system. An uneasiness that lingers in his blood and bones - a shift of his his as he reaches to draw something out of his back pocket. Pressing it into your hand, when you reach for it without thinking.

"Know how to use this?"

It's a knife - his knife - the folded handle fitting his broad hand but feeling more like a dagger in yours.

“Joel, please-” You all but huff, torn between annoyed and touched. Reaching out to hand it back, but he’s shifting sideways to dodge you.

“Humor me, alright?” He’s grumbling - but he's not done - fishing something else from his jacket pocket. Holding it out for you to take as well - heavy and plastic in your other hand.

You flip it over, seeing the small antenna fit above the speaker, the buttons worn bare and smooth beneath. A gleam of red, the light already on and winking.

"Ellie's got the other. I'll get it from her this morning." He explains, "Two-way radio. You need anything or run into anyone, I'll know."

It would be stifling, if it were anyone else.

Insulting, perhaps.

But knowing that Ellie does this for Joel soothes you, teeth biting into your lip to hold back your smile.

And you can’t deny that you did feel a little uneasy, heading out without your partner.

"Fine.” You tell him, with a sigh.

“But just this once."

The ground crunches beneath your feet, a frost and thin snow freezing and blanketing the green pokes of grass overnight.

You’re already ready for spring, even though the world has just creeped into February. Missing the crunch of leaves instead of ice. Yearning for the daffodils and crocuses to pop up, as the earth thaws.

But for now - you’re content to concede that it’s easier to do your job, at least. The only damaged grass around you, the only marks in the dirt, are your own.

Quiet, idle conversation with William passing as you take the usual route - your rucksack a familiar weight against your shoulders. Padded with the faded and patched feather-down of your coat as you weave between trees.

Checking traps for food, finding nothing. Not unusual when the rest of the world seems to be sleeping.

The sun is nearly overhead when you reach the watchtower, the spindly legs that hold the narrow room high in the sky. The rungs leading up are wide, but you still hold your breath as you climb. Only exhaling at the top, when both your feet are firmly on the metal platform - cold air sharp in your lungs with your inhale.

It's pretty up here. A clouded blue sky above, a suggestion of snow. A wistful hope that it will hold off until tomorrow, as your patrol partner unlocks the door - checking the inside before you follow.

Your rucksack lands with a thud just inside the door, which closes behind you. The windows are cracked, spider-webbing from the corners, but still holding firm enough that it shields you from some of the chill outside.

Looking out above some of the trees, giving you a peek of Jackson when you stand in the southern corner.

Here, you can take a minute to breathe. To talk, while keeping watch and warm.

You can’t remember the last time you've been out with William. You didn't run in the same circles - he had a regular rotation of patrol partners. You had Joel, and sometimes Ellie, and you never found a reason to stray.

That thought, the change, had kept you busy on the patrol. Your mind wandered as your feet moved on your own, through well-known paths. Eyes seeing but your thoughts elsewhere.

He had seemed worried, at the mess hall.

Or - on edge, at least. Distracted.

There had been a quick rap on your door, a mumbled excuse about them needing him last night. Letting you know you'd be with someone else for your shift in the morning. A glance over his shoulder, nodding towards the figure that was waiting for him, before he was off.

And although he had made the switch, he sure didn't seem happy about it this morning.

William was friends with Jesse, who was friends with Ellie and Dina - you couldn't think of a reason for the ever-present mark that had deepened between his eyebrows.

You wonder why - because surely, a set of trained and fed partners would be more than a match for anyone drifting through the woods on their own. Even you weren't so nervous, and you didn't have the years and grit of someone like Joel.

And it wasn't like William was unprepared. He'd been doing patrols just as long as you had, maybe even a little longer.

It's here that you're drawn away, your companion’s voice breaking through your thoughts. His foot tapping yours, where you both sit on the old, wooden floor.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod in agreement, offering the slightest lift of a smile, “Yeah. Been couple months, at least.”

“More than that. Bet it’s been close to a year.”

“Oh.” You blink, thinking back.

Wondering if that’s why his gaze has been on you so often this morning - that he’s nearly forgotten what you look like, “Guess I hadn’t noticed.”

You hadn’t realized it’s been that long. And at the same time, only that long.

Joel had drifted for a while in Jackson - untethered, but never far from the nearest door, the nearest wall. Content to watch from the fringes, to stay unnoticed. To slip out, when he’s had enough.

It still took a few months until he was rotated into the patrol. Until you met him, fully. Needling conversation out of him in these morning walks, or when the stars stretched out in the inky night.

Fully expecting him to trade out, when he could. Others often did - preferring a variety of company.

He never did. And neither did you.

Things worked with Joel. And more than trust had bloomed in those lone hours together, something that had planted in your first days of seeing him. Carefully tended, nourished by the slivers of traded secrets and shared looks and moments where you had thought that just maybe…. maybe… you weren’t alone.

"Don't know how you can stand patrolling with him. He’s a scary dude." William mutters, the sound low as you hunker down below the rim of the metal railing.

You frown. Joel's not scary. Not really. Not to you.

A grouch, for sure. All bark and bite, but it's never once been directed at you.

“Joel?” You ask, clarifying.

“Yeah, Miller.” He gives you a sideways look, “You know he's killed people, right? Like, not just infected. People, people.”

The stories and rumors aren't new to you, they cling to him like ghosts. The whispers when he came into town had never stopped - but with time, they had lessened.

He had intimidated you, at first. A low voice and an angry look that would send anyone scurrying, but in the two years since he's been here, it's all faded at the edges. Gone soft.

Looking back, knowing now how he looks after Ellie, looks after you - you’re not sure how you ever saw him that way.

And you think, you hope, that deep down - he does care. That a part of him might feel the same.

It’s there in the way he sought you out this morning. More than a dislike in the change of his schedule - that wouldn’t have loosened the knife he carried.

It was there in your patrols. In the way you felt safe, with him - in how it flowed from outside those wooden walls to inside the town, inside his home.

"We all have." You reply, with a sharp finality.

You didn't really remember the days before. Your life had been filled with spoken memories, but they weren't yours. The days of lawfulness are akin to fairy tales - merely stories, in your mind.

Who were you to judge, when your own hands were stained?

The infected weren’t the only monsters in this world. You’re sure he had his reasons, as did you.

William makes a sound of agreement, before dropping the subject. Content to watch the sparkle of snow, caught in the wind where it drifts down from tall branches.

That silence is broken a little later, with another question.

"You goin' to the dance later?"

Your legs stretch, toes wiggling in the chill of the room. Even enclosed, the cold seeps in through the cracks and thin panes of splintered glass.

"Of course."

Everyone would be.

The dances in Jackson were few and far between. Even more rare in these cold months - people preferring to stay warm, keep out of the snow that gathers in the alleys, the chill that whips down the rows of buildings.

The day before had been spent decorating the church hall. There was an ache in your arms where you had helped Wendy roll out the dough for cookies - watching as the younger folks cut hearts out of recycled paper in the mess hall, to be strung along the walls.

Underneath the stars above and in the glow of the lights, it would be beautiful.

There's a steadying breath next to you.

A moment, before he's asking, "You goin' with anyone?"

The rest comes in a rush, "I mean, do you wanna go with me?"

He turns your way, as you slowly go still. Too surprised to form an answer, trapped in his gaze with your wide eyes and parted lips.

"I-" You begin, and then falter.

William was nice. A little older than you. Showy, when he was with his friends, ready to do anything for a laugh.

Nice, but not Joel. No one was.

And deep down, you know that it's not like Joel thought of you that way. Returned those feelings, despite your wishes.

But you knew he'd be there. He'd go for Ellie, who would make sure she was there to see Dina.

And you'd go for Joel.

Even if just to see him, even if only for a moment.

The silence has stretched too long, an uneasy shifting next to you as he waits for an answer.

"There someone else?" The lilt of his voice has turned sharp, accusatory. Slicing through your thoughts, demanding your attention.

And again, you stumble. Still unable to form words, still too caught off guard - tongue twisted in knots.

“There is, isn’t there?” Another verbal nudge, and it’s here that you find your voice.

"There is... uh, someone." You manage - not ready to spill your guts, but there’s no chance you’ll agree to go with him.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he scoffs, "Who, Joel?"

He laughs at his own joke - and it's only now, as it's turned on you, that you notice how cruel it can sound.

Your own eyes drop, head turning back towards the wall.

And it’s here that your eyes snag on the cherry red gleam that peeks from the outside pocket of your rucksack.

The radio.

Forgotten entirely, in the long walk over.

Panic courses through you.

Can he hear you, from here? Is he listening now?

You send up a silent wish, hoping that perhaps he's stepped out. That if you're lucky, the radio doesn't quite reach this far.

The silence gives you away, before you can brush it off - too caught up in the fear that twists in your stomach. A look had crossed your features that William had caught, the laughter dying as he pushes to his feet.

"You can't be serious." There's the mocking curl of his lip, a look of incredulity, "Miller? Are you out of your mind?"

There had been a flicker of thought - thinking that you could go over, switch it off. Or change the subject, tell Will to just shut up - but there’s something in his tone that distracts you - igniting your dread and embarrassment into anger and irritation.

Making you slip up.

"So what if it is? It's none of your business-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

He’s fully turned your way now. The melting snow of his boots soaking into the hem of your jeans, with how he close he sits. Close enough that you can see the grit of his jaw, as he flings another barb at you.

"You think he's going to treat you right? Do you even know where he was last night?”

It feels like a slap in the face - the way you flinch, cheeks burning.

“He… he was on patrol.” You stammer, unsure where this is headed.

“Could be. It’s easy to change logs when you got a brother out at the same time.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. As if your world hasn’t tilted on it’s axis, leaving you off-kilter.

Your heartbeat thunders behind your ribs, in your ears, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Fred said he saw him at Esther’s house. Last night and this morning.”

Rumors spread like wildfire in a town as close-knit as Jackson. It wasn’t hard to see where he was going, even if it pained you.

Esther, who tended the greenhouse.

Esther, who Joel had once been set up.

Esther, who split last month with her husband.

Esther, who kept the house.

You’re frozen. As if the cold has sunken into your skin, bonded with your bones. An aching weight settling over your heart, stealing your breath.

Because in this moment, you truly realize how much you’d been thinking about him as yours. Suddenly realizing the depth of you feelings for Joel - how much he’s come to mean to you.

It’s devastating, thinking about him being someone else’s.

It just can’t be true.

But…

But wouldn’t it explain his actions this morning?

Did you misread worry for guilt? Or secrecy?

“Look.” He says, after a pause. Giving you a pitying look, his hand reaching out to touch your shouler, “All I’m saying is that I’d never-”

It was all too much.

You’ve had enough.

"Can you just drop it?" You hiss, suddenly, "I'm not going with you."

The focus of his gaze still rests on you, as you push yourself to your feet. Grabbing for your bag - it's still a little early, but you're not about to stay stuck up in this tower with him.

"Where are you-" He's asking, as you shake your head - slipping past him, through the door.

"I'll see you back at Jackson."

Letting it slam shut behind you.

It's stupid, to wander off by yourself. Even if you weren’t too far from home, no more than a thirty minute walk.

The rifle left in William's possession, where it still rested against the railing. Joel's blade heavy and cold in your hand as you fish it from your jacket pocket.

Matching the stone-heavy weight of your heart, as you follow your footsteps back towards town. Your thoughts twisting, as you silently bargain with whoever might be listening.

Wishing foolishly that you could turn back time.

Content with even just not knowing.

Because that’s the worst part, right? That you know he knows. And that he knows you do. That surely - he heard it all.

If you were alone, if you hadn’t taken that radio, you’d still have your secret.

Maybe Joel wouldn’t have his, but you’d try to bear it. Find a way to put the pieces of your heart together, and try to move on.

Cherish those few more days, weeks, before he would have told you. Maybe by then, you could’ve acted happy.

But now, you’re certain he won’t want anything to do with you. Certain that you’ve ruined a good thing - not just the patrols, but your partnership, and friendship.

Because who would want to stick around with a girl with a stupid little crush?

It leaves you feeling flayed open. Grateful for the whip of the wind, giving you an excuse for the tears that spring to your eyes.

For a moment - in your embarrassment - it leaves you even thinking about running away.

You'd survived for this long. It would be harder, on the outside. But perhaps, you could start over.

With a sigh, you crumple the thought up, and toss it away. It's no more than wishful thinking. No different than hoping the world would crack beneath your feet, and swallow you whole.

No…

You would have to bear it.

You're less than a mile from the wooden border around town, when you pick up the crunch of boots on snow. Fear prickles down your spine as the blade clicks open in your grasp, your pulse leaping beneath your skin.

The waver of a shadow, moving between the trees in front of you. You go still, squinting, tucking yourself behind one of the thick trunks.

They're alone.

It could be someone from town, but you'd heard there was only one set of boots near the fire they found, the night before. A quick glance over your shoulder - wishing you hadn't split off.

Wishing you had taken the rifle.

They move closer, and your breath catches as they call out.

Not just a greeting, but your name.

A wave of relief washes over you, you know that voice. This figure. The cock of his hip as he stands, the shoulders that slope when he sees you - a hand raised in greeting.

"Heard you leave. Shouldn't be out here by yourself."

The warm glow in your belly chills, at his words.

The acknowledgement that he had been listening souring your mood. It has you bristling at his tone, misreading his worry.

"I'm fine." You wiggle his knife at him, the blade glinting in the afternoon sun, "Didn't have to come all this way."

In the path you take to skirt around him, you miss the pull of his brow - the frown that forms. The way he breaks into a jog to catch up behind you, staying a few steps back as he does a visual sweep of the woods behind you.

Your strides are long, focused on the crunch of grass beneath your feet. Eyes fixed ahead as he follows, until the tall wooden posts loom up ahead.

Above, and then through.

If you can just make it home, you think that would be enough. The little house is only a few streets away from the edge.

Something that he hated - how it wasn’t safe enough.

Something that used to please you.

He’s still following, your silent companion. Chivalrous, you suppose, to make sure you get home okay. Even after everything.

You’re nearly there - feet taking you up the rickety steps for your porch - when that silence is finally broken.

“You know it ain’t true, right?

For as quiet as his voice is, it still seems to cut through the air, halting your step. Your eyes still fixed on the door ahead of you, but you find yourself stopping - waiting.

“There ain’t anybody else.”

There’s a weight in the way he says it. A confession, layered in the low pitch of his voice.

It has you turning.

To where he stands, where your shadows meld together. And it’s only now that you see him - the intensity of his gaze. The mis-matched buttons on his coat, the cold that burns at his nose and cheeks until they’re pink.

He’d been outside for a while.

Searching for you - leaving hat and gloves behind.

“Where were you last night?” You ask - and he watches you like you’re about to bolt. Palms facing you where they hang at his sides, finger stretching out and then curling.

Reaching up now, to scrub through his hair in frustration - loosening dark, peppered-gray curls.

“I was there.” Joel admits, and there’s the acid ache of jealousy welling up in your chest. Picturing him with her instead of with you - like in your wishes, your dreams.

“But-” His hands raise, when he sees your expression, “But I just stopped by. I was on patrol with Tommy, you can ask him.”

You want to believe him. But you know you’re both thinking the same thing - thoughts flickering back to William’s suggestion.

“Or, you can ask Maria. You know she won’t cover for me.” He adds - and that softens you, just a little.

“Why did you trade?”

The moment hangs, where you’re left staring at each other. Your heart gallops in your chest, as he fights an internal battle - before his eyes slide across your cheek, over your shoulder.

But then there’s the smallest, rueful smile. His dark eyes flipping up to yours.

“Didn’t think it’d be like this.” Joel sighs, moving closer - to the bottom step. Enough to where you could reach out and touch him. Enough to where you see the weariness etched in his face, from where he stayed up all morning to keep watch over you.

“Got some roses for you. They’re at the house.” The words come slowly, “Was gonna give ‘em to you tonight. Wanted to do this right.”

Wanted to do this right.

The words echo in your mind. Pieces of a puzzle starting to fit into place, but you still feel like you’re behind - forever out of step and catching up.

“That’s why I was out last night. Esther is… rekindling things with her husband.” He manages, “Traded his shift last night for ‘em so they could be together. Went back to pick ‘em up this morning.”

“Roses.” You echo, “Why?”

“Why?” Joel frowns, as hands brace on his hips. Looking flustered, looking like he wishes you could just understand.

And suddenly, you do.

Your own words come slowly now, “For me? For Valentine’s Day?”

Relief crosses his features, those dark eyes going soft.

“Yeah, darlin’.” He smiles, “For you.”

Emotions swirl and surge through you. Relief yes, but also something stronger, something that flutters behind your ribs and threatens to burst free.

“I didn’t-” You begin, and then stop. A tightness in your throat, as you gaze at him, “I was so worried that you heard what he said, that it was real-”

“I heard.” A dark look crossed Joel’s features, a grit of his jaw, “Heard what you said too. Made me hope, ‘til he opened his mouth again.”

He’s on the top step now, no more than a few feet away. Irritation prickling at him from the memory of you in that tower, tucked away with someone who wasn’t him.

Until his hand is scratching at the scruff of his beard, his look changing.

“But if I misread this-” Joel starts - almost hesitant, if a man like Joel could be.

It makes you want to laugh, after everything. Because you get it, now.

Just how foolish you both had been.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to cut him off, “You... you heard right.”

There ain’t anybody else…. but you.

It’s always been him.

He kisses you under the eaves of your little porch.

Stepping into you as your head tilts up - cold fingers tracing your chin, cupping your jaw just as his lips skim against yours.

The lightest brush, as something electric sparks - radiating from that point of contact, skittering down your spine. A soft moan that slips from your throat, before he’s pressing closer - before your hands are slipping, gripping onto his shoulders beneath the thick canvas of his coat.

Everything fades - growing hazy. He’s all you can feel, as your eyes close. Something finally clicking into place, as your lips part for the brush of his tongue. Another moan as he licks into your mouth - stumbling footsteps in both of your haste.

Until your back is bumping against wood, and his arm is wrapping around you. Surrounding you, leaving you breathless as the frame of the door digs into your hip.

Finally sated, in your need for him.

And yet more hungry, than you’ve ever been.

The grip of your fingers loosen, as you reach for the door knob. Fumbling for a second before it’s loosening, and you’re stepping back - bringing him with you, your other hand still fisted in the fabric of his coat.

He groans into your mouth, a hand wrapping around your waist so you don’t stumble, as he follows you inside.

Then there’s low husk of his voice, the barest curve of a smile, “What about your dance, sweetheart?”

Teasing, in the way he spins you around. In the way you’re caged in against the door again, tucked away safely from the other side.

No prying eyes except for his.

Your answer close to a whine, with the way his fingers find the zipper on your coat, drawing it down.

“I think…” You manage, distracted by the press of his lips against your neck. In the fingers that dip beneath your layers, seeking bare skin.

“I think we can be a little late.”

happy valentine’s day, friends! 💌💕 and especially to elaine - these were such fun prompts! you are the sweetest and I hope you have such a good day!

#I tried to incorporate something from each of your prompts! 💖#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine

2K notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 30 days ago

Note

alessia, “stop taking my sunglasses”, car

sunglasses II a.russo

"okay we have the picnic blanket, food, we're about to get coffees...what else do we need?" you listed off on your fingers as your girlfriend paused to think.

"mm nope! i think thats everything." the blonde hummed in agreement, grabbing her car keys and twirling them around on her finger.

"i think there is one thing we might be forgetting lessi." you prompted with a smile of amusement, your girlfriend frowning in confusion as she ticked it over in her head.

"oh my god wait the dog!" alessia realised, dropping her keys and turning on heel and sprinting off into the backyard where her brothers bulldog was taking a nap in the sun. "bella. walkies!" alessia grabbed her lead off the table and waved it happily.

"look baby she's just like you in the morning." you teased from the back door as bella merely rolled onto her back, showing her stomach to the sun expectantly awaiting a tummy rub.

"ha, ha, ha." alessia's voice dripped with sarcasm as she shot you a dirty look and you tossed her bella's collar. "come on bella! up we get!" alessia clapped encouragingly, patting her stomach and trying to roll her over.

you snickered in amusement as the bulldog made no move to aid her, alessia grunting with effort as she clicked the collar around bella's neck and still tried to roll her over onto her stomach.

"babe you could help!" the striker huffed as you snickered again, shooting you a glare as she heaved and tried to pull bella up to her feet. "bella. car time!" you whistled, alessia squealing and falling over as bella suddenly shot up and inside.

"aw do you want a tummy rub?" you teased as the striker huffed and held her hand out expecting you to help her up. "how do you whistle like that?" your girlfriend huffed as you grabbed her hand.

"family secret." you grinned, always having refused to teach her because you knew it wound her up. "alessia!" you yelped as with a firm yank to your hand you were pulled down to the ground, the blonde hovering over you.

"you're such a child!" you huffed, hitting her chest as she easily hopped up to her feet, sending you a wink and heading on inside. "oh don't help me or anything babe!" you huffed, standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees with an annoyed grumble.

"come on love we haven't got all day!" alessia sung out teasingly as you stepped inside, sliding and locking the back door closed, flipping her off as she clicked bella's harness on over her chest.

"luca gets back on wednesday yeah?" you asked for clarification as the striker hummed in confirmation. "can bella live here and you go back home with him instead?" you gasped sarcastically, washing your hands with a roll of your eyes.

"don't be grumpy! you'd miss me too much babe." alessia's arms snaked around your torso, tenderly kissing your cheek as you scoffed. "i'd miss your cooking maybe. you? not so much russo i'll take cuddles with the dog anyday!" you squeezed her face in your hand and wiggled out of her grip.

"excuse me!" alessia huffed grabbing her keys as you took bella's lead, tucking the picnic blanket under your arm. "you're excused." you shot back with a wink as your girlfriend grabbed the bag of snacks and rolled her eyes, closing the front door after herself.

"this is supposed to be our date day and you've spent the majority of it bullying me!" alessia protested as you clipped bella's harness into the ring holder on the backseat securing her into place.

"well you've spent the majority of our relationship bullying me, so it evens out!" you smiled, stealing a kiss before the striker could utter another protest, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door.

you pulled open the console and plucked out a pair of sunglasses, settling them over your nose and clicking in your seatbelt as alessia's door opened and she sat down closing it after her.

sticking her key in the ignition she opened the console you'd just closed, frowning when she couldn't find the sunglasses that always sat inside. you were too preoccupied with your phone to notice as she glanced up to ask if you'd seen them.

"less!" you huffed as she snatched them off your face, settling them on her own and turning the key as her engine roared to life. "these are mine. my car, my sunglasses, my girlfriend, my brothers dog." the blonde smirked smacking your hand away as you tried to take them back.

"well someone woke up and forgot what sharing is! what happened to whats mine is yours?"

"babe please teach me how to whistle!" alessia whined as you did it yet again sending bella sprinting over toward you as you tossed her tennis ball and she raced off again.

"no! teach yourself." you smiled in amusement, squealing as your girlfriends hand smacked against your ass and she scowled at you, somewhat resembling a toddler having a tantrum.

"aw did someone not get her designated twelve hours of sleep?" you cooed teasingly, pinching her cheeks and pecking her lips, knowing how sacred her daily naps were to the footballer.

"i think you'll agree we both missed out on some sleep last night." alessia smirked suggestively as your cheeks flushed pink and you shoved her, the two of you sitting back down on the picnic blanket watching bella race around in circles.

"zoomies." you both chimed in unison, sharing a grin as the sun peeked back out from where it had hidden behind the clouds and you squinted, shielding your eyes with your hands.

waiting until she seemed off in her own little world daydreaming you leaned over and snatched the sunglasses off her face, rolling away from her when she tried to take them back.

"less baby its sunny! my eyes hurt!" you protested trying to fight her off and grunting as she flopped herself down on top of you. "stop taking my sunglasses. you should have brought your own!" your girlfriend laughed, easily pinning your arms down with one hand and plucking her sunglasses back with the other.

"i'll teach you how to whistle?" you bargained, alessia pausing to clearly think it over, letting go of your arms and sighing, offering you the sunglasses back as you happily sat up and took them.

"okay you form a little o with your lips, and blow!" you instructed, demonstrating as your girlfriend gave you an odd look. "i know how to whistle you idiot. teach me your whistle!" the blonde demanded as you shrugged.

"i said i would teach you how to whistle, not how to do my special whistle." "thats-but-no! show me!" "sorry baby, family secret."

"alessia!" you squealed as she tackled you back down onto the picnic blanket, hovering over you with a tut and a shake of her head. "what am i going to do with you hm?" the striker sighed, however before she could do anything a bundle of fur barreled right into the pair of you, knocking the wind out of her.

"good girl bella!" "you and that stupid whistle."

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

462 notes · View notes

rebelfell · 3 months ago

Text

shelter from the storm

eddie munson x fem!reader

When your power gets knocked out, your neighbor comes to check on you and make sure you’re okay. Among other things.

18+, MDNI 2.8k

cw: plus-size reader, drinking/smoking, references to r’s shitty ex/domestic disputes, some good old making out & grinding.

The lights in your trailer barely flickered when the storm outside knocked out your power.

In an instant you were plunged into total darkness, broken up only by brief flashes of lightning that struck overhead. The silence that engulfed you was almost oppressive, the outage having silenced everything, down to the ambient noise you had grown so accustomed to you only noticed it missing once it was gone—the distant drone of your A/C unit, the steady hum of your fridge, the static buzz of your radio.

They all ceased at once, leaving only the sounds of the storm and your heavy breathing.

You’d curled up on the sofa just as it was getting started, your eyes drifting from the old black and white movie playing on your TV to watch the trees bend and sway in the howling winds, dark clouds heavy with rain rolling in to blot out the sun.

And if you just so happened to catch a glimpse of your next door neighbor outside weatherproofing his windows, dressed in nothing but gray sweats slung dangerously low on his narrow hips and showing off his toned, tapered waist…

Well, that was just a bonus.

You certainly hadn’t chosen this spot in particular for its view of Eddie’s place. And it wasn’t like you had sat here many, many times before to watch him lounging on his porch, strumming his beat-up acoustic, or doing maintenance on his van in a sweaty tank top that clung so artfully to his lean frame, showing off sinewy, tattooed arms that flexed with every crank of a wrench and made your mouth run dry imagining his veins bulging while he cranked something else.

No, you simply enjoyed watching the storm. Seeing the rain come down in sheets, darkening the earth and tamping down the dust of the main dirt road. You found it oddly soothing to see the garishly bright cracks of lightning split the sky before the BOOM of thunder that followed.

At least until the power went out.

You jumped slightly at it, in spite of yourself, heartbeat picking up in your chest. You inhaled deeply, taking a moment to steady yourself only for you to jump all over again as someone started knocking rhythmically on your front door.

It was Eddie. And he was drenched.

In the handful of seconds it must have taken him to leave his place and cross the road, he had been effectively soaked through.

His clothes were clinging to him, his white shirt translucent enough in some places you could see the black ink drawings scrawled on his skin under it. And his long hair, typically all frizz and fluff, had started to form into wet clumps, his short bangs plastered to his forehead, water running down his soft features. And his pants…

Well, you couldn’t even trust yourself to look down at his pants right now.

But even in his current state, his smile still shone like pure sunshine as he grinned and motioned behind you inside your darkened trailer.

“I saw your lights went out too,” he said. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh…oh yeah, I’m–I’m fine,” you replied, shifting excitedly under the intensity of his gaze.

“You sure? You look a little…” His eyes flickered as they ran up and down your body, lingering on the sight of your bare legs in your sleep shorts, your thighs pressed tight together. “...spooked.”

You swallowed harshly, practically gulping as his eyes returned to your face.

“N-no, I’m just—” you tittered nervously, “Sorry, it must be the storm. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh. Okay. I, uh…I guess I’ll be going, then” he said, glancing out at the storm raging beyond the cover of your porch. You felt your bottom lip pull between your teeth as you watched him turn.

“Eddie, wait!”

You called out to him, words tumbling forth in a mad dash. For a moment, you feared the storm might be too loud and he wouldn’t hear you over it, but it seemed your voice had risen enough to make him pause, his foot hovering over the top step, Adidas slide being pelted with rain.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked.

He looked back at you over his shoulder and then slowly swiveled back around, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. You licked your lips, still trying to be coy as you held his gaze.

“I made up a cooler in case the power went out,” you explained. “Y’know, just to avoid opening up the fridge. Wasn’t exactly expecting to need it so soon, but…”

You gave a little shrug of your shoulders and leaned up against the door frame. Eddie’s eyes traveled all across your body again, and from the salacious look in his eyes, you might have thought you’d just offered to blow him right there on your porch. Which you hadn’t. Not yet, anyway.

He jerked his chin lightly in a nod, Cheshire Cat grin spreading. Teeth showing.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

Eddie settled himself in on the couch while you went to retrieve a pair of beers from the cooler, lighting some candles along your way.

Seeing the one you’d preemptively set out on the coffee table, he leaned forward and dug his Zippo from his pocket. He lit it on his thigh, dragging it towards his body to open the top cover and then flicking it forward against his pant leg to strike it.

A long flame emerged from the silver box and he touched it to the wick, face bathed in the same wash of warm, orange light as when he lit up a cigarette or a joint. He caught your eye as you watched him from the kitchen and you chuckled when he started to expertly flip the lighter over and under his fingers, shiny metal catching the candlelight before it was tucked away.

He held his hand out for the beer you extended as you approached and you tried not to think too hard about just how large it looked as it wrapped around the emerald body of the bottle, his chunky silver rings only making his long fingers look all the more delectable. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes that had gone black in the dark. As though they were all pupil.

“Nice view,” he smirked, his gaze dancing as he nodded out the window at his own trailer.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, settling into the cushions. “Except for when my neighbor’s out there.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie’s brow arched, crooked smile still spread wide. “He must be super distracting. Can’t keep your eyes off him, can you?”

You scrunched your nose, bobbing your head.

“More like I can’t get a minute of peace with all the racket he makes.”

You stuck your foot out to kick him, but gasped softly as he wrapped his hand firmly around your ankle and pulled your leg into his lap. Your toes wiggled against his thigh and Eddie’s grip on you loosened. He brushed his fingertips in swirling circles up your bare calf, letting them drift lightly over your skin until he heard your breath stutter and felt you shiver under his touch.

Shit. How long had it been since someone had touched you like that?

Eddie stopped himself halfway to your knee, eyes lifting to meet yours from under a raised brow in a silent question of, is this alright?

And you aren’t quite sure of your answer.

You’ll have to let him know once you figure out whether or not you’re dreaming.

A clap of thunder outside restarts your heart in your chest. Your whole foot flexed instinctively, the dampness under it reminding you of how he had arrived, soaked through and dripping.

“Do you want some dry clothes?” you asked, drawing your leg back and tucking it underneath you. “I have some stuff you can wear, y’know. Sweats and a tee shirt.”

No underwear, but you don’t say that.

Eddie’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and he stared intently at your mouth as he thought, startling when he realized how long he’d been quiet for. Like he forgot how to talk.

“I’d love it,” he said, eyes never leaving your lips.

You slinked back towards the bedroom and went to your closet to dig out the last lone box of your ex’s shit—your spite box, for lack of a better term. It contained all the things he’d been asking you if you’d seen anywhere since he moved out.

Things you felt he no longer had any right to.

Among them, a Venom tee from their Seven Dates of Hell tour you’d found at a flea market and he’d just started wearing because it was “too small for you, anyway,” apparently; and a pair of cashmere joggers you’d splurged on as a gift when he burned a hole in his regular pair.

“Bathroom’s through there,” you said, nodding towards it as you held out the clothes to Eddie.

He rose off the couch abruptly, crowding into your space so your bodies were just inches apart. His scent came off him and made a home in your nose, thick and musky like suede and a bit earthy like the weed he might have smoked earlier or maybe even had on his person.

You found yourself fluttering at the sudden intrusion. But you didn’t dare pull away.

His face was even more beautiful up close, littered sparsely with freckles you had never noticed before. The lines under his cheeks so deep you could see them even when he wasn’t smiling. The slightly round, almost bulbous tip of his nose that added to his soft features.

Warmth enveloped your fingers as he laid his hands over yours to take the clothes from you, so much electricity buzzing between you you half expected all the lights to jolt back to life.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he purred. All low and rumbly like the distant thunder.

You tried to answer, but with your mouth and throat suddenly achingly dry for some reason, you could only nod as he brushed past you to go change. Blaming the lack of A/C for the way your face flushed and how your chest heaved, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

Reaching for your beer that was already starting to sweat with condensation, you gulped down a long swallow merely for some relief. And you nearly spat it out at what you saw next.

You couldn’t see Eddie, but he left the door open while he changed and his top half was just barely visible in the mirror. He was mostly shrouded in shadows, but the flame that flickered in there danced over the shape of his torso and the angular planes of his back as he turned.

The soft clinking sound of him undoing his belt preceded him dropping his pants, revealing that slutty little waist of his and the very top curve of his ass. Internally, you cursed your mirror for cutting off where it did and then chastised yourself for even looking.

Fucking pervert, you thought bitterly.

You returned to the couch and forcibly turned your head back towards the window. The rain was coming down so hard now you couldn’t even see Eddie’s place. It made your heartbeat quicken at the thought that he might not want to go back out in it anytime soon. That he might stay.

“These belong to numb nuts?” Eddie asked from behind you with a smirk you could hear.

He plopped himself back down on the sofa, so close it made you bounce slightly on the middle cushion, his knee now brushing with yours.

You paused for a moment, admiring the sight of him. The shirt was a little big, but it hung nicely on his broad shoulders and he’d tucked the hem partially into the waistband of the joggers. They certainly looked a lot better on him than they ever did on your ex.

“Technically,” you smirked back, “I kept them in lieu of alimony.”

Eddie smiled, but it fell slightly, his eyes cast downward to where your knee met his. He ran his thumb over the valley between them, touching yours and then his in a steady rhythm.

“You doing alright?” he asked. “With all that?”

You shrank slightly, thinking of all your fights with him Eddie might have overheard. All of the times you slammed the door as you stormed out and went to sit on the picnic table in your robe and slippers, eyes stinging as you tried not to cry.

You were so tired of crying.

More than a few times, Eddie had happened to come out for a cigarette while you were there. He always shrugged off your apologies, like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you told him you were sorry about the noise.

He’d just shook his head and muttered, don’ ever need to apologize to me for that as he pulled a Camel from his pack with his teeth.

Before long, he’d started to pull out two and lit them both at once before handing you the spare.

“I think I am, actually,” you said, surprising yourself with how true it was. “I…I don’t think I realized just how much of his shit I was carrying around with me until I put it down.”

Eddie nodded thoughtfully and his eyes flitted back up to your face, a proud smile on his lips.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice far too deep and his eyes too dark for you to mistake his intentions.

The praise trickled down your spine like you were underneath a shower head with a slow leak.

It made you squirm with need, nearly convulsing you wanted so badly to turn on the tap full blast and let the water spray down your back.

Eddie licked his lips and he nodded downward, making you think for one mind-melting second that he was trying to get you to look at his cock. But he was just indicating the pants on his legs.

“These are so soft,” he hummed. And your eyes followed his hand as he rubbed it back and forth across his own thigh before they lifted to meet his gaze. “You wanna feel?”

He shifted down in his seat, letting himself sink fully into the cradle of the cushions. Both his feet planted solidly on the floor, legs spread slightly apart so his lap looked like the most inviting and enticing seat you’d ever seen in your life. It made your heart hammer as you stared at it.

“C’mover here, pretty,” he said, patting his thigh once more. “Please?”

Your head shook on instinct. “Eddie, no, I’m—”

He silenced the too heavy already queued up on your lips by wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling your face into his. He licked the words right off your tongue and swallowed them down like they were his abandoned beer.

The surprise of his mouth on yours made your mind blank, your body and instincts taking over completely as you scrambled on top of him.

As your knees settled on either side of his hips, he groaned deeply—not in pain, not grunting with effort, just with the pure joy of finally getting to feel your weight settling onto him.

His arms slid around your waist and he squeezed you against him even tighter, encouraging you to give more of that exquisite pressure. He kissed you until your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, your head falling forward to lay on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

You inhaled more of his scent, extra concentrated at his neck, making you dizzy with his musk.

He kissed along your shoulder, to your neck, to the lobe of your ear he took between his lips and sucked on it like it was your clit—hard. And your reaction was more or less the same as if it was.

Your back arched, chest squishing up against his until his chin rested in your cleavage. His arms un -wound from around you to run his hands up the curve of your spine, making you shiver when his fingertips reached the nape of your neck.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he husked gently in your ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on your skin. “I know what you want…”

A gasp fluttered in your chest as his hands dropped to your thighs, rough palms coasting across soft skin until every single one of your fine hairs was standing on end. He then grabbed onto your ass, firmly gripping your cheeks in each hand to haul you forward in his lap, the firm shape of his hard cock pressing insistently against the dampness soaking through your shorts.

“How about…” he groaned low in your ear once again, his warm breath rushing across your neck, “...we see how many times I can make you cum before the lights turn back on?”

ty for reading. love you, mean it! ☔️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic

1K notes · View notes

iichfilwypj · 13 days ago

Text

his dreamy girl | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: i mention a hit? this is pure fluff to me im very bad at this. Also i was falling asleep and i thought of these so it might suck <3 ღ wc: 685 pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

“And then he tried to steal my sword! The one that literally comes back to me! How stupid can you be?” his rambles echoed through Cabin 3 that hot, dark night. Some hours earlier, the blue team had won Capture the Flag, and Percy was especially excited to share all the details with her.

Like every other time, she hadn’t attended; not because she wasn’t skilled with weapons, but because no one had managed to wake her from her nap. When Grover tried, he received a slap and a mumbled, “The horses are hungry”, in response.

So there she was, lying on Percy’s bed in her pajamas with a face mask on, listening to him recount how he had hit Clarisse on the nose, how he had nearly eaten dirt, and how Annabeth had, once again, shoved him into the lake. His voice was extremely high-pitched, and she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

That was something she hated about being a daughter of Hypnos. Although her father had blessed her with the divine power to control her dreams –and believe me, being a demigod, that was very, very nice–, he also gifted her with a constant sense of fatigue. At breakfast? She was tired. Lunch? She was tired. Oh, she just woke up from a five-hour nap? So what, she was still tired. She couldn’t help it, no matter how hard she tried.

When she met Percy, she quickly became friends with the boy who, instead of ignoring her for hours until she apologized for something she couldn’t control, set up a cozy little corner for her in his cabin, with pillows, stuffed animals, candles, and even tea bags. Come on, that boy was willing to challenge his dyslexia just to read something for her before bed.

“And then Annabeth goes, Well, you should run faster. Like, what!? I run very fast, sorry–” Percy’s shout jolted his friend out of her daydream, having closed her eyes as thoughts raced through her mind. She looked at him, watching as he fiddled with the sheets, and decided she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, ocean breath” she murmured, and to him, her voice sounded like a fucking angel’s. Seeing her there, in his bed made him feel like an idiot and a coward.

He looked at her with curiosity, quickly recalling what he was about to share and feeling excited to tell about it. “What? I was about to tell you how she crashed into the tree,” but as her eyes slowly rolled back, Percy realized what was happening. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Oh, Zeus, don’t tell me you’re tired!”

He moved closer to her, resting his head on his pillow and basically lying down on top of her. By the way her head was tilting to the side, he knew he only had a few minutes left before she fell completely asleep.

And yes, he totally chose those last minutes to tease her.

“Oh god, you’re like a baby! No, like a puppy. Wait, was it cats that slept like sixteen hours a day?” the girl tried to push him away with the little strength she had left, but Percy knew that deep down, she enjoyed this. Well, maybe not being squished by him, but knowing that he didn’t see her sleep as a bad thing.

She would never know, but Percy's favorite pastime was admiring her while she slept –oh my god, of course he couldn’t tell her that, it sounded really creepy. He cherished every detail about her, and if she was happy sleeping, he would make the whole world fall into an eternal slumber just to please her.

“Go to sleep, dreamy,” he said, gently flipping them both so she was on top of him. After turning off the little lamp beside the bed, his hands found their way to her back, stroking it softly. She buried her face in his neck and sighed. He dared to say “I love you”

But she was already lost in her dreams, and he was completely head over heels.

again, i am slut for fluff!!!! <3

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #fanfic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #pjo x reader

394 notes · View notes

justanotherrpmeme · 11 months ago

Text

After-Action Patch-Up starters

"Hold still, [name], this might sting a bit." "You're lucky it's just a few scratches. You need to be more careful!" "Don't be such a baby. It's just a flesh wound." "I can't believe you jumped into that fray without thinking! What were you trying to prove?" "Here, let me help. I've had my fair share of battle wounds." "Ouch! Warn me before you start cleaning those cuts." "You're a mess. How did you even get into this situation?" "I never thought I'd see you so vulnerable. It's strange." "Let's patch you up before anyone else sees you like this." "You really need to work on your combat skills. I can't keep playing nursemaid." "I've got the first aid kit. Sit down, and let me take care of those injuries." "You did well out there, but you're not invincible. Let me help." "I told you not to charge in without a plan. Now look at you." "It's nothing serious, just a few cuts and bruises. You'll be fine." "I can't believe you're complaining about a little pain. You should see what I've been through." "Hold on, I'll get the antiseptic. This might sting a bit." "You're surprisingly fragile for someone who fights so fiercely." "You really know how to ruin a perfectly good day, don't you?" "I never expected to see you in need of my care. Life is full of surprises." "I suppose I should thank you for saving me, even if it means playing nurse now."

[CLEANS] The sender takes a cotton swab and gently cleans the dirt and blood from the receiver's wounds. [BANDAGES] The sender carefully wraps a bandage around the receiver's forearm, securing it to protect the cuts. [SCOLDS] The sender scolds the receiver, shaking their head as they tend to the injuries. [REACTS] The receiver winces as the sender applies antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut on their cheek. [COMFORTS] The sender reassures the receiver, offering comfort while tending to the injuries. [DISINFECTS] The sender pours antiseptic on a wound, causing the receiver to inhale sharply at the stinging sensation. [INSPECTS] The sender inspects the wounds, noting any deeper cuts that might need more attention. [LECTURES] The sender lectures the receiver, advising them to think before acting to avoid future injuries. [SMILES] Despite scolding, the sender smiles reassuringly, trying to ease the tension in the room. [COMPLAINS] The receiver complains about the pain, prompting the sender to roll their eyes and continue their work. [WORRIES] The sender expresses worry, sharing their concern for the receiver's well-being. [TREATS] The sender skillfully treats each injury, showcasing their competence in basic first aid. [ADMONISHES] The sender admonishes the receiver, emphasizing the potential severity of the situation. [ASSESSES] The sender assesses the overall damage, silently noting the toll the fight took on the receiver. [DISAPPROVES] The sender expresses disapproval, stating that putting oneself in danger is not acceptable. [ASSURES] The sender assures the receiver, claiming that despite appearances, the injuries will heal quickly. [HESITATES] The receiver hesitates as the sender reaches for a needle and thread to stitch up a deeper cut. [SYMPATHIZES] The sender sympathizes with the receiver, acknowledging the pain while praising their efforts. [SCANS] The sender scans the receiver's body for any hidden injuries, ensuring nothing was overlooked. [GRATEFUL] The receiver expresses gratitude to the sender for taking care of them amid the discomfort.

#rp ask #starter meme #sentence meme #inbox meme #ask meme

2K notes · View notes

tgcg · 10 months ago

Text

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #comix #bad mouther hole master

1K notes · View notes

uhohdad · 5 months ago

Text

THE GIRL WHO CONQUERED THE MOUNTAIN

KONIG X READER [HUNGER GAMES AU]

You & Konig have been chosen to participate in a twenty-four tribute fight to the death.

18+, NSFW, 183k WORD COUNT, AO3, Virgin!Konig, Outcast!Konig, 18yo!Konig, GentleGiant!Konig, Mentor!JohnPrice, Fem!Reader, Blood & Injury, Graphic Violence, Death, PTSD, Alcohol Use, Slow Burn, Sexual Content, First Time, Smut, Fluff, Angst

CHAPTER ONE | PREV | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

➤ THE VICTOR II

There’s a tense pause as you wait for an explanation. He has nothing, frozen in place with eyes as full as moons.

Your eyes flit down to the knife resting on one of the jacket’s sleeves and the tense pause continues.

You must have had the same thought at the same time, because you both make a lunge for it. You’ve gotten your hand to the handle first, but it doesn’t matter, because Konig’s right behind and more than strong enough to yank it in his direction. He uses the dead weight of his upper half and leans back to support himself solely on the end of the handle. Your body follows in suit, every muscle in your body tensing to keep your clutch on the handle as he pulls you onto his lap. His other hand pries at your trembling, white knuckles, fingers attempting to wedge a gap between your deadly grip and the knife it holds.

You don’t let go - you can’t let go.

“You don’t get to decide this!” You grit in between obscenities, throwing every foul word that comes to mind at him.

He’s got your arms fully extended, heaving sputtered breaths and dawning blown eyes as he claws desperately at your fingers to free it from your grasp.

You suddenly cease your pulling, and with everything you have, grit teeth and a hiss, you launch your body towards him - a technique you picked up from One. Your full weight is thrown right at his vest, knocking him from his lean and back onto the grass, expelling a full breath from him. Every limb scrambles to straddle him at his waist, using your closer proximity to jerk the knife.

“You can’t do it! I won’t let you!” The words tear from the back of your throat while you grapple for the blade, your arms just a blur as you thrash desperately to free it from his powerful hold.

He successfully pries one of your hands off the knife and replaces it with his own. Your hand immediately returns to wrap around his knuckles, but you stop before you can with a better idea. With your now free hand you swing at him, miss, and follow it up by pressing your palm into his face. His eyes pinch shut and he swivels his head to shake from your push with harsh grunts.

You give a stiff yank to the blade, hoping you’ve stunned him, but his hold stays firm even when he bats your hand away. You’ve only managed to pull the knife closer to yourself, forcing his arm and upper half into a stretch as you lean away from him. An unskilled, loose fist swings at his guarded forearms in an attempt to break his grip.

He shoots out to grab your wrist, stopping your blows, and you respond by viciously jerking your entire upper body back to both free yourself from his hold and yank the knife away from him.

Instead of continuing to pull away from him, you aim to catch him off guard with another sudden fling of your body weight square into him. The fist that restrains your wrist comes crashing down, smacking himself in the face with the back of his hand as he’s pushed down and flush with the grass. He finally loses his hold of the blade, and without missing a beat he grabs you by the waist and rolls you off him. He might as well have spit in your face when one hand shoots up to the back of your head, a cushion to prevent you from slamming your head on the dirt. This movement is accompanied by a swing of his leg, pinning you to the ground with powerful thighs on your hips.

You’re pretty useless to do anything about it, no chance of freeing yourself from Konig’s weight on you. You can tell he’s not even using his full strength. You’ve seen him lift weights heavier than you, seen him pick up a boy that was much bigger and much stronger than you, and throw him on the ground with such force he broke his neck. Konig making every effort not to hurt you while you’re fighting him with everything you have ignites a searing heat that boils under the surface of your skin. Your growls are foaming, words engulfed in feral rage.

“You don’t get to have the final say just because you’re bigger than me! Stronger than me!”

Your arms are a blur, one flailing the knife above your head and deflecting his grabbing hands, the other swinging wildly at him. You thrash violently, an accompanying feral grunt with each jerk, spitting out objections and obscenities at him while he carefully times his swipes to avoid cutting himself.

You briefly consider spitefully driving the blade into your chest just to get the last word.

Rationalization returns with a better idea before you can commit, and you give one last whip of your arm. The knife launches over your head, far out of either you or Konig’s reach, just in time for him to restrain your wrists to the grass.

Neither of you are sure of your next move. You pant, swallowing with dry mouths and sharing a stare unlike any other you’ve had. Your brows pinched in rage, teeth bared, nostrils flared. He wears an expression that’s a cocktail of concerned, bewildered, and utterly panicked. Both of you are desperate to out-think the other, but it’s easy to judge by the lack of action that you’ve both drawn blanks.

His wide eyes are frantically flitting over your rage, chest heaving with each of his panting breaths.

“So what?!” You spit at him, ceasing your thrashing and instead projecting your rage at him through a fiery, pointed stare, “You die and I go home? I have to live with the guilt? The memories?! Price’s ‘I told you so?!’”

You’re frothing, animalistic grunts with words stitched into them.

“I have to mentor a pair of kids that I watch die every year?! I have to be haunted by your face every night?!”

At the tail-end of your rant, his eyes pinch closed and all of his muscles tense.

“I have nothing!”

It’s rare for him to raise his voice above a mumble, and he has never, ever yelled at you before.

He notices your wide eyes, the flinch that ends with you freezing. He sucks in a breath, lowering his voice with a stammer before he continues.

“I- I have nothing waiting for me at home. No one cares about me. District Nine doesn’t want me as their victor. I-“

He cuts himself off, and you wait with lowered brows for him to continue.

His eyes pinch shut as the grip on your wrists squeezes you tighter. Not uncomfortably, but enough for you to notice.

“You’re all I have.”

His voice is soft and broken - a plead more than it is a statement.

“I just got you, I can’t go home without you.”

His eyes stay closed, tight shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths as he looms over top of you, blocking out the desert sun and casting a shadow on you.

For a moment your voice is as soft as his.

“So I have to? I have to go home without you?”

Those swollen, hooded blue eyes meet yours again, and he swallows.

He doesn’t have anything to say.

Your brows pinch, the anger creeping back into your voice.

“You’re okay with me living with the aftermath?”

His irises tremble as his gaze switches between either of your eyes.

“I’m okay with you living,” He says gently, a croak in his voice and not a hint of ill will.

For a moment you’re still, your jaw clenching with a nod.

He’s happy to let you deal with the aftermath.

To let you live the rest of your life in District Nine while you’re mentally stuck in this arena.

To let you be haunted by the faces of twenty-three tributes who fell so that you could live.

To let you cry out his name after every nightmare just for your pleas to go unanswered.

Your voice turns raw around the lump forming in your throat, around the tears springing in your eyeline. You begin to thrash again, kicking your legs underneath him as you grunt through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t earn the win and you know it! Everyone knows it! I should have died in that bloodbath - Eleven should have killed me! Titan should have killed me! You should have killed me!”

He keeps his hold on you firm as he frantically searches for the knife. Not with enough force to hurt you, but with just enough to overpower you. This pisses you off even more, so you push up on his hands in rhythmic flails, spitting obscenities at him. He responds by putting a little more weight on you, never enough to cause discomfort or leave evidence of an altercation.

By the look of it the knife has landed somewhere in the fall quadrant, and you can tell he’s deciding if he should make a run for it.

“Don’t you dare,” You order with a tone that carries warning, low and out of breath as you still once more.

It’s an empty threat, because you know that if he took off for the knife he’d make the clearing before you could even stand.

His eyes meet yours again.

You force yourself to be calm, to filter out your rage through the hot air leaving your nose in fear that if you continue to thrash and yell, he will seize his opportunity.

You don’t dare look away, don’t dare give him what little of a lead he might think he needs to make the dash. As if staring into his eyes is the only thing tethering him to you. Like a wild animal, you will remind him that you know of his presence, that he cannot go in for the attack when he thinks you’re vulnerable.

You’re locked onto each other, frozen in this restrained straddle. Glaring at him while he tries to work out his next move.

He’s got nothing, only panicked static for thoughts.

The rise and fall of your chests slow as you both catch your breaths.

Minutes pass, and your brows ease from their pointed position. Your jaw relaxes, and your legs untense as they straighten out in the grass.

Your hostility has fizzled out, and his eyes make a slow transition, each passing moment draining a bit more worry.

As his breaths ease, so do his muscles. He readjusts himself, his legs sliding down in the plush grass so he can rest his forearms as he holds your wrists down. His grip has loosened, no longer concerned about you fighting him, but his hands stay wrapped around you just in case. His face and chest drift closer to you as he relaxes in his position, soft blue eyes studying you in return.

For a moment, though, his face pinches in arrogance, and he takes on a digging and low tone.

“And you don’t think you’re brave.”

“Fuck you,” You say, but it’s clear you don’t mean it.

It comes out breathy, so soft and sweet, as if you’ve just given him a tender compliment. You’re too distracted by features you hadn’t noticed from a distance. You’re lost in colorful, hooded eyes. In jaw stubble and slight creases and freckles that have pulled up in the sun. In painting your memory of his body underneath the canvas of his gear.

Your feelings on the way Konig has always towered over you has seemed to take a shift. No longer do you feel intimidated or feeble in his commanding, superior presence.

You still feel small, but in a good way?

Dainty.

You lift your head from the grass, your eyes trained carefully on his, and his worry returns. That familiar unsure stare that you’ve come to know.

You give him the faintest nod, and he presses his lips to yours so quick you knock your faces together.

Neither of you know what you’re doing.

It shows.

Your noses bump, he misjudges how big his mouth is compared to yours, and you both slobber all over each other.

When a soft laugh slips out of you, he sits up with a start, his hands leaving your wrists with a sheepish, “Sorry.”

You both wipe the spit from your faces with your forearms. He shifts to stand, but your hands shoot down to his outer thighs. You wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him down, but he gives in to your silent plea, planting his knees back into the dirt on either side of you.

“I’ve never done this before,” He reminds you with those unsure eyes.

“Me neither,” you say, through a smile.

His shoulders relax, and he gives a small laugh that’s somehow nervous and relieved at the same time.

“Here,” you say, reaching up to rest your palm on his rough jaw. You guide his face slowly towards yours, staring longingly into those pretty blue eyes on his dissent.

You give him a few closed-mouth kisses.

They’re curious, light, and you can feel the texture of his chapped lips and coarse stubble. It’s not as soft as you thought a kiss with a boy would be.

You begin to part your lips, not yet sticking out your tongue, but kissing him with less reserve.

Your smile returns, eyes fluttering open when your teeth show before you pull away with a start.

“Have you had your eyes open this whole time?!”

He sits up again with a start, his hand pulling to his chest, “I- yeah?”

“That’s weird! Don’t do that,” You say through a laugh.

He smiles back at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair that was displaced by the tussle, “But I want to look at you.”

You give him what’s supposed to be an annoyed roll of your eyes, but your stupid grin and bunched cheeks are betraying you.

“C’mere,” You say, slipping two fingers in his vest and tugging on his gear.

He leans down and positions himself in front of your face. You start again with a few light pecks before you carefully open your mouth, tilting your head to the side. You flick your tongue out for just a second before it’s met with his. He’s eager at first, slipping into your mouth too fast, but he catches himself, slowing down to follow your pace. One hand supports himself in the dirt, the other cupping the side of your face.

You break for just a moment, leaving only inches between you.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” He whispers through heavy breath.

“How long?” You ask, eyeing his flushed lips before returning his stare.

“Ich-” He looks away, “When you-“

Your brow quirks at his hesitance.

“Since you stood up for me,” he gets out at an embarrassed mumble, turning a shade pinker than he already was.

You nod slow. You don’t say anything, don’t bother feeling stupid for not noticing the obvious, and you tug him closer by his vest.

You plant a long, slow kiss on his lips, your other hand finding the back of his neck to hold him close, fingers threading in his hair as you hum against each other. His head gently rocks back and forth as he deepens the kiss, hungrily tasting you. He tastes like citrus, the orange you shared earlier still lingering on your tongues.

You can feel him on your waist.

It’s strange, how boys work.

How suddenly there is something where normally there is nothing.

It’s impossible to ignore, and you find yourself curiously pressing your hips into it.

He can tell you’ve noticed, and he springs up again so he’s no longer pressing against you. His hands move in front of him, fingers fidgeting and face flushed with embarrassment.

You give a small, reassuring laugh, “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about all of Panem watching?”

Of course they wouldn’t actually display the deed. Brutal slaughter? No problem. Sexual content? Absolutely not.

They’ll cut away. The announcers will make several innocuous jokes to ease the awkward-ness of it all. They’ll replay and analyze either the finale showdown or the intimate words shared at your picnic.

You do refrain from reminding him that at least one gamemaker is going to have to watch to know once you’re decent.

Konig makes a noise that’s a mixture of a scoff and a needy groan, and you can tell by the look on his face you’ve won him over.

“How am I supposed to say no to that face?”

A sly grin creeps on that very same face, “You don’t.”

You kiss again, bumping foreheads before your lips meet, smacking obnoxiously as you taste each other. This is another sloppy, fervorous, wet kiss - but it feels right. His stubble sands against you as his tongue intertwines with yours. The speed quickens, and your hands claw at the front of his gear as you desperately pull him closer.

He presses against you as far as the vest allows, legs straightening to meet you. His free hand finds your hair, pressing it to the side of your head as his thumb strokes the soft flesh of your cheek.

You don’t notice that you’ve been steadily grinding into him throughout the kiss until you pull away, desperate for air.

“Take it off, take it off,” Your voice is more huff than words, but the urgency of them translate with the pulling at his vest.

He’s fumbles for it, unclipping the strap before shedding the vest like it was on fire. His fingers claw for his shirt before he remembers the pads pinning his sleeves to his forearms. He blindly swipes at the straps, eyes glued on your needy eyes and parted lips, watching your back arch off the ground to make steady grinds against him. He swipes at his pads a few times before he takes them off with a swift jerk and the harsh rip of velcro. He doesn’t take care in tossing them, already scrambling to rip his shirt off.

Your hands move from his outer thighs to the hem of your shirt, lifting yourself up so you can free yourself from the cling of fabric, disrupting your hair as you do so.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his uncovered chest, memorizing each dip in his sculpted torso. Your hands reach out to touch, to press his chest to yours without the barrier of the clunky vest, but you pull away at the last moment.

“No, wait,” He says as he stands, grabbing his jacket, “Here.”

A light hand on your shoulder guides you up from the grass. When you sit up, you watch over your shoulder as Konig delicately spreads out his jacket, smoothing it over it before you lay down on its outstretched fabric.

When he moves to get on top of you, he puts his legs in between yours instead of in a straddle. His hands climb up the grass, and once he’s hovering over you again, he stops to scan all the new skin revealed to him. Following the curves of your shoulders, upper arms. Down your collarbones and lingering on your clothed chest. One hand moves to touch your waist, but he stops himself, planting his hand back on the grass as he thoroughly examines you.

He’s not exactly discreet about his awe, slack-jawed and eyes wide as he drools over you.

A sense of sly confidence wafts over you as you leave him mesmerized with your body, but you’d be lying if you’d said you weren’t guilty of doing the exact same thing. Admiring defined muscles yet too afraid to touch them. It was as if you were both masterwork statutes guarded by velvet rope - to be looked at from afar but never touched by unworthy hands.

He lets out a breathy laugh at himself, closes his mouth, and leans until he’s face to face with you, pressing his lips to yours at his return.

While you kiss, your hands hesitantly find broad, strong shoulders. A light touch with the pads of your fingers followed by the flat of your hand conforming to him. He’s warm and smooth to the touch, his muscles tight and tensed.

Your fingers slide down to his collar bones, palms flush with his chest. You want him closer, though, and your hands snake back around to his shoulder blades, guiding him with a suggestive nudge. He does, happily pressing his skin flush with yours, only separated by the thin fabric of your sports bra. Your other hand finds the crook of his neck and shoulder, feeling the tendons move underneath his skin as he tilts his head for the kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers on an exhale, pulling away to catch his breath while he further examines you, “I really like kissing you.”

“I really like kissing you, too.”

“You’re so soft,” He says, and then his eyes widen, “Your skin, I mean, äh, your lips.”

His face warps, and you can tell he knows he’s fumbling it.

You laugh at him, one that comes from deep in your chest and blossoms with a silky warmth.

“Sorry,” He says, rubbing the back of his neck, the crook of his elbow pressed to his chest.

“C’mere.”

His eyes linger on you before he leans down again, planting a peck on your lips. He pulls away, just a bit, and brushes his lips against your cheek. His kisses are so gentle, as if the very weight of them would cause you to crumble to dust at the slightest provocation.

“Can I?” He asks softly, brushing your hair away from your neck and tucking it behind your ear.

You give him a hum in approval, and he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline, working his way down to your neck, where you tilt your head to give him room to nestle. It feels different than the lip or cheek kisses. His lips and stubble tickles the sensitive skin of your neck and his warm breath rolling along your flesh raises goosebumps and elicits a shudder.

He quickly pulls himself off you at the slight movement that may suggest discomfort.

“No, no. It felt good,” You reassure him with a squeeze, “Just tickles.”

He relaxes with a nod and lowers himself again. The feeling of him on your neck sends a warmth deep in your gut that has your hip jutting into him without thought. He’s pressed against you now, not just on the front of your hips. An addicting electricity flashes through you with each unintentional grind against him.

You don’t expect the sound that leaves you. It’s an exhale, but laced with something of a relaxing sigh, a pleasurable one even. One you’d might make as you lower yourself into a warm bath after a long day.

A horrified look spreads on your face at the noise, the push of your hips coming to a halt. Konig seems encouraged by it, though. You can feel his smile on your skin before he nuzzles himself further into your neck, the tip of his nose brushing against you while he returns to leave teasing kisses.

His kisses trail lower, carefully down the crook of your neck, veering off to pepper over the healed scars on your shoulder blades, much softer than the others. He moves on to your collarbones, the front of your neck. He nudges your head back with his nose so he can plant three long, lingering kisses where Titan nicked you.

His lips move down to the crest of your chest, where he tilts his head upwards, not interrupting his gentle pecks as he meets your stare.

You know what he’s asking for with those puppy dog eyes.

You prop yourself up on your elbows while he gives you room to pull your sports bra over your head, disrupting your hair as you free it with a half-hearted toss to the side.

When you find his face again, he looks almost scared. The same look he gave the whiskey on reaping day, the same look he wore when you offered him to sit on your bed. Like you were tricking him, like it was too good to be true.

He’s enamored with your chest. His lips part ever so slightly, eyebrows perking up. The only thing that moves is his irises darting around to devour you, the rise and fall of his chest with each heavy breath.

Your hands find strong, warm shoulders, tracing your fingers down biceps and forearms made of lead, slowing to cup his hands. You carefully guide him to your breasts, and he sucks in a hitched breath on contact, his eyes nervously finding yours.

“It’s okay,” You whisper.

After a moment, he accepts your invitation to relax. His warm hands meld to your skin, letting fingers delicately explore your chest. He’s holding you like you’re made of glass. Gentle hands and nervous breaths.

His hands find your ribcage, his thumb brushing curiously over your nipples.

You bite your lip at this. It’s a completely different sensation to touching your own nipples. Unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It makes you twitch underneath him, and he pulls away.

“No,” you object, finding his knuckles to place his palms back on your chest. With his eyes trained on your face, he gives another singular brush across the bud.

You offer him another nod, eyes softening as he begins to massage them delicately.

You give another sharp gasp, and he understands that this is a good thing. He gets a little too excited, rubbing his fingers faster.

“No,” You say with a slight arch into his jacket and a squeeze on his forearms, “Slower, like before.”

He gives a nod, meeting your eyes to make sure you know he understands before he starts his gentle brushes over your nipple again.

You let out another sigh, eyes giving the slightest roll. You arch into his touch again, hips giving a particularly drawn-out grind against him.

He starts to speed up again, but quickly corrects himself.

“Rougher, please.”

He nods eagerly, and tentatively gives your nipple a squeeze.

Another breathy, high-pitched gasp leaves you.

“Konig - It feels so good.”

You whisper this in a tone that suggests he’s missing out, arching into his touch. You can feel the wet warmth of your arousal as it floods the fabric of your underwear.

He lets out a choke from the back of his throat. Your eyes flutter shut and another soft moan leaves you at his squeezes.

“Konig?” You ask with a breathless whine, unclipping the holster on his thigh, “I need you.”

For a moment he locks up, but as soon as it registers what you’re asking for his hands scramble to his belt. His fingers fumble it multiple times, having to rip his stare away from you to watch what he’s doing. You’re not making it easy on him either, grinding against the strain in his pants while he pushes into you. After a frustrated tug, he manages to free his belt and stands to slide his pants off. He fumbles this as well, shaking his ankles free from the bunched fabric and awkwardly hopping to free himself from its hold.

You take the opportunity to slide your pants down, lifting from the grass to strip them off much more gracefully, kicking them to the side.

He lets out another choke at the sight of your thighs, panties on display for him to eye. He meets your stare again, wearing that look that suggests you’re setting out a trap for him.

You slide your feet up on the grass until your knees are bent, spreading your legs with an smug, teasing smile. A hand comes up from the grass to curl your finger in a way that orders him to your presence.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and at once he’s hovering over top of you, descending to meet you in another messy kiss.

One of his hands props himself up, half on the sleeve of his jacket, half on the grass, his other squeezing on your upper shoulder to hold you in place as your tongues intertwine once again.

When he grinds into you, only separated by the two thin fabrics of your underwear, you both simultaneously let out a moan of relief. Half your irises disappear with a light roll of your eyes.

He digs further into you, pressing the fabric of your panties inward as he nestles between your lips. He rocks his hips, the tip of him brushing against your clit, sending a jolt of euphoria down your middle that finishes with a pool of warmth in your lower abdomen. When you let out a breath laced with your pleasure into his mouth, he breaks away from the kiss to get a better look at you, letting his hands rest on your knees.

He towers over your like this, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over you while he looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, soaking in the way you twitch at each of his rocks against you. His huffs to catch his breath cut short with each slide across your panties. Yours aren’t much different as you lean into the touch, choking on breaths with each jolt of pleasure as Konig slides across your clit.

“You’re wet,” He says, as if he’s just made an impossible discovery, sharing his find with you in a tone full of disbelief and wide eyes to match.

A laugh that’s more breath than air leaves you, a glowing warmth on cheeks that bunch when a smile blooms on your face.

Your hands swipe loosely in the air, wordlessly begging for him to come closer. You watch his muscles flex to lower himself down until you can feel the heat of his chest on yours.

Your voice drops to a whisper, dawning a teasing, soothing tone while you look up at him with eyes sparkling with adoration and mischief. Your lashes flutter as you stare him down, drawing out each purred syllable in a decrescendo as you swirl your finger down his chest, your other hand disappearing into the nape of his hair.

“It’s all your fault.”

His breath hitches and his eyes lull with a drawn out a rut against you, a low groan leaving his parted lips. It’s addicting, the sound of his pleasure. His harsh voice and intimidating stature unraveling and melting to your body that moves to conform to his long, steady grinds.

Konig eagerly presses his lips to yours, his hum deep and low, tingling your jaw as he pushes his tongue into yours with ill-advised confidence. You happily let him lead, swinging one leg over his waist to nudge him closer into steady grinds. As you thread your fingers through the base of his hair, your other leg hooks around the back of his thigh to pin him firmly to your front.

He breaks away for air, neither of you bothering to wipe away the generous layer of mixed spit.

Your eyes lock, clouded with drowsy arousal.

Through parted lips, intoxicated off your taste and touch, he mutters three words.

Slurred but unmistakable.

“I love you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, brows raising and eyes sobering. Your hand slowly snakes from the back of his neck to his chest, firm and warm as you stare up at him.

He doesn’t stop at your change in pace, continuing his steady ruts and not displaying a lick of regret for his words. He just stares down at you through those half-lidded eyes, watching your reaction to each movement of his hips.

Your hands slide up to squeeze his biceps, your face relaxing when you say, “I love you too.”

The corners of his lips perk up around his heaving breaths, stifling a mixture of a relieved laugh with a groan that threatens to spill with each brush against your inviting, stained panties.

His eyes devour you as the smile grows on his face, ducking his head to plant a long closed-mouth kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he nuzzles his head into your neck, showering the skin with kisses. He trails down again, much quicker and eager than last time as he leaves pecks along your neck, your collarbones, and folds his back awkwardly so he can kiss the top of your plush chest while he continues to rock against you.

He shifts himself, sliding his legs further into the grass below you and removing himself from the front of your underwear. He kisses down your chest until he’s bordering your nipple, tilting his head up to look at you, those pretty eyes begging so nicely.

You give him a nod, and lay your head back as he gives the bud of your nipple gentle kisses.

It’s teasing, almost, the way his lips are barely grazing you. They’re wet with spit, cooling in the spring breeze and sending another shiver down your spine.

He trains his eyes carefully on you as he gives a gentle, curious lap with his tongue.

You let out a breathy squeak that makes his face perk up. He goes in again, circling his tongue around your nipple, flicking back and forth over it. Konig’s not pressed against you anymore, but you find yourself still grinding absentmindedly on his core.

While keeping his gaze on you, he draws your nipple into his mouth with a suck.

The gasp that leaves you is nothing short of erotic. Konig’s eyes lull at the noise and he even lets out a small moan that turns to a rousing vibration. He tilts his head down, buries his nose into your chest and eagerly nurses on you.

His tongue strokes the bud curiously as he sucks. Your back arching off the ground does not go ignored as you thread your fingers into his hair and tighten your grip.

His breath hitches, and his free hand comes up to swirl around your other breast as he greedily devours you, honing in on your nipple and giving it a gentle squeezes.

The soft moans and sighs are flowing freely as you squirm underneath him, fingers clinging to him for dear life.

He pulls off your nipple with a pop, the spit cooling in the open air and bringing your nipples to attention. You whine at his absence as he continues to kiss down your stomach.

His tweaking fingers follow shortly after, his hands finding your hips while he makes his descent. When he shifts further down, flat on his front, he loops his strong arms under your legs, placing his hands hesitantly on your outer thighs.

He tilts his head, closing his eyes as he gives gentle pecks on your inner thigh. The tip of his nose brushing against you, his coarse stubble, his kisses - the sensations send another jolt of electricity straight to your lower abdomen.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles in between kisses, the vibration of his voice tickling the sensitive flesh.

His head turns, and he begins to give equal love and care to your other thigh.

His lips trail higher, overlapping his generous kisses up the soft flesh.

He lifts his head to give one gentle kiss at the top of your panties, those begging eyes making an encore.

You give an eager nod, taut breaths escaping parted lips.

He kisses down the fabric of your panties, concentrating his full attention on your flushed face. He stops when he gets to the stain of arousal, his fingers threading through the waistband on either side of your panties.

He asks for permission with a look.

“Yes,” You whisper, “Please.”

He sits up quickly, using his hand to guide your legs up so he can pull your panties off.

He freezes again, eyes fixated on you, already coated in a shiny layer of arousal.

You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed, him examining you like this. He looks shocked, eyes wide and brows raised, mouth slightly parted.

“Okay?” You ask with a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” His reassurance comes out breathy with awe, accompanied by an excited nod, “I’ve just never,” he trails off.

“It’s okay.”

“Okay,” he says with a swallow.

“Can I see you?”

His face perks again, this time with a hint of hesitance. Caught off guard, like he never expected the request.

He sits back with a deep exhale before he slides his underwear down, shifting to peel them from his ankles. He sets them to the side as he returns to his kneel between your legs, his hands resting on your bent knees. He can’t look you in the eye, his face already bracing for rejection.

“I guess uh, I guess they don’t call you The Mountain for no reason,” You say with a nervous laugh.

His face sinks, maybe at the nickname, maybe at the fear that he’s not adequate enough for you. You had just laughed at him, nervous laugh or not, which is something you imagine wouldn’t play over well with any boy who’s just exposed himself to someone for the first time ever.

“No, no, it’s nice. Sorry, I’m just-”

You cut yourself off with another nervous laugh.

You find yourself tilting your head as you stare at it. Boys are strange. Such a silly thing it is, and other than his size, much less intimidating than you thought it would be.

It stands on its own, enraged in color, swaying with his movements. A long, girthy shaft that ends with a flushed tip, accompanied by dangling bits underneath. There’s an alluring glint of arousal leaking from the tip. You almost want to laugh at it - not at Konig’s in particular - but at all of them. All of the appendages out there attached to half the population, swinging freely in their pants.

Your inquisitive stare must burn, because he moves his hands to sheepishly cover himself, looking to the sky that splits in four.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’ve just never, uh,” You trail off, exactly as he did. After a moment you extend your hand, nudging his inner forearm away.

“Can I touch it?” You ask, looking up at him with sloped brows.

He makes a noise like he’s thinking on it while he processes your question, followed by a blurted out, “Ja!”

He quickly realizes his answer came out way too fast and way too eager. He clears his throat, and forces himself to a nonchalant tone that wouldn’t fool anyone, “Yeah.”

Your hands reach out slowly, carefully. You actually hold your breath, both of you do, you think, until your fingertips brush along his tip, your hand trailing down the sides of his shaft.

His whole body, every defined muscle, contracts at your touch. Now you understand how Konig must have felt, pulling those breathy sighs out of you. It’s addicting to make someone feel this way using only your own body.

You notice the skin is thinner and softer than the rest of him as your hand smooths slowly along the shaft, loosely and carefully wrapping your fingers around the base. You just barely graze him as you move your hand up and down his length, letting him slide through your loose grip.

He lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders pulling up and his head lulling forward. His hand squeeze your bent knees, strong, tensed thighs pressed to yours as he kneels between them.

He shudders as you keep your steady pace, and when he whispers your name, so soft and needy, a show of his gratitude and a plead for more, it sends another wave of your arousal to your panties.

You respond by speeding up, your hands almost blur as you generously glide around him.

“Hah- ah,” His eyes roll back before he pinches his eyes shut, sucking in breaths through grit teeth.

You keep your pace, trying to simulate what you can only assume is the feeling of sex with your fingers.

“Your hands,” he whispers through heavy breath, “So pretty and small around me.”

Your face relaxes as you look up to him, awe in your eyes.

His words did something to you, feeding the flame that flickers in your lower abdomen.

You slow for a moment as you process this newfound feeling before speeding up to elicit more from him.

“Feels s’good,” he slurs.

Your hand glides up to brush against his tip with each pump, making him twitch around you. He lets out a few more sinful moans, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he stares down at your amazed blown eyes, parted lips. His eyes hungrily scour your breasts, bouncing hypnotically with each stroke.

“Bitte,” he whimpers, “Hhn-”

His muscles tighten and he squeezes the grip on your knees a little tighter.

He shudders, his whole body folding forward with a choked groan. He puts his weight on one of your knees, his other hand shooting down to rip your hold off him.

“What? What’s wrong?!” You ask frantically, quickly retracting your hands to your chest.

“No, no,” he reassures. He gives a breathless, embarrassed laugh, his muscles tight and body still experiencing tremors, “I didn’t want to- I was-“

He gives another sheepish laugh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end.”

Your brow lifts in confusion.

His gaze briefly averts, still fighting off twitches.

“I was going to,” he hesitates, “Finish.”

“Oh,” You say.

“I’m sorry.”

A flattered and pleased grin crosses your face.

“No, it’s okay.”

“I’ll do you?” He asks, staring at your spread lips, drenched in your own arousal.

You let out a nervous, one note hum of approval, and gnaw on your lower lip with a nod.

He lowers himself to sit on his folded legs, a soft tentative grip on your thighs. You feel exposed while he studies you, as he works out a plan.

“I don’t know how,” He says, voice still breathy as his unsure eyes meets yours.

“It’s okay,” You whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, guiding him to you.

You swirl his pliant fingers around your rim, lubing them up with your own slick before you pinch the sides of his index finger and place it on your swollen clit.

“Just be gentle,” you say.

He nods, breaths shallow as he rocks the pad of his finger up and down on your clit.

You suck in a breath, squirming at his touch.

He gets excited by this, his finger rubbing you quicker. Your head throws back in the grass, a breathy, hitched strain leaving you.

“Slower,” You say with an overstimulated twitch, “And do circles, I think.”

He retracts his hand quickly, before giving a hesitant nod. He uses his thumb this time, gently rubbing around the sensitive bud.

You let out a soft moan, and he gets excited again, but quickly corrects himself. He watches you carefully as you squirm underneath him. Mesmerized by your hips pushing into his touch, back arching into him.

“Breathe,” You remind him, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He nods, red in the face as he continues to swirl the pad of his finger around you, chasing the sound of your addicting huffed moans. Your head lulls to the ground, closing your eyes as you focus on his touch.

He’s using your hitched breaths to navigate your pleasure, learning the difference between a twitch of overstimulation and a shudder of satisfaction. He repeats the movements and swipes that elicit your wisps of moans, studying your face carefully with drowsy halflidded eyes.

Your hips grind without thought into his touch, needy whimpers escaping your lips as your back arches off the jacket, eyes rolling until your lids pinch shut.

“Konig?” You whine, “Please.”

He gives you a shaky nod, returning his focus to his fingers.

He slowly pushes his finger into you, and flits his gaze to look at your face, searching for discomfort.

He stops at the first knuckle, his brows sloped with uncertainty.

You let out a deep breath, concentrating on relaxing yourself. It feels strange. Intrusive, almost uncomfortable. Clinical instead of sexual. But you are determined to do this.

You give a sure nod, and he continues to slide deeper inside of you.

You let out a small strained moan, not necessarily in pleasure. You tense around him and he stops at once.

“Should I stop?” He asks.

“No, no,” You say, “I want to do this.”

He nods slow.

“More?” He asks with soft eyes.

You nod, clenching your teeth as his thick finger explores deeper.

You take a few more, somewhat awkward, breaks, and eventually you manage to get his entire finger inside of you. He stills for a while, letting you get used to the feeling.

Your body relaxes, forcing deep breaths as you concentrate on breathing. You feel exposed, spread open like this with him inside you.

“Sorry,” You mutter with closed eyes.

“No,” He reassures softly, “It’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, resting an arm over your eyes.

“Should I try to-?” He ends his sentence by swirling his finger as gently as one can, small circles massaging into tight walls.

You let out a hefty sigh, closing your eyes as you focus on his touch. You nuzzle your face into the crook of your own elbow, begging your body to catch up to your excitement.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says, and you nod assent.

“Move?” You ask, not too sure of yourself.

He takes his time as he slides his finger out of you about an inch before gently gliding back in.

A breathy exhale leaves you, and Konig’s eyebrows pinch as he tries to decipher if it’s in pain or pleasure.

“Is this okay?” He asks, using your arousal to seamlessly, but carefully, slip in and out of you.

You meet his eyes and nod, face flushed and audible breaths falling from your lips.

“Yeah,” you huff, light and warm.

He nods, his gaze falling down to his finger slipping in and out of you. He’s extra careful, not daring to let himself become too eager this time.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “So wet for me.”

Your brows perk up, a sharp inhale as you clench around him. Konig’s words miss your ears, heading straight for your core where they twist your insides and drain around his finger.

Every breath is threatening to spill from your lips in a moan, the muscles in your core tightening and unraveling with each push.

He eyes you carefully and asks, “Do you see? Come undone with just my index finger?”

Rarely do you find yourself unable to come up with a witty remark, but his words have left you speechless. Stealing the last word you normally stake your claim in.

He notices - he notices the way you respond to his harsh voice, spinning dirty talk in a low, almost patronizing voice. Robbed of your words and wit and reduced to a whimpering mess sitting in a puddle of arousal - he’s got physical proof that he’s turning you on, that he has you literally wrapped around his finger.

It sparks something in him, you can see it, hear it in his tone. An air of superiority, confidence,

No -

Arrogance.

“Imagine what you’ll sound like once I’m inside you,” He says, his face even beside a faint smirk.

His grip on your plush thigh briefly tightens, indenting the soft flesh.

“Don’t worry, mein sieger, I’ll take my time stretching you out.”

“So tight,” he adds, “Such a little girl will have trouble taking such a big cock, ja?”

You choke on a hitched breath, eyes widening not just at his words, but at the tightening in your lower half, the warmth that floods you. Stunned and aroused by his words, a searing heat of excitement flushing your skin - this no longer feels clinical.

“It’s a good thing you’re dripping, I’m sure I’ll slip right in to you.”

“Faster,” you choke out, “Meaner.”

An eyebrow raises, and his stare darts to the side. A moment of uncertainty before he digests his assignment, fumbling his pace before he pumps in and out of you quicker.

“You just needed someone to take you down a peg, hm?”

A hint of worry peeks through, those unsure eyes returning as he gauges whether he’s gone too far. Your moans and pitiful whines encourage him, though, and his chest puffs out as his eyes relax.

“You always act so tough but I know you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place, ja?”

He doesn’t break his quickened pace as the hand on your upper thigh trails upwards, running over the curve of your hips and up your ribcage. His grip on you is rougher, assured - he’s handling you like you’re something he owned.

“Not so tough now,” He punctuates his sentence with a harsh tweak of your nipple, and he lets out a smug hum at your sprung eyes and sharp breath.

“You love to talk such a big game, don’t you? If I knew this is all it took to quiet you up maybe I would have done this a long time ago.”

He flicks your nipple with a bored expression on his face, but for just a moment you catch a wrinkle in his brow - still trying to figure out where the boundary lies.

Your whole body tenses, tightening around his finger as you claw at tufts of grass for leverage.

He face pulls back into a half scowl, “Look at you. Desperate, pathetic little lamb.”

Your face twists, absentmindedly grinding down on his finger.

“Greedy girl,” He purrs, “You want more?”

You nod, looking to his figure, blurred through your own haze of arousal.

“You have to ask nicely,” He tutts, that smug grin making a reappearance.

Your brows pinch in betrayal, in fury - no man belittles you this way.

He takes great pleasure in washing away your scowl with particularly powerful and swift plunges into your sopping cunt. Strings of moans leave you, each one cut off with each bottom out to his knuckle, coated in a sheen of your own arousal.

“Nothing to say, little one?”

You let out a frustrated grunt with grit teeth as you take his thick finger. You’re torn between fighting back or leaning into his whim - it’s hard to ignore how good he’s making you feel, and even harder to think through the fog of your own pleasure.

“Giving you too good of a fucking? Can’t even talk?”

You let out a whine, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers massaging your walls.

“More, please,” you get out through grit teeth.

“What was that, little one?” He asks, turning his head with a squeeze of your nipple.

You know he heard you.

He’s humiliating you, forcing you to beg and plead for him to continue teasing you, to continue leaving you breathless with his hands and his insolent tongue.

You let out another defeated groan, “More, please! Please, I-“

The second finger slips into you carefully, pausing on each wince you make. On its bottom out, he curiously surveys you again, his thumb pressing into your clit. He rocks the pad of his finger as he patiently waits for you to stretch around him, while his other hand continues to tease your nipple, giving it gentle flicks and massages.

He relishes in your whines as you adjust to feeling full.

“That’s a good girl.”

His praise steals the breath from you, blown eyes and parted lips. A white heat flashes deep in your core, intense enough to stun you, but it doesn’t stop you from arching your hips in his direction, grinding down on his knuckles.

When your grinds turn to needy bounces paired with truly pathetic whines, he starts up at your pace, thrusting his fingers into you.

“Just needed to be put in your place, ja?”

You hate being spoken to this way, but you’re too addicted to the way it’s making you feel. His forceful plunges into your slicked cunt, his firm, careful swirls around your clit, the sickeningly sweet warmth in your core - it's impossible to resist his degrading condescension.

“Look at you,” He tilts his head curiously and sticks out his bottom lip in a display of mockery, “So pouty.”

His curled, unused fingers slam into the crook of your trembling thighs, the sound of your own arousal obscenely wet with each pump into you.

“Are you upset that it feels too good for you to fight? Hm?”

Without breaking his pace, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours.

His eyes darken and narrow, and his voice drops to a dangerous tone.

“You’re no match for me anyway.”

A glint of worry reappears in his eyes as he watches your face soften, your wide, full irises staring up at him with billowing lashes. There’s a hint of fear in your expression - a thrilling, jolt of surprise that shoots down your spine and forces a sharp inhale. You hadn’t realized just how safe you’d felt around him.

No - you had. You knew what his presence did for you. A security blanket to pull up to your neck. There was a sense of protection you’d felt around him, even from the beginning. Just standing next to him, the intimidating figure that towers over you, you felt guarded more than threatened.

Even if he was your opponent the entire time.

Even after you thought he was trying to kill you.

You still took comfort in the distant memory of his protection.

On some level you must have known that he would have never been able to bring himself to hurt you during your fight. If he wanted to, he could have killed you with the same amount of effort it takes to kill a ladybug.

It’s the reminder coming from his mouth that’s so jarring. To be reminded of how powerless you are around him - to reimagine him as an enemy once again, to have him towered over you.

It’s a threat.

It says, ‘It does not matter what you want. If you try and fight, I will get my way, because I am bigger. I am stronger.’

It’s exhilarating, exploring the implications and possibilities as you stare helplessly into eyes that seemingly lack empathy. It makes your heart beat furiously against your ribcage.

You know he’s still in there. Your Konig, the sweetheart who’d never dare hurt you. The boy who cares so much about the girl he’d rather sacrifice himself than live without her. It’s proven in the way his fingers strive for pleasure, not punishment. How he slows at any twitch that shows discomfort. That unsure stare making a reappearance at every step towards the boundary.

But his words, his tone, those hollow, uninterested eyes - it was almost believable. Shocking enough to fill you with just enough unease, just enough doubt. The tightening in your gut makes it easy to play pretend.

When you begin to resume your bounce on his fingers, he slips back into his role.

“The fight you put up earlier was cute, but we both know-” He cuts himself off with a breathy, dangerous laugh, “Ach, what was it you said? At any moment I could snap your spine like a twig?”

Your face falls and you swallow at having your words thrown back at you. Had he been ruminating on that? The way his smile had dropped by the time he finished the sentence made it easy to believe.

His eyes narrow at you.

“Do you like feeling weak? Do you like knowing that you’re helpless against me?”

You manage to answer with a whimper, closing your eyes as you commit to giving yourself to him. Letting him fuck you with his fingers as he degrades you like the pitiful thing you are.

He snickers at you, keeping his pace, “Did you like it when I pinned you down, little one?”

Each word that pours from his mouth makes your insides tighten, that rough voice mocking you and reducing you to a plaything.

His brow quirks, and a sly smile creeps on his face, “I bet that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You wanted to feel my strength?”

You let out a choked moan, your eyes lulling at the reminder of how powerless you are against him.

His lip juts to the side in a cocky smirk.

“If you wanted me to overpower you, all you had to do was ask.”

You shoot him a glare with a snarl, but he quickly unravels your pointed expression with rushed, ruthless plunges into you. He leans in so he’s face to face with you as his free hand pins both of your wrists down in one smooth motion.

He shushes you like you’re a fussy baby, “It’s okay little one, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

You let out a grit moan at a particularly demanding pound into your cunt.

“You look cute when you’re mad, you know that?” His half-lidded eyes are flooded with egotism.

He scoffs at your clenched teeth and pinched brows before his hand turns to a blur. His fingers glide in and out of you without mercy, knuckles slamming into your sore cunt, unraveling your irate expression with trembling sighs and moans that were louder and needier than you wanted them to be.

His voice drops dangerously low, a deep hum pulling down each word.

“But you look cuter getting fucked.”

You let out a cry of pleasure, pinching your eyes shut and lulling your head back in defeat, embarrassing moans falling from your lips as you squirm in his hold.

He silently watches you take him, a smug look plastered on his face that you’d love to wipe off - a wish you can’t afford at the expense of your pleasure.

“You want more, little one?”

Your affirmation is a hiss through grit teeth, but he accepts this.

A third digit slips carefully inside you and waits for your cue to move.

“Such big, thick fingers. You’ve held my hands - Did you ever fantasize about these fingers inside you?”

You let out a breathy, broken sigh. His words are making you feel even smaller than the menacing figure towering over you.

“You wanted to feel my strength, did you?” He puts more pressure on your wrists and closes the gap between your faces, your lips nearly touching as he bores into you with those half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t break his rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, straddling one of your thighs to keep you spread for him. His chest radiates a cozy heat on yours, the plump of your breast brushing against him.

“Do you feel it?”

You look up at him with blown doe eyes, cheeks glowing as you suck in a hitched breath.

When he stares at you expectantly, raising a brow at your silence, you nod.

“Yes,” You hiccup, forced and raw as you take your fucking.

He gives a satisfied hum, nudging your head to the side with his nose before he dives into your neck, slobbering over the sensitive skin. He hungrily licks stripes across your flesh, occasionally sucking strawberry kisses to the surface.

Your lips brush the crest of his ear, pathetic choked whines like whispered secrets as he keeps his pace.

Your eyes go cross, twisting into the position that forces his fingers to pound against the spot that makes your vision blur and your muscles tighten. Arching off his jacket, pushing up against his hold, pressing into his chest as you squirm underneath him. He’s grinding steadily against your thigh, the rim of his tip brushing against your stomach, commanding attention with its silky warmth.

“You want to feel me inside you, hm? You want to really feel my strength?”

Your breath hitches, eyes widening. For a moment you are frozen, flitting your gaze between each of his eyes, and then you give an embarrassingly excited nod.

He doesn’t make you beg this time, not bothering to hide his eagerness as he repositions himself between your knees. He carefully slips his fingers from you, and you can’t help but whine at the absence.

One of his hands rests on your knee, the other lining himself up to your slick rim.

He doesn’t hold back his sigh, his eyes rolling as his sensitive tip swirls around your rimmed entrance. He bites his lip for a moment, his arrogant façade fading.

“So wet,” he says, more amazed than it is condescending.

His gaze flicks to your face, studying you with soft blue eyes, watching your bated breath as your fingers brace on clumps of grass.

He slowly pushes his tip in and immediately shudders, his head lulling forward on his neck.

You wince, and he stops at once. His breath is shaky, hands trembling on your knees.

“You feel so good,” he says, a low hum weighing his voice down.

You nod, features pinched as you focus on adjusting to him.

He’s being patient, but you can tell he’s fighting the urge to rock his hips into you, sputtered breaths and clenched muscles.

“I’m sorry,” You say again, one of your forearms draped over your closed eyes as you focus on taking him.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly.

There’s a beat, and his voice drops again, low and taunting.

“Too big for such a little girl?”

Your arm lifts, your bright eyes finding his with a sharp inhale. That feeling returns, the feeling of your lower core dropping, your insides contracting at his words.

His voice is still a bit strained from holding himself back, but his breathy words still convey superiority.

His eyes narrow, “Looks like someone is too weak. Is that right, little one?”

You let out an annoyed grunt, and he scoffs.

“For someone who talks such big game, you’re not very good at handling me, are you?”

The corner of his lip perks up at the way your face relaxes, the nervous swallow bobbing in your throat.

“It’s okay. I know how badly you want to be good for me, made it all this way for me.”

He can’t help but sway his hips the slightest bit, his tip barely lapping at your entrance.

“Do you want to be good for me?” He asks, his lids lowered, lips flushed and teased with each of his shallow breaths.

You let out a twisted noise, somewhere between a squeak and a groan. Briefly you are distracted by the mesmerizing push of his hips, each roll filling you up ever so slightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you give a weak nod.

“Yes, Konig.”

“My good girl.”

A sob leaves you, eyes pinching shut as you nod against the hood of his jacket.

“Thank you,” You whisper, the words leaving your lips broken.

He hums contently, boring those half-lidded eyes at you.

When you grind down on him, Konig’s muscles contract, and he lets out a huffy breath, followed by a faint laugh.

You begin to rock steadily underneath him, bouncing just enough to fuck yourself with his tip.

His lower lip catches between his teeth, his exhales cut short on each breath. His fingers dig into your knees as his core doubles over, biceps tight and trembling.

“Ffh-” His hissed mumbles are intelligible, but music to your ears. That deep, harsh voice nothing but whines and audible huffs through clenched teeth.

A light sheen of sweat is steadily building on his forehead, you can tell it’s taking all of his strength to keep from unleashing himself and tearing you in half.

Your hands find his white, trembling knuckles as you rock on him, teasingly, cruelly even, reveling in the pleasure you’re eliciting. You give his hands a soft tug, and he follows your whim, his hands crashing onto the grass on either side of your shoulders, his chest inches from yours. He meets you in a desperate, sloppy kiss, soft moans whispered between your lips.

When he pulls away, both of you short on breath, he keeps his flushed lips close, staring deeply into your eyes as you rhythmically grind underneath him.

“It’s not fair,” He says, “How beautiful you are.”

A hand snakes up his back and finds his hairline. You look up at him with big doe eyes and parted lips, and while your words are harsh, they come out spoken so gentle and sweet. Tender, intimate words between lovers.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“H-ah,” His head lulls, his sweaty forehead pressing to yours for just a moment before he raises to study you.

His arms shake as he uses your slick arousal to push past the tip. When you let out a choked noise, he stops, his lips twisted into worry.

It takes a while, it does. He’s so big, and both lack of experience and his size makes it more than a tight fit around him. It’s not exactly the most arousing thing ever to wait while you adjust to him, but watching him get worked up from just your body is more than enough to keep you flooding around him.

“So - guh, so warm.”

He’s overriding every instinct with grit teeth and a trembling muscles, but he forces himself to be patient, every reassurance spoken through strained breath. He nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck, planting uneven, messy kisses on the sensitive skin. For a moment, once you’ve successfully managed to take half of him, he gets briefly distracted. A gentle, absentminded grind before he stops himself with a whine.

Your hands wrap around his tense, warm biceps, giving him small squeezes as you give him what he desperately needs, what you can manage, by moving your hips again, just barely bobbing up and down on his shaft.

He sputters when you do this, completely unraveled and succumbed to the feeling of your wet, tight warmth.

“Sh,” You coo, giving his shaking biceps another squeeze, “Being so good for me.”

“Ach, f-”

“Waiting so patiently. It’s hard, isn’t it?” You tease, draping your words in arrogance.

Your turn.

“Yes,” His voice wavers and his head lulls, speaking his weak words towards your chest, “You’re worth the wait.”

“Such a good boy,” you say, working him as fast as you comfortably can.

His voice pinches and his shoulders pull up with a nod, “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Mhm,” You hum with a particularly drawn out grind. You’re trying to sound low and sultry, but your own pleasure is throwing a wrench in your confident dirty talk, “Doing so well for me.”

“Thank you, thank you,” The words are pouring from him, quick and desperate, twitching inside you at your praise.

“Fuck me.”

He nods, and as you cease your bouncing he picks up, forcing himself to maintain your gentle pace.

You both let out a pleased sigh, your head resting back on the hood of his jacket as you tighten around his biceps.

“S’okay?” He slurs.

Your eyes are pinched, teeth clenched, and you’re unintentionally digging your fingernails into his flesh - but you nod.

“So big,” You say, and he gives a breathy, one-note laugh.

“Too big for a little girl,” He says, tightening his grip on the grass while he holds back the powerful fucking he wants to give you, instead making soft, gentle rocks into you.

His words miss your ears again, knotting up your insides at once. Your hips wriggle with his, forcing more of him to leave and re-enter you with every grind.

“So small,” he punctuates, his voice strained and his drowsy eyes lulling.

He’s nailing his cues, with every quickening of your hips he jumps to meet your pace, eager to fuck you as much as you’ll allow.

His irises get lost behind his eyelids as he gets up to a pace that scratches his itch. He sits up briefly, his arms picking up from the grass to hook around the back of your knees, lifting your feet into the air and forcing you to spread for him when he plants his weight back on the dirt.

He doesn’t dare push deeper than you’ve managed so far, but his thrusts are unrestrained, and you’ve swallowed enough of him to have him hit that spot that draws squeaky moans from you.

“Breathe,” You remind him through a strain when his face paints red.

He obeys, letting out his held breath, sputtering out consonants that will never get flushed out with vowels in between inhales.

His moans are low, broken grunts leaving parted lips in between short, audible breaths. It’s music to your ears.

“Oh, Konig,” your hands find his tensed, warm shoulders, clawing into him in response to the overwhelming pleasure.

Konig’s drooling over the way your chest bounces against your ribcage with each of his powerful thrusts. He’s still only half inside you, but you feel full to the brim, brute strength brutally robbing you for your delicate sensitivity.

The moans leaving you are nothing less than embarrassing, unrestrained and echoing throughout the four quadrants. Breathy and high-pitched and truly pathetic. You haven’t the mind to stop them, Konig seems to be fucking the very thoughts from your brain, because all you can focus on is him inside you, filling you up and massaging the spot that makes your muscles pinch and your moans cut short - and even that’s hard to wrap your mind around. Konig’s breathy, needy groans intertwine, both of you sounding nothing short of erotic.

Your white knuckles shake around his shoulders, gripping him as if the very act of letting go would stop the fireworks exploding in your core.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He reassures, his words strained and choppy.

You nod furiously, pinching your eyes shut, words warping with every thrust, “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

His forehead presses to yours, your chests flush together.

Every sway of his hips forces a breath into a moan, your entire body forced to jolt against his jacket as you take the brunt of his power, your legs rebounding with each movement.

His sighs steadily turn to truly obscene, husky grunts that seem to intensify your own pleasure.

“Feels - so good,” Your praise comes out squeaky and spiked with each of his fervorous thrusts into your tight warmth.

“I can tell,” He says through a strained purrs, his words stitched with a deep, gritty hum, “You look sinful, mein sieger.”

He punctuates his statement with a particularly obscene grunt. The sound alone is enough to make your eyes flutter.

He’s fucking you with such instensity your vision is blurring, the world shaking once more as he crashes into the plush bottoms of your thighs at the perfect angle to keep himself from going deeper than you can handle.

His breaths are getting heavier, a sheen of sweat building on his skin.

The words begin to pour out of him, riding hefty breaths as his eyes roll.

“Ich liebe dich, Ich liebe dich,” He whispers over and over.

“Ffh-” Every one of his muscles contract, his eyes pinching closed and mouth gaping. His pace slows, uneven, sloppy thrusts into you. Choppy breaths cut themselves off just to be followed by another. He stays buried inside you, his entire body twitching in the aftermath of his pleasure. You can feel him pulsing with each beat of his heart.

His hold wobbles, nearly collapsing on you before he catches himself with weak arms.

He buries his flushed face into your neck, his words made of solely breath, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t-”

“Sh,” You coo into his ear, tracing the pads on your fingers lightly down the curve of his back, glistened with sweat, “It’s okay.”

Your hand glides up to the back of his neck, letting your fingernails soothingly massage the back of his head.

He lets out a heavy exhale, his chest heaving against yours as he catches his breath.

“I love you.”

Your fingers stop playing with his hair for just a moment before you continue your gentle scratches. You nod, mouth dry, both at the confession and having all of the moisture in your body drained from you.

“I love you too.”

He gives you that small laugh of relief again, pulling away from your neck to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. You can feel him smiling into the kiss that you contently hum into.

He winces as he pulls out of you, a few twitches of oversensitivity.

He can’t seem to hold himself up anymore, leaving his position between your legs to roll over next to you on the grass.

You’re both sweaty and warm, leaving a few inches between your flushed bodies as you wind down. Only your shoulders touch as you both catch your breath.

He brings a hand to his head and lets out a light laugh.

You find his eyes, nestling into the hood of his jacket as he rests his cheek in the grass.

“That was amazing,” He says, a sparkle in his eyes as his face flits around your features in disbelief, “I’ve never-“

He cuts himself off with another laugh and presses his lips to yours in a lingering, closed-mouth kiss.

He pulls away with an obnoxious smack, giggling to himself.

His hand finds this side of his head again, chest heaving with each heavy breath as he looks to the sky that splits in four with stars in his eyes.

You nuzzle your cheek on the hood of his jacket, watching his muscles and ribcage billow as he catches his breath.

“You’re hot,” you say, without much thought and only a sliver of regret.

“Thank you,” He gives a soft laugh, “You too.”

You hum, briefly closing your eyes before you find him again. Watching him ride out his euphoric high, his eyes darting around the sky in disbelief as he smiles around his heavy pants.

“I meant it,” He says.

“I know.”

“I do love you,” he turns his head to meet your eyes, his fingers stroking the grass.

You know he’s not lying. He’s loved you from the start.

And haven’t you done the same? Desperately aching for the boy you thought was playing an act, but refusing to let yourself cave. Rejecting the idea that someone as kind, as gentle, as perfect as him would ever love you without an ulterior motive. He’s better than you, in every way. Not just physically, but as a person - Thoughtful, sweet, respectful, nice, supportive, agreeable. The kind of person you can’t help but fall in love with. The kind of person you can fall in love with without even realizing it, because loving him was as easy as breathing.

“I know,” you say with a nod, “I love you too.”

Once he’s cooled off, breath evened and muscles relaxed, gracefully easing from his high.

“Can I-“ He pauses with a huff, his tone lacking confidence, “Can I try to make you finish?”

“Oh, uh,” your eyes dart away as you think on it, “Sure.”

He gives a breathy laugh, springing forward to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s smiling through it, his afterglow practically radiating onto your skin.

He lingers after he pulls away with a smack, staring into your eyes. His eyes are swelled with awe, looking at you like you’re a goddess who had just descended from the heavens right in front of him. He grabs your jacket and spreads it out on the space under your legs before limbs sling to settle his chest flush with its fabric when he settles between your legs, his arms looping underneath your legs to hook around your thighs.

“Oh,” You say with an air of perky surprise. You weren’t expecting him to offer to go down on you.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly unsure of himself. His gaze flits his between you and your spread cunt, “Do you want me to?”

“No, no, I just wasn’t-,” you abandon your sentence.

“Are you sure?” You ask, as if worried you’re putting him out.

He nods eagerly with a raise of his brows.

You give a shrug and a single nod.

He starts with a long, drawn-out swipe with the flat of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, shooting a shudder up your spine at once. He’s not shy in plunging his face into you, his nose brushing along you on his ascent. A slick mixture of your arousal and his finish coats his tongue as he ends on a flick. His eyes roll with a groan at your taste, immediately diving back in for seconds.

It becomes apparent very quickly that Konig devours pussy like its a gourmet Capitol dish.

The grip on the tops of your thighs harshens, not daring to let you squirm away from him before he’s satisfied. He’s moaning into your spread cunt, this flat of his tongue sloppily lapping up your arousal with long stripes.

The sight alone is enough to put a shake in your knees, your head falling back onto the hood of his jacket. Your hand finds his shoulders, the muscles underneath tensing and untensing as he greedily devours you.

When you find him again, he looks drunk off your taste, pussy-drunk pretty blue eyes lulling and cheeks flushed. He’s still groaning into you, each one a rousing vibration.

A breath twists as it leaves you, fingers tightening around him. His head is passionately rolling up and down, side to side, lapping up every inch of your cunt. He’s practically suffocating himself with you, his breaths quickening with each plunge. There’s little skill displayed, but he’s eating you out with more than enough fervor to make up for it.

He’s drawing pitiful squeaks and moans from you, his fingers further indenting your plush thighs as he keeps you from reflexively closing your legs on him. His grip is more than suggestive, forcefully keeping your legs spread for him.

The sound of his tongue savoring you is truly impure, his spit swirling with your drenched, cum-filled cunt, his finish dripping from you only to be gluttonously devoured. His stubble is tough against your sensitive skin, a jarring contrast to his smooth, slick tongue. He’s still moaning into you, each one echoing a vibration through you.

Your breaths are becoming uneven, choking on your own pleasure as your legs squirm and thighs in his hold. He’s staring at the way your core is contracting to his touch, breasts billowing and muscles tightening, but you’re not even sure if he can see what he’s looking at, those eyes so hazed and intoxicated off your taste.

You let out a whine, your head falling back into the grass in defeat. Fully succumb to his ravenous appetite.

The sparks of euphoria are building up in your lower core, forming an intoxicating star of pleasure threatening to collapse in on itself in glorious explosion. Your moans and squeaks are becoming more strained, eyes disappearing behind eyelids. You’re instinctively clenching your legs together, but Konig won’t let you, keeping you spread on the grass while he laps you up.

You shout his name when the star collapses, shooting in spectacular bursts of pleasure throughout your limbs, tightening every muscle in your body, fingers trembling and legs shaking under Konig’s tight hold. You’re practically seeing white, back arching off the ground as you spasm on his tongue.

When your voice returns, husky and raw, Konig’s still ravaging your cunt with his tongue. He’s eager, hands locked onto your thighs in restraint and not letting up in the slightest. Torturing you with the twitch of overstimulation.

You actually have to thread your fingers through his hair and peel him off you with significant force for him to stop.

When he pulls away, his jaw is slick with your arousal, his finish, and spit. His tongue still hangs out of his mouth as he pants into the air, eyes intoxicatingly crossed.

Small strained hums leave you at the bursts of aftershock in response to your pulsing clit.

When you release Konig, he rests his head on the top of your thigh, the coarse stubble pressed against you. His chest is rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. He begins to shower your thighs in messy, wet kisses.

“You taste so good.”

You give a soft laugh, “Thank you.”

He hums into your thigh, nestling his cheek into you.

Your head sinks to the grass, basking in your high, body suddenly incredibly relaxed as you catch your breaths.

“That felt really good,” you whisper.

He smiles, you can feel the bunch of his cheek on the sensitive flesh of your thigh.

Your fingers reach down to thread into his hair again, soothingly massaging his scalp.

He hums again, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“I love you,” He mumbles.

You give a light laugh and give him a particularly quick stint of scratches, “I know. I love you too.”

You both lay like this for a while, resting your eyes as he cuddles up to your thigh, lightly massaging his hair.

“Better put our clothes on,” You say with a small grin, “Before they get mad.”

He gives something of a whine, and after another round of kisses, he moves to oblige.

He hands you your clothes and you both get dressed before he slides your jacket up the grass so he can lie at your side.

You both intertwine hands as you lay, basking in the blissful quiet as you descend from cloud nine.

It’s about twenty minutes later when you finally break the silence.

“You know I can’t let you do it, right?” You say, forehead wrinkling when your brows raise inquisitively.

His lips pull to the side.

“You know I can’t let you,” He says, that harsh voice soft and delicate.

You heave a heavy sigh, and look back to the sky with a squint, “Then we’re at a stalemate.”

He hums in agreement.

You meet his eyes again, the jacket swooshing into your ear when you tilt your head to face him.

“We could let them decide,” You offer.

“The gamemakers?” He asks.

“Yeah,” You say, “Just wait it out until it gets boring, and then - well, I don’t know. They’ll sick mutts on us, or, I don’t know. Spray us with a gas that makes us rage and go feral on each other, or something.”

He snorts, “Well don’t give them ideas.”

“Just a suggestion,” You shrug with a grin.

“I think I’d rather it be on my own terms,” He says.

“Suicide pact?” You ask, only half joking.

He hums low as he considers it, “We can’t.”

Your brow raises.

“No?”

“The twenty-three,” he reminds you.

“The twenty-three,” you repeat, sucking on your teeth.

You let out a hefty exhale.

“Okay, Twenty-three. What’s to say they even want either of us to win? I have a feeling Eleven, One, and Titan would be alright seeing both of us die.”

“Yes,” He says, “But hate can’t be reasoned with.”

“Neither can love, apparently.”

“Ja,” He agrees through heavy breath.

You let out another sigh, as if all of these preparations for death are just really tuckering you out.

“I think that settles it then,” You say.

“What?”

“I’m willing to bend on the twenty-three front and you’re not. You believe there must be a victor, right?”

It’s not funny, but you still find a smile creeping onto your face.

“So come on, dude, put those muscles where your mouth is.”

He laughs as you nudge his shoulder.

His smile fades, and he asks, “What was it for if neither of us go home?”

Your smile drops, features going stone cold for a moment. Your tone lowers octaves when you speak.

“You know what it was for.”

It’s the closest either of you dare to step to criticism of the Capitol. It’s draped in plausible deniability, but the hatred that points your tongue has a clear target.

There’s a pause before you pick it back up.

“It’ll be different, y’know,” You say.

“Hm?”

“District Nine. You won’t have nothing anymore.”

His chest stills on a particularly heavy breath before he releases it.

“I don’t- I don’t want people to like me just because I won the games. It’s all- it’ll all be fake.”

He’s having trouble putting it into words, but you know what he means. That after years of being treated like an outcast, like you're worth nothing - the sudden praise, adoration, riches - will all be incredibly hollow. He doesn’t want love for being fit and strong and for surviving this nightmare.

For killing.

He wants love because of who he is, not for the heinous things he’s done.

Isn’t the same true for you?

If you go home, only the relationships you already have standing will ever truly be authentic. Every connection you’d make for the rest of your life would be for the wrong reasons.

“I won’t go home unless I can take you with me,” He says.

You sigh again.

“Stalemate,” You say, almost wistfully.

He hums, and there’s a drawn-out pause as you watch his fingers soothingly stroke the grass.

“Konig?”

“Yes?”

He meets your eyes, and you ask him a question you already know the answer to.

“Do you really love me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you need to do this for me. I can’t - I don’t want it, Konig,” You stare deeply into those blue eyes and shake your head, “If you really love me, you’ll let me go.”

Konig swallows, and he has to look away. His eyes dart around the four contrasting skies.

He can’t bring himself to speak, you can practically see the aching lump in his throat.

Tears begin to spring at your eyeline. Your voice is just a choppy whisper.

“You can come with me, if you want. But I can’t leave this arena, Konig. I’m sorry.”

He swallows, his eyes darting around.

He gives a slow, solemn nod.

“Thank you,” You say, more breath than voice.

He nods again, his lips pressing together and rolling between his teeth as he bites back any tears that threaten to spill.

You give his hand a squeeze, and he returns the gesture.

You lay for a while, watching the perfect white clouds in the spring quadrant billow overhead in a peaceful, yet sorrowful silence.

As the sun begins to set behind the desert, you turn your head to him.

“Guess we should, uh,” Your eyes briefly dart away, “Get it over with.”

He lets out a long, slow breath.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, “Yeah. Better do it now before me and my fearsome biceps chicken out.”

He gives you a sad smile that quickly fades.

“It’ll be easier,” you say, voice cracking from a dry mouth, “In the sunlight.”

You know how it is at night. The world draped in its eerie sadness. The time of day where the hard thoughts and feelings slink from the darkness and suffocate you with their ruthlessness.

Sunset, you want to die at sunset.

“Hey, uhm,” You trail off for a moment before picking your sentence back up, “I wanted to repay you, for the uh, token.”

You clear your throat as you watch his brows lower.

“Uhm, since I won’t be - well, y’know. I thought I’d uh, give you something. To remember me by.”

He blinks a few times, and when he doesn’t speak you add, “If you want it.”

He nods quickly, staring at you expectantly.

You fidget with your ribbon bracelet, swirling it around your wrist before you untie the knot.

You smooth out the length of ribbon and hold an end in each hand.

He stares at the slack in the ribbon between your hold with even features, his eyes only slightly widened.

“It’s, uh, well it’s not much. But it means-“ You let out a two-note nervous laugh before meeting his eyes. A hand comes up to rub the back of your neck, “It means a lot to me.”

There’s a beat, him staring into your eyes before he gently takes the ribbon in his hands.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyeing it like the priceless treasure you see it as.

He lets the textile slide through his fingers as he studies the intricate pattern. He holds it so gently in those big, strong hands.

“I’ll keep it safe,” He says, “Forever.”

It hits all at once, the sore lump in the back of your throat, the hiccup that leaves you, the tears that well in your eyeline.

It surprises even you, just how fast he ripped these emotions from you.

You let out a sob, a whine, your eyes pinching shut and thrusting tears from your water line.

“Hey, hey,” He says soothingly, moving to your side so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder, “It’s going to be okay, mein sieger.”

You sniff, and give a nod, but the tears don’t stop falling.

“Thank you,” You say, with an unnervingly high pitch. You hiccup, voice resetting to a low whisper, “For the best day.”

He sucks in a sharp inhale. There’s a shake in his fingers, and he opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a choke. His irises flit quickly around your face, tears welling in his eyes.

“Thank you for the best day,” He repeats, and a single tear crests his waterline, trailing slowly down his cheek and catching along the crease of his mouth.

You turn so that you’re facing each him, flinging yourself into his arms. He does not hesitate to wrap those strong arms around you in a tight embrace, letting you sob into his chest and stain his shirt with tears.

He holds you until you’re ready, keeping you steady in his embrace, light fingers tracing up and down your back.

You pull away with a deep inhale, and nod. Your lips fold and your eyes close, tears thrust from your water line.

The sun is halfway set.

“Okay,” You say with a sniff, still nodding, “Okay.”

He nods too, and you both look at each other. Soaking in each other’s red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

An unsure look between two tributes who are just as unsure, just as lost, and just as afraid.

You let out a hefty breath, and stand to retrieve the knife, but unsteady legs fumble, and Konig steadies you by the waist and guides you back to the grass.

“No, no. It’s okay. Rest.”

You go to speak, but it comes out a choke, so you give a nod.

You lay back in the lush grass and close your eyes, moving more tears from your waterline, streaking down your temple as you thread your fingers over your waist.

He leans down and plants a long, soft, closed mouth kiss on your lips. His hand presses to the side of your face and carefully slides down the dip of your neck and lands on your shoulder. You breathe him in deeply, soaking in the sensation of his lips and his coarse stubble.

He pulls away, and while you don’t open your puffy eyes, you can feel him lingering overtop you. His shadow blocking out the light of sunset as he breathes you in, in your last moments alive.

You can hear the swish of his clothes as he rises slowly. He pauses when he’s stood, and you hear him make slow, unsteady steps to the fall quadrant.

There’s another long pause filled by the sound of the spring breeze.

Twisted into a question, he calls your name.

When you open your eyes, lifting up from the grass to find him.

You lock on to each other. His arms are extended, the knife in his clasped hands pointed to the ground in outstretched arms.

He gives you one last look, one last look that’s unsure.

You’re frozen, staring at him with parted lips and puffy, wide eyes.

“I love you,” He sucks in a broken breath, “And I’m sorry.”

His brows pinch in determination, his eyes screwed shut. His muscles relax with a long exhale. He turns his back to you, and you watch from behind as he lifts his arms.

“Konig - No!”

Your feet break into a run, but it’s too late. His shoulder blades pinch as his arms swing down.

He doubles over and his feet stumble on the dirt. His empty hands fall to his side, and a cry leaves you, so broken and raw you don’t even register it as your own voice.

“No!”

He crashes to his knees, lingering there for a moment before collapsing onto his side.

Your shins scrape across dirt, disrupting ginkgo petals as you slide to his side, nudging him until he’s flat on his back. Your first instinct is to pull the blade from the wound but you have the sense to stop yourself, your hands flailing in the space just inches above him, helpless and afraid to exacerbate the injury.

“Konig, no, no, no, what did you do?!”

Your words come out frantic as you look over the wound the knife is buried in, driven fully into his stomach and oozing deep red blood. It soaks into his clothes, down his sides, soaking the ginkgo leaves with a deep crimson.

“Oh, you idiot!”

Your head snaps to the sky, “Help him! Help him!”

He calls out your name, so soft and fragile you almost don’t hear it, “It’s okay.”

His weak hand manages to catch one of your shaking arms, and you still, letting his fingers slowly lace with yours.

“It’s okay,” He whispers again, his words broken with a guttural strain.

You choke on a sob, flicking around his features that slowly drain of color, tears spilling over and landing in droplets on his shirt.

“How could you do this?! How could you?!” You ask in a tone that’s not fit for use for a man on death’s doorstep, “We had a deal!”

“It’s yours.”

It takes all of his strength to muster up the power to speak, to give your hand a faint squeeze, and when you think of all the times he’s had to tone his strength down to hold you it makes you let out another broken sob.

“It was always for you, mein seiger.”

He stares into you with his final breaths, his expression forces a choked noise in the back of your throat.

“No!” You object, but his blood doesn’t stop creeping up his clothes and pooling onto yours.

“I love you,” He says, so quiet, his chapped, ghostly lips barely moving, “Always have. Since that day.”

A sharp inhale gets caught on the lump in your throat, choking on a squeak.

Your tears are spilling relentlessly now, his pale, ghastly face blurry through tears. You hold onto his hand so tight, as if you were the very thing keeping his heart beating.

“I love you too, Konig,” You lay your other hand gently on his twitching chest and give an impossible plead, “Don’t leave me.”

“It’s okay,” He says with another squeeze and the faintest nod, “We’ll be okay.”

As the life drains steadily from his eyes, he gives you one final look.

One final look that’s sure.

Once final look that’s found.

And it hits you.

You know how you can save him.

The Capitol can put any tribute back together, no matter how close to death they are.

But they’ll only do it if you are their victor.

The last one alive.

Without a moment of hesitation, you yank the blade from Konig’s wound with your free hand, your other still intertwined with his. You pinch your entire face and your heart twists at the moan that leaves him - even his cries of unimaginable pain are weak and muted.

When you open your swollen eyes, you can see the horrified look on his face. You’re not sure if it’s because you just hurt him, or because he knows what you’re about to do.

He is powerless to stop you, no longer strong enough to get the final say.

You can only hope that your heart stops beating first.

We’ll see who wakes up tomorrow, Konig.

As soon as you see his wound through his shredded shirt, now oozing blood twice as fast, you grit your teeth and drive the blade through your chest with a grunt. The tip catches on bone before sliding through a gap in your ribcage, stopping only when the handle is flush with your skin and the blade has skewered straight through your heart.

Immediately every muscle in your body contracts painfully, your hand squeezing Konig’s with a shaking, deathly grip. A harrowing, guttural groan escapes from the back of your throat and out of a slack jaw.

In the last few moments before your heart peters out, you share one final stare with Konig. His eyes are almost entirely drained of life, but there is still no mistaking the fleck of betrayal, of horror that could easily be overlooked by the untrained eye.

You lose his gaze as you collapse to the grass next to him, no longer able to support yourself. Wheezing gasps for breath leave your gaped lips as you crush Konig’s feeble hands.

Your vision is fading away, splotches of gray exploding like stars in front of your eyes as you’re dragged away from your body. You can’t fight the instinct to scratch and claw your way back to his side, but it is futile.

The world slips through your fingers as Konig’s hand goes limp in your hold.

NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Special Thank You to @melancholic-thing for always leaving lovely encouraging comments on my silly stories. Your support and feedback means the world to me and motivates me to keep writing <3 <3 You should absolutely check out her Konig fics if you haven’t she’s a very talented writer and her works are truly beautiful. OBSESSED with her interpretations of Konig. *chef kiss*

481 notes · View notes