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rd-lancaster · 1 year ago

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Chapter Three

Silas:

"Are you sure about this? It just doesn't feel right, no matter how desperate we are," Ivy's voice quivered with uncertainty, her doubts echoing in the air.

I stood above her, my grip firm on the pistol aimed at the door. The sound of the lock clicking confirmed Ivy's successful attempt at picking it. "Don't worry, I don't plan on shooting anyone unless we have no other choice. It's more of an intimidation tactic, you know?" I glanced down at her, my eyes filled with a mix of determination and concern. "We can't afford to let compassion cloud our judgement. We need to find food and supplies, even if it means making sacrifices along the way."

Together, we searched the house, rummaging through cabinets to find any canned goods we could. I headed upstairs, gathering medical supplies and spare clothing, ensuring we had what we needed for our journey. In just a short span of ten minutes, our backpacks were overflowing with the weight of our supplies needed for travel. We aimed to blend into the world, unnoticed.

As we ventured through the dense woods, our footsteps muffled by nature, we moved in silence. The only sounds that broke the silence were our occasional breaks to quench our thirst or answer nature's call. My mind couldn't help but dwell on the unsettling idea of a traitor lurking within the military and government. It didn't seem far-fetched. Our government had always been filled with officials driven by self-interest, willing to employ anyone to further their own agendas. And now, we were pawns in their game.

The memories of Marcus and Owen flooded my mind once more, their sacrifices intertwined with my own. We had fought for a cause, only to be discarded and left to fend for ourselves. Anger bubbled within me, the thought of justice becoming a driving force propelling me forward. These traitors would sink with their own ship. They had become my collateral, the price they would pay for their actions.

"You've been quiet. Everything okay?" Ivy's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, her concern evident.

"Yeah, just lost in my own thoughts," I replied, meeting her gaze with a slight nod. "I think it's best if we stop for the night. It's getting dark, and travelling at night is risky."

She halted abruptly, appalled determination flashing in her eyes. "We can't afford to waste time. We need to keep going."

"Travelling at night is asking for trouble. I know even you know that," I reasoned, sliding off my backpack and letting it rest on the ground. My tired shoulders received a soothing rub from my hand. "Take a break. Rest for the night. I'll gather some firewood and we can have a meal."

"I don't feel like resting. Unlike you, I still have the energy to keep going," she retorted, resuming her stride. I reached out and grasped her arm, trying to assert my point.

"You don’t know the location of the safehouse, but I do. We're staying here for the night. No arguments," I stated firmly, locking eyes with her defiant stare. "I’ll tie you to the tree if I have to because believe it or not, I'd rather have you alive. So, sit down. Now."

With a defiant jerk, she freed her arm from my grasp and flung her backpack onto the ground, plopping down beside it. I sighed, exasperated by her stubbornness, and walked away to gather supplies for a fire. The darkness grew, but I was determined to provide some warmth and comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

—————

The warmth of the crackling fire enveloped me, sending waves of comfort through my weary bones. Satisfied with the simple meal of canned food that had managed to fill my stomach, I leaned back, lost in my own thoughts. Ivy and I hadn't exchanged more than a few words since our earlier conversation. But I figured she was used to my silence by now.

As I stared into the dancing flames, my mind raced frantically, trying to find the best way to handle the situation with the traitor. Should I confide in Stewart right away, or should I gather more evidence before revealing anything? What if I discover Stewart is the traitor or he tells someone and gets himself and me killed in the process?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ivy's voice broke through the silence, her tone gentle.

I turned my gaze towards her, the soft glow of the fire illuminating her face. The flickering flames reflected in her eyes. It struck me for a moment how beautiful she was. I brushed that thought away quickly and let myself ease the tension in my shoulders. "Just trying to figure out how to expose the traitor without divulging any details," I confessed.

She nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "You’re not telling Stewart? I thought you trusted him."

I sighed, grappling with my conflicting emotions. "I can't take any risks. The only person I can truly rely on is myself," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "And you."

A smile played on her lips, a glimmer of a teasing spark. . "So, that's what you meant earlier by wanting me to stay alive?"

I rolled my eyes, attempting to brush off the deep-seated emotions developing that threatened to surface. "Sure, let's go with that," I said, tending to the fire, stoking it slightly. "So, I guess you've let go of your earlier fit?"

She chuckled softly. "Sure, let's go with that," she replied, mirroring my words.

"Good. Get some rest now. I'll keep watch for a couple of hours and wake you up," I instructed, a hint of concern seeping through my authoritative tone.

"But you've been..." she began to protest.

I interrupted her, a note of command in my voice. "Just go to sleep. I’m the one calling the shots here.” I said, settling back against my backpack. She sighed in response, turning away from me to find a comfortable position.

As the night wore on, the sound of nature surrounded us. The wind whispered through the trees through their rustling leaves. A chorus of crickets joined in, their rhythmic chirping filling the air. The fire crackled and danced, its glow diminishing with each passing moment, almost demanding I tend to it.

Amidst the ambient sounds, I couldn't help but notice the gentle rise and fall of Ivy's breathing. It grew deeper and more steady, a testament to her weariness. I knew I was exhausted too. As I mapped out the remainder of our journey, pondering the challenges that laid ahead, I reflected on Ivy's struggle to keep up with my pace.

With a sigh, I approached her backpack, quietly unzipping it. Carefully, I redistributed some of the weight into my own, careful not to wake her. I didn't want her to feel like I was coddling her, but I knew that lightening her load would help her to keep up. Besides, having her close by brought a sense of peace, knowing that we had each other's backs.

I trusted Ivy more than she possibly realized. I could only hope that she felt the same.

Grace:

My fingertips brushed through the tall grass as we ventured deeper into the woods. The trees served as our shield, allowing us to move swiftly with minimal breaks. Today, I found myself keeping up a better pace, managing to stay close to Apollo's back. He had this habit of mumbling to himself, his eyes glued to a compass as we continued our trek. As it turned out, he wasn't all that bad. In fact, I had grown accustomed to his presence and even started to admire him. There was something about him that demanded respect, and it was easy to give it. Sure, I couldn't resist teasing him from time to time, but I didn't mind following his lead. I just knew deep down that I could trust him.

Eventually, we reached a peaceful area filled with more grass and an abundance of wildflowers. The sight before me was truly breathtaking, an open field adorned with a vibrant painting of colors.

"We'll take a quick break here," Apollo announced, a faint smile playing on his lips as he caught me getting lost in the beauty around us.

Unable to resist the allure, I crouched down to take in the sweet scent of the flowers. Their petals and the tips of the grass gently tickled my face and brushed against my hair, filling me with a sense of peace. It reminded me of the garden my mother used to have back home. I raised myself upright once more. The fields turned upside in my eyes to reveal a scene of her garden. Strands of her red hair appeared above the tall flowers. The lilt in her voice threatened me with tears.

“Grace! Darling! Come help me with the weeding, please!”

I closed my eyes almost calling out to her. I wanted to tell her I was coming and beg her to stay before another voice sliced through my deleting escape.

"Quit fooling around over there and grab a bite. I'm not waiting here forever," Apollo called out, his mouth full of jerky.

I rolled my eyes, unable to hide a smirk. Despite his gruffness, he had a point. We couldn't afford to lose track of time. Our lives were hanging in the balance, and I wasn't about to keep them hanging any longer.

With determination, I reached for my backpack and prepared to refuel. The sting of my mother’s voice rang in my ears. I pushed it aside though. Like I always did since the day of the accident.

Words faded into the background when the hike commenced again. The silence suited me just fine. It allowed me to stay focused. I trailed behind Apollo, keeping a watchful eye on his back, mirroring his observations of the treeline.

—————

"The sun is getting low," I panted, my breath catching in the steep and rocky terrain that demanded every ounce of strength to climb.

"I'm well aware of that, rookie," his voice raspy and filled with thirst. He took a sip from the canteen before continuing, "I need to use the bathroom. Once I'm done, we'll find a suitable spot to settle for the night."

As he disappeared behind the trees in search of privacy, I gratefully removed the backpack from my aching shoulders, giving my sore muscles a desperate massage.

With the backpack unzipped, I began rummaging for food when the sound of a twig snapping behind me sent a jolt through my stomach. In an instant, my hand darted towards my pistol, aiming it towards the source of the noise. Two men emerged from the shadows of the tree line, their hands raised in a seemingly non-threatening manner. Despite their starved and ragged appearance, their presence still made my heart race.

"Hello there," one of them greeted, his slimy smile oozing with a hint of menace. His eyes lingered toward the backpack. "You got any food in there to spare?"

My palms tightened around the pistol as I clicked off the safety, sending a clear warning. "None for you. Now, leave before things get ugly."

The other man scoffed, his mocking tone dripping with disdain. "Look at this princess, thinking she can give orders. Maybe a lesson in manners is in order." His hand reached behind him, and panic gripped me.

Without hesitation, I fired, and the men crumpled to the ground in front of me.

Before I could fully process the chaos around me, a powerful force wrapped around my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I struggled against the large figure, desperately trying to keep him from wrestling the gun away. His fists hammered into my stomach, each blow an attempt to incapacitate me. Gasping for air, I refused to yield.

He shoved me to the ground, his weight bearing down on me. I aimed my weapon quickly, but he grabbed hold of the barrel, redirecting it towards the sky. His free hand clenched beneath my jaw, pushing my cheek into the mud. Sweat mingled with dirt on my brow as I clenched my teeth together. The pistol wavered between us, threatening to turn against me.

"Stop fighting it, sweetheart. You're no match--"

Suddenly, a splatter of crimson landed on my face, and the man collapsed on top of me. Pushing his lifeless body aside, I scrambled to an upright position, my weapon still trained on the source of the noise.

Apollo.

Lowering his pistol, he jogged towards me, his voice trembling with a mix of concern and relief. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, my trembling hand wiping the blood from my mouth as I managed to speak. "Thank you," I whispered, my words ragged and breathless from the exertion. My eyes darted to his victim, taking in the gruesome sight.

Apollo crouched beside me, offering a comforting touch. "It's alright. It’s over. We're okay." His hand briefly brushed against my cheeks, wiping away the blood. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand, helping me up.

Confusion filled my mind as he swiftly zipped up my backpack and handed it back to me. "What are you--" I began, but he cut me off.

"We can't stay here. It's too dangerous now. They might have others come looking for them," urgency laced his words. "We need to keep moving through the night. I won’t be a sitting duck and neither will you." His resolve was unwavering.

I couldn't argue with him.

Silas:

Ivy and I finally reached the safehouse in the early morning hours, the remainder of our hike shrouded in an unspoken tension. The events that had taken place had done a number on her. I could see the weight of it in her eyes, but I knew her resilience. She was strong. A quality that I had become accustomed to since day one.

However, the incident had heightened my senses, making me aware of every small noise. We approached the secluded house nestled in the woods. Its wooden exterior, chimney, and front porch gave it a rustic facade that seemed to blend with nature.

As we neared the front door, I raised my hand, silently signalling for Ivy to cover me.

"I'll sweep it. You cover me," my voice held firm in its command.

"Copy that," Ivy responded.

With practiced precision, I swiftly cleared every corner of the house, ensuring our safety. Exhaustion began to seep into my bones, threatening to pull me into a deep slumber. I collapsed onto the worn leather couch, fingertips massaging my temples to alleviate the beginnings of a tension headache.

Meanwhile, Ivy settled into the armchair, shedding her jacket and releasing her tattered hair from the hair tie. As the adrenaline subsided, my eyelids grew heavy, tempting me with sleep.

Fighting against the pull of exhaustion, I shifted my gaze to Ivy. The soft morning light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow upon her bloody dirt-streaked face. Dark circles formed under her eyes.

"You need to get cleaned up. You look like hell. I’m worried about you," I found myself blurting out, unable to suppress my concern for her well-being.

She nodded, emitting a tired groan as she rose from the armchair. She made her way down the narrow hallway and into the bathroom, the sound of running water replacing the silence.

In an attempt to keep myself alert, I began to explore the safehouse. The traces of dust that settled on the surfaces and furniture spoke of a reminder of the absence of recent visitors.

Continuing on, I found myself in a back bedroom, where a full-sized bed occupied the space. With a swift motion, I released clouds of dust from the pillows and blankets, watching as they danced in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

Settling onto the bed, I positioned myself near the window, my gaze drawn to the large birds perched in the nearby trees. They stood motionless, their presence seeming almost unnatural. It dawned on me—they were cameras, surveilling the outside and waiting to alert us to potential enemies.

Ivy’s throat cleared behind me and broke my spell. I turned to see her clutching a towel wrapped around her body. I closed my eyes and she chuckled a bit.

“Damn… sorry. I should’ve waited—“ I stuttered with an apology.

"No, it's alright," She interrupted, allowing a brief pause before continuing. "Are there any clean—“

“Yes- uh drawer on the left. I’m sure something in there should work.” I stuttered once more. Keeping my eyes shielded, I listened to the sound of Ivy rummaging through the drawers as I made my way out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, eager to wash away the grime that clung to my body.

The hot water cascaded over my tired muscles, washing away the dirt that had accumulated. Leaning against the shower wall, I let the water soothe my senses, attempting to find a moment of calm in the chaos that had consumed my life.

Restlessness and exhaustion intertwined within me, a heavy burden that refused to leave me be. The sting of betrayal lingered in the air I breathed. With every step and turn, I found myself waiting for the ground to crumble beneath me. Trust, a commodity that once carried stability for me, threatened to crumble.

"You alright in there?" Ivy's voice permeated through the bathroom door, her knuckles lightly tapping against it.

Startled, I snapped back to the present, scrambling to regain composure. "Geez yeah, I'll be out in a second."

"It's alright. Take your time. I just got a bit worried…. You've been in there for 30 minutes," she replied, her voice laced with understanding.

My eyes widened in disbelief, suddenly aware of how lost in my thoughts I was. Hastily, I shut off the water, a tinge of guilt in my voice. "Sorry. I didn't realize how long I was in here."

Ivy's reassuring voice soothed me. "Like I said, it's alright. I found some MRE's in the freezer. Chili with beans. I'll start making a pack for you." Her footsteps faded away as she made her way to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, struck by her thoughtfulness.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a rare moment of warmth. I appreciated Ivy's kindness, her ability to provide comfort relieved some tension building within me.

A reminder that I had someone I could depend on.

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mesu-senshi · 17 days ago

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Breaking Down Walls

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Krueger x Reader Genre: Action, Romance, Comedy, Vulnerability, Depth Trope: Slow Burn, Angst to Fluff, Healing through Love, Clingy Partner, Trauma and Recovery Rating: Explicit (for mature themes)

Summary: Krueger was never easy to get close to. With a brutal past, PTSD, and trust issues, he kept everyone at arm’s length. But after years of subtle gestures and shared dark humor, you and Krueger have become inseparable. The bond you share is unbreakable, and despite his fear of losing you, he finally lets down his walls. This is a story of healing, love, and how sometimes, it only takes one person to make everything right.

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Krueger wasn’t used to this—you.

He’d spent his life in chaos and carnage, thriving on missions that demanded precision and detachment. People were unpredictable, and attachments? They were liabilities. At least, that’s what he’d always told himself.

Then you came along.

It wasn’t immediate, your integration into his tightly controlled world. It was slow, steady, and somehow inevitable. You weren’t pushy, loud, or invasive. You simply… existed. And you didn’t flinch when his rough edges scraped against your sunshine.

For Krueger, that was as foreign as it was unsettling.

The First Crack:

It was late, the base shrouded in silence save for the distant hum of electricity. Krueger sat on the edge of his cot, hands in his hair, breathing shallow and rapid. Another nightmare, another replay of horrors he could never outrun.

He didn’t hear you approach until your soft knock sounded against the doorframe.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer.

He tensed, his instinctive distrust flaring, but you simply held out a steaming mug of tea.

“Honey helps,” you said with a small smile, setting it down on the table beside him.

He stared at the cup, then at you. You didn’t linger, didn’t pry. You just left him there, staring at the small gesture of kindness.

That night, he slept better than he had in months.

The Bond Grows:

From there, your presence became a constant—not invasive, but solid. A subtle force he hadn’t known he needed.

When the team gathered in the common area and Krueger sat apart, his mask in place, scanning every corner with his hawk-like vigilance, you were the one who slid into the seat beside him. You didn’t talk unless he initiated, didn’t demand attention. You just… were.

During missions, when his perfectionism reared its head, you were the one who could match his intensity, your sharp focus never threatening but complementary. And when something went awry, and he clenched his fists or barked at himself under his breath, you were there.

“Hey,” you’d say firmly but softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “You’re not a machine. Things go wrong. We adapt.”

He’d glare, but it was never truly at you. And for some reason, your words always cut through the haze of his frustration.

The Tipping Point:

The moment that changed everything came during a rare moment of downtime. The team had gathered in the common room for a movie night, the kind of forced bonding exercise Krueger despised. He lingered on the edges, jaw tight, eyes scanning the room for threats that didn’t exist.

You noticed, of course you did. Without a word, you wandered over and stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“You’re making everyone nervous, you know,” you said, your tone light.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, a tic you’d learned to spot.

“Sure you are,” you replied, reaching out to place a hand over his knee. “But just in case, I’m here.”

His tapping stopped. His heart didn’t.

Realization:

He didn’t understand it, not fully. How someone as warm and vibrant as you could wade into his darkness and remain untouched. How you saw him—truly saw him—and didn’t turn away.

Your presence became a balm for his restless soul. When his PTSD flared, when his hyper-vigilance kept him on edge, you were there, grounding him with a word or a touch.

And your laughter. God, your laughter. Even his morbid humor, the kind that made others wince or shake their heads, you met with genuine amusement. It made him want to make you laugh more, to hear that sound over and over again.

The Quiet Moment:

One night, after a mission, the two of you sat outside the barracks under the stars. You leaned against his shoulder, your presence as natural as breathing.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but kind.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Tell that to the others.”

“They’re just scared of what they don’t understand. I’m not.”

He turned to look at you then, his eyes—hidden behind the mask—searching. “Why?”

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Because you’re worth it.”

Something inside him shifted at those words, a crack in the walls he’d spent years building. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe it might be true.

Krueger didn’t say it aloud, but he knew.

In a world that had taught him to trust no one, you had become his anchor. Without a single demand, you’d broken through his defenses, one gesture, one laugh, one gentle touch at a time.

And for the first time in years, he felt… human.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2.

Krueger was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. And when it came to you, they screamed louder than he ever wanted to admit.

Four years had passed since you’d first walked into his life, turning it upside down with your casual understanding and unshakable presence. He hadn’t known what to make of you at first. You were a contrast to everything he believed in—a light in his darkness, a grounding force when his mind spiraled.

And now? Now, he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.

You weren’t perfect; Krueger knew that. But maybe that’s what made you… right. Your shared taste in dark humor, your insomnia that lined up perfectly with his sleepless nights, and your ability to see through his walls like they weren’t even there. It terrified him. And yet, he clung to it like a lifeline.

The Night That Changed Everything:

The base was silent, save for the occasional creak of the building settling. Most of the team was asleep, but Krueger wasn’t most people. He hadn’t slept peacefully in years, his nightmares an ever-present specter that refused to let him rest.

Tonight was no different.

He woke with a start, his chest heaving, sweat soaking his shirt. His breaths came short and fast, his heart racing like he’d just sprinted a mile. The edges of the room felt too close, the walls too suffocating.

He pressed a hand to his chest, willing himself to calm down, but the panic clawed at him, refusing to let go.

A soft knock on his door broke through the haze.

“Krueger?” your voice was quiet, cautious but filled with concern.

He didn’t respond, too caught up in his spiraling thoughts. But the door creaked open anyway, and there you stood, a mug of tea in hand, your expression a perfect mix of calm and worry.

Without a word, you set the mug down on his bedside table and sat beside him. Your hand rested gently on his shoulder, grounding him, pulling him out of the storm in his head.

“Breathe,” you said softly, your voice steady. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Come on, I’ll do it with you.”

You demonstrated, slow and deliberate, and after a moment, he tried to follow. His breaths were shaky at first, but the more he focused on your calm presence, the more his chest began to loosen.

“That’s it,” you said, your hand moving to rub gentle circles on his back. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The words shouldn’t have had the effect they did, but they broke something inside him. A lump formed in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he leaned into you.

Your arms wrapped around him instantly, holding him tightly as if you could shield him from the demons in his mind. He didn’t speak—didn’t have the words—but the way he buried his face in your shoulder said everything.

The Quiet Moment:

After what felt like hours, Krueger’s breathing had evened out, the panic attack finally subsiding. But you didn’t let go. Instead, you shifted slightly, leaning back against the headboard and pulling him with you.

“Stay,” he muttered, the word barely audible against your shoulder.

“Of course,” you replied, your tone gentle but firm, as if staying was the most natural thing in the world.

You reached for the discarded mug of tea and held it out to him. He hesitated but took it, his hands still trembling slightly.

“Tea with honey,” you said with a small smile. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

He took a sip, the warmth spreading through his chest in a way that was more than just physical.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Insomnia has its perks,” you replied lightly, earning a quiet huff of amusement from him.

You didn’t push for him to talk, didn’t ask him to explain. You just sat there with him, your hand occasionally brushing against his to remind him you were there.

When the tea was finished, you set the mug aside and shifted again, pulling him back into your arms.

“Sleep,” you said softly. “I’ll stay.”

He didn’t argue, too tired to fight the comfort you offered. For the first time in years, he let himself relax fully, his head resting against your chest, your heartbeat a steady rhythm that lulled him into a peace he hadn’t known he could have.

And for the first time in years, Krueger slept through the night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the window, he found you still there, your arms around him, your breathing soft and even.

For a moment, he just watched you, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know if he even could, but he knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t just his anchor anymore.

You were his salvation.

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Part 3.

Krueger had faced countless dangers in his life, from the chaos of warzones to the haunting battles in his own mind. But you? You were a different kind of danger altogether—one that threatened to break through the walls he'd spent years building.

Five years of knowing you, of you quietly weaving yourself into every corner of his life, and he still didn’t know how to handle the pull you had on him. You weren’t loud or demanding; you didn’t try to fix him or force him to talk about the things he buried. Instead, you existed beside him, making space for his shadows without judgment.

And damn it, he was in love with you.

The Aerial Exercise:

The roaring sound of the helicopter blades echoed through the open sky as the team prepared for their jump. The air was tense with adrenaline, everyone double-checking their parachutes and cracking jokes to ease the nerves.

Krueger stood at the edge of the chopper, his dark eyes scanning the horizon. The mission was simple—an aerial exercise designed to build trust and teamwork—but Krueger found no comfort in simplicity. It was the kind of thing that could go wrong fast, and he hated the thought of you being part of that equation.

You, however, seemed to be having the time of your life.

“Hey, Krueger,” you called out, your voice cutting through the wind. “Think you can keep up?”

His gaze snapped to you, and he immediately caught the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you planning, Maus?” he asked, using the nickname he'd secretly adopted for you—a small, playful nod to how you managed to sneak into his guarded world.

You smirked, unbuckling your parachute harness.

His body tensed immediately. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trust exercise,” you said, your tone teasing but your eyes serious. “Think of it as a lesson for everyone.”

“Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and commanding.

You simply gave him a mock salute, the smirk never leaving your face. “Catch me, Krueger.”

And then you jumped.

The Freefall:

For a split second, everything froze. His mind screamed at him to move, and before he knew it, his legs had propelled him forward, diving out of the helicopter after you.

The rush of wind tore at his mask as he plummeted through the sky, his heart pounding with a mixture of rage and fear.

You were falling just ahead of him, your body cutting through the air like a blade. As he closed the distance, he caught the flash of your grin when you glanced back at him.

“Verdammt,” he muttered under his breath, reaching out and grabbing you by the waist. He pulled your body flush against his, deploying his parachute just in time to slow their descent.

On the Ground:

The landing wasn’t graceful. The force of the parachute brought them both tumbling to the ground, with Krueger instinctively twisting to shield you from the impact.

The two of you hit the dirt in a heap, his arms still locked around you.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice sharp and angry, though the relief in his eyes betrayed him.

You grinned up at him, utterly unfazed. “I knew you’d catch me.”

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared at you, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you said, your grin softening into something more genuine. “But I trust you, Krueger. Always.”

His grip on you tightened for a moment, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. Trust. It was a foreign concept to him, one he wasn’t sure he deserved. But here you were, throwing yourself out of helicopters just to prove a point.

“Idiot,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

You chuckled, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from his masked face. “Takes one to know one.”

The tension between you shifted, softening into something deeper. Without thinking, without overanalyzing, he leaned down, his mask brushing against your cheek.

“Do it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with certainty.

And for once, he didn’t hesitate.

He pulled his mask up just enough to capture your lips in a kiss, his hand cupping the side of your face as he poured every unspoken word into the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, his tone caught between frustration and affection.

“Worth it,” you replied, grinning.

And as the rest of the team came running over, shouting and laughing at the chaos you’d caused, Krueger didn’t let go. For the first time in years, he felt… safe. Safe in the chaos, in the trust, in you.

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Part 4.

Five years.

Five years of silent understanding, of gestures that spoke louder than any words ever could. You and Krueger had become more than just teammates. You were the kind of bond that couldn’t be easily broken, not even by the darkest corners of his mind, or the scars left by his past.

To the outside world, you were just Krueger’s trusted partner. But to him? You were the reason he kept moving, kept fighting. You were his anchor. His salvation.

And somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with you. He’d loved you in ways he couldn’t begin to explain, in ways that made him feel vulnerable and exposed. But he never said it aloud. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know if he even could—he was too broken to do it the way everyone expected. But you didn’t need the words.

Not like he did.

The Silent Shift:

You never needed the words, and maybe that was the beauty of it. There were no expectations between the two of you. Just quiet moments and subtle gestures. Sometimes it was a hand on his shoulder, a light brush of your fingers against his in the middle of a mission, a glance that lingered a little too long.

But Krueger was different. He needed to say it, to show you that this—you—meant something far more than what either of you had realized.

You had kissed him. Hell, you had jumped out of a helicopter just to prove you trusted him.

But that kiss—when he pulled you into him, his lips barely brushing yours, the pressure so delicate yet so intense—it had rattled him.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was everything.

You had to know that. You had to feel it.

The Realization:

It was late when it happened. The world outside was quiet, save for the soft hum of the base's security system and the occasional footsteps of guards.

You and Krueger were sitting in the common room, the sound of your shared playlist drifting through the space. A familiar, comfortable silence had settled between you both as you both sat across from each other, a worn-out board game between you.

Krueger was staring at the board, tapping his fingers against the edge absentmindedly. His attention kept flickering back to you, his gaze soft but conflicted.

You noticed, of course.

But this wasn’t like the usual subtle hints—the gentle looks, the shared jokes. No, this time it was different.

His gaze never quite met yours, and the way his lips were pressed into a thin line made you pause.

"Krueger?" you asked softly, leaning forward slightly. Your tone was casual, but your eyes gave away the concern.

He didn’t look up immediately, but after a few seconds, his deep voice broke the silence.

“Maus,” he muttered, his voice low and steady but layered with something unfamiliar. “You… you’re not just some passing thing. Not just a teammate, not just a friend.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“I know that,” you replied quietly, a smile playing at your lips. “I thought you already knew that too.”

His hands gripped the sides of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“I need you to understand,” he said, almost to himself, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “You’re mine now, Maus. And I… I’m yours. Completely. I’m not good at this shit, but… I need you to know that.”

A rush of warmth filled your chest, the words spoken with such raw vulnerability that it made your heart race. You rose to your feet, moving slowly toward him. Your heart beat faster with every step, but you weren’t nervous, not this time.

Krueger’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and full of a rawness he rarely ever allowed anyone to see. His mask, as always, covered his face, but there was no hiding the depth in his gaze.

“I’ve never—” He broke off, his voice faltering. “I’ve never been good enough for anyone. I’m a goddamn mess, and you—you’ve been... too damn perfect for me.”

You knelt down in front of him, reaching out gently to grasp his wrist. His hands trembled slightly under your touch, a subtle sign of just how much he was fighting with himself.

“You don’t need to be perfect for me, Krueger,” you said, your voice a whisper, yet full of conviction. “You just need to be you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the silence heavy between you. Then, without another word, he finally reached out, pulling you into his lap.

You gasped in surprise, but he held you steady, his arms strong around you. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing against the edge of your ear.

“You’re not getting away from me,” he muttered, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul.

Your hands came up to rest on his chest, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Not planning on it.”

And just like that, the last of the tension broke.

The Kiss:

He kissed you, then. It wasn’t fast or rushed, but a slow, deliberate thing—just like everything with him. His lips were soft but firm, as if he was saying everything he had never been able to say with words. You responded in kind, your hands curling around his neck as you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat against your own.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, but there was no anger, no frustration. Just desire.

“This is mine,” he whispered fiercely. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you replied softly, your hands tracing the outline of his jaw.

And for the first time in years, Krueger didn’t feel alone.

He felt whole.

The world outside might have been dark and chaotic, but here, with you in his arms, everything was finally right.

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Part 5.

The world outside was quiet. Silent. But inside Krueger’s quarters, it was anything but.

It had been years of understanding, years of unspoken promises, years of unbreakable trust. Neither of you needed words to communicate anymore—just gestures, glances, touches. It was enough, and it had always been enough. But tonight? Tonight was different. Tonight, everything changed.

The Quiet Before The Storm:

Krueger’s hand was firm on your waist as he lifted you into his arms, his movements gentle but purposeful. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but not from fear—no, this was anticipation. The weight of everything between you, all the years of unsaid feelings, finally coming to the surface.

“You good?” he asked softly, his voice rough but steady. You nodded, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. The two of you had been inseparable for so long now, and yet, it felt like you were on the precipice of something far deeper than anything either of you had experienced before.

He carried you effortlessly through the darkened hallways, his usual serious demeanor now softer, more vulnerable. You knew he was trying to hold onto control, trying to keep his composure, but the closeness between you both was undeniable.

When you reached his door, he paused. For a brief moment, you could see the hesitation in his eyes—his fears, his insecurities. But you reached up, cupping his face gently, your thumb brushing over his scarred cheek.

“I’m yours, Krueger,” you whispered, your voice steady and full of reassurance. “And you’re mine.”

That seemed to break whatever wall he had left. Without a word, he kissed you—deep, hard, passionate. And that was it. The moment everything changed.

The Release:

He set you down on the bed with an almost frantic urgency, like he was afraid this might all slip away if he didn’t act. His lips never left yours, not even as his hands worked to remove the layers between you, pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside. You didn’t wait for him to be ready—you were already there, tugging at the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel him.

Clothes were discarded quickly, hands roaming, touching, exploring. It wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t reckless either. It was a need, a burning desire to feel close, to feel real.

You arched into him as his lips traced down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. Every inch of you felt alive beneath his touch, the tension between you both finally released, replaced by raw desire and connection.

“You’re mine,” Krueger breathed against your skin, his voice gruff with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the truth behind them, and you responded in kind. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The Connection:

And then it was all instinct—touch, movement, feeling. His body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you both intensifying with each passing second. Your hands slid down his back, feeling the muscle, the tension, the scars that spoke of everything he’d been through, everything he had suffered.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about the here and now. About the trust you’d built, the love you shared.

He kissed you fiercely, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, like he couldn’t get enough. The pace was wild, desperate, but still there was a tenderness in the way he held you, in the way his hands roamed over your body, like he was trying to memorize every curve, every part of you.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands tracing the planes of his body, exploring, claiming. There was no going back now. There was no room for hesitation. Just him, and you, and the love you had quietly nurtured over the years.

------------------------------------------------------------

Krueger was on top of you now, his movements smooth and deliberate as he guided you into the rhythm of the moment. His hands braced against the bed, his muscles straining as he held himself above you, his eyes locked with yours.

He was never this vulnerable. Never this exposed. But with you, he didn’t have to be anything but himself.

“I trust you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you.”

And that was it. The final surrender.

The Aftermath:

When it was over, the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, breaths coming fast and uneven, bodies slick with sweat. The world outside was still quiet, but inside, everything felt alive.

You were cradled against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His heart beat steadily against your ear, and you could feel the weight of everything between you both, the intimacy, the trust, the connection.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. “Not unless you want me to.”

He laughed, but it was a low, rumbling sound—one of comfort, of trust. “Not happening.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came when two people knew they had found something real, something worth holding onto. And for the first time in years, Krueger didn’t feel like he was falling apart.

Because with you, everything was finally right.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 6.

The New Normal

Six years. Six years since you walked into Krueger’s life and turned everything upside down. Six years of quiet understanding, subtle gestures, and building trust brick by brick. Six years of being his anchor, his salvation, his person.

He’d never imagined himself here, not in a thousand lifetimes. But here he was, lying beside you in the small quarters you now shared, one arm draped over your waist possessively, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was always warm, his presence a solid, grounding weight against you, even in the stillness of the early morning.

You couldn’t help but grin as he let out a low, sleepy grumble, tugging you closer. Krueger—the intimidating, silent soldier—was a complete teddy bear when it came to you.

“Don’t move Maus,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

“I haven’t even moved,” you teased, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the back of his hand.

“You were thinking about it,” he accused, lifting his head just enough to give you a mock glare. His messy hair and the soft light filtering through the window made him look far less intimidating than he thought.

“God forbid I get up to pee,” you replied with a smirk.

Krueger growled—a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest—but there was no heat to it. You’d long since learned that was his way of showing affection, especially in moments like this when words weren’t enough.

The Clingy Truth:

Krueger was clingy. No one on the team would believe it if they hadn’t seen it firsthand. To everyone else, he was a stoic, unapproachable wall of a man. But behind closed doors? He was all over you.

You didn’t mind, not even a little. If anything, you found it endearing. For a man who had spent so much of his life being untouchable—both literally and figuratively—his need to always have you close spoke volumes.

Like now, for example.

You shifted slightly, trying to reach for your phone on the nightstand, only for his arm to tighten around you.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Nowhere,” you said, turning your head to kiss his forehead. “I’m just grabbing my phone.”

“Don’t need it,” he grumbled, pulling you back against him like you were his personal security blanket.

You laughed softly, your fingers sliding into his hair to soothe him. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He didn’t respond, but the way he nuzzled closer told you everything you needed to know.

The Adorable Side of Krueger:

Krueger’s clinginess extended beyond the bedroom, much to your amusement. He had a way of silently staking his claim on you, whether it was standing just a little too close when you were talking to someone else or casually slipping a hand around your waist in public.

It wasn’t jealousy, not really. It was more about his need to know you were safe, within reach, his.

One time, during a team movie night, one of the newer recruits had made the mistake of sitting a little too close to you. Krueger didn’t say a word—he rarely needed to—but the glare he shot in the guy’s direction was enough to send him scrambling to the other side of the couch.

“Subtle,” you’d whispered to him, biting back a laugh.

He’d just shrugged, his arm settling comfortably around your shoulders. “What?”

“Adorable,” you’d muttered under your breath, earning yourself a rare, genuine smile from him.

In the Bedroom:

Krueger’s possessiveness didn’t stop at the door to your quarters. If anything, it became even more apparent when it was just the two of you.

He was a paradox—both dominant and needy, confident and vulnerable. He had a way of taking control that left you breathless, yet he always made sure you felt cherished, adored, and utterly safe in his arms.

There were nights when he couldn’t seem to get enough, his kisses feverish, his touch almost desperate. It was as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you, to leave no part of you untouched or unloved.

“You’re mine,” he’d growl against your skin, his voice low and possessive.

“And you’re mine,” you’d always reply, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

The intensity of those moments was unmatched, but what always struck you the most was the way he looked at you afterward. Like you were his entire world. Like you were the one thing in his life he could hold onto and never let go.

“Adorable,” you’d tease him occasionally, watching the faintest hint of a blush creep up his neck.

“Shut up,” he’d mutter, pulling the blankets over both of you to hide his face.

The Perfect Chaos:

Life with Krueger was far from perfect, but that was what made it so beautiful. You both had your flaws, your scars, your dark corners. But together, you’d built something unshakable—something that made every challenge, every moment of vulnerability, worth it.

As you lay tangled together in the quiet of your shared space, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You know you’re stuck with me, right?” you teased, running your fingers lightly over his back.

“Good,” he replied without hesitation, his voice soft but resolute. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

And you believed him. Because with Krueger, there were no walls left to break. Only the love you’d both fought so hard to build.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 7.

Clingy Nights and Random Questions:

The room was silent save for the faint hum of the ventilation system and your steady breathing. Krueger’s arm was draped over you, his hold firm but gentle, as though he feared you might disappear if he let go. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and his warmth seeped into your skin, grounding you both in the quiet aftermath of the night’s intensity.

You felt the satisfying ache in your muscles, the kind that came from being thoroughly ravished by your lover. Krueger’s heartbeat thumped steadily against your back, a soothing rhythm that made you smile despite your exhaustion.

It was in these moments, when his walls were down and his vulnerabilities were unguarded, that you felt closest to him. His breaths were even, his body relaxed—something you knew wasn’t easy for him.

But as your mind wandered, it inevitably drifted to one of your infamous “future scenario” questions. It was a habit that had started early in your relationship, born out of your shared love for ridiculous hypotheticals and harmless daydreams. Krueger pretended to find them annoying, but you knew better. The way his lips would twitch in amusement or how he’d indulge you with an actual answer told you he secretly enjoyed them.

Tonight was no different.

You tilted your head slightly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“...If you were to have kids, how many would you see yourself with?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and you felt his arm tighten around you instinctively. A soft, rumbling groan escaped him—half exasperation, half amusement.

“Are you serious?” he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck.

“Dead serious,” you replied with a grin, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of his reaction. “You know, in the future. Hypothetically.”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. “You ask me this after—” He gestured vaguely at your tangled limbs and the state of his cot. “—everything we just did?”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “It’s because of everything we just did! I’m relaxed, my brain’s on a roll, and here we are.”

Krueger sighed, but you saw the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He settled back down, resting his chin on your shoulder as he mulled over your question.

“...Two,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“Two?” you echoed, turning slightly to face him better.

“Maybe three,” he admitted, his brows furrowing. “But that’s only if we’re talking... hypothetically.”

“Of course,” you teased, your grin widening. “Hypothetically.”

A Glimpse of Vulnerability:

His fingers traced absent patterns on your hip as he spoke. “I never really thought about it,” he admitted, his tone unusually soft. “Didn’t think I’d ever... have that kind of life. But if I did—if it was with you...” He trailed off, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned fully to face him, your hands coming up to cup his face. He looked at you with those piercing eyes, the ones that always seemed so guarded yet held so much depth when they were fixed on you.

“Two or three, huh?” you said softly, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I think you’d be a great dad, you know.”

He scoffed lightly, but there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me for it,” you shot back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

His response was immediate, his arms pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I do,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure. “I love you.”

The Future:

The rest of the night was spent in a comfortable haze of whispered conversations and soft laughter. You painted vivid pictures of a cozy house, a big garden, maybe a dog or two running around—and of course, those two or three hypothetical kids.

Krueger listened, his expression unreadable, but the way his fingers threaded through yours told you he was taking it all in.

“I still think you’d scare the crap out of their dates,” you teased, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Damn right I would,” he replied, his smirk returning. “But only because I’d want them to know how much they mean to us.”

“Us,” you repeated softly, the word filling you with warmth.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. Us.”

And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t seem so hypothetical after all.

------------------------------------------------------------

Dreams of a Future:

The soft hum of the night surrounded Krueger, a comforting cocoon of silence broken only by the rhythm of your breathing. You were pressed against him, your head resting on his chest, one arm draped lazily across his torso. His own arm held you close, as though anchoring himself to reality—to you.

The earlier conversation still lingered in his mind, replaying in vivid detail. Your questions, your soft laughter, your casual talk of a future that seemed impossible for someone like him. Yet, the way you spoke about it, with warmth and conviction, made it feel... real.

And for the first time in a very long time, as he let himself drift off to sleep, Krueger wasn’t greeted by the cold grip of nightmares.

Instead, his mind offered something different.

The Dream:

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sprawling garden. The warmth of the light kissed the vibrant green grass, where a massive dog bounded happily, barking at the two small figures running barefoot in its wake. Their laughter rang through the air—pure, unfiltered joy.

Krueger stood at the edge of the garden, stunned. His chest tightened, not with fear or anxiety, but with something foreign yet achingly familiar. Contentment.

“Papa!”

The voice startled him, and he turned just in time to see a little girl sprinting toward him, her dark hair flying wildly behind her. She had your eyes—bright, filled with mischief—and a wide, gap-toothed smile. Hot on her heels was a boy, slightly older, with his own unruly hair and sharp features that reminded Krueger of himself.

“Come play!” the boy called, his voice high-pitched but strong, determination written all over his tiny face.

Krueger felt himself crouch instinctively, his arms opening as the little girl flung herself into him, laughing breathlessly. “Caught you, papa!” she declared triumphantly.

“You think so, huh?” he heard himself say, his voice lighter than he ever thought possible. He scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around as she shrieked with delight.

The boy was next, leaping onto Krueger’s back with an exaggerated roar, the kind only a child could manage. “I got him, too!”

Their combined weight barely fazed him, and he found himself laughing—a deep, genuine sound he barely recognized. The dog barked excitedly, circling them before flopping onto the grass in exaggerated exhaustion.

And then there was you.

Barefoot, glowing in the golden light, you stood on the porch, watching the scene with an expression that melted his heart. Your laughter joined theirs, and Krueger felt his knees go weak at the sight of you. You walked toward him, your movements graceful and effortless, and the way you looked at him—like he was everything—made his chest ache.

“How’s papa holding up?” you teased, brushing a hand through the boy’s hair before leaning in to kiss Krueger softly.

“Tired,” he replied with a smirk, his voice filled with amusement.

“Oh, you’ll survive,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

As you stood there, all four of you, the world felt right. No shadows of his past, no darkness creeping at the edges. Just warmth, laughter, and love.

Awakening:

Krueger’s eyes snapped open, his breath hitching as the vivid dream faded into the dim light of the room. For a moment, he lay there, his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if it had been real.

And then he felt you stir against him, your soft sigh as you nuzzled closer. The dream may have faded, but you were here—solid, warm, and real.

He tightened his hold on you, burying his face in your hair as he processed the emotions swirling within him.

“What’s wrong?” you mumbled sleepily, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice rough but steady. “Just... thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, his lips brushing against your temple. “The future.”

Your sleepy laugh was like a balm to his soul. “Good. ‘Cause I think it’s going to be amazing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but as he closed his eyes again, he allowed himself to believe it.

The dream wasn’t just a fleeting hope. It was a promise.

------------------------------------------------------------

Side-Story 1.

A Different Kind of Hunger:

The sun was relentless, beating down on the training field as the team wrapped up their morning drills. You wiped the sweat from your brow, your training uniform clinging to your skin in a way that made you curse the summer heat. Your muscles burned pleasantly, a testament to a job well done.

Krueger, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling the same sense of post-training satisfaction.

He was on edge.

From the moment you had stepped onto the field, every movement of yours had been seared into his brain. The way your body twisted during hand-to-hand drills, the way sweat dripped tantalizingly down your neck and disappeared beneath your shirt, the curve of your lips as you smirked after a particularly brutal takedown—it was driving him mad.

He could still hear the echoes of your moans from the night before, feel the way your nails had dug into his back, the way your body had responded to his touch. The memory alone had him clenching his fists to ground himself.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Needed more.

The Breaking Point:

You didn’t notice his state at first. Krueger was always composed during training—hyper-focused, sharp, and in control. But today, his eyes followed you a little too closely, lingering on the curve of your hips as you bent to grab your water bottle.

“Something on your mind, Krueger?” you teased, catching his stare. Your tone was light, playful, but the flicker of heat in his gaze made your pulse quicken.

He didn’t answer immediately, just tilted his head slightly, his mask concealing most of his expression. But his eyes—oh, his eyes—burned with an intensity that made you shiver despite the heat.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk growing. “Cat got your tongue?”

Big mistake.

In one swift motion, Krueger closed the distance between you. His gloved hand wrapped gently but firmly around your wrist, pulling you into the shadow of the nearest storage room. The door slammed shut behind you, and before you could make another quip, his hands were on your waist, his body pressing you against the wall.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all morning, Maus?” he growled, his voice low and rough, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked, startled by his sudden intensity, before a slow smile spread across your lips. “Oh? And what exactly have I been doing, Krueger?”

He let out a frustrated growl, his hands tightening on your waist. “You. Moving like that. Smirking at me. That damn uniform...” His words trailed off as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re driving me insane, Liebling.”

Giving In:

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was trying to convey everything he felt through the kiss. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his shirt to pull him closer.

His gloved hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve, every dip, every detail he already knew by heart but could never get enough of. The gloves were quickly discarded, and the feel of his calloused hands on your heated skin made you gasp against his lips.

“Krueger,” you murmured, your voice breathless as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking and biting in a way that sent sparks straight to your core.

“I need you,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Now.”

Your heart raced at the raw hunger in his tone, your own body responding in kind. “Then take me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

With a low growl, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the nearest flat surface. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as his lips found yours again, the kiss searing and possessive.

“Mine,” he muttered against your lips, his eyes blazing with emotion as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re mine, Liebling.”

“Always,” you replied, your hands cupping his face as you kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love and desire you felt into the kiss.

Aftermath:

By the time you both emerged from the storage room, your hair was tousled, your uniform slightly rumpled, and your cheeks flushed. Krueger looked just as disheveled, though he wore his mask again, hiding the satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips.

The rest of the team didn’t say a word, though Soap gave a knowing grin as you passed, and Ghost muttered something under his breath about “unnecessary detours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, nudging Krueger playfully as you walked back to the barracks. “Feel better now?”

He didn’t respond verbally, but the way his hand brushed against yours, his fingers curling around yours briefly before letting go, was answer enough.

For now, he was sated. But you both knew it wouldn’t last long. Not when it came to you.

------------------------------------------------------------

Side-Story 2.

Unyielding Devotion:

The moonlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting silver streaks across the room. The sheets were rumpled, evidence of the intensity shared between you and Krueger not long ago. His arm was draped possessively around your waist as you lay sprawled across his chest, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his scarred skin.

His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, was a comforting rhythm. You smiled softly, basking in the aftermath of another night where Krueger had made you feel like the center of his world.

Yet, as the silence stretched and your mind wandered, you realized something.

Seven years. Seven incredible years together, filled with passion, laughter, and unspoken understanding. You couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he’d worshipped your body, leaving no part of you untouched or unloved. Yet, when it came to returning the favor—really showing him how much you adored him—you’d never truly had the chance.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Krueger was always... insistent. His focus was always on you, what you wanted, what you needed. The rare times you tried to take control, he’d find a way to turn the tables, leaving you breathless and pliant under him before you could even blink.

But tonight? Tonight, you were determined.

A Change in the Tide:

You tilted your head to look up at him. His eyes were half-lidded, his breathing slow and even, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. Krueger rarely let himself drift off completely right after a moment like this, even in the safety of your embrace.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft yet teasing. “I just realized something.”

His hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands. “What’s that, Liebling?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, your gaze locking onto his. “You’ve spoiled me rotten for seven years now. Don’t you think it’s about time I return the favor?”

His brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his dark eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re perfect. You don’t—”

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a playful smirk. “No arguments, Krueger. You always get your way. Tonight, I’m getting mine.”

The Tables Turn:

Before he could protest further, you shifted, straddling his waist. His hands instinctively moved to your hips, but you caught them, pinning them to the mattress.

“Trust me?” you asked softly, your tone laced with both mischief and sincerity.

His gaze softened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before beginning your descent. You trailed kisses along his jawline, down his neck, taking your time to savor every inch of him. His breath hitched as your lips brushed over the scars on his chest, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

“Liebling...” he breathed, his voice low and thick with anticipation.

You didn’t respond, your focus entirely on him now. Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved lower. When you finally reached your destination, you glanced up, catching the way his chest heaved, his pupils blown wide with desire.

Breaking Him Down:

Your touch was gentle at first, your hands caressing him as your lips followed. He sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back against the pillow. The normally stoic and composed man was unraveling beneath you, his control slipping with every flick of your tongue, every movement of your hand.

“Scheisse,” he growled, his hands gripping the sheets as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth. His muscles were taut, his body trembling as he struggled to maintain control.

You couldn’t help but smile around him, taking pleasure in the way you were reducing him to this state. He was always so composed, so in control—but here, with you, he was utterly vulnerable. And you loved every second of it.

His breathing grew ragged, a litany of curses and your name spilling from his lips in a way that sent a thrill through you. His hands finally moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he groaned, his hips bucking slightly despite his best efforts to hold back.

“Verdammt, you’re going to kill me,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with need.

You pulled back just enough to murmur, “Not yet, big guy. I’m not done with you.”

Aftermath:

By the time you were finished, Krueger was utterly spent, his body trembling from the intensity of it all. You crawled back up to him, a triumphant grin on your face as you licked your lips and nestled against his chest.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a low chuckle, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Only for you,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He tightened his hold on you, his voice soft but filled with conviction as he whispered, “Maus, you’re everything.”

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, you couldn’t help but think that there was no place you’d rather be.

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