#out of grenades [ooc]

[general-kalani]

Imagine minding your own business walking down this path and then you look up and see Rook holding his grenade launcher

FEAR HIM AND THE RANGE FINDER!!!

[infecdead]

seeing baby chris on the dash reminds me that i need to continue my playthrough of code veronica but do i want to deal with the utter frustration that is the tyrant battle on the plane?

[calmlythrilling]

i love ok ko for multiple reasons but my top tier reason is that the creator is very accepting of crossovers, ocs, and just doing whatever the heck you want with his series. everything is canon in ok ko and i am not really kidding when i say that, ff7 is technically canon to ok ko if we look at his parody ff comic being in one episode, and we got sonic and captain planet crossover episodes, and the multiverse/au episode, and each character is just so unique, we have mutant snake man, talking strawberry, a real magic skeleton, dinosaurs, giants. also i want to mention that in one background art thingy there's a tree with grenades on it as fruit so weapons grow on trees over there.

[redjaybird]

DUDE BLOOD AND BOUNTY IS VVVVVV GOOD WITH ZANE. Recommended if you like a man who's very screamy.

[he really hates birds lol

I'm going through again with one of my Moze's

i think i went through before when a friend was playing zane and i was also playing moze]

[xo-cod]

141 + reader

hc's when you five share the barracks together/just in general <3 (ooc, rushed my bad lmao, can be read platonically/romantically, reader is v close to them!!) kinda long oops 😩 might do a part 2 idk

nsfw version 🩷

there's a whole lot of testosterone and musk in the air when you're sharing living spaces with 4 men ‼️

all four men compete with each other to get your attention, even if it's unknowingly

whole lotta pouting when you're spending time with more man than the other, you're a great companion ;) and the army is lonely. they all need equal love and attention

speaking of, if you're smelling like one of them the other will immediately bundle you in his arms to put his scent on you instead and to cancel out the other (alpha behaviour 😵‍💫)

whole lotta flirting from each of them. they're all very intelligent soldiers, they know exactly what to say to get you going 😙

all of them adore the height difference with you. you get teased about it relentlessly (out of love obvi)

i don't think they're particularly messy men but ghost and gaz are the most cleanest, they like having their things in order and knowing where everything is

price is next because he's slumped with being captain so you'll see a lot of his paperwork around with coffee mugs from pulling all nighters

soap is more organised mess. it might look messy to you but he knows exactly where everything is

you, soap and gaz definitely have rap battles late at night. it starts of quiet but you'll usually hear price shouting at you three from his bedroom to stfu. ghost threatens to pull a grenade if you don't be quiet

assuming you're naturally a good cook, they'd all be so appreciative :") especially on bad days, your cooking reminds each of them of home (or lack of)

face masks! gaz would 100% be down to do them with you, soap would follow next because if gaz is doing it then he too???

ghost would roll his eyes, continuing polishing his guns with a rag "you ain't putting that muck on my face"

price would just look at you, shaking his head "got too much to do, sweetness"

but you're quite the convincer and all four men are on the floor of your bedroom, gossiping about the last mission with their preferred colour of face mask across their faces

assuming you're the only woman, they get very protective when you're hurt. soldiers get hurt from time to time but its different when it's you

"you alright, bonnie?" soap's gentle voice comes through your room as he hands you a warm mug of your fave drink

gaz had you wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, gently stroking your back

"who was it?" ghost's voice is firm, wanting to know who dared injured the youngest member of their team

"already got a handle on 'em" price follows, looking at the computer. whatever enemy dared to raise their hands on wished they'd be six feet under after all four men are done with them

you're the one each man needs when they're having a particularly bad day which are usually far in few between but sometimes it happens

gaz and soap are the types to seek you out, their faces settled in a troubled frown before they place their arms around you. no questions just yet, they just want to feel skin to skin for now. keeping them grounded before they can explain what happened. they're not looking for a fixer, just someone who'll listen

ghost and price are the type to isolate themselves for a while until it's night and then you'll find them gently knocking on your bedroom door and slipping inside, between your covers. their grip is strong, burying their faces deep into your neck whilst trying to wrap his arms as much as he can. these two won't talk much either, just looking to be held and stroked to calm down

ghost and soap are the type to show affection through lingering touches while gaz and price show affections through their words.

but speaking of hugs, each of them have their own special way they like to embrace

ghost thinks he's being slick but you realise just how touchstarved he really is, he gives hugs with his arms around your shoulders bringing you in to his chest. mostly because he's tall and broad but he likes how he can manhandle you from this position and smelling your scent <3

soap's the type to tackle you in a playful hug, maybe a spin to get a laugh out of you before he gently strokes your skin for a few seconds, a gentle kiss to your temple <3

price likes to hug from behind, resting his chin on your head while he looks at what you're doing. depending on you, his big arms are either wrapped on your waist or your shoulders <3

gaz gives side hugs because he likes linking his arm around your hips and he likes how you fit snugly into his body. and this way he can lean his head against yours and can bring you in closer with his other arm <3

all four can immediately smell you before you come in because they adore whatever perfume/spray you have

each of them would absolutely melt into pieces if you joined them/kept them company in what they were doing

and if they catch you in a towel after having a shower, best believe they're quickly walking back around to where they came from to help alleviate the growing... tent in their pants

lowkey kinda pervy 🫣 (never in a harmful way)

each of them have their strong points and would 100% train you in becoming stronger

even if you're a well established soldier, they all worry for your safety

price would teach you sniper techniques, ghost teaches you combat, gaz teaches you how to sharpen your aim and soap teaches you about explosives and how to construct/dismantle each of them

they take the training very seriously with you

a ton of cursing when their fave team loses lmaoo

if you're avid tea drinker, join the gaz/ghost/price club. if you're not, join the hater club with soap <3

ghost/gaz/soap will playfully fight with you, careful not to use their full strength and not to harm you. but it's so cute to them when you're struggling a little under them.

but when price scolds them in doing so, "i'm just helping in case there's an attack!"

if you're arguing against one of them, another will come to your defence. unless you're arguing all four then it's the silent treatment from you 🤭

all four of them melt when you call them by their real name instead of their callsign :")

ghost usually comes to you when his balaclava is broken and he'll keep you company as your fingers work their magic to the fabric, gently leaning against you as you speak to him

price will let you shape up his beard after you begging to do so and he grows to enjoy those tender moments

soap definitely calls for your help to shape up his mohawk, he trusts your hand to eye coordination above anyone elses

ghost will playfully ruffle your hair whenever you both pass each other

price gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder

gaz gives you a soft stroke on your arm or back whenever he's passing by

soap will gently tap his head against yours, not too hard to cause pain but just enough to know that he's there

but above all, the barracks you five share is definitely a safe space for each of them the second they come through the door <333

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (i)

SUMMARY: Despite appearances, you’d learnt Soldier Boy was, actually, capable of being a good man. Somehow, you’d wormed yourself into his good books, and had the rarest privilege of seeing him without the suit, the drugs, the ego, the everything. Just as things were going good, his heart somehow getting even warmer for you, the world separates you in the cruelest way.

PAIRING: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3573

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Sexism (set in the 1980’s), typical Soldier Boy behaviour, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, questionable morals (peer pressuring drug use), sexual content, eludes to smut, Soldier Boy may be a bit OOC at times, gore.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Becoming a world famous supe was never something you’d ever wanted. Sure, you’d grown up with their photos on your bedroom walls, your father telling you stories of when the first ever supe came to be, insisting he fought alongside the Soldier Boy in the war

The people around you seemed to idolise them. These… mostly regular people in tight suits, pretending to be better than everyone else.

You knew better. You knew enough. Enough to know supes were dirty, and corrupt, and definitely not the heroes they presented themselves to be. That their hands were more blood than they were skin anymore.

And, frankly, you wanted nothing to do with Vought or Payback — or whatever the fuck those shitty, useless superhero teams were called. (Seriously, what did they actually do? Except sit in their pretty tower and take the peoples’ taxes?)

Your father, however, had different ideas.

So, at 18, you woke up in the hospital, after an ugly head collision, with superpowers you’d never had before. A miracle, the doctors called it, a supe whose extraordinary powers had been hidden for her whole life. When you got home, you forced the truth out of your father. Compound V, he called it, a new chemical made by Vought.

No one was born a supe, he admitted, it all came from a liquid in a vial. The truth hurt you, as much as it didn’t really surprise you. Chosen by God, my ass.

This wasn’t supposed to be your life.

But it’s certainly what it turned out to be.

Payback were as shitty, if not more, than you’d originally thought. Each of them had… many flaws. Soldier Boy, obviously, was the worst. If the Devil reincarnated himself, he’d look and act like Soldier Boy.

Simply talking to the man made you want to shoot yourself.

Well… it did at one point.

Two years down the line, things had changed. Soldier Boy was still insufferable, sexist, arrogant, and a major asshole. But… he wasn’t so much a dick directly to you, as he used to be. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was actually somewhat nice to you. As much as his macho heart could manage, anyway.

You noticed it the first time when he saved your life on a mission. He’d grabbed your waist when a grenade clinked at your feet, whirling you around and to the ground, squashing you against his firm chest, using his shield to protect you both from the hot blast. He’d shrugged it off as nothing; as something any leader would do for his team. Then you watched him hit Gunpowder about for not following his order to a T, and realised… maybe he did treat you different.

It was undeniable these days.

You were the only person on Payback that Soldier Boy could remotely tolerate.

“You need’a be more careful.” Despite the hard look on his face, Soldier Boy was staring down at you, as a Vought doctor wrapped clean bandages tightly around your midsection. It was a bullet to the wound; which, with being a supe, wouldn’t be too bad, but you didn’t heal inhumanely fast like he did. “You’re fuckin’ useless when you’re hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for your concern, Soldier Boy.”

His eyes narrowed into a harsh glare. “Ben.” He corrected you, for what was probably the 50th time. Each time he did, he got more annoyed with you. “How many times do I have to say it? Is there a brain in that pretty head’a’yours?“

You grunted, spinning on the bed and hanging your legs off the side of it. “Thanks for the compliment.” Ben rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, not offering a hand as you groaned in discomfort and got to your feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be healed up by the time we set off for Nicaragua, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout.”

Ben just grunted, displeased. “Ain’t happenin’.” He immediately shot that idea down. “We leave for Nicaragua in two weeks. You ain’t comin’. Sit this one out.”

You stared, expecting a joke. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Seriously?” You groaned, unhappy. What was it with this guy? “I’ll be fine. It’s a silly little bullet.”

“I was holdin’ your fuckin’ guts in your body.” He walked away, reminding you of just how bad your injury actually had been. He had, indeed, practically been keeping your guts inside of you as you bled out. “You ain’t going. You’re stayin’ here.” You chased after him, pulling your shirt on as you left the infirmary.

“Ben—“

He whirled around to face you. “I said, you’re fucking staying.” He growled, glaring down at you. God, were you glad you were on his side. This man was terrifying. Six feet of pure muscle, strength and violence. “You’re better off here, using that face of yours to get some PR.”

“And, what? The others will back you up?” You scoffed, grabbing his wrist as he went to walk away again. His expression went cold at your touch, but you didn’t flinch. As much as he tried to scare you, Ben wouldn’t raise a hand at you… probably. You had faith in the man. “They can’t fight for shit, Ben. Gunpowder hasn’t even discovered his own dick yet. You think you’re gonna have your back covered out there?”

He ripped his wrist away harshly. “I don’t need my back covered.”

“Everyone needs their back covered.” You argued. “Even you.”

He chuckled, sarcastic and dry. “You worried ‘bout me, princess?” You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look, as he took a step closer, mouth curled into that ever-infuriating smirk. “I’d perform better if you sent me off with a taste of that—“

“Ben.” You interrupted him, unimpressed. You rolled his eyes at his predictable behaviour. “I’m not gonna fuck morale into you.”

“Shame.” His eyes flicked up and down, tracing the curves of your body. “Bet you’d be a firecracker.” He walked away again, and you threw your hands up, groaning. Ben chuckled as he turned the corner. “Think it over, sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a hand.” You called back to him. “Use it!”

Conversations like that were very common with Ben.

It’d be a normal conversation (as normal as it gets with him) — and then he’d start talking about fucking you against the nearest surface, and all pleasantries went down the drain. Seriously, he thought 80% with his dick, and 20% with his actual brain.

And that was being kind.

But, beneath all of his macho assholery, was his genuine worry. You knew he wasn’t letting you accompany the rest of the team to Nicaragua because of your injury, despite how minor it was, and that he was worried you’d injure yourself further.

You’d never slept with Ben, despite how much he’d tried to charm you into his bed. Your relationship was strange. He flirted, you flirted — there were lingering touches. And, sure, he’d never put his dick in you, but his fingers were a different question. And… oh, boy, could that man use his hands.

It was like being in a relationship, just without the sex. Which was odd, as it was Soldier Boy. But, the way he smiled at you and treated you, it made you feel different to the other women.

He was just… shit it showing it.

Poor bastard wouldn’t know emotion if it slapped him in the face.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

“I am not wearing this.”

Okay… scratch all of that. Maybe Ben was just a dickhead.

He lounged back in his chair, grinning lazily, legs spread like he owned the place. He probably thought he did. “Why not?” He took a sip of his whiskey, ice clinking against the sides, eyes never leaving you from over the rim of the glass.

You held up the fabric. “Seriously?”

It was basically a scrap of fabric, with how much it covered up. You didn’t shy away from showing skin. You quite liked short skirts and pushing the line. Because, as a supe, there was a line. Vought liked it when you showed skin — apparently it made your ratings go up with the male fans, no shocker. But, too much skin on display, the male fans started calling you a whore, and the ratings shot back down.

It was a bit like a balancing game, trying to find the perfect amount of skin to make the boys ogle but also respect you. An impossible feat, truthfully.

And this? This was definitely classed as too much.

“I don’t see the issue.” His smirk said otherwise.

“My tits are not gonna stay in this, Ben!”

His smirk just grew. “Again, I don’t see the issue.”

You groaned and put the dress down. “No. I’ll get my own dress. I am not wearing that.” You tell him, arms folding across your chest. You didn’t miss the way he checked out your tits, and the way the placement of your arms accentuated them.

He rolled his eyes, obviously not happy with your decision. Leaning towards, elbows on his knees, Ben’s eyes took you in. “Why?” His head cocked to the side. “You’d look hot. It’d make your ass look great.”

“That’s not a compliment.” You grumbled, pushing a hand through your hair. Ben made a small grunt of disagreement, but didn’t say anything otherwise. “Listen, there’s a certain line. Alright? If I wear that, every guy out there will be callin’ me a whore. Okay? Imma find something else.”

He hummed and sat back. “I think you should wear that one.” Sighing heavily, you just rolled your eyes at his persistence. “All those assholes will be blowin’ their pants just lookin’ at you, sweetheart.”

“Again, not a compliment.”

Ben stared at you, and silently took another sip of his whiskey. He always seemed to think these crude, rather sexist and inappropriate remarks were compliments. Like commenting on your body. Or saying you’d be a freak in bed. Which were obviously not actually compliments.

You rolled your eyes, rubbing your forehead. “I’ll find another dress, Ben.” You told him, definitive. There was no way he was going to convince you to wear that dress.

“What a disappointment.” He grinned, lopsided. “I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you in that dress.”

“Again,” you deadpanned as he checked you out once more, “you have a hand… use it.”

Ben just smirked, and sipped his whiskey again.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You wore the fucking dress.

The asshole always won. Always.

He looked so fucking pleased, as you walked into his after-party, wearing the dress he’d picked out for you. His smugness was clear, brushing through the crowd with ease to come to you.

Ben hummed, eyes dilating as he stared you down. His eyes lingered on your tits, as they always did. “You look…” he hesitated, trying to think of a compliment that wasn’t degrading, and failed, “fuckin’ hot. If you weren’t such a bitch, I’d bend you over right here.”

Your face pulled together in disgust, looking at him with your lips pressed together “… gross.”

He chuckled. “Drink?” He offered. “I got your favourite.”

And there he goes again.

Being nice.

It did your damn head in.

Accepting his offer, you shivered as his large hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. They all seemed to part like the Red Sea as he came through, a fact that amused you greatly.

Seriously. These women looked at him like he was Jesus reincarnated, when he’d totally call them in a whore in bed.

Ben silently reached out for your favourite alcoholic drink, pouring it into a glass. His eyes scanned over the room, smirking at a few of the women ogling, sending them rushing to their friends and squealing. He merely chuckled and handed you the full glass.

“Thanks.” You murmured, taking it from him. Your eyes stared up at him for a moment, curious, before looking away again.

What was it with him? How could be such an egotistical one minute, and then be nice and respectful the next? It was like a guessing game, trying to figure out what mood he was in.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, but not enough to hurt you. “Come with me.” He guided you through the crowd once again, to the doors in the back. As he pushed through into the room, he flashed you a cocky grin over his shoulder. Dickhead.

This room was far quieter. You noticed, immediately, the only people present were supes and celebrities, not the random civilians that’d been granted a pity invite — or the women Ben thought were hot. This was the main party. There were drugs covering every table, with various big names passed out on the chairs, blazed.

Ben lead you to the corner, where he’d obviously already been busy, if the half-snorted lines of cocaine proved anything.

Silently, he offered you a line, which you gratefully accepted.

You didn’t do drugs before you joined Payback. In fact, you’d avoided them, promising yourself you’d never become that type of person. But it was the norm within Vought. Every supe spent their nights filling their bodies to the brim with various drugs, poisoning themselves. So, you started smoking weed to fit in.

Then Ben found out you only did weed, and decided it wasn’t enough. With enough pressure, he’d gotten you onto any other substance he could convince you to try.

It made you more attractive, in his eyes, as you spiralled into addiction like him.

In fact, it got him rock hard, to snort lines or share a joint with you. It was so fucking hot, watching your eyes glass over as you got higher with every hit, with every line. God, it turned him on so bad.

You snorted your third line of the night, when Ben suddenly pushed you back into your chair. Bewildered, you stared at him, as he snatched up a baggie of the white powder. Your heart leapt to your throat, the moment he moved aside the slit in your dress, revealing the bare skin of your thigh. All breath left your lungs, watching him pour some of the powder onto your thigh.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was about to do a line off you.

He glanced at you through his lashes, smirking at the shocked and flushed expression you wore. He used his pocket knife to cut the lines, mindful of the sharp blade against your soft skin.

God, this was hot. He found it hot. You found it hot. It’d be a damn miracle if you ended the night with your clothes on at this point.

Your skin tingled as he sniffed up the first line, of his hands roughly gripping the top of your thigh to steady you, his other holding a rolled up $100 bill. He groaned in pleasure, body physically shuddering, head shaking, as the drug made his body run hot.

He did the next line, the grip on your thigh becoming tighter as his pupils began to blow up.

Was it getting hot in here? Or was it just you?

Maybe it was the cocaine in your systems, maybe it was the fact Ben was just… so damn hot, but you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his hair and forcing his head up as he snorted the final line off your thigh.

He looked up at you, pupils blown, lips parted. Holy shit. This man was sculpted like a fucking God. Your body shivered. “You finally takin’ my offer, sweetheart?” He chuckled, shaking off the immediate effects of the cocaine, raising himself up to your level.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, breathless, practically begging him.

His eyes went dark, almost black, with lust. The smirk on his lips made you squeeze your legs together. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You now understood the hype. You understood why women bent their knees the moment Ben uttered a word to them.

Holy shit, did this man have talent.

Your legs were still twitching, the space in between your legs throbbing and tingling with how many times you’d come on his fingers, his tongue and cock. You’d counted four, before your vision had gone white.

Jesus, he had stamina. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it’d been just over five hours since you’d first fell into Ben’s bed. That super strength was better for more than just fighting, after all. This man should be advertised for his abilities. No shocker he was an American sex symbol.

He’d just fucked your brains out.

And now, he was staring at you with admiration, laid on his side, in the same bed he’d just railed you in. “You feelin’ okay?” He murmured, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.” You rolled over to face him, a jolt of discomfort and pain in your hips and thighs. You might have to hold back on… doing anything for the next few days, however. “You didn’t break anything.” You joked, soft and breathy.

He chuckled quietly, hand sliding around your waist and dragging you closer to him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He whispered, uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

“To fuck me senseless?”

He smirked. “Mm, I have dreamt of that.” Your eyes narrowed in mild disgust at the image of him having wet dreams about you, swatting his chest. He grinned and caught your hand. “No… I meant how long I’ve waited to have you. You’re fuckin’ perfect. Not just your body. Everything about you is so sexy.”

Your brows furrowed, squeezing his hand, and then worming your fingers out of his. “What do you mean?” You asked softly.

He seemed to struggle for a moment. He wet his tongue with his lips, making your body tingle again. Jesus. “Let’s get dinner.”

What.

“Me and you.” Ben smiled, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch. “Real fancy. I’ll pay.” Was he… asking you on a date right now? The Soldier Boy, asking you on a date? Instead of fucking you and tossing you out?

“You’re serious?” You asked softly, surprised. When he nodded, you grinned, biting your lip to contain it. “Okay, Ben. Let’s get dinner.”

His eyes lit up. Ducking his head down, his lips touched yours, gentle and affectionate. His kiss spoke so many words; his hands gently cradling your body, as he kissed you like you were made of glass. The touch was intimate and loving, widely different to the one he’d used when he’d been on top of you.

No, this was completely different. This was him being vulnerable. This was him showing you just how he felt, without the words.

He smiled against your lips and pulled back, just enough to speak, but his words were still brushing yours. “Yeah?” He whispered, in response to your agreement.

“Yeah.” You stared at him with big eyes.

He grinned, almost boyish in its nature. He stared at you in adoration, seeming to be collecting the words on the tip of his tongue.

You giggled under his stare. You sat up, pulling him with you, grabbing the blanket that he had draped over his headboard. It was fluffy and warm, and smelt like his cologne, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap it around your shoulders, cocooning yourself.

If possible, his gaze softened even more. “You’re adorable.”

Quietly, you laughed. “You sure you wanna do this, Ben?” You stared back at him. Ben was nothing if not a womaniser. Settling down was nothing like him. “Get serious with me, I mean.”

“You’re the only one I’d ever want to.”

Your brows pulled together, confused. “Why?”

Ben soothed a hand through your hair, green eyes drinking in the perfections and imperfections on your face. “You’re the only one I trust.” His voice was gravelly, still heavy with the effects of your recent endeavours. His hand travelled through your hair, and then came down to cup your cheek.

Wrapped up in his fluffy blanket, your head rested on the wooden headboard. “I trust you, too.” You whispered, tilting your head into his palm. His skin was rough, painted with callouses and scars. Every scar on his body had a story. And you’d spend the rest of your life learning every single one.

Despite himself, he smiled at you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “I’d kill for you. You know that?” His words made you shiver. Ben killing people wasn’t exactly new… or surprising. But doing it for you? God, it made your stomach heat up — and other parts. “These assholes don’t hold a candle to you, doll. Countess? That whore is— is repulsive compared to you.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Ben.” You scolded quietly, though not with an ounce of anger.

The supe just smirked, chuckling deep in his throat. “You want me to drop that bullshit PR relationship I have with her? I’ll do it. In a fucking heartbeat. I’ll be with you, publicly, if you want me.”

“You’d ruin your reputation for me?” Now that — that meant something. Ben could say anything and everything; he was a master manipulator. He could get anything he wanted with that smile and his suave words. But, if there was one thing he would always prioritise, it was his reputation. He’d do anything to be the alpha male. Anything.

“I’d do anything for you.” He grabbed your hand within his much larger one, guiding it to his chest. He pressed your palm over his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. “I’ll do anything for you, to be with you.” You felt the steady rhythm of his heart. He wasn’t lying. That, or he was a great fucking liar. “I’m never leaving your side. I’m yours.”

Your eyes searched deep within his. “Always?”

Ben smiled. “Always.” He leant forward, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

Three months later, Soldier Boy died in a nuclear meltdown.

A/N: jesus christ this took me so long to write 😭 but i’m so happy with how this first chap turned out. it’s gonna get so much more fun to write we get to the action 👀 pls lmk if there’s any mistakes, as i will go back n fix them !!! hope you enjoyed <3

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TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity

[iamjellyfish]

✦ Fragments of Her Existence ✦

✦ A/n: uh, angst, angst that is based on Madoka Magica. Yeh. Anyways, tumble, pls don't do me dirty and actually show everyone my posts!

✦Summary: In a losing battle with the Kaiju, to save Hoshina, you sacrifice yourself and vanish from the world. Nobody, nothing other than Hoshina, remembers you, and clings to the last piece of memories about you. 

✦Warning: angst, probably OOC, the reason you vanish is still a mystery, hurt, no comfort, hahaha. Anyway, you did off yourself to protect Soshiro:3

✦Wordcount: 3116

Bang... Bang... Bang... 

Soshiro found himself lying in a puddle of blood, from a fatal injury he got a few minutes ago while fighting the daikaiju. A lot of his bone was broken, his vision was blurry, and all he could hear now was gunshots from you, he couldn’t even feel pain right now, the agony from the situation overridden it. 

Supposedly, there was no data, no detection of a daikaiju; they were completely taken by surprise when the daikaiju suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started attacking. Worse of all, the signals were affected by the monster, and he can only whisper helplessly into the comm while you are still fighting. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

You quickly patch him up just enough for blood to not spill out more and head straight back into battle. The smell of iron and the heavy atmosphere on the battlefield did affect your will to fight. It's like a losing battle, and you are just hopelessly trying to drag things out with little hope that someone will come. 

It was dark, it was cold, it was miserable. Purely miserable.

It's like all your attacks bear no damage to the daikaiju, and you were a platoon leader. It's like you, an ant, struggling against a stronger, more powerful being that you barely hold yourself together to fight. 

Soshiro knows this, knows that you might not be able to hold much longer; he has been praying, begging for someone... Just someone on the other side of the comm to be able to call for help. But he only heard the glitches of the comm, yet he was still trying even if his brain was telling him that there was no hope. 

Bam. 

You got kicked into the nearby wall again; this time, you could hear your bone cracking. Your suit soon overheats, your face is bloodied, and all you can taste is the bitterness and iron of blood. Yet you still keep standing up, simply because Soshiro can't no longer fight and you were their last hope. 

"Soshiro... I'm sorry I might not make it, I'm sorry I might have to break our promises. I wanted to live in a normal world with you. To be able to wear a wedding dress and stand you, exchanging vows...! "

You said as you walked toward the daikaiju, a grenade in your hand, the other hand clicking the gun only to see there is no ammo left. Your voice weakly rings, your throat hurts, and your eyes fill with tears. You were crying; you cried because you knew you might never get to marry Soshiro, your fiancé. 

As you said, Soshiro tried his best to look at you through blood and tears. He held his hand out, signaling for you to don't do it. Soshiro used all his might to yell out for you, but all that came out from his bloodied throat were weak sounds calling for you. Yet it's not enough for you to give up. 

"But I have to continue to fight! Because you're behind me, I wanted you to live because you love blades right? You still have dreams to chase, and I only have you as my will to live. So then, Soshiro, please live happily. For I can't imagine myself living in a world where you can't continue chasing your dreams."

You smile as you hold the daikaiju down with all your strength left and pull the safety pin. As light overflows and starts to devour you with its destruction, you smile at him, at Soshiro. Then everything went blur; he didn't know how long he had been in a coma but he knew it was long enough for everyone to worry. 

"Huh... What happened? How long did I-"

Soshiro said as he looked around, the white wall, the white sheet, the bandages,... Yep, he is in the hospital. Soshiro starts regaining his vision, his eyes no longer get blocked by blood, and his throat no longer tastes bitter. When he wakes up, the rookie from the third division starts swarming him with tears in their eyes and worries in their voices. 

"Vice-captain...! We thought you were going to die! The daikaiju sudden attack- and the comm was cut off...! -"

"Where is y/n? Is she okay?"

He suddenly spoke as he looked at his broken arm and bruises on his fingers. Something inside his heart felt a strange unease. He looked around to find the sight of you, to find your lovely eyes and sweet voice, but you were nowhere to be found; all there was in this hospital room was coldness. The rookie looks at him, confused; they whisper to each other about this 'y/n' he is talking about, but none of them recognizes the name. In fact, per investigation, Soshiro is the only one there at the scene. Then, in the crowd, Kafka finally spoke up with worry in his voice. 

"Who is y/n? Is there someone else with you back then? When they found you, you were alone with no sign of daikaiju or even another human being." 

Soshiro's eyes widened as he heard Kafka's voice. How could they forget you? You were their idol! You were the one who begged for their punishment to be lessened at times; you were their beloved platoon leader! You were a sweet angel who would be caring and helpful when they needed you. How could they forget you? To the point, where no one can recognize the name? This is strange. 

Soshiro wants to yell at them, give them push-ups and laps to run, so that you may jump out with flowers and tell them to chill out, kiss him, and ask for forgiveness from the rookies. But when Soshiro looks at them with angry eyes and harshness in his voice, he further confuses everyone.

"Really? Is this some kind of prank? Y/n is your beloved platoon leader! First of all, pranking your superior is an act deserving of harsh punishment. Second of all, Y/n's heart would break if she knew this is how you are treating her!"

Soshiro said as he reached out for his phone, looking for your picture so that he could show the rookies your beautiful face, cute smile, and lovely eyes. Yet, when he put in his password, your image was nowhere to be found, and Soshiro swore he was the type to take pictures of you every moment he could. But there was nothing. 

He starts to think that someone has sneaked in to erase those images from him but it isn’t possible considering the fact that he has a rather difficult passcode to remember and the only other person that knows his passcode is you, the love of his life. Are you joining them in this prank too? If so you better recover his beloved pictures of you, because he cherishes every single image he has of you. So when he was about to lash out again because everyone was silent, just pure silent with awkwardness on their face, dumbfounded. Mina finally goes into the room with a bag of oranges and a phone on the other hand.

“Chill out Hoshina. Shinomiya texted me what happened, who is this y/n that making you yell at the rookies for?”

Soshiro finally sigh and mumble a little “sorry” to them. Then he looks into their eyes and starts to revise what happened that night, the despair night, the night he has to look at you sacrificing yourself for his sake. He hopes that his story will somehow shake out their memories and finally tell him your whereabouts. So with sadness coated in every word of his, he finally tells them the story.

“Y/n is my fiancé, the love of my life. That night, we were together, since the mission ended early, we thought we should sneak somewhere nearby and kiss. But then, out of nowhere, our comm glitches and we can’t contact the operation team. Turn out, a powerful daikaiju appeared and we were fighting a losing battle. She was fighting hopelessly while I was injured and trying to fix the comm, then she decided to use a grenade and sacrifice her life so that I could live.”

The sob story makes everyone once again fall silent, yet Kafka with no filter as he is deciding to whisper to Shinomiya. “Huh, didn’t know the vice-captain has a fiancé.” “Shut up, this is not the right time to question that!” Shinomiya punches his arm quietly. But Soshiro still hears that, which is more strange, since he was openly talking about his relationship to everyone yet somehow Kafka didn’t know. But then he looks back at Mina and her expression tells him that nobody knows, which makes everything even more strange. She looks at him with grief and hands him an orange while talking.

“Sorry to hear that about your fiancé. But… we couldn’t find her body, she might have burned to ashes. The stranger thing is, I never recall us having a platoon leader named ‘y/n’, and this is not a joint operation so either she has to sneak in or she never existed from the start.”

Her words sting, it’s like a knife that stabbed through his heart and doubts were the blood that bleed out. No way this is real, you were never real? Don’t play a cruel joke on him! He was there with you the whole night, he watched you falling, hurting, and still picking yourself up to fight. This is a very cruel, sick nightmare that makes him think this is an illusion from the daikaiju to make him despair and kill him. If so, it successfully makes him fall into a spiral of despair, yearning for your told, for a validation that you do exist. His hand holds onto the orange tight and crushes it, then he looks back to everyone with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, I need time alone. Can everyone leave?”

Even if some of the rookies didn’t want to leave, Mina’s cold stare was enough for them to change their minds. Before Mina leaves, she silently looks at Soshiro as he looks through his phone, wanting to find even the smallest trace of you. She was worried but she couldn’t press him for more information when he had just woken up from a coma.

Soshiro on the other hand, texted you and begged you to reply. His fear is creeping on him, a cold feeling tracing down his spine as he texts your account not realizing the line “this user does not exist”. Soshiro could feel his heart wrenching, his eyes were hazy looking at the ‘sent’ line, waiting for it to change into ‘seen’. He’d rather die by your side than live without you, is this some cruel punishment that you gave him? Now he starts to think that to be dead holding your hand is a more heavenly option than to live knowing he the last person remembers you exist. Why did you have to sacrifice yourself? Wouldn’t dying together be better? He would rather have that ending to his life. He wouldn’t mind holding you close as the inevitable death consumes you both, even if you both turn into kaiju, he would be fine to be killed with you.

Sometimes when Soshiro thinks about it, he wants to bury you in the same coffin as you, he wants to be able to hold you, to cuddle you, to give you kisses even in his death, he will hold you so tight that no one could separate you from him. Yet now, even your existence is considered fiction, a mere illusion that was created when he is near death. He couldn’t hold you, couldn’t pamper you with love, couldn’t even prove that you exist. Soshiro wonder if you traded your existence for him to be alive, for him to chase his dreams because if that was so, he wanted a refund.

But then again, he was afraid at the thought the whole thing, the whole relationship, you were merely imagination. So Soshiro takes out a pen and a notebook, writing every loving memory of you and him, he writes everything about you, he writes as if there is no tomorrow. Because he is afraid of slipping you away.

“Summer afternoon, she let me lay on her lap as I told her about my day. Her eyes were so lovely as she listened to me, the golden light of the sun reflecting on her skin made her so dreamy. I remember she likes chilling in weather like this, it makes her sleepy.”

He recalls as he writes, he thinks about drawing you, then his hand moving unconsciously. That might do it, a drawing that fairly resembles you, he could show Ashiro this and hope that she could help him find you. He writes out your hobbies, your favorite tea that he doesn’t understand about what’s so special about a tea that is purple with lemon, now think of it, if you were to return, he would buy you that tea every day. He also writes out which food you like and how you dislike certain types of food, he makes sure everything about you is written in great detail. Before Soshiro realizes it, in one night, he already fills all the paper in that 200-page notebook with details, drawings, and other stuff of you. Even every single interaction with you is written.

Then, he is afraid that he will forget your voice since voice is the first thing you will forget about someone. Soshiro spent the rest of his night recalling your voice, playing it like it’s a Spotify playlist to him, repeating again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and…

Drifting off to sleep with your voice still ringing in his mind, he feels like sleeping that night was so peaceful, a harmony created from your voice and sweet memories of you. Soshiro recalls that night when you vanished again, if what you want is a peaceful world where you can be a normal girl who wears a wedding dress and stands at the altar, then he will fight for a world with that ideal. He finds himself deciding that he will cherish your existence, your love with him will be buried in his heart even if it is painful to hold, Soshiro would cling to it with all his might because that’s the last thing you gave to him. The memories of your existence.

After recovering and getting discharged from the hospital, no matter how much the rookie press or Ashiro asked about you, he would brush it off to be ‘his late lover whom he will meet again in the afterlife’. To be truth, he was silently hoping that death would come his way quicker, he couldn’t bear living without you Soshiro might never date again with the reason ‘Y/n will be mad at me for looking at another girl’. Now, his coping mechanism is his blades which he will swing with all his might, you disappear for him to continue using blades so he will use them more, and train with them more.

And also because when he train using his blade, he could feel your ghost cheering him on “Keep on the good work Soshiro” and he will nod smiling. And if he overworks himself, he could see the shadow of you pouting and rambling about how it’s unhealthy to be exhausting himself too much just for training. Soshiro spent his days fighting with you on his mind, the love you give him in his heart and his blade-wielding your wishes. The image of a girl whom he loves, you whom he misses is what keeps him fighting, even if the world forgets you, Soshiro would still keep you alive in his mind, his world, his reality.

But there are also times when his heart aches at the thought of not being with you, it yearns for your touches, your warmth again but you are nowhere to be found, where his tears turn into a river of hopelessness waiting for somehow, the world would prove to him you exist, to show him the path to once again get to sit next to you, to hold you and kiss you on the lips. Sometimes Soshiro comes home, calling out to you, yet there is no response, he touches the blanket and reminds himself of the sight of you sleeping peacefully.

They could call this delusional but to Soshiro, this is a bitter dream that was paid with your existence. And one day, Soshiro himself would drift into the land of death, where you would once again put his head on your lap, whispering sweet words “You did good, Soshiro”, welcoming him to stay by your side for eternity. But for now, Soshiro will fight for the ideal world of yours, he will swing his blades because you trade your everything for his happiness.

You were his savior, the love of his life, the princess who held his heart hostage, and his soon-to-be wife.

“You know Hoshina, even if everything that you write is true, and that drawing was ‘y/n’. There is still no way of proving her existence, even if you write those great details… those events never happened or were altered. But I admit, she is beautiful.”

Mina said as she stood with Soshiro on the rooftop after another mission watching while the Monster Sweeper company cleaned up the dead body of Kaiju. Soshiro simply hums in agreement, after all, you are really beautiful. Soshiro lies through his teeth while smiling then waving off as he walks home.

“It’s fine, even if I’m the only one that remembers her, that means she entrusts me. One day I will return by her side and we will watch the sunset together.”

Even if it’s not fine by Soshiro, even your silent sacrifice was something Soshiro wanted to share, he will wait patiently for the day you come and hold him again as he and you drift off to the other side where there are only the two of you. He loves you and by asking you to be his fiancé, he has decided that his fate, his heart, and his soul will forever belong to you even if you no longer exist in this world.

Thank you for reading:D

[niki-phoria]

I had an epiphany 🧐 maybe a gn reader x chishiya based on the song "won't say I'm in love" from hercules? I'm craving for stupid chishiya not realizing he has feelings for reader djdmdm

at least out loud / i won't say i'm in love

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 959

includes: canon typical violence, mostly canon compliant, kinda ooc chishiya

a/n: thank you for requesting !! this loosely inspired by this prompt list by @dumplingsjinson

summary: chishiya is cold. calculating. he doesn't let emotion cloud his judgement or get in his way. so why does he feel like this around you?

chishiya’s heart is racing. he’s never felt like this before. each beat sends a sickening, suffocating feeling throughout his chest.

his mind races. his grip is tight around your forearm as he pulls your body towards the center of the car and further away from the danger. you cower behind the vehicle as the king of spades fires another round of bullets in your direction. chishiya curses. in a life or death situation, your body has instinctively done the worst thing it could - freeze.

“y/n,” he calls when the gunfire ceases for a second. you force yourself to look up, only relaxing slightly when his dark eyes meet your own terrified gaze. chishiya frowns. he wants to magically take you away from this situation. he wants to wrap himself around you and protect you from the games and the king and the players - even at the expense of his own health. he wants to keep you safe. “we need to keep moving. come on.”

you swallow your fear, sparing a quick glance behind you before you nod in agreement. chishiya relaxes his grip around your arm before he takes your hand into his own. he pauses when you intertwine your fingers with his - a familiar, foreign feeling overtaking him for a second before he quickly brushes it off.

“chishiya!” kuina’s voice cuts through the chaos. she’s a few cars away from you; her own back is pressed against a car for shelter. “y/n!”

behind her, you can just barely make out the bright yellow top usagi wears. arisu kneels beside her, occasionally popping up from behind the hood of the car - presumably to check if the king is still there. you’ve pushed yourself up onto your feet when chishiya glances at you again. a silent question passes between you: are you ready?

your hand doesn’t leave chishiya’s - even when you both successfully make it to the relative safety of kuina’s car. he ignores her questioning glance at your interwoven fingers. the sound of screeching tires prevents any potential teasing before a car door swings open. “get in!” ann yells.

usagi is the first one in, quickly followed by kuina and arisu. chishiya freezes when he notices the sound of a piece of metal hitting the ground and rolling towards you. 

“that’s not good,” he mumbles. your questions are cut off as he pulls you away from the bomb and helping you take shelter behind the remains of a wall. “get going!”

“chishiya! y/n!” kuina yells through the open window before the car begins speeding off again. he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head against his chest as you both brace for the impact of the grenade going off. 

it explodes in a beautiful spectacle of concrete. the ground shakes beneath your feet. asphalt rains down on you - scratching small cuts into your skin and tangling into your hair. your ears ring. your hands tremble.

“y/n!” chishiya’s voice breaks you out of your trance. you blink at him once. twice. times. “are you okay?” 

his voice is so soft you’d almost mistaken it for nervousness - though you know better. his hands feel warm against your skin. his arms are still wrapped around your waist. your own arms are still wrapped around his shoulders. there’s an almost invisible tint coating his cheeks.

“yeah,” you nod. “yeah, i’m okay. are you?”

he simply nods in response. chishiya scans the area for a second before his gaze lands on a nearby building. it looks like an average convenience store: posters hang in the glass windows, shelves line the stores filled with a variety of different food and makeup and over the counter medication, and a small cashier’s counter is just barely visible from its place tucked away in the corner. 

“come on,” he says, gesturing towards the shop. he can feel his face burning when he unconsciously wraps his arm around your waist to support you. “we can hide in there.”

a sad ding leaves the bell above as you enter the store. the feeling in his chest returns when he helps you sit down on the ground, leaning back against the wall for support. he freezes when you reach up, gently pulling him down until he’s close enough for you to press a fleeting kiss against his cheek. 

“thank you, ‘shiya,” you smile. 

it feels like his breath has been stolen from his lungs. he wants to kiss you. he wants to pull you into his arms and never let go. he wants more.

it terrifies him - more than the king of spades; more than the other players; more than the games. but it’s exhilarating.

chishiya feels like he’s in a daze. like something is pulling him towards you. he leans in until there are mere centimeters between you. 

“can i kiss you?” he finally murmurs.

you don’t respond. instead, you follow his lead, leaning in to gently press your lips against his own. it’s softer than chishiya was expecting - almost nervous as you pull back only a few seconds later. his eyes flutter open for just a second to gauge your reaction before he leans in again. 

his lips are surprisingly soft when he presses them against yours. this time the kiss is deeper. more passionate. like you can’t get enough of each other. like you never will.

chishiya is panting softly by the time he pulls away. he allows himself to be vulnerable; lets himself feel affection for what feels like the first time ever. 

resting your forehead against his, you reach up to tuck a stray strand of hair out of his face. looking into your eyes, brushing his thumb against stray dirt sticking to your cheeks, he smiles. 

chishiya’s heart is racing.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my aib masterlist <3

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Can I ask "If you weren't alone" with Dazai, Kunikida and Atsushi? I give my thanks first!

If you were not alone

Part VIII

Characters: Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu, Self-Aware! Kunikida Doppo, Self-Aware! Atsushi Nakajima

Reader: GN! Adult! Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

📒🐯🪢🦀 It was supposed to be a normal shopping trip. How in the world you, Kunikida, Dazai and Atsushi ended at the base of Mt. Yougou, not far away from Kamisato's Estate?

No, rephrase that. How in the world you ended up in Teyvat?

Before you can discuss, what happened and what to do next, you four heard a booming voice.

"HEY, SHINOBU, LOOK, ALL-CREATOR DECIDED TO VISIT INAZUMA! LET'S GO AND SAY HELLO!"

A familiar oni was running towards you, almost dragging his deputy leader behind him. Ushi wiggled behind them.

Tall oni stopped before you, bowing.

"Greetings, Your Holiness, cool to see you in Inazuma!"

You opened and closed your mouth, not knowing what to say. Was Itto talking to you? Itto looked at you, waiting for your answer. You coughed.

"Um... Thanks for the warm welcome, Itto. How is your Gang doing?"

You have a feeling, that you messed up, despite seeing a huge grin on Itto's face.

Then you caught Shinobu's gaze. She was observing you. An unreadable expression was ob her face. She spoke, facing Itto.

"Boss, why not to prepare lavender melons to Their Holiness and their guards, while I updated them on Gang's businesses?"

Itto's grin became even bigger, and oni, after grabbing Ushi, hurried up to the distance in search for lavender melons.

When Itto get out of sight, Shinobu's gaze became serious again.

"Okay, with Boss out of earshot... Confess, you four, who are you? Creator... didn't care about Boss and our gang."

You, Atsushi, Kunikida and Dazai, after some whispering, decided not to lie.

At the end of your story, Shinobu looked concerned.

"I... I don't know if you believe me... But you four are in big danger."

📒🐯🪢🦀 It Shinobu quite some time to explain the situation to you. Mostly because Itto returned quite quickly and your little group had a small lunch. At the end of it, Atsushi and Dazai because Bro Atsushi and Bro Dazai, and Kunikida and Shinobu get a headache over three lovable idiots.

After lunch, Shinobu managed to send Itto on an onikabuto hunt ("Creator need a perfect onikabuto familiar for them. Boss, you can find the best one for them.")

And Shinobu continue her tale. About Creator and "sinners cleaning rituals". And about the danger you four were in.

Shinobu said, that you four have few days, before wanted posters will be up.

📒🐯🪢🦀 You stay with the Arataki Gang for tonight. And, while you, Atsushi and Kunikida were sleeping, Dazai was planning. He, with Shinobu help for getting "trivia information", was trying to find a way to protect you all.

You woke up early in the morning, say goodbye to Arataki Gang and hurry to Ritou Island.

Luck was on your side, and you four get on a ship to Liyue.

You were far away from Inazuma, when Ei's lightning storms rise again.

📒 Problems started in Liyue. Mililith solders were patrolling The Harbor and looking through every ship. Kunikida prepared flash grenades and dark glasses in advance. You will only have one chance.

In a "storm" of flashing lights, you, Kunikida and Atsushi with sunglasses on and Dazai with a blindfold on escaped from Liyue Harbor.

Kunikida didn't tell you about the gun he created in case of the situation going bad.

🐯 In Sumeru you get very strange protection. Rishboland Tigers, for some reason, loved Atsushi and followed his every command. When Corps of Thirty chased after you, rishboland tigers, with half-transformed Atsushi as their leader, chased them away.

One of the tigers was the one, who found aranaras and called you.

And they were quite happy to see you.

"World Nara are finally here!"

Same day, you four met Nahida.

Dendro Archon explained more about the whole situation. And provided you four with three choices.

1. You can stay in Sumeru and wait for Alice, your only hope to get to the real world, visit this nation again.

2. Hurry to Natlan, where Alice was traveling to.

3. Go to Mondstadt and wait for Alice's arrival. She should be there on Klee's birthday.

You can only choose one. You won't be able to travel from Natlan to Mondstadt in time, and, staying for so long in Sumeru, despite Nahida's assistance, can be dangerous.

📒🐯🦀🪢 A one discussion later, you four decided to go to Mondstadt. And Nahida even find a way for you to safe travel.

With Dehya and Dunyarzad starting rumors about Imposter going to Natlan, Keveh and Alhaitham (who needed to do some job for dendro archon in Mondstadt and get gifts for Creator to the Ivory Throne) will secretly get you four to Mondstadt.

After a tearful goodbye to Nahida and Aranaras, you left Sumeru.

🦀🪢 During the short trip to Mondstadt, you, Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi, Alhaitham and Kaveh became good friends. And, you discovered, that Teyvat started to listen to your small commands.

(You didn't know, that Nahida and Aranaras were praying to you, making your powers stronger).

After you get to Mondstadt, a waiting game started. You four, with a help of Albedo, who run into you four one day, managed to stay hidden from the Knights of Favonius.

Dazai also brought Primordial Albedo to your camp one day. You didn't know where he found him, or why he decided to bring him to you, but... Now you have your own alchemist.

and you thought, it was Oda's job to took in orphans

And you all became good friends with Klee.

📒🐯🦀🪢You managed to safely stay in Mondstadt, until Alice's arrival. You four got presents from Alice, a thank you for being friends of Klee, and Alice finally got you five (Dazai demand for Prim to go with you) at the Real World. But, before that, she spoke to you.

"Your Holiness... [Y/N]... Monster on the throne... It will destroy Teyvat one day. Please, if you can... Send us help to dethrone them."

You promised to think about it. She asked you to provide your powers for her to transport you five.

_________

🐾 Fukuzawa was worried. Three of his detectives and you were missing. And search parties came back with no results.

Until one day, you four appeared from the portal in the barn (portal remains) with a strange new guy and dags full of fruits. And... Is it planers on your backs?

🐾 Explanation is in order. And then, more planning to come. You have people in Teyvat to help to.

_________

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu

[froggibus]

omg what abt valorant sova/chamber watching their s/o get killed by their mirror counterparts 🤭🤭

The Wrong Reflection - ft Cypher, Chamber, Sova & Phoenix

Includes: Cypher, Chamber, Sova and Phoenix

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: you encounter your boyfriend's mirror counterpart and realize all too late what's about to happen, and all he can do is watch

CW: violence, major character death, stabbing, shooting, degrading?, lots of angst, major injuries, near death experience, resurrection, hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end?, fainting

so this isn't *quite* what you asked for but i really loved this idea and wanted to make it a little less angsty so here we are lol...also this is my first time writing about Sova, Chamber & Phoenix so if they're a little OOC or there's timeline issues thats why

————

Cypher:

Though everyone at Valorant had been warned about the evil doppelgangers that seemed to look and sound exactly like your closest comrades, hearing about it just wasn’t the same as seeing it. No matter how many times the other agents testified to you that it was the truth and swore up and down that there were “two Phoenix’s”, you just couldn’t wrap your head around it.

Until now, of course. Sent on a mission with Cypher and Jett, separated when a grenade went off and forced to hide in an alleyway until the smoke cleared, you didn’t think the day could get much worse. Then you saw your boyfriend’s hat through the smoke and went to pursue him, only for him to spin around and shove a dagger just below your ribs.

You flinch and lurch forward, just barely able to catch yourself before going toppling over. He yanks the dagger from your side, and just as you’re about to ask ‘why’, blood bubbles over your lips. You blink a few times, head spinning from both the pain and blood loss. 

Why would he…

And then you remember. You remember the warnings from Brimstone and the stories from Phoenix. This wasn’t your boyfriend at all. This must have been the mirror counterpart they told you about. 

Worst yet, your real boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you’re losing blood fast. It’ll be a miracle if you can even crawl, let alone fight. 

Somehow, you manage to get to your knees and pull out the small pistol you had tucked into your waistband. You brandish the weapon threateningly, swinging it around in a warning. The doppelganger doesn’t seem to care, though. 

You squeeze the trigger.

Cypher is frantic. He’s tearing through the streets, desperately searching for you. He didn’t want to be separated, but there was no other choice. The camera he had placed where you had first been was shrouded in smoke, smoke that was clearing way too slowly for his taste.

How long has it been since your comms went dead? Five minutes? Ten? He shakes his head. He can’t worry about that now. You have to be okay. You can’t die on him now.

He checks his camera one more time, leaning his back on a brick wall in a futile attempt to catch his breath. When the familiar screen loads, he’s relieved to see the smoke finally cleared enough to grant him sights on the streets below. 

The relief lasts only a second.

You’re on your knees, blood pooling down your side and forming a dark puddle on the scorched pavement. And standing in front of you is him. His heart sinks. He doesn’t need audio to know what must have happened. You must have mistaken the counterpart for him, and paid the cost.

Not you, he thinks. Anyone but you. Before he knows it, he’s tearing away from the wall, sprinting as fast as his legs can carry him back to where you were. He’s only seconds away, but he doesn’t even know if he’ll make it in time. He turns the corner just in time to hear the gunshot.

He flinches, heels skidding to a halt. You collapse to the ground face first in a pool of your own blood. His doppelganger is nowhere to be seen. His heart is racing so fast it's painful. Everything seems surreal. This can’t be happening, not to him, not again. 

His only solace is the slight twitch of your body, a miniscule sign of life.

He rushes forwards, dropping onto the pavement and sliding to you. He ignores the burning in his knees, the strain on his lungs. All he cares about is your collapsed form on the ground.

He flips you over, examining every inch of your body. He squints. There’s no bullet wounds, no signs of being shot. There’s only a gash just below your ribs, and that's clearly the source of the blood.

But hadn’t he heard a gunshot?

He looks at the small pistol laying on the ground next to you, the barrel still warm. There’s a bullet hole in the wall in front of you, and he almost sobs in relief. You didn’t get shot. You shot back.

He squeezes your body to his, so happy he almost forgets you’re bleeding out. It’s only when he feels your warm blood staining his clothes and hands that he remembers. 

“I’ve got you, little one,” he murmurs, scooping you up into his arms. “I promise.”

You’re not going to die on him today, he thinks. You’re coming back to him, no matter what.

—

You wake up in your own bed. It takes you a while to realize where you are, your eyes barely able to focus and your head pounding. You inch your way towards sitting up, your side burning the whole time.

What happened? You blink, trying to force yourself into remembering. You had been on a mission, right? With Amir.

Oh, you realize, memories coming back. He was there, but so was his mirror counterpart. And he had stabbed you. That’s why your side hurts. 

Still, it doesn’t explain how you got back, or how you’re even alive.

The door bursts open, and Cypher is standing there panting. “Y-you’re awake!” 

You’re beyond asking how he knows, assuming he put a camera in your room the minute you got back. You just nod, taking in his disheveled state.

“I was so worried,” he closes the door softly, coming down to sit in front of you. “You were…you almost—” he sighs “—are you sore? Can I hold you?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice so hoarse you barely recognize it.

He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his head into your shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he mumbles into your neck, hot breath fanning over your shoulder, “please. I can’t lose you.”

Chamber:

Chamber had never once been worried about his counterpart. After all, they shared a common goal, and he assumed his counterpart had the same soft spot for you that he did.

He assumed wrong.

It was a month ago when you went on a mission together. A month since you followed the wrong Vincent, and a month since he almost killed you. Had your real boyfriend not been there, you would be toast by now. 

That incident was almost enough to make him reconsider his partnership with his mirror self. Almost. Still, he swore if he ended up in that situation again, he would protect you. That wannabe wouldn’t lay his damn hands on you again.

Now, stepping off the jet with him, you’re not worried. You know better now, and you and Chamber had also come up with a codeword only he would know to distinguish the two.

“Just stay by my side, okay?” He cautions, overprotective as always, “if we stick together, he won’t get the chance.”

You nod, letting him lead you across the abandoned pier. You duck behind storage boxes and abandoned machinery, Vincent trying to find the place where they’re going to plant the bomb. 

There’s a slight clicking behind you, ever so slight, like the scraping of footsteps on gravel. You turn your head for a second, see nothing, and turn back to see your boyfriend staring at you.

“What is it?” You ask, “did you find it?”

He shakes his head, “we already passed it. We have to go back a ways.” You nod in agreement, letting him lead the way. He leads you back the way you came, around a corner and to a deserted place in the docks. The surface is incredibly damp and uneven. You can’t see how they could ever plant a bomb here.

“Are you sure? It looks—”

You’re cut off by him pulling out his pistol and shooting you through the shoulder. The force of the shot is enough to knock you onto your ass, the pressure from the bullet making you scream in pain.

No, you think. This can’t be. You took your eyes off of him for one second, not even. How had he replaced your Chamber? How did your Chamber not notice you missing or—had he done something to him? “How?” You wheeze, applying pressure to your shoulder.

A smirk finds its way to his face.

—

Chamber expects you to be behind him when he runs from the storage box you’re currently behind to another. He’s so sure you’re going to follow him that he doesn’t even turn around. He’s so focused on finding where they’re going to plant that he doesn’t even realize your body heat isn’t behind him. 

To him, nothing seems wrong until he hears the sound of a gun go off. Not just any gun, his pistol. He whips around, expecting you to be there. His heart drops when you’re not. 

How had he tricked you? Did you run off? He shakes his head. You weren’t stupid, he was just too smart for his own good. But if he’s hurt you or worse, Chamber can only imagine the ways he’ll torture his mirror self.

He sprints back to where you were before, desperately looking for any evidence of you or where you could have gone. He tries to think like himself, tries to think of what he would do if he was trying to lure you to an early grave.

But he can’t. He would never hurt you, he would never think to even try. Time is running out, he knows it. If you’re not already dead, you will be in seconds. He slams his fist against the steel of the crate, the pounding echoing throughout the pier. 

He freezes. An echo. That’s right, for the sound to carry where he was, it had to have echoed off the boxes. So, he just has to follow them and find you, right?

He takes off quick as lightning, climbing the crate and leaping across the tops for a better vantage point.  Come on, y/n, he sighs. You can’t die on him like this. You can’t die because of him. 

He’s done a lot of bad things in his life, but he can’t possibly see what he’s done to deserve this. He can’t possibly see what higher power is cruel enough to take you from him.

He’s going fast, faster than he’s gone in his entire life. All he needs is to reach you, to save you, to do his job as your damn boyfriend and protect you. 

He hears a whimper and skids to a halt. There, just below him. You’re laying on the ground, blood pooling around your head. His other self is crouched above you laughing, dragging his pistol across your body.

He’s taunting you, he realizes.

That’s fine. If he wants to play, Chamber will play. His mirror self doesn’t see him coming, doesn’t see his sniper rifle being pulled out. Chamber takes a deep breath, steadying the scope like he’s done a million other times in his life. 

Just as he takes the shot, so does his doppelganger. The bullet rips through your chest, your body seizing once before going limp. The other bullet tears through the skull of his doppelganger and sends him toppling to the ground. 

Chamber hops down, rushing to your side. The blood is pouring out now, and though he’s seen countless people die, it's different when it's the love of his life. Your face and hair are coated in your blood. He hates the way it gets on his hands and covers his sleeves when he tries to apply pressure to the wound.

Your heart is beating, just barely. His mirror self must have missed but…he shakes the thought away. He needs to focus on you now. You can’t die on him, not now. Still, his own hopes don’t change the way your heart rate is slowing down more and more by the second.

He’s out of time.

—

You wake up in a flash of blue light. You have to blink a few times to focus, but the energy coursing through your veins is so intense it's like your senses have been dialed up to 11. Sage is standing in front of you, looking at you in concern. Her eyes are slightly puffy.

Next to her, his head hanging low, is Chamber. Your eyes shoot wide as you remember what happened, and start to register what's going on. He had killed you. Well, not him, but his other self. You died and—and Sage resurrected you.

The energy starts to leave and your strength wanes. You pitch forwards, expecting to hit the floor, but Chamber catches you before that can happen. He’s holding you gently but securely, strong arms unrelenting. 

“Mon chérie,” he sighs into your hair. “I can’t bear to part with you again.”

Sova:

It’s white as far as you can see across the horizon, snow blotting out everything in your path. You’re already nervous—this is a big mission, after all—but the snow just makes you feel even more uneasy. 

Your boyfriend grabs your shoulder reassuringly. “We get in, we get out.” 

You nod at him but your nerves are still on fire. Brim got wind of someone planning on bombing a safe house, and sent you and Sova to go investigate. 

It made sense why your boyfriend would be sent—he practically breathed cold air—but you? You despised the cold. Yet, they were unrelenting in their decision and no matter how many times your boyfriend assured you that you would be fine, you weren’t convinced. 

“Cover your footsteps,” you remind him. “They’re easier to track in the snow.”

He sighs, “angel, there’s nothing out there to hurt you. I’ll protect you.”

It warms your chest slightly to hear him say those words. Only for a second, though, until you make a wrong step into a snowbank and you’re sent tumbling away from him.

You roll to your feet, covered in snow and glaring. You look up to where you were, but your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. 

“Sova?” You call. 

No answer. 

You turn around. Could he have gone a different way? Or did you fall so far that he’s out of sight?

“Sasha!”

You hear a noise behind you and whip around, drawing your weapon. There’s nothing there. “Sasha, please! I—“

“I’m here.”

You turn around, coming face to face with him. He has his head tilted at you curiously, using one hand to push your weapon down. 

You frown. Something seems off. How did he get down here so fast? And if he was here, why wasn’t he answering your calls? 

“Why didn’t you answer me? I was calling you.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Right…let’s get back up, okay, we need to monitor the situation.”

You start hiking through the knee-deep snow, trying to get back to where you were. You pause about halfway up, though, when you realize you don’t hear footsteps behind you. 

You turn around, about to ask why he isn’t coming up with you. You face him, and just as you do, you hear another voice behind you, Sova’s voice, yell: “y/n look out!” 

It’s too late, though. 

The Sova you’re facing let’s an arrow fly loose and you have no time to dodge. It embeds itself into your chest with a seeing pain, and you fall backwards into the snow. Despite the cold, your whole body feels like it’s on fire now. 

Your breaths are shallow and ragged, your chest barely rising and falling with each one. 

Sova stares horrified, looking between you and his doppelgänger. 

As soon as he saw you fall through the snowbank, he was coming up with a plan to come and save you. To get a better look at his surroundings, he uses his Recon bolt. 

That’s when he sees two figures at the bottom of the snowbank. His blood runs cold (or colder than usual), and he’s sprinting towards you. Just when he can see the top of your head, you turn around. 

He gets closer and that’s when he sees someone that looks exactly like him. He tries to warn you, yelling your name, but all he succeeds in doing is distracting you. 

That’s when the other Sova lets an arrow fly at you. You have no time to move before it’s planting itself in your chest. 

Sova nocks an arrow and lets it fly, but all it does is wound his other self. The other Sova gives a half-hearted salute, and runs away. 

Sova runs to your body, the snow beneath you stained red. He checks your pulse, but there’s nothing there. He’s frantic, desperately pressing his head to your chest to hear your heart beating. 

Maybe it’s the cold. 

Hoping is all he can do. Hoping against all odds that the cold has slowed your pulse down enough to save your life, that that’s the reason you’re not breathing. 

He breaks the arrow, hands shaking when he realizes it’s one of his. He tosses the arrowhead to one side and the shaft to another, before lifting you as gently as he can. 

—

You come to in an infirmary bed. Starch white sheets pulled up over your chest. Your eyes adjust to the light and you see that you’re in the Valorant infirmary. 

You try to sit up but your chest burns and you’re left laying down in the bed. You turn your head to the side, just to see Sova laying there. 

His hair dangles in his face, tickling his nose. You smile softly and push it out of the way. He’s frowning in his sleep and dark circles sit under his eyes. 

You wonder how long it’s been since he slept. It was only in his nature to blame himself for something like this. You could only hope it wouldn’t change anything between the two of you. 

You stroke his head gently, flinching when a hand grabs yours. Sova is half awake now, looking at you through tired eyes. His hand is in yours, thumb rubbing circles over the back of your hand. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say softly. 

“No, no. I’m just—I’m glad you’re alright.”

“How long has it been?” You ask. 

He grabs your other hand in his, his need for contact practically insatiable. “A few days,” he admits. “I was worried you would never wake up…”

“Hey, I’m here,” you give a weak smile, “and I’m alright. But you, you look like hell.”

You slide over in bed as much as you can and pat the spot next to you. “Come rest with me.”

He reluctantly climbs in bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you carefully. He nuzzled his head into your shoulder and kisses it softly. 

The two of you stay like that until he falls asleep. 

Phoenix:

Phoenix was the first to see his doppelgänger—and he would not shut up about it. Night in and night out, he would talk non stop about it. 

“He’s just as cool and as sexy as me—it’s like me, but evil!”

And you would roll your eyes at your boyfriend. “Sure he is, Jamie.”

You never pictured you would come face to face with him, so you never cared too much about your boyfriend’s words. 

Now, on a mission chasing your boyfriend's doppelgänger, you wish you had paid more attention. He really was identical to your Phoenix, and it only made it harder on you. 

You’re pushing yourself hard, harder than ever before, trying your best to catch him. He was faster than you and stronger, and way more agile. It made you wonder just how much he had been holding back on you in training. 

Your Phoenix is nowhere to be seen, too. You split up at the start of the mission and now he wasn’t answering his radio and you had no possible clue where he had gone. 

The Phoenix ahead of you disappears into a building, and despite your unease, you duck through the doorway and follow him. You follow him up the stairs and into a tiny, half-finished room. 

He smirks at you, eyes flickering with flames. “Wow, you really are almost as pretty as my y/n.” 

“It sucks you’re not nearly as hot as my Phoenix.” 

He rolls his eyes at that. You wonder what he’s doing, why he hasn’t attacked yet. Is he waiting for something? You can’t tell. 

You had no time to react when he raises his hands and the whole room erupts into flames. They’re scorching and they take the wood easily. The mirror Phoenix only gives you a half-hearted salute before leaving you to burn. 

You rip off your shirt, using it to cover your face from the smoke. You can’t possibly escape—the windows are barred and the door is blocked by the flames. You’re going to burn to death, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

— 

Phoenix only realizes something is wrong when he sees a building up in flames. His comms broke as soon as he left and he had been searching for you ever since. 

When he sees the building, he just knows what must be going on. It only takes a matter of seconds to get inside the building and tear his way up the stairs to where the flames are beginning to spread. 

He sees you, limp in the corner with a shirt pressed over your face. He runs through the flames, the heat barely tickling his skin, and scoops you up into his arms. You’re alive—barely—but he knows running through the flames with you in his arms might do more damage than good. 

He can’t lose you, and staying here he’ll lose you for sure. He has to take the risk, but for the first time in his life, he hesitates. He would rather burn here with you than lose you. 

You start to come to while Phoenix carries you, coughing up blood and wheezing more than breathing. He rubs your back and tries to reassure you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. 

You’re awake, and that’s a good sign, but you need more medical attention than he can possibly give you in the field. He already called HQ but he has no idea when they’ll be here. 

He settles down on the ground near where the jet will pick you guys up, holding you firmly on his lap. He kisses your forehead, rubs your back and tries to keep you as calm as possible. 

You slump into him, arms lazily wrapped around his shoulders. His touch is reassuring but your skin still feels like it’s on fire and your lungs still ache from the smoke. 

You silently hope you make it through this because you know if you don’t, it’ll tear him apart. 

[diejager]

Gentle Giant

Pairing : König x fem!reader

Cw: blood, gore, murder, injuries, war, FLUFF.

Wc: 3.1k

(A/N) : Its my first try at mw2 fanfic, I'm sorry if he's ooc >~<

Ps. I went with standard german since I can't find a free and functioning austrian german translator.

Calling him a giant didn't do him justice, a goliath within the army giants fit him better. Face hidden under a hood over a balaclava and the skin around his eyes painted black that made his icy blue irises gleam, König was as shrouded in mystery as he was shadowed by thick layers. His sole figure made others move away, parting ways for the behemoth to pass with big strides to match his size.

You've seen it happen too often with bigger or scarier soldiers - Ghost and König being a part of this selection - lower ranked never bothered too much with them, not wanting their ire. You understood them, having met and worked with both KorTac and the 141 before, you felt the difference between you and the men you've worked with.

You being smaller than most men, probably a bit under the average height for a woman your age, knew how menacing having someone towering over you in warfare; but you fought and earned your rank and notoriety.

You watched from afar, laying stomach down and arms propped up to hold your sniper that stood on pegs, observing your teammates through the scope. Your sights zoned in on the squad that moved forward steadily, yet carefully, weapons up and sticking in duos when they split to check corners. They caught on the front lines, the danger being higher than yours, especially on an open-aired ground like this place. KorTac could fall victim to snipers - you made sure to take care of them before you gave them a clear, spotting five gleaming scopes from the dilapidated building you hid in and you took them out, careful not to get caught - grenades, flash bangs, trigger happy newbies or enemy arms.

You watched their back, covering them from any strays advancing from the back of from higher up, you were thorough with your job. People knew you for your 'no man left behind' principle, ensuring everyone came back in one piece or with a few missing, but always alive; you were a sniper people wanted to have covering them, and that's why KorTac placed so much trust in you - aside from the times you joined them.

You heard them talk, about spreading out in teams of two through the radio, half took the front and the other would go through the back, ensuring that they'd trap the target inside.

"Moving in, Owl, " Horangi informed you, eyes forward and leading the front through the back door.

"I'll keep the line open, " you replied, watching as the last of his group entered the building.

Your eyes scoured the windows, watching through them for KorTac operators. You took shots at any armed men you saw running through the door or trying to enter the building. You pulled the bolt back and snapped it after every shot, reloading and searching around you for any enemy before returning to your observation. Gunshots rang in your ear, pained cries from afar, and loud thumps from falling bodies, given a few minutes and they would radio back for exfil with the target. As expected, your prediction of KorTac's skill happened, Stiletto radioed over that they had acquired the target and were moving out.

"Cover us, Owl," König's rumbling voice called out, the monotone timbre in his words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Copy."

"Moving towards exfil."

You watched the men exit from the back, pushing a cuffed and limping man, screaming threats at them, from garnering the ire of his country or thbackupup he called, but the operators ignored his crazed babbles. If the latter really happened, you'd have to be ready. You scoped the area around them and further back, switching to and fro the team and surroundings until they got to the helicopter.

Once you saw them board the aircraft, you jumped to your feet and held your bolt-action sniper across your chest as you watched the helicopter fly your way. The closer it got, the louder the propellers sounded and the harsher the winds became, blowing sand into your eyes, balaclava shielding you from nose to mouth from the grimy taste. Once it lowered itself near the roof, it landed and you boarded, grasping the helping hand of the behemoth. You gave a firm squeeze of gratitude before you slide the door shut and caught the glaring eyes of your target.

"Gute Arbeit, Owl."

Your answer was a swift nod, eyes meeting König's icy blues as he towered over the rest of KorTac and you.

The mission was a success, the target - terrorist - apprehended and the interrogation was left to Laswell. You'd go back to solo missions or join others as their sniper.

***

A few weeks flew by rapidly, you hadn't seen König much between your missions with TF 141, other teams, or solo missions, and the little rest you got when off duty. A part of you wished for a day of rest, but another one reminded you of the threats of straying for too long, work helped get your mind off of unwanted thoughts, and dark and dangerous ground. Working helped you stay preoccupied, leaving only your nightmare to haunt you.

You were heading to the armory, to suit up and meet with Laswell for another mission, with who? She hadn't told you. "Meeting in 15." those were her words, clear and direct. You wore the dark grey vest over your grey hoodie, helmet, and balaclava in hand, and strode to the room after you stocked up with knives, a pistol, ammunition, and your sniper in a well-protected case. You preferred arriving a minute or two before it started, not wanting to be the last nor the first to step into a room and risk the chance of an awkward waiting time with other people you hardly knew.

Fortunately, the moment you reached for the door, a familiar figure opened it, looming over you at the entrance with the palest blues you've ever seen - or admitted you liked.

"König," you greeted softly, walking in when he moved back.

He gave a slow nod, eyes fleeting and jumpy - perhaps his anxiety was acting up, you spoke with him about it once, when you were forced to stay hidden in a safe house while you waited for evac to come. Did he come here right after another mission?

"Owl, good to have you."

"Owl, how copy?" a gruff voice radioed.

Aksel, the sole Norwegian of KorTac, you knew from the rough rasp he had even when you spoke in person. This task hadn't demanded the whole team, having the need of half of the members for it in case it turned bad. Laswell had you join Aksel, König, Roze, Zero, Oni, and Zeus.

"Affirmative, Aksel, " you replied, eyes catching sight of the target's car.

A dark limousine rolled to the side, doors opening as guards in ironed suits walked out, surrounding an ugly-looking man in luxurious clothes worth probably more than your life. You could see him from 2 blocks away through your scope, eyes probed to focus on your target. He was smart, having meat shields around him from all sides, it gave him a chance to survive; if he wasn't put up against you, he's an unlucky son of a bitch. Human trafficking, drugs and weapons dealing, child prostitution, and more, all on the grounds of a country that couldn't do anything about it unless they risked betrayal. That's why they employed PMCs.

"Target in sight. Permission to shoot."

"Permission granted," Watcher, Laswell, told you from the safety of the base in the foreign country.

You were primed for a headshot, eyes narrowed to his disgusting mug. You blinked, took a slow breath, and fired as you exhaled, body jolting slightly from the fire. You kept your sights on him as you pulled back the bolt, snapping back when you saw your target fall, his head blown bloody and body slumping forward.

You felt almost proud about ending him, watching his bodyguards scramble around his corpse for safety, knowing that their boss, the one who paid them, was dead and bleeding from a hole in his head on the floor. Some jumped into the car and sped away, others into the building and some ran for cover behind alleys and buildings.

"Target down, Watcher," you spoke loud and clearly into the mic, letting her know of your success.

***

Your next mission with König, around two weeks after the prior one, hadn't gone as your expected. What you thought would be a regular job - Laswell's intel made it seem casual, recon and infiltration - turned to shit, for you at least.

You'd been deployed ahead to let you settle down and mark your sniper's nest for easier extraction, to get into position and cover for KorTac when they landed and started the infiltration. You spent a good 10 minutes covering the ones on the ground - perhaps a bit too much - after taking down the snipers posted on towers and windows to ensure their success. Your constant cover had led you to a rising problem, the enemy would figure out where your nest was and reinforcement would be called or they would send a squad to take you out. You better on the latter, but didn't know when to move; too early would alert them of your position, and too late would come to bite you in the back. The first one was too risky, the second option seemed a bit better.

You'd taken fewer shots, taking more care of keeping them guessing your position until you absolutely needed to move. You had the line open in case of emergencies, if you were caught you'd need to warn them, and let them know that you couldn't support them. You kept your guard up, eyes through the scope and ears open for any clicks or cracks from feet stepping off the rocky debris you littered around the nest.

It was a good idea on your part, as the bolt snapped, you heard crunching and moved quickly. You stuffed the sniper inside its case and swung it over your shoulder, pistol pulled to defend yourself when your buck met the wall behind the entrance.

"This is Owl, I've been made," you hushed through your mic, eyes strained on the blank opening.

Pistol pressed to your chest, and you waited until the first one walked in, seeing his extended hand before his head appeared. The gun was trained on him the instant his head passed the door, your index pulled the trigger and his head jerked right with an explosion of blood and gore. He keeled over and the following enemies all swarmed in.

It was a rush of adrenaline, you're body moved on habit and your mind was keen on killing and surviving, you kicked behind his knee and jammed a knife down the junction of his neck and shoulder, watching the blood spray over your covered face and hand. You pulled his heavy body against yours, using him as a shield as his brother unloaded his mag into him. When he was out, you shoved him forward, corpse toppling over the living soldier with a pained grunt. Dead bodies were somehow amazing weights if you needed them, it was unexpected and the lax muscles that usually held the body up crashed down. You sent a bullet through his head and watched through calm eyes the blood that soaked the floor.

The fear in his eyes when he saw the gun strained on his head, cold and creeping death that loomed over him at that moment before he saw the barrel. Fear was nothing new in your field, fear for yourself, for someone else, or from someone, fear, and death came together in war, as blood and bullets did.

You pushed the image back, quickly stepping over them with a guarded stature, making your way down to find another place to settle down.

"3 down, probably more on the way, moving west," you informed KorTac, hearing grunts and shots from their end.

"Are you all right, Owl?" asked a worried tone.

König, even in this mess, had time to worry about you, voice low with concern instead of his cold, monotone one when he fought. It was sweet, made your connection to him seem more relevant, deeper, and holding more meaning. It made your heart thrum happily.

"Yes," your reply was short since you were busy.

Moving around bodies and reloading behind the hard, cement wall, you sprung forward and shot down two other soldiers, two tapping them for assurance. The number was amassing, it went from three upstairs, one on your way down, and now four near the exit. The inside felt musky and stank of iron, maybe it was from your balaclava being soaked in someone's blood, but the smell permeated from the room, and you could taste the metal tang.

Your eyes fleeted left and right before making an exit, sprinting to the nearest cover and watching for enemies. You moved every time it felt safe, jumping from cover to cover until you reached a tall building far enough to continue your cover. It was safer, or so you thought. Someone in the enemy's beige fatigues grabbed your hands, struggling for your submission.

"Shit-"

Your curse made it to KorTac's ears, they asked for your status, to know where you were. Although you wanted to reply, you were a bit too busy with your struggle for ground when he pushed you down, back splayed on the floor as you tried to angle your gun to him. Your shared grunts were heard through the radio, your hiss from your cheek nicking a rock.

He spoke something foreign, you didn't understand him, hadn't had time to learn Farsi with all the missions you were sent on daily. You ground your teeth, your knee pushing against his abdomen with a groan. Unfortunately, he only huffed and brought the knife from his other hand closer to your face, your struggle wouldn't last long with a man twice your size over you.

From your narrowed eyes, you - both of you - missed the big silhouette of a man entering the room in a rush. A familiar knife was shoved into the man's neck as he was pulled away with beige-tipped gloves and pushed to the opposite side of the room with a raging KorTac operator holding the drowning man a few inches above the ground. His choked gurgles reached your ears as you sat up, seeing König hunched over the limp and dying enemy. He jabbed the knife multiple times into him, breaking the soft walls of the enemy's esophagus. It was a bloody display that would make privates shiver.

"König-"

As his name left your lips, he was immediately by your side, knife sheathed and weapons put aside, his hands were all over you, gripping your shoulders, arms, face, and waist. He was making sure you weren't wounded. You huffed, telling him you weren't wounded, a few scratches and bruises, but that's all. Whatever words you muttered, fell on deaf ears, König's eyes gleamed with worry, dilated and wide.

Getting hurt and dying was part of the job, but that didn't mean anyone wanted to get hurt or die. He knew that, yet the thought of seeing you gone, bleed out, or fallen into the enemy's hands scared him. He worried about you, a being so small and fragile to him, but strong and fierce as you've shown him so many times.

You broke down the barriers he put up, melted the anxiety that he had, and shared your darkest moments with him as he did with you. Your heart beats for him and him, you. It was a dangerous thing, letting one so close that your heart would die if the other was gone. Fear had rushed through him when he heard your grunts, it latched to his back and dragged him back. He couldn't go with the others knowing you were ambushed, he had to turn back and help you. Although he knew you were capable, he just couldn't shake the terror off until he saw you still in one piece.

That's why he left his formation and ran to yours in blinded fear and anger, the latter for the one who stood over you.

Even crouched down, he towered over you, hooded face shadowing you from the sun. Your stomach fluttered every time your eyes met his, the cold and calculative - sometimes murderous - gleam melted to a soft and caring one, warm and comforting as the sun. You muttered again, told how he saved you, that you're alive because of him. You gave him soothing words, eyes locked in a war-torn location.

***

König, however dangerous, was calm and caring, a quiet figure that held your hand and moved with you down the halls. He used to hide in the shadows - he still had the tendency to do it when you weren't with him - and distance himself from others. He used to hide and avoid people, explaining his reasons as to why he would only let you in, close enough to hold hands and share kisses. You liked the thought of being the only one inside, the special someone he let himself be near and touch without freezing up or stuttering.

You remember seeing him sliding through the crowd and vanishing when he ruined the corner or when you blinked, steps so quiet and so purposeful that you thought he was making sure to lose you - he had mentioned feeling you stare at him, wanting to bury himself in a pit for getting your attention, someone he admired and respected.

König was guarded, he protected himself from pain and people, and now, he vowed to do the same for you, to keep you from harm - when he was teamed with you - and from people - although not the jealous type, he didn't want to risk it.

Fraternizing was shamed by some higher-ups, the old coots like General Sheperd, but most didn't care, some encouraged you - Task Force 141 - and König - KorTac - to make due with what you had and reap the best of it. The danger of getting attached ran high, but you two made it work, you watched over him as Owl and you loved and adored him as (Name).

Perhaps, after retiring, you'd buy a house, a small one in the countryside far from civilization to keep to yourselves. To love and grow old together seemed like a beautiful idea to you when König had his drunk, bumbling mess after a can or two while you stayed sober to drive the team back.

You've come far, from brothers in arms to lovers on the battlefield, you've had your fears and your moments, but you always reached for him when he reached for you. Love's a game for two, after all.

[capt-mactavish]

POW

Summary: Male reader whose part of the 141 gets captured during a mission and the team rallies to rescue them.

Warnings for: Graphic depictions of injury, torture, violence

Pairings: None, not really. Soap x M!Reader or Ghost x M!Reader if you squint I guess, but I didn’t write this with pairings in mind.

Authors note: I have not played the game, I’m poor, so if the characters are ooc please forgive me. I’m going by the fics and drabbles I���ve read.

Part 1/?

Pt 2 Pt. 3

Sacrifice

“Gaz, I’m gonna make you an opening! Get out of here! I’ll be right behind you!” you shout over the gunfire. 

Gaz looks reluctant, but nods anyway. 

You turn your attention back to the fire fight, and empty your last magazine as you lay down cover fire for your companion to get away. 

“Go! Go!” you shout, watching out of your peripheral as Gaz makes a break for it through a doorway that leads outside. 

Ducking back down behind the makeshift barricade you’ve taken cover behind, you pat yourself down for any spare ammunition. To no avail. All you have left is a knife and a grenade. 

You curse. 

It will have to do. 

Lobbing the device over the barricade, you ready your knife and wait for the grenade to go off before exiting cover to run after your companion. 

There’s a lull in the gunfire, but you barely register it as your heart pounds in your head, legs pushing you forward as fast as you can muster yourself to go. 

You’re nearly there. You can almost reach out and touch the wood frame of the doorway Gaz had run through just moments before. He’s probably already regrouped with the rest of the team by now, waiting for you to join them.

A lone gunshot rings out, and before you can process the pain in your knee, your leg gives out and sends you to the floor. The knife in your hand knocked out of your grasp, sliding across the floor. 

“Gah!” A pained sound manages to rip itself out of your dry throat as the pain finally blooms in your kneecap. 

The sound of footsteps behind you has your heart leaping into your throat and you scramble for the knife. But just as your fingers brush the handle of the blade, a boot stomps down on your hand. 

You hiss, and dare to look up at your assailant, only to see the butt of a rifle coming down at your head before everything goes dark. 

---

“Gaz, you made it! Where’s (Y/C/S)?” Soap calls out as Gaz jogs up to the rest of the team. Ghost is tying a cloth around Johnny’s arm, reddening from a wound where he was clipped by a bullet.

“We were pinned down… (Y/C/S) covered my exit… said he’d be right behind me,” Gaz huffs, trying to catch his breath. 

Gaz turns around, and everyone else looks past him as well, expecting you to come round the corner any moment. 

Seconds pass, nothing. Not even any sounds indicating your approach. Even the gunfire in the distance back where Gaz had come from had ceased and an unnerving silence had fallen over the battlefield. 

“Maybe-” Soap starts, but a single gunshot cuts him off and he, Gaz and Ghost are already running.

By the time they get there, though, the building is clear. No one, save for the enemy corpses you and Gaz had managed to bring down in your firefight, was left inside. 

“He said he’d be right behind me,” Gaz says again, his voice wavering, and Ghost gives him a pat on the shoulder as he walks past, a silent comfort that he isn’t to blame. 

“L.t., I’ve got something,” Soap says, his voice laced with disappointment. 

On the ground, just inside the doorway, (Y/C/S)’s knife lay discarded on the ground, along with splatters of fresh blood and the tell-tale signs that a body had been dragged away. 

“They got ‘im,” says Soap, more to himself than to anyone in particular. 

“Fuck!” Gaz curses, and kicks at a piece of old wooden furniture, smashing it to pieces.

“We going after them then, L.t.?” Soap speaks up again, an edge to his voice this time, a quiet rage building within him. 

You hadn’t been with the 141 long, but in that short time you had, Soap had already grown fond of you. They all have. Especially Gaz, who had practically become your best friend and teamed up with often. 

You fell in with the group so easily, like you had always belonged with them, even Ghost seemed to enjoy your presence among them. 

Ghost looks up from where he had been quietly studying the scene, dark eyes taking in every bit of information to be gleaned from what was left. 

“Negative,” he answers, his tone low and dangerous. Then he turns and makes for the exit.

Soap blinks, confused, and looks over to Gaz, who looks equally as baffled by the Lieutenants response. 

“Sir-” A protest already on the tip of Soap’s tongue, moving to follow him. But when Ghost whirls back around on him, the Scotsman’s lips clamp shut.

“They’re long gone, Johnny. And right now we’re not equipped to go after them. But make no mistake,” Ghost loomed over the Sergeant, brows knitted in what Soap could tell was a menacing scowl under the skull mask. “We will get him back,”

His eyes flick over to Gaz as he finishes, “Mark my words.”

---

You awake in the dark, tied to a chair by your wrists and ankles, presumably with some sort of sack over your head. 

The first thing you feel is the pain from the blow to the head that knocked you out. The second is the bullet still lodged in your kneecap and the third is the cold that seems to have settled into your bones, making you shiver. 

As you test your restraints, the leg of the chair you’re in scrapes slightly against the floor and the sound echoes around the room, telling you it’s probably some sort of jail cell. And as the bag is snatched off your head, you find your deductions to be correct.

The only thing in the room save for you and your chair is your captor, who stands in front of you, and a few guards by the barred entrance. The walls are made of a dingy concrete that look about as bad as you feel. Stained with who knows what, indicating you’re probably not the first person to have taken up residence here. The only source of light comes from behind you, you assume a small window high up on the wall that lets in the most pathetic amount of sunlight imaginable.

“Good morning,” your captor taunts, giving you a sick smirk. “I’m sure you understand the… situation you are in.”

You remain silent, giving your captor the nastiest glare you could manage.

The man continues, using his hands as he speaks in an almost casual manner, “This doesn’t have to be difficult. Your stay here can be as long or as short as you would like. It’s all up to you. I just have a few questions, and if you answer them honestly, you are free to go. Understand?”

Your lips, chapped and cracked from dehydration, curl back from your teeth in a snarl.

“What makes you think I would tell you anything?”  

Your captor sighs deeply and clicks his tongue, circling around to stand behind you.

“Shame. But you underestimate,” a rope falls over your head, and by the time you realize it’s a noose, it’s already tightened threateningly around your throat, pulling a choked sound from you as your airway is constricted. “In the end, we will get what we want.”

---

The days drag on, and the 141 are no closer to finding you than the day you were taken. Everyone has run themselves ragged trying to gain intel on your whereabouts, especially Ghost, whom Price has had to order to rest on more than one occasion. 

Everyone is exhausted and on edge, but hope is not lost, and when Gaz comes back with intel on a possible location, they all spring to action. 

“Sergeant, are you sure about this?” asks Price, going over the plan in the meeting room with the rest of the team.

“No,” Gaz answers honestly, “But at present it’s all we’ve got, sir.” 

“Why are we debatin’ this?” Soap chimes in, and all eyes are on him. “We should be stormin’ this place. Even if (Y/N)’s not there, we might find something else that could point us in the right direction. Besides,”

A dark expression crosses Soap’s features and he cracks his knuckles, “Wouldn’t mind cracking a few skulls in the meantime.” 

A hush falls over the team as Soap’s words are considered. But it doesn’t last long, as Ghost’s voice breaks the silence.

“Agreed. If there’s a chance, Captain, we should take it.”

Everyone’s attention is back on Price, who is looking around the table at the team in turn, noting the determination in their expressions.

“Right,” Price says at last. “Ready up. Let’s bring our boy home.”

To be continued...

[999-something-suicidals]

WEAKNESS OF CHILDREN // (Ghost version)

↳ ❝ [Summary; Lovely man, [M/n], found a baby in the middle of field that full of chaos] ¡! ❞

↳˳;; ❝ Male reader ([C/n] = Code name, he/him) , ooc character, mention of getting shot, abadoned, mention of granade/gun shot. maybe a misswrite, bcz im a google translate users.ᵕ̈೫˚∗

"[C/n], how to copy?," many times, Ghost communicates with [M/n] through the communication device. But also many times, Ghost did not hear an answer.

"[C/n], are you okay over there?" Ghost asked again when he reloaded his gun, but never heard an answer. Instead of hearing [M/n]'s voice, which usually played perfectly, Ghost heard a loud cry. The cry was interrupted by several hiccups, from the sound it could be heard that they were frightened.

"[C/n], why is there a baby sound?" Ghost asked again when he realized it was a baby voice. Heavy breathing, which must have belonged to [M/n], sounded close to the communicating device. "[C/n]... here..," the voice of someone that Ghost had been trying to hear echoed, making a sense of relief gnaw at him for a moment.

"[M/n], are you okay? Are you hurt?" Ghost said, this time calling his real name, not a code name. "Hehh, I'm fine. But we have to worry about this poor baby," [M/n] answered breathlessly, "Where the fuck are you, [M/n]," Ghost came out of the destroyed house, intending to look for [M/ n].

"oh?, I'm in..," [M/n]'s voice stopped because of the sound of the door being broken down, [m/n] muttered harsh words, before finally his voice sounded running. Ghost also ran, even though he didn't know where to look for [M/n].

"[M/n]!!, where are you?!," Ghost shouted half through the communication device and half screaming, calling. "FUCK! . Simons, I'm in the shed to the left of the truck!" [M/n] breathed brutally, trying to scoop up oxygen and expel carbon dioxide.

Ghost, without thinking, immediately ran towards the location that [M/n] said. He ignored the grenades and gun sounds, only running to meet [M/n]. Worries and panic undermined him. Moreover, the rain that fell described something that made his heart ache.

He opened the barn door with a bang, his chest flat and flat from the run. There he is. [M/n] sat down on the cold floor, looked at Ghost with a sad gaze, and also held a baby in his arms.

[M/n] trembled because of the cold air and himself, who was already wet from the rain, he hugged the baby as if to protect it.

"Ah...Simons..," [M/n] tried to smile, grinding his teeth against the pain of being shot in his leg. "This child was left alone with his family, maybe we can become his new family," [M/n] shook his hand slowly, could see Ghost slowly approaching from the corner of his eye.

"Simons, how about we give it a new name? Nightmare ,perhaps?" [M/n] muttered incoherently, so Ghost brought [M/n]'s face to his shoulder, buried [m/n]'s face so he was silent.

"We'll take care of it later," Ghost said while stroking [M/n]'s shoulder gently, finally relieved completely.

Might making another cod boys version, if you wanted to.

[likenapple]

Could you tell us about your greatest heist in detail? Also you current place of residence.

Ooh, I LOVE this question. Anyways, so keep in mind this is BEFORE I got my firebending magical powers from the likes and AFTER me and Big Tony escaped jail and fled to Fruitlia.

So, there we were, me and Big Tony, standing outside of a bank. I had a knife, a remote connected to a bomb, a grenade, 4 fireworks, and 6-7 packs of matches in my pocket. Big Tony had a pistol, lockpick (in case of 'emergency'), and pepper spray (he's boring, I know). So I had TRIED to go in through the front, but he was all like 'No you dummy, that'll be too obvious' because you know, he's a lame old idiot. So he made me put on a mask to hide my beautiful face and we both went to the back. We spent HOOOOOOURS back there trying to lockpick the door (because he sucks at it) before I got bored and threw a bomb at it. And well, the thing kinda went BOOM.

So Tony was all like 'WTF?!?!" and I just kinda ignored him and ran inside to take the MONEYS!! But of course those dumb gaurd security things whatever tried to stop me. Luckily, Big Tony kept them busy while I blew up the safe with my amazing fireworks.

So yeah, boring part of stuffing money in bags, blah blah blah, then Big Tony came in, took money and likes and stuff, blah blah blah, and then- just when we were gonna leave- he went and pulled out FIREWORKS!! I was all like, "OMG TONY, FOR ONCE YOU'RE NOT A BORING OLD WATERMELON?!' but instead of saying all that I thought 'Hey I have an idea' and so we began setting up fireworks inside the bank (as well as the bomb with the remote) and walked outside, kinda just camping out while waiting for the cops because traffic is HEAVY man.

So I snacked on one of my cousins and Tony ate some strawberries. Eventually the cops arrived and were all like 'Get them' and stuff but I threw a pineapple in their eyes. Then Tony pressed the button on the remote and the whole bank went BOOM in a big explosion and fireworks and stuff and it was SO FUNNY to see the cops go like 'holy mother of cheese-' and see their expressions. Once I got bored of that, I knocked 'em out, took their guns, and me and Big Tony fled.

As for my current place of residence, the place is 2583 FruitliVille [OOC: not a real place I don't think, do not try looking it up or anything lol]

Are you content now?

[sebbiesolace]

(OK, I’m gonna die. Fate is just fucking with me.)

The fleeing soldier curses out loud as soon as he sees the obstacles. No way in hell is he going to crawl out that thing in time.

To add salt to injury, the door had to close. Fuck you, HQ.

Without second thought he whips around. Gun out of ammo and no time to reload, he yanks something from his utility belt instead. It’s a grenade. His finger locked on the pin. If the beast chooses to get any closer, he’ll pull the pin and die dragging someone down.

(Ooc: I assumed this is now an one man standing situation?)

[Z-13 paced around the room, dimly aware of the soldiers presence. Every so often, it would huff, or take in a deep breath, or sometimes... lick the air? Confusion rang silent through the animals head- It KNEW there was something here. It KNEW it was in danger. What it didn't know, however, was WHERE it was. It could barely see, its sense of smell rendered useless from the sickly miasma of viscera splattered about. Eventually, it came to a stop a few meters away from the MTF, swinging its head from side to side erratically.]

[The sound of a windchime echoed around, causing the leviathan the gnash its teeth, growling and hissing- It was well and ttruly lost.]

ooc:nooo.... you can live.... if you play this VERY smart.

[gothy-froggy]

For we are Bound

Albert Wesker x reader (Soulmate Au)

Soulmate Au: Red String

Warning(s): Wesker is a little obsessive, enemies to lovers, one sided love, Wesker ooc a bit, romantic soulmates, fem reader (she/her)

—————————-————————

It was hard to tell days apart nowadays. She grumbled as she slightly rubbed her eyes. A headache already appearing. She stared at the ceiling. Life is hard now. Much harder than it already was. Why?

Albert Wesker.

This narcissist, arrogant, awful human- human like being attempting to dominate the world. She hated him. She has to fight for food now. She has to sneak around to live. She was terrified of dropping dead from God know what. He thinks he’s a God because of..because of what?

She sighed. Her mornings, or rather, when she wakes up, those same thoughts greet her. She lifted her hand up and looked at the red string. Still, drooped. Her soulmate wasn’t near. She grumbled while getting up and looked in her fridge. She couldn’t help but wonder, who is her soulmate? Where are they? It felt like they were nowhere. She has traveled to meet them. She hasn’t found them yet. She would’ve continued, but something- someone, got in the way.

It was a scary day today. She had to go outside. She more nervous than usual. Not because it’s been awful outside. No.

She has gotten in contact with Chris Redfield.

He’s helping her escape. She convinced him to lead her have way. Chris agreed to guide her through some old underground tunnels that will help her escape the town and hopefully, Albert Wesker. She was going to work hard to escape from him and his growing world domination. She collected supplies for herself for months now.

—————————————-

She climbed down the fence and leaned against the brick walls. She stood around, keeping an eye out to anything or anyone who could be a danger.

“You made it.”

She quickly turned around and pointed her gun at the source of the noise. She quickly lowered her arm. It was Chris.

“Hey!” He growled.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there, Chris.” She put the gun away.

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. Knowing how it is out here.” He responded. He took a few steps towards her.

“We need to get going. We don’t have much time.” She quickly nodded, agreeing with his statement.

“How come you’re still here, Redfield?”

“Chris is fine.”

“Chris. How come you're here?” She asked again.

“Albert Wesker needs to be stopped. I’m here to make sure he’s dead. And that he stays dead.” He didn’t take long to answer. That eased her mind a little bit. At least that there’s someone who hates Wesker as much as her. Someone who wants to end him.

“I couldn’t agree more I wish you luck, Chris. You’re going to need it.”

—————————————-

The walk was mostly silent. Very few small talk every now and then. There were a few encounters of monsters along the way, but not that many. It was surprisingly…calm today. It was suspicious. They finally made it to the entrance. Chris hopped down with a grunt. He offered his hand.

“Here.”

She took his hand and hopped down. It was dark. The air was a bit thick. Chris’s flashlight was the only source of light as they walked down. She let out a light cough. A sudden screech echoed through. She ran into Chris’s spare hand.

“Stop. Quiet.” He softly whispered. He draw his gun out and aimed with his flashlight.

“Don’t.move.” He ordered sternly.

She quickly obeyed. A creature crawls out from the darkness. She had to contain a groan of irritation. A licker. She has encountered them before. She quietly and slowly pulled her gun out. Chris’ eyes widen. The licker’s screech echos throughout the tunnel. Chris cussed under his breath and shoots the lickers as well. The licker made it difficult to get killed.

“Fuck it.” She growled and threw a grenade at the licker. Smoke clouded their vision as they heard the licker let out a final screech before passing. She coughed and wiped the smoke away from her face. She felt a slight tug on the string.

As the smoke clears in the underground, Chris leads her to her destination. Her red string begins to tug, starting to heat up, burning her finger.

“Chris-“

“Come on, right this way. Just a little longe-“ Chris was interrupted by a warm of odd tentacles tries to snatch him.

“There’s nowhere to hide, Chris.” He snarled. Chris holds out his gun.

She felt her heart drop. Albert Wesker. She not only hated the man, but the red string was connected to his.

She was Albert Wesker’s soulmate.

Her heart started racing. No..no no no no no. This can’t be happening. Wesker tilted his head down, revealing his eyes. His eyes boring into her own.

“She, is coming with me.”

“No!” Chris took a few steps towards Wesker. Uroboros growing on his arm.

“I wouldn’t get so close.” Wesker looked back at her.

“You…” His voice slightly softened. He slowly glared at Chris.

“You, need to step out of my way, Chris.” Wesker growled. It sent shivers down her spine, for Chris as well.

“What the hell do you want from her, Wesker?”

“What are you doing with her.” He snapped back at Chris. Even Chris seemed a bit startled. Wesker tugged on the red string, pulling her into his arm. Chris shout her name out.

“She’s meant to be with me.” He gripped on her waist protectively.

“I’ve spent too much time on you now.” Wesker’s eyes was never taken off of Chris.

“Damn you Wesker!” Chris spat.

She was overwhelmed by the two. As her head started to wrap around reality, she stomped on Wesker’s foot. His grip loosen as he let out a grunt. She spun around and out of Chris’s way. Chris fired at Wesker. She was quick to join.

“That’s it.” Wesker was agitated now. He released Uroboros, knocking the guns out of their hands and knocking Chris unconscious. He got a tight grip on her, pulling her close.

“Dearheart…” his eyes scanning her face as she squirmed to escape. His hand caressing her face.

“I’ve searched for you,” his face inching closer. She attempted to punch Uroboros and glared at Wesker.

“Non-stop. My equal.” He gave her a smug smirk.

“Go to hell, Wesker.” She snarled. He tsked, fixing his posture. Wesker ranted about the time that has been wasted, how she shouldn’t be in or near such filth. She didn’t care. She looked back at Chris, begging he would wake up.

“Chris!” She shouted.

“Chris is none of your concern.” Wesker stopped her. His hand guiding her gaze towards him.

“None of our, concern. For we are bound.” She hated that she’s his soulmate. She looked back at Chris as Wesker took her away.

——————————————————-

//This is only the beginning