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Crowley and one (1) Aziraphale sketches

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞…❞

↳Part 10/10 of Loveless. See Part 1 for story description.

↳Female reader x Changbin, female reader x Hyunjin

↳ 13.4k

! Strong language, explicit sexual content, heavy angst and tension, arranged marriage au, soulmates au, confrontation, heavy threat throughout, violence and gore, murder, a rescue, infiltration, descriptions of medical paraphernalia and procedures, pseudo-science, plot dump, many revelations, themes of capital punishment, a time skip, adult themes throughout, final chapter !

「Part 1」  「Contents List」 「Masterlist」「© August 2022 by jl-micasea-fics」

Changbin spends the night alone.

He gets no sleep; doesn’t even try to.

From the moment the bedroom door locked at ten sharp, from the second it released with the fair morning light, Changbin found only restless unease. Trapped in the confines of a room he should be sharing with her; it was all he could do to maintain a shred of sanity by convincing himself that whatever was happening to her—whatever might have already happened—was fixable.

This morning, he feels distinctly different.

The heaviness settled in his gut alludes to a truth more terrible than he feels he can comprehend, and he knows, beyond any shred of doubt, that he’s had a part to play in this. How big a part remains to be seen, but he supposes the scale of it hardly matters when, either way, she’s suffered some form of consequence for the events of the last few days.

He showers quickly, barely feels the scalding water on his skin. Black turtleneck and fitted slacks thrown on, he leaves the bedroom with purpose in his step, determination centred around several things, though his first port of call is arguably the most urgent.

The old house is quiet; the others must have yet to rise. The kitchen is untouched, dining room reset for the breakfast that’ll no doubt be laid in an hour or so. He briefly recalls that Chan and Eve are leaving this morning; he’s glad to have met them, in the end.

Changbin’s footsteps wrack the creaky boards beneath his feet, the usual warmth of the walls and décor seems foreign to him now, as he hurriedly descends the three floors down to the ground level.

Standing outside Matron’s office, Changbin shakes off the nerves, takes a steadying breath. He’s an Imperator, he reminds himself. He doesn’t get nervous, doesn’t get intimidated, is sure of himself at all times. No matter how frantic he feels inside, composure is the name of the game.

There’s no point speculating as to what’s happened; he’ll only drive himself mad doing that. He needs solid facts.

Knocking on the door, Changbin doesn’t wait to let himself in. Rude to enter uninvited, he knows, but he doesn’t have the time to hang around.

He’s surprised to find it unlocked. The door creaks open gently, there’s no sound from inside. Peeking his head around the frame, the office is unlit, the large bay windows closed and latched, thick curtains drawn over the quaint garden scene that Changbin knows sits just beyond. Matron is nowhere to be seen.

He should probably come back later, he supposes, but how much later is later? In an hour? Two hours? Six?

No. Changbin can’t afford to wait that long, or any longer than he already has.

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Comfort Inn Ending | 1

➭ “It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: angst, smut

wordcount: 3,158

inspiration

part one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

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The Web | PJM

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

~summary: Nearly dying was just the beginning. While struggling to deal with the direction life has thrown you, you find yourself at the heart of a web of conspiracy. Maybe it will bring you back to Jimin - if you both make it out alive. Jimin x reader ~word count: 6k ~mafia au, established relationship, angst, eventual fluff?(in future parts) Rating: pg15 Warnings: mentions of death, attempted murder, violence, homelessness, swearing, breaking and entering, burglary ~a/n: it’s here!! I am super excited to show you guys this new mafia au, I worked long and hard on it! I will be updating every 7-8 days. Let the mystery begin…

The hushed rumble of breath sounds, as if from behind a curtain.

It isn’t clear enough for you to hear its source, but it’s all you can hear. Curiously, you can hear more than you can see. Your eyes must be closed.

It takes your groggy mind until about five times to come to this realisation before it does something about it. Your eyelids feel rusty as you heave them apart.

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Tape I: Sunset Masquerade [m]

➛pairing: Hoseok x reader ➛genre: smut, superhero!au, superpower!au, supervillain!hoseok ➛words: 16.2k+ ➛rating: nsfw! ➛warning: smut: oral (receiving), masturbation, fingering, roughness, slight bondage (cuffs), exhibitionism- of multiple kinds, camera, dirty talk, cumplay, slight degradation, dom!hoseok, essentially pwp ➛notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOBI!! In honour of our beloved Hope, and our Queen Hixtape, whenever she drops, I present to you the first of a three part smut series; The Tapes!

You finally trap your arch nemesis, the crimson-haired villain that went by the name Tempest, only to find out that really, the one trapped… was you.

↼posted; 18.02.2018

↼masterlist || tape i • tape ii • tape iii - ½ • 2/2

SCLS: Sunset City League of Superheroes. We fight, so you don’t have to!

You couldn’t help the grimace that slipped over your face as you stood before the large, wooden doors of meeting room 233 in the SCLS building. Apparently, despite asking for your advice on a slogan and receiving it, RM had decided to ignore it and go with the slogan he wanted. Truthfully, it didn’t bother you that much, the slogan wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever seen or heard, but there was still a certain part of you that was salty your advice had been ignored after being requested. It was stupid, and pointless, to simmer over it, and you knew you were really only thinking about it to justify in a roundabout way why you’d been standing outside the meeting room for seven minutes instead of just biting the bullet and going in.

Put simply, you didn’t want to.

Every three weeks to a month, superheroes from cities across the region would meet up in a designated city and share progress, you could say. Report on how things were in their province, like the crime rate, citizen satisfaction, whether a new villain had risen up… the works. This time, it happened to be held in your very own city. Months ago, you would have been bursting eagerly into the room, pride evident in every step you took, and you’d boast the amount of criminals, and villains, you’d taken down. You were a prodigy, excellent at your job and skilled with your abilities— you were revered by many and had built a spotless reputation for yourself as one of the most reliable, and capable, superheroes of the region. Everything was perfect.

And then he showed up.

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The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - four.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: Price decides to have a movie night on base. You and Ghost have The Talk.

warnings: occasional swearing, man written by a woman (may have slightly idealised Ghost), miscommunication, emotionally constipated Ghost and reader, the episodic mentions of Ghost's groaning and blonde eyelashes, brief appearance of Keegan Russ, mentions of smoking

notes: this was not supposed to be this long, but ideas just kept coming and coming. As I have mentioned before, this was initially intended to be a filler chapter for the "grand finale" (aka the one where he falls asleep on you) - so this is why the ending may seem a little bit rushed.

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four

masterlist

four.

“So you want to have a movie night here, on base?”

“A movie night, tonight?”

“Can we bring snacks? And drinks?”

“What are we going to watch?”

Seated at his usual place in the mess hall, Captain John Price found himself struggling to hide the proud, fatherly smile that threatened to spread on his face. He was surprised by the enthusiasm with which his idea of a movie night had been met, yet there you were, all curious and excited about it. You were seated between Soap and Gaz, your food momentarily forgotten as you started planning the entire evening around his proposal. You three were so caught up in debating whether you should mix in all types of popcorn with nachos that you did not notice the insistent glances of the passersby. Or the aggressive glares that Ghost was shooting back, his balaclava only highlighting the coldness of his features.

It was the second day after your night out at the pub and after thinking about the events over and over again, he accepted, with resignation, that his innate need to protect you and keep you from harm's way had only grown stronger. Ghost was a man of few words and certainly, not one to publicly display his feelings, so when you came to him in the morning and thanked him for taking care of you when you got wasted, he just shrugged it off with a piss-poor remark that you would do the same for him. He did not miss the blush that spread across your face when you answered that you absolutely would, if there would ever be such an occasion, and left him with an awkward pat on the shoulder. Which was kind of ironic since, two nights before, you climbed him like a beanstalk and clung to him like a koala.

And there he was, longing for any kind of interaction from you, like the touch-starved mess that he'd become. He would have placed himself next to you at the table, but he didn't want to give Price more satisfaction - the older man had already figured out enough about the intensity of his feelings about you, the Polaroid that Simon now kept safely tucked in his wallet being proof of it.

And what was this with Price's sudden idea of a movie night? Ghost knew the Captain insisted on having a united team whose members can trust each other, after all that's why he handpicked you all to join, but another gathering besides the night spent at the pub was way too much for his social battery.

At least you had all accepted his quiet persona from the beginning, not attempting to push his buttons more than it was necessary.

Until you fell asleep on him in the lounging room.

And then again at the safe house.

And then again at the pub.

"Ghost, do you copy?"

Your delicate voice pulled him out of his thoughts, only for him to be met with the questioning look that was etched in your face.

"I know that look!", Soap quickly chimed in, a daring smirk on his face. "Who's the lucky woman, L.T.?"

"Or man- which is totally fine too!", Gaz added with an equal devious expression.

Both of them shut up when Ghost shot them his signature threatening look, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the tender smile on your face slightly falter. Before giving anyone the chance to further ruin the moment, he willed his eyes on you, softening his voice as much as he could:

"I'm sorry, Bambi. 'were you saying?"

"Would you like to join me later on a trip to the supermarket for snacks? I don't trust these two menaces with such an important task!"

He gulped loudly at the sight of the pleading look in your eyes, not entirely sure if you were just playing him, or if the doe eyes were really making a return. At that point, Simon had already memorized your features, being able to draw them with his eyes closed, but his heart still fluttered upon seeing your large and round irises, brimming with innocence and tenderness.

Additionally, he could feel Price's unwavering gaze burning into the back of his head. And he had a feeling the Captain would force his ass into the first available car and drag him to the supermarket with you.

"Sure - we can take my car... plenty of space for groceries", his words trailed off at the sight of the satisfied grin you gave him, your eyes brimming with joy. "We could go after the combat training if it's ok with you..."

"Absolutely! Thanks, Ghost, you're the best!"

You rose from your seat and placed your hands on his shoulders in what was meant to be half a hug before jogging out of the mess hall, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks.

The memories of the previous night were still blurry in your head, but you could recall the unique feeling of your cheek being pressed against a chest - Ghost's chest, the distinct smell of him still lingering on the black t-shirt you had neatly folded and placed on your bed. You did not plan to wash it any time soon.

You had thanked Ghost for taking care of you, but after the morning coffee chat you had with Soap, you actually felt the need to apologize for being such a burden. Of course, Soap had been just as intoxicated as you, so you couldn't place too much trust in his words. However, the recent teasing about the person that occupied Ghost's thoughts, made you feel uneasy about the whole situation. Were you being too clingy and touchy towards him - did you cross any of his boundaries? You hadn't even realised when you'd let your guard down in his presence, but it was certain that falling asleep on him without any negative reaction from his side, marked a significant step in that direction.

But now you had a chance to figure things out in the way adults do: by openly communicating with him. And the trip to the supermarket was the perfect cover-up for it.

You just had to keep to yourself until then - maybe try to limit your interactions with him as overstepping his boundaries was the last thing you'd wanted to do. It couldn't be that hard, right?

---

It was barely noon, and Ghost couldn't figure out what he'd done so wrong to make you avoid him like the plague. Did you get upset at him for not returning the hug? Did he not seem excited enough about the trip to get snacks?

Did someone put something in your food and you suspected him?

He thought it was nothing at first. After all, it would have been unusual for you to sit next to him at the morning briefing as you usually had a spot next to Gaz. But then you did not even seem to acknowledge his presence at the shooting range, barely muttering a greeting when passing him on the way to the lockers.

And now, ironically enough, you chose to spar with one of the Ghosts- none other than their scout sniper, Keegan Russ. On the one hand, it was actually a good move: you could learn and trade tips and tricks with a sniper as good as he was. On the other hand, Simon did not like the way his hands seemed to linger over your body every time you mounted an attack, or how his chest puffed when he was trying to walk you through some new move. Like him, Keegan always wore a balaclava in public, but unlike him, the younger operator did not seem to care about hiding his emotions: everyone could tell that he was smirking as he extended his hand to help you get up after he'd mercilessly tossed you on the mat.

Yet the next thing he knew, he was the one making contact with the mat, his back absorbing most of the impact. The sudden reversal in the sparring match left him momentarily disoriented, his eyes still searching for you and your new combat partner. It wasn't until he spotted Soap's concerned expression, the Sergeant hesitantly hovering above him, that he showed any intention of getting up. The Scot subtly followed his line of sight until his eyes landed on you and Keegan. You were beaming at him as he seemed to tell you a story based on the frantic way his hands moved, his icy blue eyes fixed on you as he spoke.

"Seems I got ya good, L.T.", Soap said as he helped Ghost back on his feet, giving him a slight pat as an apology. "Do you want to call it a day or-?"

He could barely hide his smirk before receiving a growl and a criminal side-eye in response. And he let his guard down as the next thing he knew, his arm was caught in a firm grip and his body flew over Ghost's shoulder, landing on the training mat with a loud thud. He could not stifle the groan that escaped him and closed his eyes in resignation. Once again, he learnt the hard way not to mess with the big man with the scary mask.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, MacTavish. We're here to train, not to ogle at others!"

"Copy that, sir!"

---

"I'm just telling you, Keegan, you've got to man up and talk to her!", you said between breaths as you dodged his incoming shots. "You wanted girl advice from a girl? Now you have it!"

"How can I know it won't just scare her off? Should- should I take off my mask, do you think that she'll see that as a clear sign that - you know?"

"It'll definitely be a step in that direction..."

Your words momentarily trailed off as you stole a glance at Ghost who was currently caught up in his own sparring match with Soap. He'd traded his usual skull mask for one of his balaclavas, and he wore his usual black t-shirt that allowed you to fully take in his tattoed arms, rippling with muscles and scars. Maybe limiting your interactions with him was a bad idea. Not that you had something against teaming up with Keegan - you two needed to do some catching up - and it was just the right time for it, but you felt you could have learnt a lot from the Lieutenant.

And at that moment you didn't mind being pinned to the ground by him, just like he did with Soap.

"So did you convince him to take his mask off?"

Keegan's question took you by surprise, as did his left foot, which interlocked with yours and sent you falling face-first. You could tell he was smirking under the balaclava as he helped you back up, and a grin also spread on your face as you shook your head in acceptance:

"Why would I ever do that?"

"Because I can feel his death stare on me right now and... I saw the picture from the lounging room. I think it was rather cute, you know?"

"No, I don't..."

The words came out slowly as your mind was trying to figure out what he could be talking about. The only pictures you had with Ghost were the ones taken after important missions, the ones with the other members of Task Force 141 and whoever may have been involved. And it was safe to say they could not be described as "cute".

"Oh come on, don't play dumb - the Polaroid picture from the lounging room? The one where you-"

"Sergeant L/N, 'you ready to go? I'll meet you at the car in 10."

Despite having interrupted your conversation, Ghost did not seem fazed by it. He didn't even wait for your confirmation- just turned his back on you and started walking towards that door with a certain smugness in his gait. As he took in the scene, Keegan's smirk widened under the mask. He may have needed girl advice, but boy- scratch that -special forces operator advice was a topic he was well versed in.

"I wouldn't make him wait if I were you", he resumed shrugging his shoulders and giving you a sympathetic look. "And thanks for the advice, I'll keep you posted on the situation!"

---

It took you 7 minutes to get changed and jog to Ghost's usual parking spot and he was already there, smoke in his hand. Even so, you felt the need to mutter a quick apology before getting in and fastening your seatbelt. Ghost was quick to follow, hopping into the driver's seat and starting the car.

He internally sighed when the radio began playing. It was going to be a long ride.

You, on the other hand, rested your head against the window, your mind brimming with questions about the mysterious picture that Keegan had mentioned. It was true that you had not checked the wooden panel for any new additions- at one point, you had completely forgotten about it, but it seemed some people took it seriously.

Involuntarily, your gaze slipped to Ghost. The Lieutenant was focused on the road, one hand holding the steering wheel while another rested on the gearstick. He was unusually calm and collected, unlike the chaotic driver you were used to. Did he know about the picture too? Was it bothering him in any way?

The car came to a sudden stop, brakes screeching on the hot concrete as he steered into an empty parking spot. You shot him a confused look as he turned off the engine and turned towards you, his chocolate eyes filled with questions:

"I've had enough", he began in a gruff tone that softened when his eyes landed on your face. "Come on, Bambi, out with it!"

You raised your eyebrows at his question, even if, deep down, you knew it was time for The Talk.

And you were so not prepared for it. So you decided to play dumb.

"Out with what? Do you want me to get out of the car or-?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

His tone was even and his eyes too gentle for your liking. Part of you had wanted to get him all riled up so that you could justify the outburst that you were on the verge of having. Yet he only raised an eyebrow in question, leaning in the driver's seat and crossing his arms:

"You've been acting weird all day- ignoring and avoiding me. And you kept staring at me for the past quarter of an hour yet now you won't even look me in the eye! You've got to give me a hand here, Bambi because I have no idea what I did wrong!"

It was the second time in the past week that you'd heard him talk that much in one sitting, yet you were busy managing your stress levels, which were currently shooting through the roof. Turns out, you were not ready for The Talk. Communication was overrated anyway-

"You- you didn't do anything wrong and...", you answered incoherently, your mind trying to make sense of the words that were leaving your mouth.

"Y/N..."

"OK, fine! I-am-sorry-for-being-such-a-burden-to-you-and-intruding-your-personal-space-and-falling-asleep-on-you-without-having-your-permission-and-"

"What the hell are you talking about? Who- who even implied that you are a burden to me? Was it Russ- do I need to have a chat with him?"

"Oh no, Keegan had nothing to do with it. He was actually asking me for advice about this nurse he met and- you know what? Yeah, let's not go there..."

"I fully agree", Ghost nodded in compliance, partly amused by the unexpected oversharing side of you. "But, Bambi, you... You could never be a burden to any of us. Do you understand that?"

A sudden wave of clarity swept over your thoughts after you talked about it, and with it also came the furious blush that made you bury your face in your hands:

"God, I'm so embarrassed now..."

"Hey, hey, look at me!"

Ghost tried to control the faint shaking of his gloved hand as he placed it on your shoulder. He had figured out something was wrong, but would have never thought that you would see yourself as a burden, that you would intrude on his personal space? Why would you even think of such nonsense in the first place?

"If this is about you getting wasted at the pub, then you've got it all wrong!", he decided to continue when you lowered your hands and exposed the upper half of your face.

"Fucking hell, Y/N, would you quit looking at me with those doe-eyes? You have no idea what you are doing to me right now..."

He did not realise he said it out loud until you widened your eyes even more and proceeded to hide your face in your hands again, muttering a string of apologies. He let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head in disbelief. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would have to spend the afternoon like that, having this kind of talk in his car, in a random parking lot. Yet there you were, two operators, seemingly with no communication skills and a penchant for hiding your faces in masks and hands.

With careful moves, Ghost removed his gloves, trying to ignore the stark contrast between his fingers and yours. He then extended his hands towards yours, gently pulling them away from your face. The sight of your E/C eyes made him let out a soft sigh:

"I did not mean it like that... there is nothing wrong with the doe-eyes. There's a reason they call you Bambi after all.."

You let out a dry chuckle, your eyes still glued to the ground as you were relishing in the warm feeling of his touch. His hands haven't left yours- in fact, he pulled them into his lap and was currently playing with the metal ring you've quickly slipped on before leaving.

"I don't know who or what made you think you intruded on my personal space. You didn't."

His pause made you raise your eyes back to his face, momentarily losing yourself in his chocolate orbs. Your doe-eyes may have been one of his weaknesses, but his blonde eyelashes were going to be the death of you, you were certain of that.

"And you falling asleep on me? It - I can't believe I'm actually saying it out loud and correct me if I'm wrong in any way - it made me feel good, to know that you felt safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position when I am nearby- and not once, but thrice now..."

"Wait- you mean twice, right?"

His chuckle made you widen your eyes in disbelief. He was definitely smirking under the mask.

"Ghost, when was the third time?"

"I just told you all this deep and emotional stuff and this is what you decide to focus on?"

"Well, I am not good at dealing with emotions, as you can see!". The blush was making a rapid comeback.

"The point is", he resumed his idea, "that you have no reasons to think you are a bother to me. You are not. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

Ghost rolled his eyes as he turned the engine back on and gently let go of your hands, the remnants of your touch still warm on his fingers. He rolled out of the parking lot with ease, trying hard not to replay the awkward conversation that just took place, when your voice chimed in:

"Does this mean... hypothetically speaking, if I were to fall asleep during the movie night, and I were seated next to you..."

"Should I be concerned about your sleeping schedule? Or actually, the lack of it?"

---

You let out a brief sigh of relief as you got out of the car and headed towards the base, Ghost closely following you with two heavy bags in his hands. He refused to let you carry the bags under the pretence of having already trained hard enough today, but you knew it was just his specific way of reassuring you that things were good between the two of you.

As awkward as it had been, The Talk seemed to have cleared out any miscommunication issues you may have created inside your mind, and it certainly made you not feel bad about the moments you had drifted off on his shoulder. Or arms. Or whatever else place.

And as he was headed towards the kitchen, you made a bee-line to the lounging room, which, to your luck, proved to be empty. You turned on the lights and stopped in front of the wooden panel, your eyes quickly moving from one Polaroid picture to another. It had been a while since you last checked them as there were several additions that you hadn't been aware of: a blurred selfie of Soap and Gaz, a still shot of an unknown operator sipping his tea, a picture of Price, dozing off on his armchair and there it was, a snapshot of you, fast asleep on Ghost's shoulder, the Lieutenant staring at the camera with a blank look.

"I couldn't stop Soap from taking it."

You involuntarily flinched when you heard Ghost's amused voice. He must have snuck up on you as he was currently standing on your right, his eyes fixed on the picture at hand.

"Keegan mentioned it during combat training. I didn't even know it was there", You shrugged your shoulders at him.

"Does it bother you?"

There was something indescribable in his tone that made you halt for a second and look up at him. The glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes was not missed on you and your mind recalled the details of your previous conversation.

"It made me feel good, to know that you felt safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position when I am nearby"

"No, I actually kind of like it. Don't you?"

He let out a grunt as confirmation and you tried to fight the smile that threatened to spread on your face. You opened your mouth to tease him about it when Price, Gaz and Soap entered the lounging room, already having changed into civilian clothes. You quickly forgot what you were about to say when you noticed that Price was holding a DVD in his hands- and not just any DVD:

"We're going to watch 'The Bodyguard'?"

The captain busied himself with setting up the DVD player, but you could tell there was a smile on his face:

"What can I say? Your toast inspired me, Bambi!"

You shot a questioning look at Gaz who seemed equally as confused as you were, but then looked over at Soap who was chuckling under his breath:

"I may have left that bit out!", he confessed with a guilty grin, as he sat down on one of the sofas, Gaz joining him quickly.

"You don't remember the toast?", Ghost asked amusedly, having already taken his usual place on the couch. "You called Price 'the cool dad of the group' before blasting out 'I Will Always Love You' on karaoke."

Letting out a long sigh of defeat, you sat down next to Ghost, shaking your head in disbelief. That part of the night was still an empty space in your mind, and listening to bits of it did not help you remember anything about it. Yet you were not surprised by the music choice - it was your usual shower song so why not sing it when totally intoxicated as well?

"You also thanked Simon for taking care of you during the missions and letting you fall asleep on him", Price added quickly before Ghost could interject, a glimpse of his proud dad smile dancing on his face.

You raised your eyes to Ghost in a sheepish look, only to see him roll his eyes and extend his right arm on the couch, almost as an invitation for you to come closer. The lights were turned off and the movie started, but that did not stop you from raising an eyebrow in question. He merely nodded in your direction and you understood the message, trying to scoot over as quietly as possible. You hoped he hadn't heard the small sigh of satisfaction that left your lips when you cuddled up into his side, slightly leaning your head against his chest and taking a deep breath. You knew the movie by heart, it having been an integral part of your childhood, so instead of paying much attention to it, you redirected your efforts towards focusing on the multitude of sensations created by the close contact between Ghost's body and yours.

His familiar scent enveloped you like a comforting blanket, but it was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that made your eyelids heavy. There was something uniquely special about the whole situation- the intimacy and fragility of the moment mixed with the consistent cadence of his breaths and the occasional vibrations that would resonate from his chest, were lulling you to sleep.

And when you felt his fingers starting to trace circles on your back, you nestled your head in the crook of his neck and drifted off into a peaceful slumber. It seemed that lately, the only good sleep you got was in Simon's arms.

--- bonus scene

The movie had long ended, yet none of you made any attempt to get up and start cleaning after you. The lounging room was still dark, the faint light from the TV casting shadows on the opposite wall. Soap was loudly snoring, perched on his usual place on the sofa. Price had also dozed off in his designated armchair and Gaz was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, a blank look on his face.

Still leaning against Ghost's chest, you were trying to fight the last remnants of sleep that were still lingering around. You were aware that eventually you had to get up and go home, but Ghost's heartbeats were steady and reassuring and the weight of his arm on your back was comforting and warm enough to keep you trapped in between dream and reality.

You were debating whether you should open your eyes or not when, all of a sudden, the room was flooded with light, the unexpected brightness blinding your senses and making you let out a deep groan. You could feel Ghost shifting below, his arm leaving your back and you ended up opening her eyes when he whispered into your ear:

"Get up, Laswell's here!"

You eventually peeled yourself from Ghost, your mind having difficulties processing the piece of information - what was Laswell doing in England? Wasn't she supposed to be in the US, gathering intelligence and coordinating missions?

Yet there she was, in flesh and bone, already heading up the door as she signed you to follow her.

"I can't tell you how glad I am I've got you all here already", she turned to Price as she hurried towards the long hall and into the main briefing room. "It's better than having to call each one of you in the dead of the night.."

"Kate, slow down- what is going on?", John asked in a calming tone, throwing apprehensive looks at the files she was holding in her hands.

"Alright - is everybody here? Bambi, Soap, Gaz, Ghost?"

Laswell locked the door before going back to her usual place. Still dumbfounded from being woken up so suddenly, you looked up at Ghost, but the warm look in his eyes was long gone, replaced by the stone-cold one he sported during missions. You could tell that, internally, he was already preparing for whatever news Laswell was about to deliver. And the grim look plastered on her face, as she turned on the video projector, was foreboding enough:

"A shipment of biological weapons we've been tracking just went missing. We have good reason to suspect that our scouts have been compromised."

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26

kingdom come - ii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

4.4k words

tw: none

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Let's have something lighthearted and playful after the absolute Week the cod fandom has had, shall we?

“What do you mean he’s letting you kill him?”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Calliope, I thought I made myself quite clear.”

“But…but that’s mad!”

“He is mad!” You shove the sleeves of your blouse over your arms. “But I’m still alive, so I’m not complaining.”

“Of course. Should I send word to your father about these new developments?”

You bite your lip. “No,” you say. Something catches your eye outside the window, and you move closer to have a look. König is outside, walking with one of his advisors while eating an apple. It’s a strange juxtaposition between the relaxed boyishness of him throwing the apple in the air and catching it, and the stark, emotionless expression of the mask covering half his face.

As if he can feel your gaze on you, he looks upwards, eyes locking with yours. You shudder and quickly shut the curtains.

“I can do this.” You say, determined.

“You’re not eating.”

You stare resolutely at him from across the table. “I’m not hungry.”

He sighs, as if you’re a difficult child he’s being forced to babysit. “I heard your stomach growl. The food won’t bite back.”

“To be frank, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Who the fuck is Frank?”

You glower at him. “I know this is all a game to you, but I’m trying to stay alive.”

“By not eating?”

You look down at the food dubiously, and your doubt must be written all over your face, because König laughs. “Surely you do not think so lowly of me that I would poison my bride at the breakfast table,” he taunts. “That wouldn’t be in the spirit of the hunt.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for presuming otherwise of the man who asked me to eat a nightshade berry.”

He rolls his eyes. “One berry can’t kill a full-grown man. Or woman.” He takes a sip of wine. “And besides, that wasn’t the point of our little encounter in the garden anyway.”

Your hunger wins out over your apprehension. “Enlighten me,” you say, tucking into the food.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was testing you to see if you were going to try and kill me.” He points a fork with a piece of sausage on it at you. “Quiet, secluded place with nobody watching, plenty of exits. You surprised me by staring at me like a startled doe.”

“You caught me off guard,” you mutter. “You’re a very off-putting person.”

He gives you a bemused look. “You’re not a very good assassin.”

You bristle. “I assure you, if my target was anybody else, they would already be dead.”

“Tell me, princess. Have you ever killed anybody?”

“I’ve killed.”

“A human.”

“I know how to kill someone!”

“So that’s a no.”

You’re fuming at this point, your meal long forgotten. “It’s not to my advantage to let you know what I can and can’t do.”

He studies you, twirling his fork in an admittedly mesmerizing motion. “And your father sent you here, to kill me, having never spilled another person’s blood before.”

“My father prepared me my entire life for this.”

“Not sure that speaks highly of your skill.”

You’re already tired of him. “What’s the point of this?” you demand. “A smarter man would have either killed me or thrown me in a cell by now.”

“Not a smarter man, a boring one,” König corrects.

“So you have a death wish.”

“Of course not. I have much to live for. Eating, killing, fucking. Great fun. But not enough on its own.” His grin is near wolfish as he stares you down.

“You are vile.”

“You could be doing something about that.”

You look at him in mortified disbelief. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“I was referring to killing me, but it is interesting that’s where your mind went first.” He looks entirely too pleased with himself, as if he’s caught you in a clever trap.

“Fuck you.”

“Now we’re talking!” He stands up, and for one fleeting moment, you fear he’s about to make good on the offer, but instead he just wipes his mouth and makes to leave.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this little bout of verbal sparring, I have somewhere to be.”

“You seem in quite a rush to leave my presence, for a man who seems so convinced I won’t be able to kill him.” If he wants to be a smart little asshole, you can too.

“Ah, believe me, princess. I would like nothing more than to spend all day in your lovely, murderous presence. But unfortunately, I have responsibilities.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you studiously ignore the way your stomach flips a little at the motion. “I’m obligated to hear petitions.”

You stand up. “I’m coming with you.”

“Why? It’s fucking dull.”

“So I can have more opportunities to kill you.”

“Yes. Of course.” Again with that smile. You’ve never met anyone half as pleased to be in your presence as he is. (The only exception is Calliope, but she kind of has to be near you.) This man simply refuses to act in any normal manner whatsoever, and it’s starting to get on your nerves. You throw your dagger at the back of his head more out of irritation than a dedicated effort to kill him.

He catches it in the air with casual precision and keeps walking. “Too predictable, little one.”

You should be concerned by his razor-sharp reflexes, but it’s difficult to feel anything but annoyance right now. And…respect?

You get up and follow him before you can give yourself a chance to dissect that.

König was right. This is dull.

At first, the concept of receiving petitioners seemed like an amusing prospect. But in practice, it’s all politics and people complaining about taxes.

You entertain yourself by watching König. He seems just as bored, if not more, as you. He appears to be intrigued by your dagger: examining it, testing the edge, handling the heft.

Some man is talking animatedly with his hands, bemoaning some property dispute with his neighbor. You’re sure that if König rolls his eyes any harder into the back of his skull, he’ll go pigeon-eyed. Admirably, he manages to push through—if it had been you, you would have just told the man to get out and stop wasting your time. As loathe as you are to admit it, König is a good leader.

“Alright, we’re done here. Tell them to go home,” König says, dismissing everyone with a flick of his wrist. The guards begin to push the doors closed when one last man runs in, near crazed, and throws himself on the floor, babbling incoherently.

“What is the meaning of this?” König demands, immediately standing up. The guards begin to approach the man, hands on swords.

“Wait! Please, your majesty, I beg of you,” the man pleads. “I have journeyed many days to come here and beseech your aid.”

König heaves a sigh. “Spit it out then.”

“Thank you, my king,” the man pants, pushing himself up to a standing position. “There’s a beast. In the south.”

“A beast?”

“It’s ravaging the countryside. It follows the flocks, but it doesn’t eat them. It’s…” The man swallows hard. He looks weary, run ragged no doubt by his arduous journey to the capital. “It’s taking our children, sir.”

König’s eyes narrow. “And you haven’t attempted to track it down yourself?”

“We’ve tried, your majesty. Our most skilled hunters have gone after it.” The man sways unsteadily on his feet. “None of them have come back.”

“Has anyone laid eyes on it? Is it a wolf?”

“None who have seen it have returned to tell the tale.”

König leans back, looking contemplative. One of his advisors speaks. “We’ve received reports about this already, sire. We’ve dispatched soldiers already but had no luck.”

The man shakes his head frantically. “It doesn’t leave anyone behind to tell the tale, sir. Not many people dare to go into the woods anymore, and the ones that do…they don’t come back right.”

“How so.”

The man’s voice betrays his naked fear, trembling. “They go mad, sir. Some think…some think it’s the fae’s doing.”

That seems to finally get König’s interest. He leans forward, his entire demeanor stiffening. A hush falls over the people gathered as the man invokes the fair folk’s name.

Everybody knows the fae exist. In hushed whispers, people tell the old stories: of when the fair folk lived among men and ruled over them with cruelty and trickery. There are some forests people know to stay out of. And when a newborn babe fusses just a bit too much, or a child grows up a little too quiet, the rumors fly in secret.

The fae are cruel, beautiful, and nearly impossible for a mortal to kill. If they’re involved in this matter with the beast, then that village is as good as dead.

Before König can say anything, the man fidgets and turns. You watch as his attention lands on you, eyes widening. Something his gaze becomes unfocused, misty, his chest beginning to heave as he visibly panics.

“You…they’re here…THEY’RE HERE!” With a crazed look on his face, the man lunges towards you, moving at a threatening speed. Your hand goes instinctively to your hidden sheathe, but your fingers close around air. Shit! König still has your dagger. You brace to defend yourself as the man draws even closer—

Like a deadly blur, König is on the man in an instant. The force of him knocks you backwards, watching in shock as König subdues the screaming, flailing man with cold, expert precision.

As if in slow motion, you watch with a mixture of horror and fascination as he turns to look at you. His eyes, usually a tranquil pale green, are blue. Vivid blue, with an unearthly glow to them that makes you wonder if you’re hallucinating. You feel like a butterfly pinned to cork by that stare, simultaneously trapped and admired.

He blinks, once, and his eyes are green again.

With what looks like no effort at all, he turns the man on his stomach and pins his arms behind him as he struggles and hollers. “Put this one in a cell,” he says with a deep growl. “We’ll see what he has to say for himself when he’s in his right mind again. If he ever is.” The guards rush forward to haul the man away as König stands back up.

He gives the rest of the room a cursory glance. “Well? Back to your duties.”

The gawking staff quickly gather themselves and scatter. König claps his hands together as if dusting off some nuisance.

“…Why did you do that?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

He gives you a skeptical look. “Why did I defend my queen from an attacker?”

You take a deep breath. Gods preserve you. “I’m not your anything.”

“Technically untrue. You are my wife, which makes you the queen.” He strides over to you and offers you your dagger, holding the blade so you can grab the hilt.

Its weight soothes you as you put it back into its rightful place. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve already said I have no intention of killing you. Besides, it wouldn’t look good for me if I allowed you to be attacked in your own home.”

This isn’t my home, you almost say, but stop yourself. You’re starting to sound too much like a whining child, and you don’t like it.

You surprise the both of you with what comes out of your mouth next. “Thank you.”

He’s looking at you that way again, like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “You’re welcome.” He averts his eyes, hesitating for a moment like he wants to say more. Then he evidently thinks better of it and strides away from you.

“My lady!” Calliope rushes forward, concern written all over her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, just…shaken,” you say, still watching König leave. “I’m fine.”

“Simply outrageous. I can’t believe none of the guards got to that man in time,” she fumes, fussing over you in her way.

“Yes, well. König got here in time. So no harm was done.”

Calliope follows your gaze, eyes narrowing at König’s retreating backside just as he turns the corner and vanishes from sight. “I don’t like that one.”

“Neither do I,” you snort.

“No, pet. Listen to me.” Startled, you turn to look at her. You haven’t heard her take on this tone in quite a while: the last time was when you had broken your wrist trying to scale one of the abandoned towers back home. You can’t quite recall why you had been trying to do that, but you do remember the worried look on her face, and the sternness of her words.

“He’s not right,” she says. “Something’s wrong about him.”

It’s a foregone conclusion to say that König is no ordinary man, but something about the furrow of Calliope’s brow tells you that more is happening here than she’s letting on. “Are you going to elaborate?”

A strange look passes over her face, like a cloud briefly blocking the sun. “No.”

You wait for a few moments before nodding. Whatever it is, you trust her to know what’s best. “I see. Though I didn’t need a warning on how dangerous he is, you know.”

“You are a smart girl,” she says wistfully, straightening your ruffled clothes a bit. “But there are some things that are not for you to understand.”

“I have to understand, if I’m to kill him.”

She frowns. “I think you should put that out of your mind for now.”

“What?”

“I mean, you may have to play a longer game with this one. There’s too much we don’t know.”

You open your mouth, then close it. She’s right. There was something bone-chilling about the way he looked at you just now, but instead of feeling afraid, you feel something different. Curiosity. Fascination.

Not for the first time—or the last—you feel drawn to him.

König’s been antsy lately.

You’ve gotten quite good at reading his moods, even when he’s wearing the hood. The rest of his body betrays him: his shoulders are tense, and his fingers are constantly toying with a phantom knife. He prefers to be fidgeting with an actual one, but it tends to make him too intimidating for that to be practical.

You’ve taken Calliope’s advice and taken to studying your target rather than trying to end him and be done with it. There’s a lot to notice, which is surprising: you’d taken him for some mindless hulking brute upon first impression. It’s clear that he’s intelligent, with a cunning quickness to his thinking that both impresses and chills you.

Shame he’s still as much of a raging pervert as he was in the beginning, though.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about you in pants at first, but now I think you should wear them more often,” he says, surprising you during target practice. He startles you enough to throw your shot off, the arrow clattering uselessly to the ground below the target.

“Can I help you?” you demand, giving him a venomous side eye.

“Not at all, princess. Just admiring the view.” He leans against a nearby post, watching your confused expression. It takes him shifting his gaze downward for you to realize what he means.

“Ugh!” Without hesitation, you nock another arrow and shoot it at him, aiming right between his eyes. He dodges it, of course.

“You can’t expect me to marry a pretty woman and not look at her,” he says smugly.

It’s an unfamiliar situation, being desired. You don’t have much experience with this sort of thing: not only are you the king’s daughter, but you tend to give off a chilly, hyper-competent aura that keeps men with fragile egos away from you. You’ve only had one encounter with a man: a shy kiss behind the stables, featherlight touches that sent tingles through your whole body.

König has never touched you, but the way he looks at you is enough to make you blush. You should be indignant, but instead you find you don’t mind all that much.

“Why are you bothering me?” you say instead of responding to what he said.

“Bothering you? I’m hurt,” he says, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve physically wounded him. “I came to inform you of my departure.”

“Your what?” you ask, gawking at him. “Where are you going?”

“Do you remember that man who came to tell us about the beast?”

“You mean the man who attacked me? I’d forgotten,” you say drily.

“Your wit is as alluring as ever,” he responds. “I’ve decided to enlist the help of the most competent man I know to deal with the threat.”

“And who would that be?”

“Me, of course.”

You shoot him a confused look. “You’re leaving to deal with something personally?”

“It’s too perilous of a problem to continue throwing my men at,” he says, taking on a more serious tone. He’s toying with a knife again: a hefty, aggressive-looking thing with a jagged edge. “If you want something done, you need to do it yourself. Or at least lay eyes on the problem yourself.”

“You’re not worried at all about dying and leaving your throne empty?” you ask disbelievingly. This is beyond reckless, verging on foolish.

“Don’t start,” he sighs. “I just got out of a hours-long meeting with my advisors. Anything you could say to me, they’ve already told me a dozen times. It won’t change my mind.” One look at him tells you he’s dead serious, and won’t be persuaded otherwise.

“Well, when do we leave?”

“We?”

“Yes, of course. I’m coming with you,” you say, puzzled at his confusion.

“You are not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s too dangerous. And besides, the journey won’t be pleasant. I’ll be traveling without guards or servants.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Too much of a hassle. I’ll get there faster if I’m traveling alone. Emphasis on alone. Besides, I would prefer not to be sending any innocents to their deaths.”

“You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

“And you think you qualify?”

“Yes!”

He chuckles at your indignant tone. “With all due respect, my queen, I doubt you could take care of yourself out there, much less be of use to me.”

You wish he wouldn’t call you that. It makes your chest feel strange. Which isn’t helpful when you’re getting mad at him for doubting your competence.

“If you go alone, you might not come back,” you retort. “If I come with you, I can ensure you don’t come back.”

He looks at you, startled, and proceeds to let out a hearty laugh. “You are full of surprises,” he says. “It won’t be like a vacation, you know. We’ll have to travel light.”

“I can handle that.”

“I’m sure you can. The question is, can you handle whatever beast those villagers are so worried about? You may not worry about my wellbeing, but I would worry about your own first.”

“You don’t think I can hold my own?”

“To be honest? No.”

“Then let me prove myself.” You step right up to him, so close that your face is nearly pressed to his chest. God, he’s so big. And broad— “Let me show you I can hold my own in a fight.”

A sly smile crosses his face. “Alright. Let’s spar.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s. Spar.”

“You want me to fight you?”

“What were you expecting?”

“That’s not a fair fight.”

“You came here to kill me.”

“Assassinations don’t usually happen during prearranged one-on-one fights.”

“Touché. But I’m not asking you to beat me. If I think you’re competent, then you can come along.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I actively do not want you to join me, mind you.”

You let out a quick, angry breath through your nose. Infuriating. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you after lunch, then.”

You turn away from him and trudge over to a tree to pick up some fallen arrows. “What’s the rush? Are you leaving so soon?”

“Tomorrow morning, in fact. Just before dawn.”

“I can wake up that early.”

“No need to put the horse before the carriage here. If you’re going.”

“I’m not concerned.” You bend down to pick a few arrows out of some scrappy tough grass, and when you straighten, König is right there, looming over you like a threatening shadow.

“What—” You gasp as the knife König was fiddling with rushes past your face and embeds itself in the tree trunk behind you.

“I don’t think this is quite getting through to you, so I’ll only say this once,” he mutters darkly, leaning over you to whisper directly into your ear, his hand firmly gripping the knife above your head. “You have nothing to prove to me, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do by insisting you come with me. If you change your mind now, we need not speak about this again.”

You glare up at him. “You’re not going to change my mind. And it’s quite suspicious that you’re trying to.”

“Is it really so difficult to believe that I’m concerned for your welfare?”

You don’t understand him. Being this close to him isn’t helping you think straight, either. There’s no other way to describe it, but it’s almost like you can feel the intensity radiating off him. He smells like pine needles and lye, and some distinctly manly musk that you don’t dislike. And when he’s up close like this, you can see every detail of his eyes, the green streaked with blue and brown.

“It would be easier if you weren’t,” you whisper.

He snorts. “Don’t I know it.” Before you can process what the hell he means by that, he’s pulling his knife out of the tree and stalking off, suddenly in some sulky mood.

You stare at the deep mark left in the bark, wondering what just happened.

“Again,” calls the swordsmaster.

You scramble to your feet, exhausted and sore. “This isn’t fair,” you whine. You’re twelve years old, and the man who’s been teaching you how to fight has just dropped you for what feels like the millionth time in a row.

“How so?”

“You’re bigger than me!” you pout. “And far stronger.”

“That isn’t always an advantage, you know,” he says, doing a flourish with his practice sword that you vow right there and then to master someday.

“How? That’s all fighting is. It’s just big people beating up the little people.”

“Being smaller just means you have to be nimbler.” He gestures for you to come at him again. “Don’t focus on trying to hit me in the chest. Use your size to your advantage and focus on weak points.”

You brandish the practice sword again and ground yourself, steeling yourself with a deep breath before charging. You go for the knees, smacking them so hard that they buckle, bringing your instructor down with a shout.

“I did it!” you beam proudly.

“A little unorthodox, but the job is done,” he pants. “Remember, there is no decorum when you are fighting for your life. It is imperative you intuit your enemy’s weak points and exploit them. Even the strongest enemy can be brought low.”

You nod with determination. “Always go for the knees.” That draws a laugh out of your instructor.

There’s something deeply unnerving about the way this man moves.

König is so big, but he doesn’t move like it. The way he paces reminds you of a big cat: all intimidation and quiet, deadly strength on light feet.

“I’ll let you make the first move,” he says with a crooked smile. He looks deliciously rumpled, the sleeves of his shirt pushed to his elbows. You’re only looking at the swell of his biceps for tactical reasons, of course. Of course.

“How generous,” you reply. Without hesitation, you lunge at him.

He’s ready for you, of course. He matches you hit for hit, parrying you effortlessly. If you thought he was fast before, there’s something downright inhuman about it now. You doubt he’s even breaking a sweat.

He pushes you back, sliding on your feet a little. “Do you seriously have one hand behind your back right now?” you hiss.

“You’re as difficult to fend off as a feather,” he shoots back.

It’s like having a conversation, sparring with him. More than just the banter, of course. You trade blows, each unable to move in too closely to the other. He may be strong, but you’re fast. And you can tell you’re wearing him down.

“Getting tired, big boy?” you taunt.

“Of waiting for you to give up? Perhaps,” he grits out. “Don’t try my patience, princess.”

“I want to watch you squirm,” you respond. You watch as König’s eyes widen slightly. You jump at the opportunity, taking advantage of his moment of shock to knock him off balance and pinning him underneath you.

“That wasn’t so hard,” you purr as he pants under you. “Feel familiar?”

“Last time we were in this position, it didn’t end so well for you,” König shoots back. He can say whatever he wants, but you’ve visibly winded him.

“This time, I went for the knees.”

“Oh?”

“You have buttons that are very entertaining to push, your highness.”

“You little—”

It’s quick. One moment he’s pinned underneath you, and another moment some supernatural strength has him rapidly reversing your positions. He catches you off guard, and you spot a flash of blue in his eyes as the wind is knocked out of your lungs.

“Next time you have an enemy pinned like that, finish the job instead of crowing about your victory,” he hisses.

You wheeze a little before shooting him a coy look. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

“You are an infuriating little minx,” he says, visibly frustrated. He stands up, offering you a helping hand.

You take it, springing up with a little bounce to your step. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Am I coming with you?”

He sighs in consternation. “I suppose you are.”

You give him a little pat on the face. His exposed cheek is warm underneath your palm as he looks at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Glad we sorted that out. See you at dinner,” you say sweetly.

You prance off without a look back. You could use a bath.

MOOOOOOOM THEY'RE FLIRTINGGG

I started out unsure of how this chapter was going to turn out, as it's mostly just setup for the plot to get going. But I ended up having a lot of fun, and some pretty important things are set up in this. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

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