bjorn x reader (i tried smth different by putting Reader in the fic instead of yxn so let me know if it looks okay or if it works for you guys 😭)
Summary: One night, she shows up in his room—with intentions he never thought she’d bring to him, acting like the complete opposite of her usual shy, rule-following, goody two-shoes self. He thinks she’s finally dropped the good girl act. Has she?
(if this is a bit long, i apologize. i tried to post it on ao3 but i havent been accepted there yet lol)
Bjorn sat on his bunk, thumbs tapping idly at the controller in his hands, the dim light from the screen casting a glow over his face. His brows furrowed in concentration as he muttered under his breath, completely absorbed in the game.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
“Unless you’re Tyler with a bottle of booze or an alien here to kill me, get lost,” he grumbled without looking up.
No response. Just soft footsteps.
Bjorn’s fingers paused over the buttons, and he finally looked up, frowning when he saw her standing there.
She was the last person he expected to show up at his bunk. Little-miss-stick-to-the-rules, the one who always looked at him like he was one sarcastic comment away from getting shoved out of an airlock. Her usual stiff posture was gone; instead, she leaned against the wall, lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. The hell? She never smiled like that — not at him.
She didn’t look like herself. Her hair was a little more tousled, her eyes shadowed like she hadn’t slept.
She sat down next to him, close enough that her knee bumped against his. Bjorn blinked.
Bjorn scowled, setting his controller aside. “Okay, what the hell? Did you get lost on your way to literally anywhere else?”
She tilted her head, gaze flickering to his mouth before meeting his eyes again. “No. I wanted to see you.”
Bjorn’s body stiffened. His brain scrambled for a logical explanation—maybe she hit her head during that last escape, or maybe Tyler had spiked the water rations for fun.
“What do you want?” he muttered, voice low and rough.
“Nothing,” she said simply, her smile deepening. “Just your company.”
Bjorn shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Go find company with the others,” he muttered. “You know, the people you actually talk to.”
“But I don’t want them,” she murmured, leaning in slightly. Their knees were completely touching now.
Bjorn narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“You sure? Because you’re acting weird. Like… you got body-snatched weird.” He forced a smirk. “Should I check for antennae?”
She laughed softly—a different kind of laugh. Low. Smooth. Something about it made his stomach tighten.
“Come on, Bjorn,” she murmured.
His body tensed. “Come on, what?”
She leaned forward just a bit, her breath warm against his ear. “You always push me away,” she whispered. “Why?”
His pulse jumped. He pulled back, eyes searching hers. “Okay, yeah, you’ve either been hitting the ship’s hidden stash or you hit your head.”
She tilted her head, her fingers skimming his arm. “What if I just want to get to know you better?”
Bjorn caught her wrist, gripping it firmly. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” His voice was sharp, but his grip wasn’t.
She only smiled, like she knew something he didn’t. “I don’t know.” Her voice dropped, almost teasing. “Why? Do I seem… different?”
“Yeah.” He let go of her hand, shoving himself upright. “You don’t act like this.”
“Like what?” she asked, stepping even closer. Now she was standing between his legs, looking down at him. He swallowed.
“Flirty,” he said bluntly.
She giggled. Actually giggled. Bjorn swore under his breath. “You hate me, remember?” he muttered. “Think I’m an arrogant prick.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.” Her fingers dragged down his arm, nails scratching lightly over his sleeve.
Bjorn shivered. He should push her away. Instead, he just stared at her. “You’re not like this,” he said again, voice strained. “You’re shy. Quiet.”
“Maybe I’m tired of being shy,” she murmured.
He sucked in a breath as she shifted even closer. He tried to lean back, but his shoulders hit the headboard.
“Maybe I like your attention…” Her breath brushed against his neck, warm and teasing. “And wondering what it would feel like to touch you.”
Bjorn’s brain short-circuited. What the hell was happening?
She was practically in his lap now, her weight pressing against his thighs, her fingers ghosting up the back of his neck. His instincts screamed at him to stop this, to shove her away and demand what the hell had gotten into her.
Instead, his mouth did what it always did when things got weird: it ran with it.
“Well, you know what they say,” Bjorn drawled, letting his gaze flicker to her lips. “Opposites attract.”
She smiled. “You think we’re opposites?”
“Yeah. I’m fun. You’re…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Not.”
She giggled again, a sultry little sound that sent heat curling through his stomach. “Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Bjorn exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way her knee pressed into his thigh. “Please. I know you. You’re the one who gives me that disappointed teacher look every time I crack a joke.”
Her fingers toyed with his belt. His muscles twitched under her touch. “Maybe I just enjoy your attention.”
Oh, hell no. Something was definitely wrong. His pulse hammered in his ears.
“What’s with you?” he asked again, voice rough. He caught her wrist before her hand could slide under his shirt. “Seriously.”
Her pupils were blown wide now, black swallowing the color. “I don’t know,” she whispered. Her lips parted. “But don’t you like it?”
Bjorn gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, if you’re trying to seduce me, you might wanna work on the creepy factor.”
She tilted her head. “Is it working?”
Bjorn’s grip on her wrist tightened. “I mean… maybe a little.”
His smirk faltered when she swung one leg over his thighs and fully straddled him. Heat surged through his body. Her weight pressed against him, her nails dragging over the back of his neck—it messed with his head.
“Relax, Bjorn,” she whispered. “You think too much.”
“That’s funny,” he muttered. “Everyone says I don’t think at all.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging his head back slightly. His throat bobbed. Every instinct screamed to stop this, because something about the way she looked at him wasn’t normal.
But then she leaned down and kissed him.
Bjorn groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he kissed her back. She tasted like metal and danger, like something he shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop craving.
His hands slid up her back, gripping her like he was afraid she’d pull away. The kiss turned messy, desperate. His mind screamed at him to get a grip, to push her away before he did something stupid.
But when her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer—he was gone.
The emergency lights bathed the control room in harsh, red flashes. Alarms blared through the ship’s speakers, a robotic voice repeating: “Containment breach. Sector 5.”
Navarro’s hands flew across the controls. “Shit, shit—come on!” she muttered, her eyes darting between the monitors. One showed Tyler and Bjorn, trapped in the quarantine chamber, weapons raised. The other displayed a writhing mass of translucent, sinewy creatures slithering toward them.
“Navarro, get us the hell out of here!” Tyler’s voice crackled through the comms, his usual bravado laced with panic.
“They’re closin’ in,” the reader said, gripping the back of Navarro’s chair. Her heart hammered in her chest. The creatures' movements were disjointed but fast, their limbs twisting unnaturally as they swarmed toward the two men. “Can’t we override the door?”
“I’m trying!” Navarro’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “They locked it remotely from the lab after the breach.” She paused, brow furrowed. “Wait. There’s a manual override in the maintenance shaft.”
The reader swallowed hard. “I’ll go.”
“You sure? It’s crawling with those things out there.”
The screen showed Bjorn, standing back-to-back with Tyler, swiping his forearm across his sweaty face. His voice crackled over the comms, his accent sharp: “Oi, can we speed this up? Not tryna be anyone’s midnight snack here!”
The reader didn’t answer. She was already sprinting toward the maintenance hatch.
The shaft was barely wide enough to crawl through. The metal walls groaned with each movement. Sweat dripped down her temple as she pushed forward, flashlight clamped between her teeth.
The override panel came into view — a small box marked MANUAL RELEASE. Her hands shook as she flipped it open and punched in the code Navarro had given her.
From the shadows ahead, something scraped against the metal. The hair on her neck stood on end. Her eyes darted toward the sound. The flashlight caught a flash of pale, rubbery skin skittering across the metal.
She slammed the release lever down.
The alarm shifted to a new tone: “Chamber door disengaged.”
Back in the control room, she stumbled through the door as Tyler and Bjorn burst in behind her.
“Holy fuckin’ hell,” Tyler panted, bending over with his hands on his knees. “That was close.”
Bjorn leaned against the wall, sucking in breaths. His shirt was torn, streaked with dark fluid. “Yeah,” he wheezed. “Remind me to never volunteer for a ‘routine inspection’ again.”
“I bloody hate space,” he muttered.
Hours later, the adrenaline had worn off. The ship was quiet again.
The reader stood in the tiny bathroom, running damp fingers through her hair. Her reflection stared back, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. She turned her head to the side, inspecting a scrape on her cheek from the maintenance shaft.
That’s when she felt it: a faint tickle along the shell of her ear.
She frowned, reaching up. Her fingertips brushed against something cold and slick.
She jerked her hand away, heart slamming in her chest. Another tickle — deeper now, just inside her ear canal. Her breath hitched. She grabbed the edge of the sink, eyes wide with horror.
Sudden pressure built behind her eardrum. Her vision blurred. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared.
Maybe she imagined it. Maybe it was just leftover nerves from the mission.
She forced a shaky breath and turned off the faucet.
Behind her, in the mirror’s reflection, her pupils dilated unnaturally. Just for a second.
———————————————————————————
Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Her body arched into his touch as his fingers toyed with the button of her pants, fumbling to undo it. His mouth found the pulse at her throat, sucking softly, and a low hum escaped her lips.
A jarring flicker behind her eyes.
The sensation was sharp, like someone yanking a cord plugged into the base of her skull. Her vision blurred. For the briefest moment, everything went black.
When clarity returned, she was on Bjorn’s bed, half-straddling his lap, his hand already slipping beneath her waistband.
What the hell—how did I get here?
Her stomach lurched. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, like waking up in the middle of a nightmare. The pressure of his palm against her hip, the heat of his breath on her neck—she didn’t remember any of it or how she got into this position.
“Stop,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Get off—get off me.”
Bjorn didn’t react immediately. His mouth was still at her throat, teeth grazing her skin.
Her pulse skyrocketed. Panic took hold.
“Stop!” she said louder, raising her hand and slapping the side of his head.
“OW! What the—?” Bjorn recoiled, clutching his temple. His eyes flashed with confusion and anger. “What the hell?!”
She shoved his chest so hard he nearly fell off the bed. His head snapped back, the sting of her slap still burning against his scalp.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, scrambling off his lap like he was on fire. Her eyes were wide with panic, cheeks flushed.
Bjorn blinked. His brain short-circuited. His hair was disheveled, her lipstick smudged across his jawline. “Me? What am I doing? You’re the one who climbed into my bed and started getting handsy!”
Her mouth dropped open. “I did not!”
“Oh yeah? You just happened to sit on my lap and try to eat my face for fun?” He pointed to his hair. “You yanked my hair like you were testing the damn roots!”
Her face twisted with confusion — then horror. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
She stared at him, heart racing, mind spinning.
He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “First you come in here, climb on top of me, panting in my ear like a rabid fox—and now you’re bloody hitting me? Fucks the matter with you?”
Her eyes went wide. “I—I don’t remember doing that. I don’t know how I got here— I don’t- I was lying in my bunk and… then I… I woke up here. With.. you.”
Bjorn let out a low, bitter chuckle. “Right. Sure you don’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, shaking his head as he stood. “God… you are such a fucking tease.”
She backed away, breath unsteady. The confusion etched into her face was unmistakable. Bjorn’s eyes narrowed; his head tilted as he watched her, curiosity flickering behind his frustration.
Her brows knitted. She took another shaky step back, nearly stumbling before catching herself. Without another word, she turned and fled the room.
Bjorn ran a hand through his hair, giving his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “Fucking girls, man,” he muttered, then collapsed back onto his bed with a frustrated groan.
Reader slammed the door to her room and locked it, her chest heaving. Her heart still raced from whatever the hell had just happened in Bjorn’s room. She backed away from the door, rubbing her temples.
What the fuck was that? How did I even get there?
She paced to the mirror, her reflection just as disheveled and panicked as she felt. Her hair was tangled, her lips swollen from Bjorn’s kisses. But she didn’t remember walking there. Didn’t remember straddling him. Just… being at the sink. The pressure in her head. The sick squirming sensation beneath her skin.
Her hand flew to her ear. The spot just beneath the canal—where she’d felt it last night. A twitch, then a burrowing sensation. Her stomach churned.
No. No, this couldn’t be real.
She pressed harder, wincing at the soreness. Something had happened. Something had crawled in.
Her mind shot back to earlier: Tyler and Bjorn fighting off the small, slick creatures in the cargo bay. The skittering limbs, the way one darted toward the vent before Bjorn stomped after it.
One must’ve gotten into her.
———————————————————————————
The med bay had found nothing. No parasites, no head injuries, no alien goo lodged in her brain. By the end of the day, she was convinced she’d had a psychotic break. A weird, horrifyingly embarrassing psychotic break that involved dry-humping Bjorn’s lap.
She hadn’t spoken to him since. Every time she passed him in the halls, she speed-walked in the opposite direction while he smirked like the cocky asshole he was.
Now the crew was gathered in the common area, poring over whatever scraps of data Navarro had managed to recover from the ship’s security feeds. Everyone was tense. Tired. Half-expecting those acid-blooded monsters to rip through the walls at any second.
Navarro tapped a few keys on the console. “Alright,” he muttered. “Here’s footage from corridor C, two hours before the first attack.”
The screen flickered. Grainy black-and-white footage showed an empty hallway. The group leaned in. Nothing happened for a few seconds… until a small, worm-like shape wriggled across the floor and disappeared into the ventilation shaft.
“What the hell is that?” Tyler asked.
“No idea,” Navarro said. “Looks like it moves like a—wait.” His brow furrowed as he clicked to the next feed. “This is from the crew quarters last night. After we locked down the south wing.”
There she was. In fuzzy night-vision, walking into Bjorn’s bunk with a slow, almost predatory stride. She watched herself climb onto his lap, run her fingers through his hair, and kiss him like she was auditioning for a damn romance holo.
Tyler choked on a laugh. “Holy shit.”
Her entire body locked up. Heat flooded her cheeks. “T-t-that… that wasn’t me!” she stammered, voice cracking.
Bjorn, sitting across from her, turned his head slowly and met her gaze. His mouth curved into a lazy, delighted grin. “Sure looks like you.”
“It’s not!” she shouted, practically vibrating with mortification. “I-I don’t remember any of that! I was possessed!”
“Oh yeah?” Bjorn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “By what? The Horny Ghost of Deck Three?”
The group burst into laughter.
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I-I swear! I was sleeping! And then I woke up in his room and—”
“On my lap,” Bjorn added helpfully. “Don’t forget the lap part.”
Navarro frowned, tapping the screen. “Wait, hold on. Look at the timestamp.”
They all turned back to the footage. As her possessed self kissed Bjorn, a tiny shape slithered out from behind her ear — the same worm-like creature — and crawled from the bunk to the floor.
Seconds later, her body froze mid-kiss. Her eyes went glassy.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I wasn’t crazy.”
Navarro nodded grimly. “Looks like whatever that thing is… it was controlling you.”
Bjorn let out a low whistle. “So you were possessed.” His jaw tightened, amusement draining from his face. “Brilliant. I was snogging some alien parasite, not you.” His eyes darkened. “That’s fucking disgusting.”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest. “Why Bjorn, though?” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—jealousy, maybe. “I mean… you could’ve climbed into either one of our bunks.”
Bjorn, still lounging against the table, perked up. “Yeah. Why me?” He straightened, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on hers. “Gotta say, I’m curious.”
Even Navarro, typically all business, arched a brow and turned his attention toward her. The question hung heavy in the air.
She froze. The weight of their collective stares pinned her in place. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I… I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what that thing wants.”
The silence stretched, brittle and sharp.
Navarro finally broke it, voice grim. “To reproduce,” he said, nodding toward the footage. “That thing—whatever it is—wasn’t just controlling you. It was looking for a host.”
Her eyes widened. “A host… for more of those things?”
“Exactly.” Navarro’s jaw tightened. “And it didn’t pick Bjorn at random.”
Bjorn’s smirk faded. “Wait… what the hell does that mean?”
Navarro leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That thing was trying to reproduce. It chose you because you’re the most compatible host.”
Bjorn let out a dry laugh. “Compatible? What, like I’ve got a ‘prime breeding material’ stamp on my forehead?”
Tyler snorted, though his eyes never left the screen. “I mean… wouldn’t be the weirdest thing about you.”
Bjorn shot him a glare. “Piss off.”
She barely heard them. Her mind was spinning. “So… it climbed out of me and went into Bjorn?”
Navarro gave a slow nod. “Or at least tried to. We saw it crawl toward him on the footage before it disappeared under the bed.”
Her stomach turned. “And now it’s… what, still in here somewhere?”
Bjorn tensed. “Under the bed,” he repeated, glancing toward his bunk. His legs shifted, like he was preparing to bolt. “It’s still here.”
Tyler’s face paled. “Shit.”
Navarro stood. “We need to find it. Now.”
Bjorn took a step back, eyes scanning the floor. “Right. Great. A horny alien worm loose in my room. Just what I fucking needed.”
———————————————————————————
As Tyler and Navarro swept the flashlight beam across the floor, scanning for the creature, Bjorn shifted closer. His shoulder bumped lightly against hers.
“You know…” His voice dipped, low and teasing.
She stiffened. Bjorn leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Do you really not remember what happened between us?”
Her throat tightened. She turned her head slightly — and immediately regretted it. His blue eyes caught hers, sharp and glinting with amusement.
“I—I told you. I don’t remember,” she stammered.
He tilted his head, a slow smirk curving his lips. “Shame.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then flicked back up. “You were so… enthusiastic.”
“Bjorn,” Tyler called out. “This isn’t the time.”
Bjorn gives him a look of displeasure.
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire at this point.
_________________________________________________
The flashlight’s beam glinted off the metal bedframe, casting shadows like skeletal fingers across the wall. Tyler crouched, lowering the light to the floor. The shadows shifted — and then something moved.
Tyler’s voice interrupted the moment: “Shit—there it goes!”
A glistening, worm-like creature squirmed at the edge of the beam, pale and slick, like it had been birthed from static. It slithered toward the baseboard.
Navarro lunged first. His boot stomped down with a sickening squish. The creature convulsed beneath the heel, its form pulsing, writhing.
“What the hell is that thing?” she breathed.
“Parasitic entity,” Navarro grunted, grinding his heel into the floor. “Uses human hosts to reproduce.”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened. “Reproduce… like make us host its babies?”
Navarro didn’t answer. She just pressed down harder. The worm gave one final twitch before going still, a smear of iridescent fluid pooling beneath it.
Bjorn exhaled shakily. “Jesus Christ.”
Tyler leaned against the desk, skin pale. “So… is that it? We’re good now?”
Navarro crouched to examine the remains. The goo shimmered unnaturally in the light. “This one’s dead.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But if it came through when we opened the rift… there might be more.”
Reader’s stomach twisted. “More? Like how many more?”
Navarro wiped the goo onto a tissue. “That depends on how long it was in you.” She stood, meeting reader’s eyes. “And what it did while it was.”
Silence stretched between them. Her skin crawled with invisible touches.
Bjorn broke it with a shaky laugh. “Great. So I almost got laid by a possessed chick because some horny alien worm decided I was a suitable breeding ground.”
He raked a hand through his hair and gave a crooked grin. “Gotta say, not my proudest moment.”
———————————————————————————
She sat curled up on the worn couch in the living quarters, pretending to read the manual for the comms system while the vents hummed overhead. The rest of the crew was gone, off checking the engine room for more of those alien freaks. She should’ve been worried. Anxious. Hyper-alert.
Instead, her mind kept flashing back to that grainy CCTV footage Navarro had pulled up yesterday.
Her. In Bjorn’s lap. Hands in his hair. Mouth on his like she was trying to suck the soul out of him.
The secondhand embarrassment still made her want to self-destruct.
"Deep breaths," she muttered to herself. "It wasn’t you. You were possessed. Just…ignore him."
“Talking to yourself now?"
Her spine straightened with a jolt. Bjorn’s voice.
She didn’t look up. "Go away."
"Why would I do that?" His footsteps creaked across the floor. “We’ve got the whole ship to ourselves. Thought we could…bond.”
He chuckled. The sound made her eye twitch.
Her focus stayed glued to the manual as he dropped onto the couch across from her, sprawling like he owned the place. Silence stretched between them. She could feel his gaze like a physical weight, dragging up her legs, past her folded arms, straight to her face.
“You know,” Bjorn said after a minute, “I’ve been trying to figure something out.”
She exhaled sharply. “Are you now?” She answered completely uninterested.
He ignored her. "Your chapstick."
That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to his. "What?"
"That night," he said, tapping his lower lip with his thumb. "When you kissed me."
“Strawberry?” He squinted, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Nah… cherry, maybe? It was sweet. Kinda fruity.”
Bjorn chuckled. “C’mon. Tell me. It’s been driving me fucking crazy all day.”
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, standing abruptly to leave.
She turned toward the hallway — but he was faster. He stood and moved into her path with infuriating ease, blocking the exit.
Her heart skipped. She took a step back, and her shoulders hit the cold wall.
Bjorn placed a hand on the wall beside her head and leaned in just enough to make her breath hitch. His blue eyes sparkled with pure mischief.
"You know," he said softly, "it's my birthday today."
She crossed her arms, willing herself not to react. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks." His smirk deepened. "Aren’t you gonna ask what I want for my birthday?"
She clenched her jaw. "No."
"Go on." His gaze flicked to her lips. "Ask."
Her throat tightened. She hated how her pulse spiked when he looked at her like that. Like he saw straight through her bravado.
"...What do you want for your birthday?" she mumbled, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.
Bjorn's mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. "A kiss."
Her head snapped up. "You’re insane."
"Maybe." He pushed off the wall just enough to trail his fingers down her arm. Goosebumps erupted across her skin despite herself. "But you seemed pretty into it last time."
"It wasn’t me," she said through clenched teeth.
"That’s what you keep saying." He leaned in again, voice low. "But you know what I think?"
"No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me."
His breath brushed her cheek. "I think you liked it."
Her chest squeezed. "You’re disgusting."
"And you’re a terrible liar." His eyes dropped to her mouth. “C’mon. One little kiss. For my birthday.”
The worst part? He was close enough that she could smell the faint cologne-and-cigarette scent of him, feel the heat of his skin. And for one horrifying second, she thought about giving in.
Then her fight instinct kicked in.
She smacked the side of his head — hard — and shoved him away.
Bjorn stumbled back, surprised, then laughed. "Agh! What the fuck?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, chest heaving. "Go and get your head checked, you freak."
She turned and marched toward the door.
Behind her, he chuckled again. "Damn. That actually fucking hurt."
She rushed out, heart racing, steps quick and unsteady.
"Strawberry," Bjorn called after her. "I knew it."
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