#the way he said it made MY chest physically hurt

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: felon!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Surprisingly, you’re Ari’s first stop when he gets out of prison

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!! Ari (first and foremost because hello☝🏾lol), angst, talks of prison, allusion to violence (male-male), allusion to childhood trauma, a few bad language words, unprotected happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe!)

A/N🎤: Hi! So this is my entry for the Cum Together Extravaganza created by the amazing, talented, wonderful, whore-mone inducing @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 lol, and I hope everyone enjoys☺️! *This idea is loosely based off Nicolas Cage’s character from Con Air (if you know you know✨)

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was created by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Prompt: Pining + Running into each other after a long time apart + Frantic Kisses

His heavy boots stop just a foot or two away from the familiar steps he’d climbed plenty of times before. A mix of emotions swirling through his brain causing a tightness in his chest.

He shouldn’t be here.

Not after he’d all but physically pushed you out the visitation room that day. A common tactic of self sabotage he developed over the years, along with his way of trying to protect you from the eventual hurt he knew he’d put you through.

You were so angelic that day. Your natural glow competing with the sun outside shining through the window against your soft skin seemingly made of gold. Brown eyes full of worry, yet still holding that sparkle Ari had never experienced from anyone before. This wasn’t a place for you to be. A place that would soon tarnish your purity - so white the freshest snow, having fallen directly from the sky above, seemed dirty.

“You’re hurt,” you stated wanting so badly to reach out and try to do something for the blue and purple bruise on his cheek. To clean the dried blood around the stitch in his right eyebrow, but you keep your hands to yourself following the strict “no touching” rule.

He only shrugged. Clearly uncaring of whatever happened, but there was also a dimness to his spirit.

Since your first meeting, you could tell there was something hidden behind the walls he’d built. Sense a complicated past before he felt comfortable enough to tell you some of what he’d gone through. However this was different. Past the point of reverting back to the old Ari that was known as a troubled, aloof hermit, it’s almost as if this was a completely different man.

“I uh wanted to bring you cookies, but the officer said no,” you started again, trying to change the subject since Ari wouldn’t tell you what happened. “Something about possible contraband smuggling? As if I could sneak something in a small cookie. Plus it’s me of all people! Where would I even get-,”

“Don’t come back here,” he finally spoke in that gruff voice. It takes you back at first, lightly chuckling to yourself thinking he was joking. His serious eyes - somewhat dark and with new adjoining bags from his lack of sleep - tell you otherwise quickly causing a furrow to your brows.

“Wha-What do you mean-?”

“You don’t need to be waiting for me. Just…leave.”

“B-But I love you Ari.”

He shakes his head before standing to his feet. “We’re done,” he calls over his shoulder as he reaches the metal door. Whoever was in charge apparently heard him from the pad shining green to grant him entrance back to the waiting hall where another officer met him to reapply his cuffs and escort him to his cell.

All the while ignoring your cries of his name and how you pleaded for him to talk to you.

But later that night, staring at the discolored white ceiling as he lied in his top bunk on an uncomfortable, lumpy mattress, it’s all he could hear. Those same tears that ran down your cheeks now silently running down his.

“Fuck,” he silently curses to himself while his fingers pass through his almond strands as he turns away - now hyper aware of how strange he probably looked to your neighbors just standing in your yard. He should’ve just gone to the halfway house he’d been recommended from the transfer counselor.

Try to stay far from you and this part of town for that matter.

He was slowly realizing though, that the heart he thought was closed off desperately craved attention only you could give. Only wanted your warm touch and smile that soothed a childhood ache he’d long suppressed.

Just as he moves to descend your stone path, the front door creaks open to staccato taps on your wooden porch. There’s a continuous clink of metal followed by excited barks as the black dachshund runs down the steps and around Ari’s feet.

“Barry! You can’t run-”

Beautiful as a painting in a museum, there you stood in your cut off jean shorts and some older looking shirt. Your hair much shorter than the last time he saw you eight years ago, but the pixie cut only brought more attention to your gorgeous face and adorable cheeks.

Other than that, it’s as if you hadn’t aged a day.

“A-Ari?,” you stammer stepping further out onto your porch.

He has to clear his throat to get rid of the nerves blocking his words from escaping. “I…I’m sorry for just showin’ up like this. Would’ve called, but when they gave me my phone back it was dead.”

“So..you’re out?”

“Yea,” he softly smiles. You don’t return it though looking as if you’d seen a ghost while staying planted on the top step. Even Barry had returned back to your side, circling a couple times until he felt comfortable enough to lie down. “This was a mistake. Clearly she doesn’t want you here.”

“I’ll uh leave then,” Ari says nervously scratching the back of his neck after a long - and awkward enough - moment of silence between you two. “I didn’t mean to bother-”

Before he can finish, you’re running down the steps - not caring of the dirt and grass on your bare feet. He’s prepared for your deserved anger, whether that be yelling, shoves, or even punches. Instead, your fists clasp the front of his shirt as you pull him down to meet your lips.

After years apart his hands still automatically find their usual place on your body bringing you closer. Ari’s right on the side of your neck, tilting your chin however he needed to gain the access to your mouth he missed, while his left dragged from your hip to the middle of your back holding you to him.

Your moan hitting him in a deep, long ignored place that has him embarrassed like a teenage boy how fast his blood runs southward.

The need for air has you both begrudgingly parting, while your foreheads stay connected. “I’m sorry..for everything,” he whispers letting his thumb graze along your petal soft bottom lip. It’s as if he thinks you’ll break he’s so gentle - like it’s a fragile piece of artwork he dared touch.

"I didn't-"

"Shh," you reply leaning up to peck his lips once more. "Later."

-

Your lips barely separate journeying the short distance from your front door to your bedroom. Both of them red and swollen, yet neither of you attempt to stop as your back hits the light blue comforter - fluffy and soft as a cloud.

His hands grip your thighs curling along his sides, yet fail to move where you need them most making you whimper as his mouth slides to your neck. Taking matters into your own hands, you pull his shirt over his muscled back - silently giggling to yourself and filling with a sense of pride hearing his pleasured groan as your nails rake against his warm skin.

They’re set for his buckle next, but Ari’s quick to use his rougher and stronger ones to pin on either side of your head. “Ari please,” you whine eagerly trying to grind your hips so your soaking core can get some type of relief. You know he’s desperate for something too briefly nudging the tent formed in front of his pants.

“I know, I know.” He unsuccessfully tries to kiss the pout from your lips. “I..I wanna take my time tonight. It’s been eight years sweetheart.”

The deprived and needy part of you wants to counter, urging him for the opposite since it’s been so long. Instead, you nod letting him completely take control.

Slowly, he helps remove your clothes before open mouth kisses and taps of his tongue flow down from your neck and across your heaving chest to your stomach. You moan arching your back to lift your breasts closer to his face when he returns there taking his time attacking one nipple with his tongue while the other is groped and plucked in his free hand.

By the time he finally reaches your waiting and wet core, it only takes one lick and your sweet release is covering his beard.

“S-Sorry,” you stammer feeling your skin heat even more from shame not wanting that to happen so quickly.

“Sorry?,” he softly chuckles before leaving a kiss on your mound. “That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

The sound nearly has you in tears knowing your Ari was back. The one you knew loved you just as much as you loved him.

Having had a taste after going so long without, he can’t wait for more switching between his skillful tongue and fingers until your juices flow again, His mouth attached to you; greedily slurping everything you could give him. Your fingers are seemingly locked in his hair as he rises enough to remove his pants. Grunting as he grabs the base - past the point of painfully hard - to direct himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he moans into your neck feeling you rapidly pulse around him. So warm and tight he has to restrain himself from taking you like a wild animal.

Not that you would mind.

“M’not gonna last baby.”

“Spose to happen,” you slur clutching around him urging him to move.

His hand tightly pinning your hip to the bed, his thrusts start slow yet hard before gaining speed the closer he feels. Simultaneously, your cries of his name get louder as well while his mouth and tongue move along your neck and earlobe.

“Shit, I feel you right there baby come on. Come with me.” You can’t comprehend anything with your brain in this foggy, love drunk state, yet somehow your body complies when his thumb finds your swollen and throbbing nub squirting against his skin and down to the sheets below. “Mm good girl.”

His final pumps have you filled until no more can stay. A small mix of both your releases leaking from your hole with every surge of his hips until he’s drained.

Exhausted, he carefully tries to pull out but your whines have him stopping. Softly smiling to himself while slowly lowering until he’s comfortably laying on top of you. “Calm down I’m here.”

Soon your even breaths fill his ears and he’s able to lie on his side - gently moving you with him- to completely take in the area surrounding him. His fingertips mindlessly tracing along your thigh as he reacquaints himself to your bedroom. It was fitting for you in every way, from the light yellow of the walls to the books lining the shelves he built for you long ago. Your few stuffed animals in a wicker basket in the corner as if they were prepared for bed themselves.

Ari notices one in particular - a white bunny with long ears and pink bows he bought you during a trip to the store one day - on your dresser next to a framed picture you must’ve secretly took. He appeared to be taking a break from something dressed in a gray tee, dark jeans, and work-boots with his utility belt on his hips. A bottle of water in his hand lifted to his lips as he looked off somewhere in the distance. Now that he thought about it, he was watching a bird peck the ground trying to find bugs or seeds to eat.

And he looked so peaceful. So calm for once in his tormented life. He had you to thank for that being kind and willing enough to share your light when he fought so hard against it.

In the bit of moonlight peeking through the blinds, he can make out ‘Home’ in the corner of the picture causing the slightest curl to his lips as he holds you closer.

“You kept putting up with me,” he quietly speaks pecking your temple. “So patient even after everything. Know I’m never leavin you again sweetheart. I’m home for good.”

#CT 2024 raffle entry #ari levinson #ari levinson au #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x black!reader #red sea diving resort #ari levinson x woc #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #CT 2024 community extravaganza

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 10

Chapter 9 linked here

Chapter 11 coming soon!

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, suggestive jokes

The first two weeks of Levi’s healing went okay, him finally being resigned to the fact that he needed to rest after breaking ribs. He threw himself into the mountains of paperwork that had piled up because, in his words, “I can’t sit around scratching my ass while everyone else works.” Meanwhile, you were busy suturing up all of the uniforms that got ruined from the last expedition. The confession you two shared nights ago stayed nestled in the back of your mind as you went through the motions of work. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest and your tongue was no longer heavy with feelings unspoken. Levi now knew how deeply you cared for him and, better yet, didn’t run from his emotions as they were conveyed in his own manner.

By week 4, Levi had enough of not doing physical work. His sour mood permeated every room he moped into, cadets practically tripping over their feet to stay out of his way and spare themselves from the venom waiting to spill from his mouth. His patience was thinner than usual and he found himself snapping at everything and everyone. Even you weren’t spared of his foulness.

“Look, Levi, I’m just trying to help,” you had said one morning after he had struggled bending over to tie his shoe. You’d leaned down to tie the laces but he swatted you away, scowling.

“I’m not a damn baby. Leave me alone and get back to work.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re my captain but you’re not gonna boss me around like that.”

That irritated him further. “Listen, Sergeant. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Am I clear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “All due respect, Captain, but you taking your anger out on people for something they didn’t do isn’t nice. It sucks getting hurt, trust me, I know, but it’s not permanent.”

Levi didn’t respond. You could tell he was seething and you weren’t sure if it was from your blatant lack of respect for his authority or because you were right. Probably a mix of both.

“What do you know about what I’m going through? All you do is sit in here all day sewing. I have an important job that I have to get back to. People are relying on me.”

Levi’s finger was pointed toward you accusingly and you wished you had enough courage to snap it off his hand.

“I thought we were past the petty insults, Levi. You don’t need to be a jerk to me because of your inner turmoil or whatever. You’re right, I don’t give my heart and life like the other Scouts do, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t know what it’s like to see comrades die and maybe feel like it’s my fault. But my job is important in its own way, too, and I know you know that.”

You could see that your words made an impact because Levi’s expression changed from one of dismay to something that leaned more toward despair. You were right, of course—Levi had gone too far. He had been ridiculously upset at his own shortcomings when he went to the dining hall and saw all of the missing faces from the last expedition. Every time a soldier dies, he feels like a piece of himself dies with them. Sure, it was their duty to give it all for the sake of others, and he has no regrets about any of the choices he makes as a leader, but that sure as hell didn’t make any of the losses hurt less. He internalized their deaths as his fuel to keep going. He needed to get back to training as quickly as possible so he could make sure there weren’t as many casualties the next mission and his injury was preventing him from doing so. Levi also couldn’t get the night from a few weeks ago out of his head. He knew it was the right thing to share with you how he felt about you, but he couldn’t help but think you’d change your mind about caring for him after seeing him so vulnerable and useless. He reverted into his old ways of pushing everyone away, but he should’ve known that you weren’t the type to give up easily, especially on people you cared about.

He couldn’t meet your gaze as he uttered a quiet apology: “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be. But thanks for acknowledging it. Anyway, drop the shitty attitude. We’re going for a walk.”

You proceeded to exit the room but Levi stood in his previous spot.

“Did you break your legs, too? I said c’mon.” You motioned for him to come with you and he finally obliged. The walk outside was quiet, both of you unsure if the other wanted to talk. Levi’s eyes adjusted to the bright sun that warmed his body as he realized he hadn’t been in the open air the entire time he’d been injured. That was probably another reason why he was so grumpy. You, of course, had assumed this and decided he needed some time to rest outside and get Vitamin D in his system.

“Where are you taking me, brat?” he asked, trying his best to be annoyed but not finding it within him.

You gave him a sly smile and put your finger over your lips. “It’s a secret. You trust me, don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately. But if you’re taking me somewhere to put me down like a lame horse I ask you do it quickly.”

“Hey! Dead horse jokes hit a little too close to home still,” you said, playfully scoffing. “Besides, you won’t want to repeat that in front of our gracious hosts for the morning.”

He didn’t know what you meant until he realized you were at the stables.

“I checked with the doctor the other day and she said it was still too early for you to ride your horse but we can give these guys some snacks if you’re up for it.”

Levi usually hated coming to the stables since it was dirty and smelled nasty but he couldn’t deny how his heart raced at the idea that you went out of your way to do something to better his well-being, even after he treated you rudely. He didn’t answer you but found his way to his horse, the only black one in the Survey Corps. You took that as a sign he’d agreed with your suggestion and you internally high five’d yourself at making a good call. You left to find some fruits and vegetables for the animals. You were gone for a good 20 minutes, hoping Levi would enjoy his alone time. When you came back, you saw that you were right—the captain had his hand outstretched to his horse’s snout and was on the receiving end of unstoppable licks. He looked the most at ease than you had seen him in a while and the sight of him bonding with his horse melted your heart. You handed him a carrot to feed the steed but he refused.

“You should feed him. I know how lonely you are without your own horse and that could help.”

It was a short sentence but it hit your gut with a huge impact. Levi truly did care for you, even if he was bad at showing it sometimes. You appreciated the little gesture, putting the vegetable in your grasp and offering it to the hulking creature. He ate it gratefully and you found yourself snuggling into the horse as Levi’s hand stayed stroking its face.

“Horses are just so cute. I wanna give him a big smooch!” You leaned in and gave Levi’s horse a small peck, giggling at Levi’s shocked face.

“What? Are you jealous?” you asked.

“Tch. Are you stupid? That’s disgusting.”

“Me kissing the horse or the thought of me kissing you?”

Your teasing made the tips of his ears turn red as he huffed in annoyance.

“Use your brain and figure it out,” he grumbled, leaving to feed the other horses. Your laughter echoed throughout the stables, the horses stamping their feet and joining in the fun. After a few hours and the morning turned to afternoon, you could see that Levi was getting tired from his outing.

“I’m starving. Wanna grab some lunch?” you suggested as you heard Levi’s stomach grumble. When you walked into the dining hall, there was a commotion from your regular table.

“Oh hey, here comes the duo! We haven’t seen either of you around, we thought maybe you didn’t like us anymore,” Petra said, wearing a fake frown.

Oluo chimed in. “They’re together all the time now, so if they don’t like us, at least we know they like each other!”

A round of flirtatious sounding “ooh’s” were chorused and you saw Levi give him a death glare.

“You’re not familiar with that feeling, are you, Oluo?”

The whole table burst out in uncontrollable laughter as Oluo pouted and it was like old times again. You and Levi put down your filled trays and began to eat, listening to the funny stories being swapped by your friends. As you took a bite of bread, you felt some of your hair getting pulled and saw Levi plucking something out of it.

“You have hay in your hair, idiot.” He placed the stray piece on the side of his tray to dispose of later and you went back to eating. Little did you know, the whole table was trying to hide their shock at the loving gesture their captain brazenly displayed.

“Really? Right in front of my soup?” Gunther groaned while Petra punched him in the arm to be quiet. When the meal was finished, Levi took his leave while you stayed behind to catch up with your friends.

“So, hay in your hair, huh? Did you and the captain go for a romp in the stables?” snickered Oluo and you choked on your drink.

“Wha-what? Don’t be crass. I don’t know why you would think that,” you said, embarrassment creeping up your body. You were fine getting teased about anything other than your love life, or lack thereof. That topic flustered you to no end and Squad Levi picked up on that, fast.

“Hmm? So you didn’t ride the famed black stallion?” Eld smirked. You wanted to die then and there.

“Guys, stop. I didn’t-W-we don’t… that’s gross. We’re not like that. We’re just good friends, that’s all.” Your stammering spurred on more hoots and hollers as they ignored the substance of your words. Your chair scraped the floor as you stood and slammed your hands down on the table.

“Please knock it off!”

The whole dining hall went silent. You hadn’t meant to be that loud but you caught the attention of everyone in the room. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at your outburst.

“We were just having fun, y/n, we didn’t mean to make you upset,” said Petra.

“We go too far sometimes. Sorry,” replied Gunther. The other guys nodded solemnly. You sat back down and put your head in your hands.

“Sorry guys. It’s not you… well, okay, it was you a little bit, but I’ve just had a day.”

“We’ve all been there, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Oluo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Besides, there’s no one else we’d rather see our beloved captain with!”

“Petra!” you whined, seeing her smile, “we’re not together. I promise you that much.”

The group exchanged glances.

“Are you sure?” asked Gunther, “because I’ve never seen Levi be so gentle with anyone before.”

“Yeah,” Eld added, “you fooled us. I would’ve guessed you two were married by the way he acts around you.”

Their words were comforting. The connection you and Levi shared was something unseen before by any of his closest comrades which brought you a sense of peace that this really was something special.

“All I know is that Levi and I have a profound sense of trust in each other. I’m not sure how to describe it any better than that but I hope it’s enough for you guys to understand what I mean.”

Apparently it was a good enough description for your friends because they finally left you alone about it, opting instead to talk about a poor cadet who was left hanging upside down by their ODM gear for an hour during training. You kindly excused yourself from the conversation to clear your tray and head back to work. You felt a long arm wrap around your shoulders before you could leave the dining hall and you were met with Hange’s face millimeters from your own.

“Hay in your hair, huh?” They gasped before breaking out into a giddy smile. “Did you and Levi finally bang?!”

Only a few minutes after Levi entered his office, his door flew open, swinging wildly on its hinges, and there you stood, huffing angrily.

“I have to get out of this place for a few days. You up for that trip to the interior?”

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @raginginferno267 @come-away-with-me87

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi fluff #levi angst #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi ackerman x reader fluff #captain levi

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

#saw T again last night #doomsday is the 20th but we talk abt it every time now ofc #i told him my parting advice is to learn to use the word ‘pretty’ to ever make a woman happy #and so ofc he then called me pretty several times but mostly in a joking sweet way #but then today he texted me like 4 hours after our previous exchange #and said ‘just dropping by to say how pretty i think you are’ #and then ‘going to [band] practice! catch you later’ #and i would love to say i felt normally about it #but i sat right down on the floor to cry #and i hurt my butt bone when i got down there so then i laid face down on the hardwood #and cried and reabsorbed it like spongebob #and had a half eaten peanut butter cup in my hand #my friend took a picture it was funny i was laughing between sobs #like that’s the text i have wanted all of his other texts to be for 1.75 years #and not only that #but he held me sooooo good last night #idk how this man had a 3 year relationship without ever cuddling on his side but i made him hold me with like my face in his chest #and then he actually liked it #and so we did that for like an hour #and normally the sex is the main event of the night but i could tell that it was the holding for both of us #and the lack physical intimacy and compliments are two of my biggest reasons to end this #so i’m just feeling happy but really confused and frustrated that he’s doing this with 9 days left

[sadlazzle]

sometimes i rlly wanna ask my mother if she thinks my hearing is as bad as hers bc i KNOW she is not saying half the shit she does knowing i can hear every fucking word

#it’s the little things especially. little comments that usually one says under their breath #or at least makes an attempt to keep to themselves #your general disdain to my existence in your presence does not go un fucking noticed #u know what jst made everything abt it all soooo much worse too ? #the other day i was talking w my dad abt it (bc he’s the only one who knows what mother is like) #and he said to me that after they lost my brother she wanted another child. she wanted me. worst part about that ? i was surprised #bc she has never treated me as if i was wanted. never #she was physically there for my childhood but she didn’t spend time w me and was emotionally distant #and i’ll b completely honest with you. her just being ‘there’ was not enough. a parent just being ‘there’ is not fucking good enough #and i don’t jst mean that for me. for everyone who had present-but-not parents #they didn’t raise us. they didn’t spend time with us. they didn’t treat us as anything but a chore in reality even if we didn’t see it then. #but they were ‘there’ so it’s fine apparently. i say fuck that #id rather she not have been there at all than go thru what she put me thru for years and years #absence probably would have hurt too. but there’s no way it could hurt as much as all she’s done #sorry abt the rant in the tags. i only recently in th last yr reached a point where i began to truly realise these things #but i will keep on ranting here. i cant get out of my current situation rn so letting it off my chest here is the only option #keeps me somewhat sane. so u cunts(affectionate) better deal w it !!!!!!!!! #plum.txt #feel free 2 ignore #dl

[mariespen]

Pretty Girl ˚. ୭୧ .˚

daddy issues!reader x rafe cameron .˚ summary: "His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms." warnings: major daddy issues!, very mild mentions of verbal/physical abuse, shared trauma

based on this request!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The bright ping on your phone shone throughout the dark bedroom like a discreet warning.

You got up to check it, a small and exhausted smile on your face.

Rafe recognized the way your eyes saddened, slowly becoming more droopy and cursing your cheeks as if they were pulling you down with them. He looked at your face like it was a mirror. He watched you try to block every thought out of your head, try to put the phone down and run back into the warm arms of your boyfriend.

“Hey..” Rafe whispered, his voice deep and scratchy from the morning sun.

You let out the smallest sniffle, wiping your eyes and hesitantly putting your phone back down. You turned to him, looking at him like the world was weighing down on your shoulders.

The eye contact made Rafe’s eyes glossy with the reminder that the two of you really weren’t all that different. He couldn’t stand the idea that another man was hurting his little girl.

You let yourself collapse into his arms, feeling them wrap around you and rest on your tense body. He sighed, burying his face into your messy hair and pressing you further into him.

Rafe didn’t need telepathy to know what that text said, he didn’t need anything but his own personal experience, but he wanted to see it word for word. He held you closer, keeping his grip tight as a weak attempt to distract you from his arm reaching over to take your phone from the night stand. He felt lucky when you didn’t stir, just clung onto him in understanding.

He started to open your phone to gain an alternate understanding, but he felt his heart break when you started shaking in his arms. His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms.

“My love..” He whispered, dropping your phone somewhere on the bed and holding you with both arms again.

Your sobs shook your shoulders and he realized that he didn’t need to know what that message said at all. Rafe needed to be next to you, he needed to kiss your tears away, he needed you to look at him with nothing but love and trust.

“Talk to me, princess.” He spoke into your hair, planting an encouraging kiss on the crown of your head.

“Can’t..” You sobbed, clutching tighter onto him.

Sleep clouded your senses, safety replacing the white-hot feeling of dread as he kissed your forehead like you were made of only porcelain and glass rather than the harsh reality of bones and blood.

Rafe woke up with your soft skin pressing into his tense body. It was hard sleeping knowing that your tears stained his chest. You stirred in his arms and he strained his neck down to kiss your cheek gently, pulling back up to relax into the plush pillows.

His hand found its way from the warm confines of your hair and down your neck, stopping at the base of your back. Rafe drew up your shirt just enough to slot his fingers under, scratching your back to the beat of the thoughts in his head.

Reflections and recollections of his father’s angry shouts flooded his mind. Every word attacked him and latched onto him almost the same as they had when he was nothing but a child. He was stronger now, stronger than the words his father spat at him and the fist that same man had thrown at him.

Rafe worked quietly to take hold of your phone again. He didn’t bother reading your father’s small and dismissive texts. On an impulse, Rafe instantly found the block button and deleted his contact. He cleared all of your tabs, feeling a pang of guilt course through him. That quickly disappeared.

The soft shaking of Rafe’s body woke you up. He muttered something but you couldn’t hear the detail of his voice. Instead, you hiked one of your legs up onto his abdomen and let your head bury itself into his side. You gave him a squeeze, emitting a small chuckle from him.

“G’morning, princess.” He said, brushing a hand through your hair as a strong, protective urge blanketed him.

Rafe felt safe when you felt safe. He felt at peace when you did and he felt protected when you felt the same. His happiness was solely in your hands and you were clueless, at least he thought you were.

“Morning..” You yawned into him, starting to fall back asleep in his warm embrace.

Rafe kissed you softly, pulling you upright and brushing the strands of hair away from your face.

“Gotta get up.. important business today.” He said with a higher pitch to his voice that made your heart melt.

You pouted and nodded as Rafe got out of bed and retrieved the outfit he had picked out for you yesterday. He began to get ready, checking on you once and seeing that you were still in bed, slowly falling asleep on your own terms.

Rafe walked over to you, sitting next to you and picking up your head to lay on his lap. His fingers lazily tangled into your hair as he spoke to you.

“C’mon baby, time to get ready.” Rafe’s voice bordered a whisper while he sat you upright again.

“M’kay..” You answered groggily. 

You dramatically got out of bed, a protesting pout shading your face as he chuckled at your stubborn features. The ice of your tired chest broke when he kissed you and warmed your entire body with pastel-red love.

Getting ready was never a chore when Rafe was next to you. His company had never shied away from you and he made sure to attach you to his hip at all times.

“You look gorgeous, princess.” He said, kissing your glossy lips deeply enough to steal some right from your face. He wiped his mouth with a laugh, settling on your forehead. He stooped down to kiss the perch of your face before helping you up.

“Really?” You asked with a bright smile. His eyes softened at your question, noticing a hint of doubt lining your features.

“I’d never lie to you, sweetheart.” He whispered to you, capturing your lips in a quick kiss before pulling away to admire the way blush flares up your face.

You nodded, never being amazing at receiving compliments but you couldn’t deny how his words made your whole heart melt into a puddle inside of your ribs. Rafe pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face.

“You’re my girl, m’always gonna think you’re pretty. Won’t ever give up on you, a’ight?”

Tears brimmed your waterline as he forced you to hold eye contact with his softening eyes.

“I got you, pretty girl.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

#mariespen #outer banks #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe drabble #rafe cameron blurb #daddy issues #obx x reader #obx cast #obx #outer banks imagine #obx fanfiction

[gay-dorito-dust]

Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv fic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown imagines #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff #spiderpunk x reader

[finelinevogue]

late night shenanigans

summary - you and harry are weirdos late at night

a/n : this started off as something cute and then my mind ran away with me and became … odd… so enjoy

word count : +1k

pairing : fiance!harry x reader

✨💐✨💐✨💐✨💐✨💐✨💐✨💐✨💐

“What?”

You pursed your lips together to refrain from smiling but failed miserably; your dimples popping out on either cheek.

You looked back down at your phone, staring at the new photo that had been leaked of you and Harry on the tube together.

“Whaat?” Harry chuckled. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

“No one.”

Harry scoffed, “So it’s someone?”

“Not telling.” You blushed, sinking further into bed and under the covers.

“Y/NNNN….” Harry whined, slinking his arm over your body and holding on tight.

His stubbly cheek brushed against your shoulder, making you shiver at the touch. He left his cheek sat on you shoulder, his head tilted up to look at you.

“What?” You looked down at him, forming a more-than-double chin.

“Tell me.”

And because he asked so politely.

“You.” You said softly, kissing his forehead that was slightly burnt from being out in the sun too long.

“Me?”

You positioned your phone so he could see the screen as well as you, holding it up to the recently fan-papped photo of you both.

You were sat next to Harry, your arm linked around his as you quietly conversed with each other in London’s busiest form of transport. If fans looked close enough, they’d be able to spot the engagement rings on both your fingers that you’d been keeping secret for weeks now.

“Here.”

“This was today? Of us?”

“No shit Sherlock.” You rolled your eyes.

Harry playfully bit down on your soft skin, making you thwack him with your free hand and mumbling some profanities at him underneath your breath.

He chuckled at you, “And why is this making me smile like a freak?”

“A freak?” You gasped, feigning hurt, “You can fuck off, pal.”

You pushed him away with all your force, making him roll over completely onto his side of the bed. His fault for being on your side in the first place - but he would blame that on finding it physically impossible to be apart from you.

You turned yourself onto your side, facing away from him in a huff, and leaving your phone on your bedside table.

It only took him seconds before he began his apology.

Harry started by moving behind you and curling your hair away from the side of your neck. That movement alone made you nearly give up your fake annoyance.

He moved his head to hover over your neck, giving you a moment to shove him off - which you didn’t - before leaning down and leaving his first kiss on your neck.

The kiss was only short, but as he moved his way along your neck and up to your jaw his kisses became longer. You closed your eyes and let a breath escape your mouth unintentionally.

“Never said freak was a bad thing.” He kissed your jaw again.

“Grovel alll you like. You’re still an ass.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I will grovel all I like, thank you.” He kissed your cheek. “After, you tell me why you’re so smiley.”

You turned around then and Harry took the opportunity to slide his arm back around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest. You were nose to nose, eye to eye.

“Because….”

You blushed. You tried to look away from Harry’s gaze but his eyes followed yours, making it impossible.

“Mm.”

“Because you’re mine.” You said quietly, but he heard.

Harry couldn’t help but smile then, leaning in to sloppily kiss his lips against yours. You pushed yourself into the kiss, wanting so desperately to feel all of him.

You cupped the back of his neck and kissed him with all your love, feeling him do the exact same thing.

He pulled back first, with red lips and cheeks.

“I love you.” He started off by saying.

“‘Course you do.”

He kissed you again for your quick comment, making you dizzy with emotions.

“And I smile like a fool in love every day knowing you’re damn well mine.”

You stuck your face into his neck then, giggling against his skin because you couldn’t hold back your excitement of falling in love all over again.

“I love you.” You mumbled into his neck.

“‘Course you do.”

You came out from the safe hiding spot of Harry’s neck then.

“Can’t wait to use that line at the end of the aisle.” You switched to mocking a deep man’s voice then. “Do you Harry Styles take Y/N L/N to be your wife? I do. And then i’ll say ‘course you do.”

Harry stared at you with a raised brow, “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah? Well you’re marrying me. Makes you weird too.” You kissed him again.

“My weird freak.” Harry kissed you.

“When did you stop calling me lovie or sweetheart? When did I become weird freak?”

“You’re always my lovie and sweetheart, but only sometimes my weird freak.”

“You’re weird too.” You pointed out that having this conversation was in fact weird. “But you’re mine.”

“Yeah? That’s why I called you my weird freak.” Harry smirked, thinking he’d won you over with his charm.

“You need to stop.”

Turning around you laid on your other side and Harry stayed tucked against you, spooning you tightly from behind like he did every night.

“Night, weirdo.” You said into the dark quiet of the night, to your fiancé. Harry kissed the back of your head.

“Night, sweetheart.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fiance #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles fic rec

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Three Generations - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Rooster is a Dad; Female Reader with No Name or Physical Description, No Y/N, Third Person POV; OC Bradshaw Kid without Physical Description (minus a reference to his smile being similar to Rooster's)

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: Rooster is married. Maverick found out when the paperwork got filed with the Navy, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask Rooster about it until after the mission

Master List

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

Maverick remembered the text that he received from Ice about four years prior to the mission.

The kid’s married.

Three little words that felt like bullets straight to Maverick’s heart. Bradley was married. Married. Maverick shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Bradley was more than old enough for marriage. Especially for a naval officer. But it still hurt, it still stung that he wasn’t there to see it.

Ice gave him Rooster’s wife’s name but he couldn’t find many photos of the two of them together. Rooster’s wife’s profiles were all set to private, but Maverick did find some photos posted by one of the bridesmaids. He printed them out and hung them up in his hangar, next to his old photos of Rooster. Even if he cried like a baby while he did it.

It wasn’t until after the mission, when they were sitting alone in their hospital room together, that Maverick had a chance to ask Rooster about his wife.

“You got married?” Maverick asked Rooster quietly.

Maverick gestured to his own left ring finger, which made Rooster fiddle with his gold band. Staring down at his wedding ring for a moment, Rooster tried to figure out how to respond properly to Maverick’s question. Nodding slowly, Rooster turned back to Maverick.

“Yeah, I did,” Rooster answered quietly.

“Congratulations,” Maverick replied softly.

“Thank you,” Rooster returned, fiddling with his ring again.

“How did you meet?”

“She was in the Navy. She worked in intelligence, though. We met through mutual friends and I asked her out. We went on a date to a karaoke bar and never looked back,” Rooster explained, smiling at the memories. “I asked her to marry me about two years after that.”

“And you’re happy?”

“Extremely,” Rooster replied without missing a beat. “Her and Kai, they’re my whole life.”

“Kai?” Maverick asked curiously.

Rooster, seemingly realizing his slip, shrunk a bit into himself. He looked nervous. Incredibly nervous. Fiddling with his wedding band again, Rooster slowly turned back to Maverick.

“Kai is my son.”

“You’re a dad?” Maverick asked, unable to stop the emotion from dripping into his tone.

Not only had Maverick missed Rooster’s wedding, but he also missed the birth of Rooster’s child, and all of the little milestones along the way. And that ache in his chest quietly intensified, though Maverick tried to not let it show.

“Yeah, I am.”

Rooster reached for his phone, pulled up a photo, and passed his phone over to Maverick. He grabbed Rooster’s phone and stared down at the photo. And Maverick would have been lying if he said that he didn’t get a little choked up at the sight of it.

Rooster and a woman that Maverick knew was Rooster’s wife were standing together with a little baby boy sandwiched between them. A little boy that had his father’s smile—albeit one with a few missing teeth—and a matching Hawaiian shirt. Rooster’s wife smiled widely at the camera with her cheek smushed against the top of her son’s head.

And Rooster looked happier in that photo than Maverick had seen him since before Carole passed, even though Rooster wasn’t looking in the direction of the camera. No, Rooster was far too busy smiling at his little family.

“Are they coming to see you?” Maverick asked, handing the phone back to Rooster.

“Yeah, uh, their flight lands tomorrow morning. Phoenix said that she would pick them up from the airport and bring them here,” Rooster explained, placing his phone aside. Rooster paused before turning back to Maverick. “And . . . can you . . . can you not mention the part about me defying a direct order and everything that happened afterwards?”

“I won’t,” Maverick promised, earning a thankful nod from Rooster. “But, at some point, Brad, I think that you should be honest with her about it. As much as you can, given the sensitive information, anyways. Not that I’m in any position to give anyone marriage advice but . . . you should be honest with your wife.”

“I will,” Rooster returned quietly. “It’s just that she gets really stressed when I’m in the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Are you scared about her reaction?”

“A little bit,” Rooster admitted honestly.

Maverick chuckled, reminiscing about how Goose always looked when he was worried about telling Carole about whatever shenanigans they got into back in the day.

“I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

~~~~~

Maverick and Rooster were discharged from the hospital the next day.

Phoenix, along with Rooster’s wife and Kai, were supposed to pick them up. Rooster spotted Phoenix’s car and walked after it. The passenger door flew open and Rooster’s wife. She walked around the car to see that Phoenix was helping Kai out of the back seat.

Kai slid out of Phoenix’s car and immediately perked up when he spotted his dad quickly making his way over. But knowing her son, Rooster’s wife snatched him by the back of his shirt before he could run out into the parking lot.

“You have to hold Mommy’s hand when you’re in the parking lot,” she reminded her son.

She looked up and down the road before leading Kai across it. But once Kai safely stepped up onto the sidewalk, she released his hand and let Kai run to Rooster.

“Daddy!” Kai yelled happily, running into Rooster’s waiting arms.

Bradley bent down and scooped Kai up. Holding Kai to his chest, Rooster pressed a kiss to Kai’s hair as he rocked his son back and forth in his arms. Almost like Rooster was trying to soothe himself with his son’s presence.

“I missed you so much, Kai.”

Rooster pressed another kiss to Kai’s head before turning to his wife. She looked like she was trying to hold it together and just barely managing it. But when she caught Rooster’s gaze, she let some more emotion show. Wordlessly, Rooster held out an arm to her and she immediately ran into his embrace, officially reuniting the family of three.

“I’m alright,” Rooster assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m okay.”

As Rooster reassured his wife and son that he was fine, Maverick walked around them to stand beside Phoenix. After his wife and Kai were soothed, Rooster turned to introduce them to Maverick.

“Guys, this is Maverick. Mav, this is my wife,” Rooster stated, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“The man who pulled your papers?” Rooster’s wife asked sharply. Maverick winced at her tone.

“We got past that,” Rooster assured his wife, which caused her to immediately relax.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you then,” she replied with a much warmer tone. Rooster’s wife walked over to give Maverick a proper hug that Maverick was happy to return. “And to put a face to the name after all the stories.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” Maverick replied, releasing Rooster’s wife.

“And this is my son, Kai,” Rooster added, bouncing his son lightly on his arm. Smiling at his son with complete and utter adoration, Rooster nudged him in the side. “Kai, this is Maverick.”

“Hi,” Maverick greeted Kai softly.

“Hi,” Kai returned shyly, resting his head on Rooster’s shoulder.

“Mav’s a pilot like me,” Rooster explained to his son, causing Kai to pick his head up again. “And he used to fly around with your Grandpa Goose.”

“Really?” Kai asked his dad, earning a nod from Rooster.

Kai stared over at Maverick with newfound curiosity and Maverick tried to not choke up at the clear similarities between Kai and Rooster. Kai wasn’t so much his dad’s twin, but he had that same expression and look in his eye that Maverick saw all the time on a younger Bradley. Offering a small encouraging smile to Kai, Maverick decided to approach.

“Yeah, your Grandpa Goose used to sit in my back seat,” Maverick replied, nodding along. “And he was the best at what he did.” Trying to not burst out into tears at the fact that he was talking about Goose while Baby Goose was holding Grandbaby Goose, Maverick managed a small smile. “Your grandpa’s callsign was Goose. Your dad’s is Rooster. What bird do you want as your callsign, Kai?”

“Mommy calls me ‘Duckie’,” Kai informed Maverick, ending his sentence with a giggle.

“Yes, because he’s impossible to pull out of the water once he’s in,” Rooster explained, shaking his head playfully at his son. “And he pretends that he can’t hear us.”

“No,” Kai giggled, clearly lying.

“He’s also a great liar,” Rooster quipped, tickling Kai’s stomach.

Kai squealed and pushed his dad’s hand away, but he couldn’t stop giggling. And Maverick tried to not burst out into tears again. Baby Goose had a baby. The little baby that he used to babysit and take for extra ice cream had a little baby of his own now.

God, Maverick was getting old.

~~~~~

After spending the day with the rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick and the Bradshaw family of three retired to Maverick’s quaint residence in town. Rooster grew up in the house after Carole’s death and his old bedroom was perfectly preserved from that time.

It was only about a half an hour before Kai’s bedtime when Rooster approached Maverick in the kitchen.

“Can you watch Kai for a second?”

“Yeah, of course,” Maverick agreed, nodding along immediately. “But why? Where are you going?”

“I just thought that I should tell her,” Rooster explained, keeping his voice low. “There were too many close calls as it was with the rest of the Dagger Squad, so I need to tell her. About the mission and . . . my little stunt.”

“The couch is very comfortable,” Maverick joked, earning a tired sigh from Rooster. “You’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Rooster replied, straightening up.

Rooster thanked Maverick before the two rejoined Kai and Rooster’s wife out in the living room. Rooster managed to find an old Connect 4 game in the cabinet and his wife tried to teach Kai how to play. They were sitting around the coffee table with Kai studying the layout closely.

“Can I play with you, Kai?” Maverick asked, moving to sit down beside Kai.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not taking his eye off of the board.

Maverick saw Rooster lean down to whisper something in his wife’s ear before she nodded. Turning to Kai, Rooster’s wife leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing Kai to look up.

“Behave for Maverick, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Rooster and his wife got up and headed out of the room to talk. Kai turned to Maverick once his parents were out of sight.

“Why did they leave?”

“They just needed to talk about some things. Adult things. Nothing fun,” Maverick stated, causing Kai to nod with a slight pout. Maverick moved to take the seat that Rooster’s wife was sitting in and picked up a yellow piece. “Did you take a plane to get over here, Kai?”

“Yeah,” Kai stated, smiling up at Maverick.

“Do you like flying?”

“Yeah.”

“Has your dad ever taken you flying before?” Kai shook his head dramatically, causing Maverick to nod along. “You just fly with your mom then?”

“Yeah. Daddy gets scared,” Kai informed Maverick, leaning on the coffee table.

“Well, it’s a little scary when you’re a pilot and someone else is flying the plane,” Maverick replied, very well acquainted with the control freak tendencies that popped up when a naval aviator flew commercial. “And your daddy just wants to make sure that you and everyone else is safe.”

“Mommy tells him to relax,” Kai replied, emphasizing the word with a wave of his hand.

Kai must have seen his mom do that exact routine at least a thousand times because he seemed to know the part by heart. He had the expression, the wave of his hand, and the tone down perfectly. Maverick couldn’t help but laugh.

“Does he listen to her?” Maverick quipped, failing at hiding his amusement.

“Sometimes,” Kai answered with a giggle.

“Like you?”

“Yeah.”

Maverick was about to ask Kai another question when Rooster’s wife’s voice echoed around the house. The door to Rooster’s old bedroom did little to muffle the shock and sheer incredulousness of Rooster’s wife’s question.

“You did what!?”

“Have you ever seen the moon, Kai?” Maverick asked the toddler, quickly getting up to his feet.

“Yeah,” Kai replied as Maverick scooped him up into his arms.

“Well, looking again wouldn’t hurt,” Maverick reasoned, setting Kai on his hip. “And maybe we’ll even see a few stars too.”

“Oh-kay,” Kai agreed with a sigh, laying his head on Maverick’s shoulder.

“And where was your brain during all of this!?” Rooster’s wife snapped loudly.

“Yeah, let’s go look at the stars, Kai,” Maverick stated quickly, hurrying out the back door.

“Was that Mommy?” Kai asked, staring back at the house.

“No, I don’t think it was her.”

Sequel: A Day with Duckie

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #tgm fanfiction #tgm #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #pete maverick mitchell #top gun fic #rooster top gun #top gun #top gun rooster

[aethes-bookshelf]

let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #gn!reader #gn!tav #unnamed tav #fluff #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #fluff and angst #bg3 #astarion #my writing #bg3 astarion #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #second person pov

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : first half angst ; reader is pregnant ; Ji is kind of an a-hole ; he fixes himself ; time jump for the second half ; ji and readers daughter is 5 ; Ji is still an a-hole ; angst ; happy ending though ; Word Count : 6.5k Request : Anonny : Can you please write an angst with a fluffy ending on hannie - where y/n surprises him that shez pregnant(w a daughter)but he lashes out at her harshly and says he doesn't want the baby bcz of his tiring and exhausting schedule - but realises his mistake sooner and apologizes her and even takes care of her during her pregnancy and even his precious daughter once she's born , And one mor fic of angst w a fluffy ending on hannie - where he lashes out at his 5 y/o daughter and y/n as they asked him to spend more time with him ,and especially on his daughter's bday and he didn't even remember her daughters bday and said all the possible harsh things like way too harsh things to them on his daughters bday - but later the same he realises it's his daughters bday and regrets immediately and Apologizes to both yn and his daughter and even surprises his precious daughter lately on her birthday A/N : I'm combining these two!! It'll be a famous Nana time jump for this one so I can pair them together in one fic. I changed the request just a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anonny. ALSO! I think I got the job!! That also means that I'll be working overnights (graveyard shift), but I'll actually be respected and treated fairly so... I'm really happy. I'll be able to get the hours that I need to pay my bills as well. I won't be able to write as much, but I promise I will write when I get the chance to.

Were you and Jisung together? Of course you were, he was the love of your life, and vice versa. You couldn’t imagine a single day that went by when you weren’t able to happily say he was yours. Ji made you laugh, he made you laugh to the point where your stomach hurt and your eyes filled with tears and you were doubled over wheezing and gasping for breath. Ji made your heart feel full, so full that there was no more room in your chest for it to grow anymore. He made you feel loved in a way that was so magical, so dreamlike, it was like living in your own fairytale except it was all real, and every morning you got to wake up and know that he was yours and you were his. 

Were you and Jisung together though? No, very rarely. His job kept him away from you more often than not, and while the moments that the two of you were able to physically be together were… well, dreamlike, a lot of the time, most of the time, your interactions were kept to phone calls and late night texts or video calls. You tried to be supportive, you didn’t complain as much as most people probably would, although there were many times when you wanted to just break down and beg him to put you before his job at least once a month. But you didn’t, you’d put on a smile as you hugged him and kissed him goodbye after one of those rare nights when he would be able to come over and spend the night. 

He spent most of his time at the dorms with the other guys, and while he’d try to invite you over there, you’d always kindly decline. As much as you loved the guys and looked at them as brothers, you wanted to be able to spend time with Ji alone, and to you it seemed like he’d rather be around them than to be around you sometimes. You wished that he’d grow up a little, prioritize the relationship, and it seemed less like a wish and more like a need now. It only took one rare night that he spent the night for you to get the most life changing news of… well… your life. 

///

“Can you… Can you hear me?” You asked into your phone, the mind numbing sound of static coming through the speaker was headache inducing, but you really needed to talk to him. 

“Yeah… Kind of… Shit, this reception is really bad. Can you just text me, baby?” His voice came through choppy and muffled, it sounded like he was underwater, and while you knew that it would be best to text him considering the way the phone call was going, this wasn’t really something that you wanted to tell him over text. You wanted to hear his reaction, and while it would have definitely been better to tell him in person, he was currently on tour and you knew that by the time he got back, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

“I really need to talk to you…” You said, rushing out the front door to stand on the porch, hoping that the service would be better now that you were outside. “Can you hear me now?” You asked, and you heard him hum in agreement, and while you should have felt better that this moment wasn’t stalled any longer, your stomach began to twist into knots and although the mid-February wind was whipping around you, there was sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

“You okay, baby? What’dya need to talk about?” His voice filled the silence, and you knew that he didn’t have much time before he had to go back to work. He wasn’t rushing you, but you felt rushed, you didn’t want to wait forever to tell him, and you thought that maybe the news would brighten his day and lift his mood that had already peaked. He was so sweet, so gentle, and he had often talked about one day having a little baby Ji to follow in his footsteps, you were certain that his reaction would be nothing but positive. 

“I’m pregnant, Ji…” You whispered, and there was no question as to whether he heard you. The sound of a gasp, and then loud coughing, and then silence. Had he muted his phone so he could celebrate with the guys? “Babe? You still there?” You asked, trying not to get overly excited yourself. You wanted to save your own celebration for when he came back home and you both could be together to share in the excitement of such big news. 

“No. I… Look, I need some time to think about this because… You just… Do you even know what I’m doing right now? I’m about to do a show and you think I needed to hear that before I go on stage? As if things aren’t stressful enough for me… I don’t… I don’t want a damn kid right now!” Had you set your expectations too high? This was most definitely not the way you thought that the announcement would turn out, and this wasn’t the way you thought he’d be. It was so shocking that you were stunned into silence, frozen like a statue on the front porch. “I don’t want it. That’s it… That’s all I have to say. Figure something out because this isn’t going to work. I have to go.” 

And he did. He hung up, leaving you with so many thoughts, but none of them stuck long enough to really form into anything more. What the hell did he expect you to do? You were already 3 months along, it’s not like you were just going to get rid of the baby because he decided that he didn’t want it. That did change things though, it changed a lot of things. You weren’t sure what you were going to do right at that very second, but you had a lot to figure out before he came back from tour. 

~

After the concert, after all of the stress of the show wore off, he was able to really think. He thought about the phone call, he thought about what he said, and he was immediately hit with a wave of regret. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he said it, he didn’t know what came over him, and the only reason he could truly come up with was the stress. It was the damndest thing, because he truthfully wouldn’t mind being a father, especially knowing that someone as amazing and caring and loving as you would be the mother to his child. 

That’s why he tried to get in touch with you, calling your phone repeatedly until he came to the stomach turning conclusion that you just weren’t going to answer him. That didn’t stop him from calling once more to leave a message though. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I love you so damn much, and I’m happy, I really am. I do want the baby, I want this, I do. Please, don’t think about what I said, I wish I could just take it all back, I wish I could make you forget that I was stupid enough to say something like that. I hope you’re sleeping and when you wake up, just call me, please call me, baby. I need to hear your voice, I need to know that we’re going to be okay. I love you.” 

The call was promptly ended before he fell back onto the hotel bed. It was strange how he had been able to sleep by himself in the dorms for so many nights, he was able to fall asleep without you, but now that he knew that you were carrying his child, now that he knew how much he had fucked up, he couldn’t seem to sleep at all, and he wanted nothing more than to be right beside you, holding you. 

He was restless, he couldn’t even close his eyes to try to get some sleep, and he knew that there was no way he’d be able to perform the following night, not unless he knew everything was okay back at home. So he didn’t sleep, instead he got online and started looking up tickets for the next flight that would take him home to you. How was he even supposed to perform when his mind was running rampant with thoughts of you leaving him? He couldn’t do anything with those thoughts plaguing him. 

So he bought the ticket, a red eye flight that he’d hopefully be able to get a little bit of shut eye on before he landed. He didn’t just need to sleep, he needed to think of what he’d say once he got back home to you. He was sure that the guys would understand. Or maybe they wouldn’t… He’d apologize to them for leaving on such short notice, and he’d make sure to come up with some elaborate excuse for the fans as to why he wasn’t there. 

He knew that he wasn’t the best at prioritizing the most important things, at least not what most people would consider important. He had spent so many years of his life working towards this dream of becoming a famous idol, and even when he achieved that dream, he just couldn’t stop. Even when you had entered his life and made the world seem so much brighter, he had foolishly continued to choose his career, and you had, amazingly enough, still decided to stand beside him and put up with his shit. He had to show you that you were important, not just you now though, but this baby, this child who had come as a surprise, but he made a mental note and a promise to himself to love this child, his child, regardless of anything that happened. 

///

You stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee held tightly in your hands as you overlooked the city just outside your window. You tried not to think about what he had said, you wanted to have a decent morning, well, evening… It was already 1 in the afternoon. When you woke up there had been so many calls from him, but only one voicemail that you were far too scared to listen to. You knew that he was angry, he was pissed, and you didn’t want him to go off on you again, even if it were only through a recording. You still had to figure out what to do though, it didn’t seem like there was much in regards to options. You weren’t going to get rid of the baby, and as much as you loved Jisung, the life that was now growing inside of you was far more important than a relationship that was clearly one sided. 

The birds chirping just outside your window had captured your attention fully, the sounds of the city which had seemed so loud before were now almost calming, but that calm was soon disrupted by the sound of the lock being undone on your front door. You whipped around just in time to see Jisung standing in the doorway, disheveled and slightly frazzled as he dropped his bags to the floor. “What are you doing here?” You asked, refusing to move any closer to him. “Thought you had a tour to worry about?” 

His head shook and his bottom lip jutted out, shaky breaths had him trembling where he stood just as still as you had been on the front porch just yesterday. “The tour isn’t more important than you. It’s not more important than our family… our baby…” He whispered, his voice shaking just as much as his body was. “I was an idiot, an overly stressed out idiot… But I didn’t mean it. D-Did you listen to the message?” 

You rolled your eyes, trying not to pay too much attention to how sad he was and just how much it pulled at your heartstrings to see him that way. You just had a soft spot for him, and you were sure that that would never go away, or, at the least, take a while to fade. You had to be strong though, and even if what he said was true, you had to let him know how much you had been hurt by what he said before. “No… I didn’t. I think you said enough, and I didn’t really want to listen to your voice again, not any time soon.” It was a lie, you loved his voice, you didn’t want to go a day without hearing it, but watching the way his face crumpled, you could tell that your words really hit him. 

“That’s fair…” He whispered, a loud sniffle coming from across the room. “You don’t have to listen to it… I’ll say it now. I love you… and I love the little baby that we made together… And I’m sorry I was a dick. I don’t want to lose you, not because I was stupid and stressed out. I don’t want to lose you at all, ever.” Now his words were hitting you, although you were definitely going to blame the fresh tears that were streaming down your face on the raging hormones that were currently coursing through your body. “Don’t cry… Please don’t cry, I’ll cry too.” 

“You’re already crying though…” You whimpered out, a small sob mixed with a giggle. It felt so nice to laugh, but it felt even better to laugh with him. You wanted to put it in the past, not forget it, but right now you just wanted to move on. “Do you have to go back? I don’t want you to get in trouble for missing the shows…” 

His shoes had already been kicked off, making his way now over to where you stood in the kitchen, his hands cupping your face and his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I’m staying here… Where I belong. Changbin or Hyunjin can cover my parts. I want to be here with you, and that’s where I’m going to be. No more crying, I want to hear all about how you’re feeling, I want to be here for you.” 

///

The next months of your pregnancy were strange. It was like they were going too fast, but they also weren’t going fast enough. You loved being pregnant, but you weren’t a big fan of all the attention you were getting. It was one thing for it to be coming from Ji, but it was like everyone gravitated towards you, or… Moreso, your bump that everyone seemed to want to touch and ogle over like they’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. 

Jisung was too kind to tell anyone to really back away from you, and you didn’t know half of the people that would swarm around you wherever you went, but it was exhausting to deal with them. You knew that Jisung meant well though, and you could tell that he was proud to be a soon-to-be father, you could just feel the pride radiating off of him whenever he talked about it. 

His proudest moment to date though, was when he found out you were having a girl, that you were carrying his daughter. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he looked on in awe at the sonogram screen. You had to practically snap him back to reality that day, his head stuck in the clouds, daydreaming about the day his daughter would be born, the day he’d finally get to hold her and see her. He had told you all about it in the car on the way home. 

From that day forward, as if he wasn’t already like your shadow, he practically became glued to your hip. You love him, you really do, but it became annoying, not that you’d tell him that. You couldn’t do anything without him being right there beside you just to do it for you. You appreciated the help, but it’s not like you were on bed rest, you could still do things on your own. You couldn’t blame anyone for him being so protective, the only thing you could blame was the internet. He had been looking up what changes your body went through during the many weeks of your pregnancy, and he happened to stumble across the complications that could occur as well. That’s when you got your very panicked, very helpful, and slightly irritating Jisung. 

By the time you reached the third trimester though, you were so exhausted and your back ached so badly that you didn’t even mind it anymore. He had managed to get the rest of the guys in on helping you too, especially if he was in the studio for a long period of time- which was anything longer than 45 minutes -he’d have one of them check up on you and see if you needed anything. 

When he was home or when he got home, he’d shower you in attention and affection, kissing you first before pressing a kiss to your stomach and asking how your day has been, although his gaze would be focused solely on your stomach, absolutely mesmerized by the way your stomach looked when his daughter would move. He loved the way she reacted to his voice, you on the other hand could never get comfortable, although you once again, would never tell him that. He just looked so happy, and he’d get so excited, telling everyone how his baby girl recognized his voice and would move whenever she heard him. 

Of course, she decided to stay in for a little longer than the expected 40 weeks, and by the 41st week you were begging the doctors to induce you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to use the bathroom or take a shower without Jisung being right outside the door asking if you were okay or if you needed help every 5 seconds. He really did mean well, but you couldn’t wait for your daughter to be out so that you’d be able to not only get some peace, but also some privacy where you needed it most. 

It was all worth it though when you saw Jisungs face light up at the sight of his daughter when she was born. Tears of joy streamed down his face as his hands seemed to automatically reach out for her, his lips formed into a circle, absolutely amazed at the fact that this, not so little, baby just came from you. If there had been nothing else to prove to you how good of a father he would be, this moment, the moment she was placed into his arms and you could just see it in his face, his entire world was complete now… He was going to be the best father. 

///

5 years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and the little baby girl that would once curl up in yours and Jisungs arms to fall asleep, your little cuddle bug, was now a ball of energy that would whip around the house being the biggest goofball, much like her father, to bring a smile to people's faces. She was the life and the light of any room she went into, but at night, when she’s run out all of her energy and she’s tuckered out, you and Ji will catch a glimpse of your little baby girl, curled up in the middle of his and your bed. 

She was more energetic than usual, but that’s because it was her birthday. Her party wouldn’t be until the weekend, but you still wanted to do a little something special to celebrate the official day. Jisung had to work, but he didn’t want to get stuck at the office so he decided to work from home so he could just pack up his laptop and not deal with the commute, he’d be right at home with you and Jisoo when he was done. 

It was hard to keep her occupied, she was so excited and she knew she had presents to open, and you were trying to not only prepare her favorite dinner but also make cupcakes for her. There was so much to do, and you were doing it all on your own so that Ji could work. You were one person, you only had 2 eyes, although a lot of people joke and say that mothers have eyes on the backs of their heads, it seemed like those eyes were focused on the timer on the oven to make sure the cupcakes didn’t burn. That’s why you didn’t realize that she had, at some point, strolled into Jisungs makeshift office/studio. 

“Daddy.” She said, standing right beside him, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie to try to get his attention. Her smile was wide, two little dimples adorning both of her cheeks as she looked up at him with the brightest eyes. He sighed harshly through his nose, pulling out one of his earphones to look down at her. “You coming now?” She was completely oblivious to the glare that her father was wearing, or at least, she was oblivious to the fact that it was directed entirely towards her. 

“I’m really busy right now, go bother your mother or something.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he tried to turn his attention back to his computer, but Jisoo wasn’t going to allow it. She tugged on his sleeve again, her mouth open to say something else, but Jisung spoke before she could. “Get out. You’re such a burden sometimes, Jesus Christ!” He seethed, his head falling back as he let out a loud groan. 

Jisoo wasn’t oblivious anymore, no, she was heartbroken, and quite honestly confused. She quickly scurried away from him, sniffling softly as she ran out of the room. Neither you or Jisung had ever yelled at her, let alone raised your voices around her. She was shocked, she was devastated, and she immediately ran to you. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” You dropped everything you had been doing to scoop her up and set her on the counter top, working quickly to wipe away the tears that poured down her puffy little cheeks. Your immediate worry was that she had hurt herself, your eyes scanning over her head, her face, her arms, and her legs to look for any visible signs of scrapes or bruises, but there were none. “Did you get a booboo?” 

Her head shook quickly, her hair whipping around her face as she did before dropping her head. She looked embarrassed, and if she had known the word and what it meant at her age, she’d tell you that that’s exactly how she felt. “I try to tell Daddy that it my birthday…” She started, her sentences broken up by shaky breaths and loud sniffles. “He yell at me… told me get out… He say I a bird hen… I not even know what that means…” 

She might not know what it meant, but you sure as hell knew what he meant, and you were pissed. “You’re not a bird hen, honey. You’re wonderful, and I know that daddy didn’t mean to yell. He just gets lost in his computer sometimes. He loves you though, and mommy loves you too.” You pressed a big, wet kiss to her forehead, trying and succeeding in getting her to giggle so that you could get her mind off of being upset. “How about you go play with your dolls in your room so that I can decorate your cupcakes and they’ll be a surprise. How’s that sound, huh?”

Jisoos smile was back once more, her hands clapping together as you helped her off the counter. You watched her run to her room, her door being shut fast, and rather loud, in her hurry to let you start on her surprise. Truth be told, you just didn’t want her to listen to you talking to Jisung, not just because you didn’t want her to think about it again, but also because the language you were planning on using wasn’t going to be kid friendly at all. 

It took everything in you not to just storm into the room and start yelling, but you knew that would draw her attention, so you walked in as calmly as possible, even though it felt like your blood was boiling. He only made things worse for himself when he let out a sound of annoyance, yanking his earphones out and slamming his hands on his desk. “Oh my god! Wh-” 

“You shut the fuck up and you listen to me you son of a bitch.” You hissed the words through clenched teeth, taking one look behind yourself to make sure Jisoo hadn’t come out of her room before storming over to him, your finger pointed and only an inch from his face. “If you ever make my baby cry like that again, I will personally pack all your shit up and throw you out of this fucking house, you hear me?” 

The momentary shock wore off almost instantly, and he was quickly defensive, although he did back away just a little before he spoke. “You knew I was working. I thought you were going to watch her, but I guess I was wrong about that. I should have just gone into the office today, I would be able to get shit done.” 

The fire that was burning inside you, pure rage that had your blood bubbling, it was like it had built up to the top of your body, completely blinding you with rage and all you could see was red as you slammed his laptop shut before picking it up and shoving it against his chest. “Then go to the fucking office, Jisung! Nobody wants you here anyway!” You shouted, your chest rising and falling heavily with each breath that you took. 

“Fine! I’ll be able to actually get something done! Don’t expect me to come home tonight either, I’m not gonna get yelled at because I’m trying to do my job so I can afford everything that you and Jisoo want!” He yelled right back at you, pushing himself up out of the desk chair and grabbing the rest of his things off of the desk. There had never been a time, up until now, that you had ever wanted to hit him, but your hands were twitching, your entire body was shaking. You wanted to hurt him, not because of the way he was talking to you though, it was the complete sense of disregard that he had for his own daughter. It made you physically sick. 

“I don’t want you to come back tonight. I don’t want you to come back at all. But you will go tell your daughter that you’re not going to be here to celebrate her birthday with her, and you’re going to be honest and tell her that your job is once again more important than her.” You hissed, finally taking a step back before motioning to the door with your hand. “Now get the fuck out.” He didn’t move though, he was completely frozen and all of the color drained from his face. 

“Fuck… Baby, listen-” 

“I said get out! Go! Do your job! Leave!” You were shouting once again, and you hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you feel weak, especially when your voice would crack and break when you were trying to sound strong. He continued to stand there though, looking absolutely defeated. “Please… Just leave… It’s obvious, work will always be more important to you. It’s like deja vu.” 

“That’s not true at-” 

“Mommy…” Jisoos voice came from behind you, and you quickly turned around to face her, trying to force yourself to smile. She wasn’t blind though, she could see that you were crying, and she had heard you and Jisung arguing. She quickly ran to you, her little arms wrapping around your waist. “Don’t cry… It okay. We have cupcakes… I help you make them and… And you help me blow the candles.” 

You nodded your head as you picked her up, holding her tightly against your chest. There was nothing more comforting than the hug of your own child, to know that they care, and even on a day that should have been all her own, she was still looking out for you. 

“We’ll have lots of fun.” You agreed, your throat tightening up and almost choking off your words. “When we finish making the cupcakes and after we eat your yummy dinner, you can open your presents.” It was so hard to look, let alone sound like everything was completely fine, especially when Jisung was still standing there in front of you, like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Does… Does daddy still have to do work?” Jisoo asked, glancing up at you and then looking over her shoulder at Jisung. Of course you wanted to say yes, you were absolutely livid, you wanted him out of the house at least long enough for you to have the chance to cool down, but you also didn’t want to send him away, especially if Jisoo still wanted him there. “I sorry I a bird hen, I not come in no more when you working.” With every word that she said, Jisung looked more and more ashamed, his head dropping lower and lower until you couldn’t even see his face anymore. “Please… Stay home. It my birthday… We gonna sing the song… And we eat cupcakes. That make everyone happy.” 

Regardless of how you felt, how pissed off you truly were, it was Jisoos birthday, and if she wanted her father there, you weren’t going to still make him leave. Jisung knew this, and while it was a small win that his daughter still wanted him around, he also knew that he had a lot of apologizing to do, not just to Jisoo, but to you as well. “You’re not a bird hen, honey pot.” He murmured, squatting down so that he’d be eye level with her. “I’m a big ol’ dummy head and I’m sorry that I made you sad. Can I have a hug?” His arms stretched out as he asked the question, and as if he hadn’t hurt her feelings at all, she ran into his arms, almost knocking him onto his butt in the process. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna help momma make sure you have the best birthday ever, okay?” 

He was really trying his best, he helped you and Jisoo decorate the cupcakes, he even attempted to help you finish making dinner. There was tension there between the two of you, words that had gone unsaid due to Jisoos perfectly timed interruption, but she was none the wiser to the feeling, she was just happy that the both of you were still there to celebrate with her. That’s what was most important anyway, making sure your daughter was happy. 

“Hey honey, you wanna see something funny?” Jisung asked, and the little nickname had both you and Jisoo giving him your attention, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him at all. His finger was covered in icing that he had swiped off one of the cupcakes at the center of the table, and he was slowly creeping over to the kitchen where you were plating up dinner for the three of you. “I think momma would look super cute if her nose was bright pink, don’t you, honey?” 

Jisoo was laughing already, clapping her hands together as she shouted out her agreement to his question. “Ji…” You warned, trying to retreat from him, but he was closing in fast and there wasn’t much room for escape. “Don’t do it…” You tried to sound stern, but your daughter's twinkling giggles had you cracking a smile, and before you knew it, you were cornered against the counter and Jisung whose finger was inches from your nose. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it off.” He whispered, winking at you playfully, and if you weren’t still harboring irritation from the way he had acted earlier, the action would have had butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Boop!” He chimed as he wiped the icing on the tip of your nose, laughing along with Jisoo now as she ran over to look at you. 

“Momma look like a clown!” She said between fits of giggles, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her and Jisung. You loved seeing your daughter happy, it had become your main goal in life, your number one priority, to make sure she was always happy, and if looking like a clown made her smile and laugh the way she was, then you’d dress up like a clown every day for her. 

“She’s the prettiest clown, isn’t she?” Jisung asked, and Jisoo nodded in agreement. “But we can’t have clowns at the dinner table, can we?” And the question had your daughter giggling even louder as she shook her head no. “Grab me a paper towel real quick, honey. Let me help momma clean off the clown nose.” He watched her long enough to make sure her back was turned before he cupped your cheeks, playfully licking the icing off your nose and then pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m the biggest clown, and I’m sorry… Thank you for letting me stay… I love you so much.” It all happened extremely fast, his words being rushed out, it felt like he was going 60 miles per hour, and by the time he had finished what he had to say, Jisoo was just heading over with the paper towel sheet and your face was still scrunched up. 

“Where momma nose go?” Jisoo asked as she handed Jisung the paper towel, her head tilted curiously to the side. 

“I think it just fell off. It’s okay though. Momma is still pretty. I got the two prettiest girls in the world in my house, I’m a lucky guy!” Jisung cheered, and it was painfully obvious that he was doing his best to suck up to you, and it sucked that it was working so well. It was impossible to stay mad at him. That didn’t mean that you weren’t still slightly upset though. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. 

///

By the end of the night, which lasted longer than any other night, you were exhausted and the argument from earlier had practically been forgotten, at least for now. Jisoo had opened all of her presents, and, even though you and Jisung had promised her that she could play with them in the morning, she had given her best puppy dog eyes and ended up playing with each of her presents for half an hour each, and of course Jisung had gone overboard in buying her gifts. 

“Are you coming to bed?” You asked, standing in the doorframe to the bedroom, looking down the hall and into the living room where Jisung was sitting in the armchair, his face hidden in his hands. “What’s wrong?” You knew he hadn’t fallen asleep that quick, he had just carried Jisoo into her bed after she had fallen asleep in the middle of her brand new toy pile. 

“She’s going to remember that I yelled at her, she’s going to remember what I said to her for the rest of her life. Deep down, she’s gonna hate me… And I know that you hate me too. I hate me… I can’t believe I said that to her. I was so focused on the computer and… I flipped out on you. I didn’t even deserve to be here with either of you today after what I did… I’m a shitty father and a horrible husband.” He rubbed his hands over his face when he finally lifted his head and you could tell that he had been crying. His eyes were puffy and his nose and his cheeks were blotchy and red. 

How long had these thoughts been eating away at him? You wondered if the way he had been acting earlier was actually him sucking up to you or if he was just trying to keep his mind from going to where it was right now. “Ji…” You whispered out his name, and even though you were beyond tired at this point, you couldn’t just go to bed when he was like this. He might have upset Jisoo and pissed you off, but it seemed like he was more angry at himself than both you and Jisoo combined. “Nobody hates you, I could never hate you, and neither could Jisoo. What you did today was fucked up… But I already yelled at you for it, hell, I almost kicked you out for it. But I don’t hate you. I love you too much, and so does your daughter.” 

“I hurt her… I made her cry, Y/N. What kind of father am I?” 

“You’re the best father a child could ever ask for.” His eyebrows lowered with confusion at your answer, his bottom lip in a seemingly permanent pout as he looked at you. “You made her cry once in her five years of being on this earth. One time, Ji. But you know what you do more than anything else? You make her laugh, you make her smile, you make her feel loved… And you do all of those things for me too. Me and Jisoo are the luckiest girls in the world because we have you.” His pout slowly started to go away, turning into a slight smile as you made your way over to where he was sitting and you dropped down onto his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he nuzzled his face against your back. “Plus, if it makes you feel any better… I’ve made her cry about ten times this week already.” 

Jisungs mouth fell open in shock, the entire upper half of his body leaning over so he could look at you. “What?! What did you do to hurt my baby girl?” He asked, and you were sure that right now he was mocking the way you had yelled at him earlier, but you could also see that he was interested in the cause of you making his daughter cry. 

“Whenever we go grocery shopping, she asks to go down the toy aisle to look at the toys… And then she ends up wanting everything that she sees, and I have to tell her no. So she cries, and this week especially, I told her that she’ll be getting a whole bunch of new toys, but… You know how she is.” He nodded his head understandingly. “And then… She tells me that whenever she goes shopping with you, that you get her everything she wants.” You turned your head to face him, and now he was wearing a sheepish grin, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. You laughed lightly, squishing his cheeks between your palms and pressing a kiss to his puckered lips. “Do you feel better now?” He nodded quickly, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the living room. “Good, because I’m so tired and I can’t fall asleep without you next to me. Let’s go.” 

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[comfortless]

In Our Angelhood

König x fem!reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. silly & odd strangers -> lovers au, loner/loner dynamic. canon divergent. mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence, hurt + comfort, mentions of religion & religious imagery (Catholicism), light horror/unease, sexism (from a minor, non-canon character), reader and König are both in their 20s. virgin!König -> smut, unprotected piv.

notes: listen…. I was raised catholic but simply do not remember most of my life in the church. take this as a silly fairytale instead of simmering on the religion bits. <3 reader is implied to be a virgin too but we’re not harping on that who cares.

wc: 10k.

You haven’t had it easy, but seeing the angel wander into the cathedral with purple and yellow stains painting his cheeks, his throat, is safe harbor. Oil on canvas to burrow in like booklice. You like the way he takes the front pew, doesn’t hide himself despite the horror that’s been made of his face; tempts god by raising a hand up to press on the bruises, shivers from the pain. His brow pinches when his gaze drifts upwards, as if to think: You allowed this, look at it!

Most days, he doesn’t pay attention to the sermon, his hands consistently prod at his face or twitch someplace bedded down in the fleece lining of the pocket of his hoodie, always dark green or black. You’re not paying attention, either. You could fall into that absent stare easily, find yourself lost in whichever world bathed in static and hellfire that he’s dreaming up.

The Father is wary of him, no doubt. The man fidgets constantly in his place, toying with the unseen thing in his pocket whilst the priest prattles on about the Holy Mother and the blood of a son she watched led away to slaughter. The angel seems to only display intrigue when preaching shifts to mentions of the wrath of god, of sin, of Hell, as if he knows he’s bound for all of it. Heaven’s not spotless, either, full of cobwebs where God exonerates his wrath.

Sitting beside him is unheard of, the other parishioners stay away, whispering behind upheld palms that ‘there’s just something wrong with him’, but you choose to move from your pew to place yourself at his side, crossing the rows of curious gossips with careful strides as you approach his seat. The wooden bench creaks when he tenses, and you can feel his eyes dart to your form while you remain facing forward, but not a word is spoken during service nor after.

You make a habit of sitting next to him each time he wanders into the church with his fresh bruises. A few weeks of this and he comes back with a gash striped down from below his right eye to his jaw, an ugly maroon trail. He makes a point to sit on the opposite end of the bench that day, and you’re left to stew in the rejection that your attempts at providing your comfort and your friendship have failed.

“What happened to you?” Your voice comes out as a mere squeak, staring up at that horrid cut once the sermon has concluded. You’ve got him cornered between the floral dress cloaking you and the wooden bench brushing against the backs of his knees. It’s almost endearing how the sight of a woman speaking to him, caging him in like this makes him panic, his lips part and his eyes dart.

His chest heaves as a sigh leaves him once his head is angled away, eyes staring at the stained glass just over your shoulder.

“Accident.”

It’s said so simply that one wouldn’t believe it to be a lie if he were simply a voice, rather than a fully grown man cowering in your presence. For half a moment, you wonder his age before a response comes to mind. Assuredly he must be like you, mid-twenties and despondent, he comes here all alone, but you never see him around town. It dawns on you then, that the man probably still lives with his parents, maybe they force their fallen angel to attend church just to be rid of him for a few hours.

“Looks bad.” The response isn’t an insult, but you can hear the way his breath is hissed through his teeth, see the way his jaw tightens as though he took it as one.

“Es tut mer leid,” is all he says in reply.

You take a step back, keeping your eyes on him as you fold your arms behind your dress innocently. The other parishioners have long since fled by now, dusted off their sins like crumbs from their hands and passed the doors of the cathedral with sideways glances at the mismatched two still stood before the altar. You get the sense that maybe you’re the only sinner left in this place when König nervously meanders a step away, but when he walks several stunted strides away, stops to give you a glance over the shoulder, that weight rapidly disappears.

His expression shifts, somber and yearning for something that he can’t bring himself to say before he turns away and leaves you to mull in the disaster of your first conversation.

You begin to worry when he stops showing up for homilies, several weeks of sitting alone on their shared pew. Mass is no different, he remains a distant phantom. The cause for his accident could have very well been the cause for a life ended too soon and you worry yourself sick, shifting in your seat until the courage to ask if anyone knows his address is ripped from your tongue. The answer comes relatively easy, coupled with a flighty look from an older woman who claimed to have seen him seated in the front yard of some decaying home, shooting at a barrel with some gun you almost dare to wonder if he entirely, legally owned.

Despite your better judgement you find yourself staring blankly at his front door an hour later, clutching a brown, paper bag full of goodies from the local bakery for him. The muffled shouting from within keeps you from knocking, the voices of two men in some uproarious vocal war seeping out in whispers through layers of insulation and wall. You feel like a terrified animal, rooted in place as you try to make out the cause for such anger within. The dull thud of flesh meeting flesh pulls you back to reality in such a rapid fall, your knuckles wrap at the door immediately. It all falls silent inside, and a part of you is left fearing for your own safety there, as if those words and furious blows would be focused on you for even daring to bring this angelic stranger a slice of raspberry danish and a blue velvet cupcake.

The door swings open with the whine of hinges that likely have never been oiled, and König has never looked worse. His face looks sickly from bruising, the gash partially healed yet split from a fresh blow readily seeping blood against his thick fingers pressed to his cheek. Your chest fills with a rage you’ve never known and you feels your fingernails curl into the bag like claws, ready to push past this weathered angel and beat the Devil himself with your bare hands.

Instead, you smile at him.

“I brought you something.” You hold up the bag to him, and you’re grateful that he accepts it without asking why you bothered at all or how you even found this accursed pocket of Hell.

“Danke.”

He shifts a little in place as he opens the gift, and though he could not bring himself to smile, the way his larimar eyes seem to swim a little displays his gratitude where words fail him.

A part of you might even pay the smallest bit of gratitude to the fact that he doesn’t mention just went on inside there. Though your eyes search his with blatant curiosity, he turns away each time, allowing the words to remain unsaid. You don’t pry, it’s not your place. You know treading here was not your place either. Angels don’t haunt you like stalking predators, they haunt you with a call, a silent song. Fate seemed a ridiculous concept, but you’re drawn to his very presence as you have been since the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You know you’ve finally won his friendship when you find yourself across from him at a picnic table with a coffee he purchased for you in hand. It’s not how you would have ordered it, some overly sugary thing nearly spilling out with whipped cream and caramel, but it suits what you’re feeling. You ignore the taste, sated enough by a conversation that comes so easily between the two of you that you feel you’ve known him for far longer.

König is actually rather teasing and boastful when he isn’t being questioned about his appearance or what goes on in his family home. He tells you of his dream of becoming a recon sniper with ease, and how the Austrian military denied him despite how ‘perfekt’ he was for the role.

You listen intently as he carries the conversation forward, tells you about his rifle, right down to explaining the anatomy of such a thing.

“Scheisse, you don’t care.” He breathes a laugh too soft for a man his stature after he speaks, wiping away a bit of icing from his bottom lip with the knuckle of his index.

“Yes, I do!”

“Nein, nein, girls don’t play with guns.”

So, maybe he’s a little old fashioned and odd, but his voice is sweet like spiced honey, and you couldn’t fathom any place you would rather spend a gloomy afternoon than seated across from him.

“I bet I could be a better sniper than you,” you jest, taking a sip from your coffee with a little grin on your face when you note the slight furrow of his dark brows and the challenging flicker in his eyes.

His face softens as quickly as that surge of determination had come, taking to look you over with a newfound appreciation in his stare instead.

“I could teach you.”

You spend a moment explaining that you were simply kidding, and his eyes light up as a tinge of red seeps into the mottled colors of a sky in the midst of a storm across his pale cheeks. Like the first break of sun when the deafening rain finally falls to a calming drizzle.

“Shouldn’t you know how to protect yourself, though?” He asks, sheepishly turning his head away, focusing his gaze on fallen leaves instead of you. Extinguishing your own steadfast gaze is difficult, when you find yourself further captivated by the man in front of you. Everything about him is enigmatic; even the sparse glimpses into his life he’s offered to you leave more questions than answers.

“Maybe.” You shrug absently as you lower the styrofoam cup back to the table, hands curled around it.

He turns back to you then, slipping a hand into his pocket to fish out a butterfly knife, latch closed around the shiny handle. It’s the very same color of his eyes, barely a quiet blue, though the blade itself is wicked steel, expertly sharpened. You ogle it in your hands for a moment, flicking it open before he swiftly takes your wrist and firmly shakes his head.

“Careful,” he gruffs as he retrieves it, brushing over your fingertips as the blade is taken back into his large hand. He dutifully shows you how to twirl it, performing a series of little tricks without even having to look at the weapon in his hands. The blade’s dance is swift and graceful, not one cut sullies his fingers. His chest puffs in pride when he notices the way your eyes try to keep up with the steel, and the tricks become more elaborate.

“Can I try?”

“Nein… let me show you how to use it first. Bitte.”

With a nod, you find yourself being led away deeper into the park, leaves crunching under the toe of the man’s boots just in front of you. Assuredly, you shouldn’t be so trusting of a titan with a weapon, especially after hearing the violence going on within his own dwelling, yet you don’t question yourself. He fills lapses of silence with a soft hum, likely some song he knows from his homeland, it’s a pretty tune coming from him. The cadence of his voice is something that sets your mind at ease when he does speak— always a rasp with a nearly giddy lilt to it. It’s pretty.

The trail leads you both down to a fallen tree, the trunk is thick and deteriorating, bark springing up with succulent, golden folds of what he tells you to be laetiporus. König guides you down to your knees with a gentle press against the back of your neck, the large hand is shaking when his calloused fingers meet your flesh. He descends next to you and places the blade in your hands once more, guiding you with a patient nudges to your wrist. The base of the fungus is gingerly cut with each metered motion from you both, and eventually a large clump of it falls free right into the lap of your dress.

“Not the best for foraging, but…”

“I like it,” you chime with a smile, marveling at the little blade in your hand before your gaze settles to the cluster resting on your lap. “What do we do with this though?”

König shrugs, lifting the cluster of mushrooms to your face, clutching it as though it were a bouquet of flowers with a wolfish grin on his face.

“Eat it.”

“It’s dirty, you eat it.”

Those broad shoulders shrug again as he peels a bit of it off and shoves it between his lips, chewing the filthy things several times before swallowing it down. Your nose scrunches in feigned disgust, before a laugh leaves your lips at the crooked grin he gives you in answer.

“That’s so gross, König!”

It’s possible that he’s been yearning for someone’s focus to shift upon him like this, not in anger or disgust, but something far more gentle. He lets you keep his knife, and the rest of the afternoon is spent filled with comfortable conversation as you wander around the forest together. When the sun begins to set, you actually find yourself a bit disappointed that he doesn’t suggest a bout of stargazing or something more.

It’s all felt too natural to let go of so soon, and you’ve no idea when you’ll see him again. A seed of warmth takes root in your chest when he walks you back to your home. The friendship is something you’ve both needed it seems, because his smile doesn’t even falter when he leaves you at the door to retreat back to the horrible place that he calls home.

— ཐིཋྀ —

You’re sick the next Sunday. A small cold, nothing worthy of fretting too much over. Over the counter medicine does the trick to keep you somewhat comfortable as you lie back against the sofa, ample pillows and blankets surrounding you. There are chores begging for your attention: the dishes stacked in the sink, a laundry basket full to the brim, and you can’t recall when the last time that you vacuumed was. A few days of forgetting and these things overlap into a miserable, tedious pile.

You wish you weren’t so quick to call blame to one particular reason.

Spending time with the angel has left you carrying a weight you’re not certain you can continue to bare. In fact, your cold may have come from fearing for his safety. Whatever ghouls he keeps locked up in that house, tormenting him endlessly… it’s difficult to keep yourself together when you haven’t seen him in days. He could very well be dead. There’s some comfort in knowing that he knew how to protect himself; he had shown you, and his stature was undeniable evidence of such. It just doesn’t feel enough without the physical proof.

He allowed himself to be hurt anyway. It was strange. Some people were simply difficult to comprehend, and you didn’t even begin to know how to unravel the strange spool that’s rolled into your life now.

Especially not when realization hits and you come to terms with one simple fact: You miss König. His eyes, his strange interests, even the overly-sweet drink he purchased for you— you find yourself missing all of it; the light and the darkness. He knows where you live; he walked you home, and yet, he hasn’t stopped by. You imagine it must be that you merely misread the supposed closeness. It didn’t matter. König was just an acquaintance, after all.

You take your mind off of him by turning on the television, a hand rested over your aching head and the other thumbing at the remote in search for anything that could hold your attention longer than a few seconds. The town is small and the news is never interesting; a traffic jam on a road you’ve never traveled, a safe at the grocery store, the sorts of things that come as nothing more than a buzzing to fill the empty air. Focusing on a movie sounded far too tedious, too. Eventually you give up, turning the television off and tilting your head back to stare up at the ceiling, all white and empty.

The bell tolls again, it’s ringing far softer now from within the walls of your home, drawing your attention back to the woods— to König. Gentle chiming is a strange thing to remind you of the bloodied titan. It exudes a sense of peace, like the safety of church bells. You feel your conscious slipping, curled into yourself there as your eyes flutter shut.

Only, the calm is short lived. A knock comes only minutes later, the soft graze of knuckles against your door as though whoever lurks outside didn’t actually want to disturb you too terribly. After a fifth knock, you notice they’re not leaving. It was probably best to answer sooner rather than later so you might be left to your sulky slumber.

It takes a moment to gather your bearings and straighten yourself out enough for company. Your head is still aching terribly, brain fogged by the weight of your sickness. When the latch of the lock clicks and you haphazardly swing your door open, you’re met with the view of a broad chest covered in black.

“König?” You murmur, raising your head to look up at him. It’s not the sight of his face that you’re met with, only his eyes visible beneath the black fabric concealing him. The remains of an old t-shirt, and you had your doubts that whatever he had hidden beneath it could be any more intimidating than he looks now.

“Es tut mer leid,” he huffs, his voice a bit tight as he stares down at you, pupils slightly dilated and irises flicking from your face to the room just behind you. He looks a total contrast to you, unable to help the slight upturn of your lips from just the sight of him. Perhaps he had missed you, too. “Can I come in?”

Again, you should be apprehensive, but in the end you step aside and gesture for him to enter. He readily obliges, stepping past you as he ducks beneath the door frame and walks a bit stiffly to the center of the room.

“You alright?” You manage, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the wood. The flutter in your chest makes it difficult not to break into a more obvious smile— you’re happy he’s here, even in such a sorry state.

“Ja, just…” König pauses for a moment before taking to the sofa, seeming so much smaller than he truly is when he finally seats himself. “You know Lukas?”

Lukas, a parishioner. The man with the ever-present smirk on his face. You had seen him before, spoken to him in passing a time or two. He wasn’t particularly pleasant. You had even heard him join in with the others, commenting on König’s appearance— a bully and a gossip, no different from most of the others. The man couldn’t have been any younger than you or König, still, he had all of the maturity of a teenager.

“Yes?”

“They kicked me out because of him.”

You tilt your head, furrowing your brow in confusion. It wasn’t like the church to turn anyone away, especially not one who had been a part of the congregation for as long as König had. Your bewilderment spurs him to continue.

“At the cathedral.”

“I got that,” you hum out a bit hoarsely as you pad over to sit on the couch, opposite of him. The pitiful look he shoots you then, through the holes in his makeshift mask makes him look like little more than a pleading puppy, begging for comfort that he would never actually request. “It’s alright, König.”

“Nein… I will not get to see you as much.”

If König were not a grown man wearing an ominous veil over his face, you would almost dare to think he was pouting. It’s ridiculous, but it warms your heart that he cares; he enjoys the time spent with you just as much as you did. Perhaps more, if what you’ve gathered about him supplied any hints. He didn’t seem to have anyone at all— only you.

What the church won't tell you is that angels hurt sometimes, too. The Father will tell you that they're The Lord's army, just as impervious to bullets as they are to temptations. With an abundance of wings and eyes, they are such fragile things… how could they truly be invincible? Unlike the seraphim thriving in a heaven far beyond your reach, or the battered angel seated beside you, you won't deny yourself a reprieve or a request for comfort.

“We could just make our Sundays for us, yeah?” You don’t think to stop yourself when you extend the offer to him. The way his eyes seem to light up then is nothing short of a burning ember. Missing tedious sermons couldn’t be that sinful. God could turn the other cheek for now, you thought.

“I would like that.”

You hum in response, reaching for the little bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table as that ache in your head begins to throb again. König’s eyes track you the entire time, shoulders slumping and eyes narrowing when he pieces it together.

“You don’t feel well..,” he says sternly, already rising to his feet to explore your home before a protest can even leave your lips. You hear the sounds of cabinets being flung open in the kitchen, the refrigerator flung open before he returns to kneel at your side with a glass of water. You weakly fumble with the lid of the bottle, offering him your thanks as he holds the cup out for you. Childproof lids are a pain, clicking incessantly rather than just opening when you need them to; each second feels like an hour passing as he stares at you like the strangest little creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

You feel your face warm in embarrassment when he sets the glass aside and pries the bottle from your hands, opening it up with ease before slipping two of the pills in your waiting palm. You down the medicine with a sip of water, nearly choking on it when he raises his hand to your forehead and gently presses against it to check your temperature.

“I’m fine, König,” you huff out, playfully batting at his hand. He remains insistent, not drawing away until you assume he’s convinced you aren’t feverish. “It’s just a cold.”

Your angel has never seemed sweeter than now, with worry painted clear in his blue eyes. He remains quiet, lost in thought for a moment before gently pressing you back against the couch with the press of his fingertips against your shoulder. The throw blanket is tucked over you in an instant. If the thought had occurred to you before, you imagined he would likely be rather clumsy when caring for another, and yet this all feels practiced. He’s told you he’s killed, in the military, yet you couldn’t imagine such gentle hands doing anything of the sort now as you curl up with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Sleep.”

You didn’t want him to leave. Impulsivity is enough of an excuse to take his hand, intertwine your fingers. He doesn’t pull away, not until your eyes close and sleep takes you once more. Only then does he leave your side and your home, locking the door behind him.

— ཐིཋྀ —

“Yeah… he said he saw a demon in there. All shadow.”

“Come on… that’s a lie. You know he was just scared!”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t think he would lie about something like that!”

You’re not trying to eavesdrop. It’s just that teenagers are never keen on keeping their voices down, at least not around here, it seemed. You’re already ten minutes late, having promised König you would meet him at the coffee shop at noon. You don’t have time to be standing around listening to children chittering about town myths. Especially not ones that make you feel so uneasy.

When you had heard them, they were always about the haunted church tucked far away from prying eyes, hidden somewhere in the forest circling the town. No one knew where it was for certain, but many claimed to have wandered there. None of those stories really held any weight; there were no pictures or other fragments of evidence, just voices. The only thing that made those tales seem believable was the bell. You had heard stories about it since you were a child. They ranged from seeing specters, to smelling perfume wafting about in the small graveyard supposedly next to it with no one else around, and even a strange one about finding a corpse there.

Seeing a demon was a new one.

You supposed that someone or something had to be ringing that bell at the odd hours during the day and throughout the night. It was never on time, always several minutes after the beginning of an hour had begun. The thought was a little eerie, and if you thought too hard about it— a little sad. Picturing some poor lost soul stuck there for an eternity, damned to ring a cursed bell only for no one to ever come. In retrospect, it really was no wonder why it reminded you just a bit of him; damned to haunt this town and return time and time again to his own personal Hell.

When the bell chimes again, the children take off towards the noise, leaving you alone on an empty street. Their shouts about how they were going to find that demon and chase it out echo until they’re too far away to make sense of the rest of the conversation.

Your heart feels a bit torn. It was best to leave things like that alone, but… the poor thing must have been lonely, lonely like him.

Maybe it’s a sign from God, as if to remind you of how you’re treading deeper into the dark with every passing Sunday.

You haven’t attended mass since you and König started hanging out. You consider that it’s your own guilt spurring you to fear this unknown thing lurking out in the woods, if it even existed at all. There was something about forsaking a religion you had grown up with for a man you had only just met that was both exciting and heartbreaking.

The walk to the coffee shop feels almost unbearable, your steps sluggish, yet the second you make it inside with the little bell chiming above your head you’re put at ease. König hadn’t taken your tardiness as initiative to leave. The man was tucked in the far corner of the shop, seated at a table too small with his own drink and yours before him.

“No hood today?” You ask as you approach, staring at his scarred face in reverie. The cut below his eye had mostly healed, and you don’t note any new bruising.

He shakes his head with a little smile, gesturing for you to take a seat— not across from him but at his side.

“Do you want me to wear it?” He asks once you’ve taken your seat.

“No, I like seeing you.”

König is handsome. The realization dawns on you, sharp and searing like a bolt of thunder when he flashes you a lazy smile, propping his elbow up on the table to rest his cheek against his open palm.

To quell your sudden embarrassment, calm the warmth pooling along your cheeks, you tell König about what you had heard on your way here. He listens in silence as you prattle on about the haunted church that no one has ever truly found, about the demon lurking in its depths. It sounds silly, even to your own ears as you recount the ridiculous myth you had heard in passing, but König looks a bit more rigid with each word you breathe out.

When you finish, he slowly shakes his head, eyes focused on the door as you take a sip of your coffee.

“You don’t really believe that,” he says.

“‘Course not. I just thought it was interesting...”

“Do you want to see it?”

You pause for a moment, considering the offer. Perhaps with König there you would feel safe, sate your curiosity and enjoy a little adventure as well. You still had the butterfly knife he had given to you, too. Your own little token of protection, and if that failed you would still have an angel at your side. Maybe he would teach you those intricate little dances on the trek there, hold your hand when you found yourself too afraid to brave whatever may come. If you couldn’t find the place at all then that would be nothing more than a nice memory to look back on.

“I think so.” The thought of feeling his warm hand in your own again is enough to spur you on. That feeling may have been more terrifying than any demon at all.

“We will go tonight then. I know where it is.”

“Oh… that soon?”

König gives your shoulder a playful, gentle nudge.

“Ja. I’ll take you.”

— ཐིཋྀ —

It’s not a date.

It’s a misadventure.

Still, you find yourself preparing for it as though it were a date. You bother with a stick of mascara and a bit of lip oil, a dress just slightly more revealing than the ones you wore to service. You tell yourself that you’re dressing up for the memory, not for the angel. That doesn’t stop you from ogling yourself in the mirror, tugging down your dress just a bit so it fits over your cleavage in a way that seems appealing.

You imagine the Holy Mother would probably chide you well if she were to step down from Heaven and see you now, tell you to remain chaste and pure until your wedding night. Oddly enough, it doesn’t tear you up with guilt— it only makes you giggle a bit as you lift the hem of your dress and twirl in place.

It isn’t a date, it’s the least romantic thing you could think of, but he’s coming to whisk you away into the night and it feels like one.

König, gentleman that he seems to be, doesn’t keep you waiting either. You both had settled on going right as the sun began to set after you had finished your coffee and informed him that you needed to finish a few chores and get ready before going on a night long endeavor. Just as the light outside began to turn to a pumpkin glow you hear the knock at the door. It’s louder than the last time he came by— he’s excited too, you can feel it without even gazing upon him.

You take your jacket, patting the pocket to ensure the knife is in its proper place before bounding toward the door, a skip in each step. Tonight would be special, sweet, and tender; it would be all of the things you had repressed since you first saw him.

As you turn the knob and pull it inward, the man hardly has the courtesy to hide his eagerness either. His face visibly flushes when he sees you, all dressed up just for him. You wished you could read his thoughts, have just one moment where you truly had some sort of telepathic ability as you once believed was possible when you were a child.

Graciously, as the two of you begin to venture out towards the woods, with you trying to match his lengthy strides as you walk side-by-side, you don’t need any telepathy.

“You are so pretty,” König mumbles, facing forward rather than looking directly at you. His voice is the quietest you had ever heard it now, barely above a whisper.

If you had the courage to kiss him right then, you would have reached for his scarred face and peppered a dozen over every mark, held him like that until his cheeks went up in flames.

“So are you,” you huff out instead.

Though he doesn’t outright call you a liar, something tells you that he doesn’t believe the words you’ve spoken. The angel falls silent, doesn’t turn to you and merely continues to lead you further out as the sky swells with a brilliant purple, the silhouette of a crescent moon peaking out from high up above. You would tell him a million times if it would make him believe you, then. He doesn’t fiddle with a concealed blade in his pocket around you, and together, he seems so much less lonesome and battered. You know that he’s comfortable with you; his discomfort stems from somewhere within, something you couldn’t reach to pry away from him.

You believe that you’re patient. You could bear anything he had to offer, good or bad; you would accept the burdens just as readily as the gifts— knives and the taste of sugar on your tongue.

The streets of the town aren’t as quiet tonight, and though there are no children with their silly stories idling about, you recognize the voice of a man a few meters off. When you look away from the tree line in the distance, your gaze settles on Lukas leaned up against the wall of the old antique shop. The place hadn’t been touched in ages, yet baubles and little porcelain dolls all covered in a generous layer of dust still lined the shelves in the window. His cell phone is propped between his shoulder and his cheek as he speaks, until his green eyes settle on König who halts in place at your side.

You know that your fantasy of a perfect evening is ruined the moment Lukas rushes a goodbye to whoever was on the receiving end of that call and slips his phone into the pocket of his coat.

“What’s going on here?”

The man is no demon, but he’s arrogant and cruel like one; he sounds enough like one when he laughs in your direction— looks enough like one when he makes a cupping motion before his chest as if to signify your breasts.

König doesn’t respond, but he steps in front of you, shielding you behind him as though you’re a little lamb in need of a snarling maw to keep you protected. You don’t need him to protect you, not truly. You aren’t a little girl, nor are you the one that shows their face covered in a mask of pain.

You’re finally getting a glimpse, a little look at what he must face every time he dares to cross paths with another person.

“We’re just taking a walk,” you say confidently, as you raise your hand to give König’s sleeve a little tug.

Let’s just go.

König doesn’t budge, unmoving like a gargoyle as he stares down at the smaller man before the both of you. His large hands clench at his sides and you see the flames of Hell flaring up in his blue eyes.

“Skipping mass to fuck the freak, is that right?” Lukas tuts with a roll of his eyes.

You’re amazed how Lukas displays not an ounce of fear— even you’re afraid. König wouldn’t hurt you, a part of you was certain, but the way he looked now was so unlike the passive, lost angel you had taken him to be. You take a step back, realizing that whatever comes to pass next is not something that you could stop even if you cling to König and plead for him to clear his mind and let this go.

They’re just words, despite the way they claw at your heart.

“Didn’t think you were such a slut.”

König is no longer much of an angel in your eyes when he leaps at the other man and lands a blow directly to his unsuspecting, smirking face. The sound is a loud, a horrible crack. It’s not like the soft thunder of sudden emotion, but one of a tooth being dislodged from the smaller man’s jaw. Lukas falls back, directly onto his backside against the hard sidewalk with a low groan of pain. His hands reach up to clutch at his face, bright blood trickling from his mouth like a stream.

It’s not enough. Not to König.

Your eyes squeeze shut the moment you hear another thud, and the third sends your running without so much as a thought in your head. The sounds of your own shallow breaths deafen the world around you, drowning out the violence taking place behind. You don’t consider where you’re headed, your eyes remain closed until the sounds of pavement against your soles dissipates and you’re left only with the thumps of your shoes hitting soil.

It’s dark when you stop to gather your bearings. The canopy of tree limbs, crooked and curved above you, blocking out any glimpse of even the moon. You can’t even see your hands when you hold them up in front of your face. When the adrenaline begins to subside, you feel foolish for running away— especially now that you find yourself horribly lost in an unfamiliar area. You turn back to look for the way that you had came, but see no lights from the town piercing through the dark.

You’re alone here, bathed in inky black, in perfect silence.

There are no footsteps chasing after you— König isn’t coming, not to save you. Not when you saw him for what he truly was, you imagined he read the accusation across your face when you ran away from him. It hurts you, too, to think of your lonely angel turned devil. How he saw the word ‘monster’ written in your eyes, wide with fear as you left him. You wondered if he could cry at all, if he was now.

You didn’t even care if Lukas was okay.

You doubted the man was even conscious anymore, lying limp in a puddle of his own blood. Whether he deserved it or not wasn’t for you to decide, but a part of you considers that he certainly did.

Trying to retrace the steps you took in flight proves futile, if anything you think you’ve only sunken further into the woods. Terribly lost and vulnerable, you reach for the knife in your pocket to try and regain some courage only to find it’s no longer there; you must have dropped it somewhere.

The walk feels aimless and fear creeps up on you from every small thing. A snap of a twig off in the distance sends you running once more despite the aching in your chest and limbs. The thought of being utterly helpless with no one in sight to lend their aid brings the sting of tears to your eyes.

Worst of all, however, is the bell.

Closer, it sounds dreadful. A haunting cacophony of noise roars above you, not far off. The bell is rung softly at first, a gentle pull of the rope held fast within it before it begins to grow more desperate, louder still. You swear you’ve turned in the opposite direction when you make it into a clearing, only to find yourself faced with the chapel of myth. The tower housing the dreadful bell is shrouded in shadow, and the damned thing actually has the courtesy to fall silent when you step past the last tufts of shrubbery to make it out into the open area.

The air feels colder here, suffocating almost, as though you’ve been doused in ice water. The silence is more dreadful than the pain emitted from Lukas’ bloody mouth, worse than the ringing of a bell or the droning of another dull sermon.

You don’t fall to pieces, but you do drop to your knees, sullying the ends of your dress with dirt as you stare up at the ominous, white building before you. No demons poke their heads from the windows, no whispering fills your ears from the graveyard mere paces away. It’s void and empty, and that feels somehow worse.

It would be a long night, but you knew wholeheartedly you were not going to find your way home without the sun to guide you. Catching a glimpse of your flesh in the dim light reveals a menagerie of small cuts and bruises, flesh marred from scraping tree limbs and slamming into broad trunks in the darkness.

There was no way that you were sleeping, despite the way you ached for rest. Even blinking made you feel vulnerable and exposed here. This was not an unholy place, but perhaps the most sacred you had ever lain eyes on. It was untouched and wild, even the descriptions of angels written in scripture seemed less so.

You find your footing for long enough to seat yourself at the side of the small building, your head rested against the wall as you draw your knees up to your chest. The sound of your own breath fills the silence in the air, but you don’t feel alone anymore. It’s paranoia and you know it, there’s no way such a humble place could be haunted. Still, the feeling of being watched causes your skin to prickle, and you long more than ever for König’s knife to be fitted between your fingers.

It’s when the sounds of footsteps draw near that you lose all composure. Somewhere off to your right, something was walking towards you— too quick and heavy to be a curious animal.

You rise to your feet in haste and go to the only place you can think of to find sanctuary— directly into the old church, slamming the heavy wooden door behind you. It’s empty inside, apart from an overturned desk and a few chairs you can make out from the dim light leaking through the window. Everything is bathed in dust and it smells nauseatingly sweet and sour, like cobwebs and musk, a combination that does little to set you at ease.

Though the room is small and empty, several doors and a small hallway are off to the back and you imagine the demon leering at you from one of them, just out of sight as you stumble to crouch behind the altar.

You don’t remember when last you prayed, and you don’t bother with it now, either. A prayer wouldn’t save you from whatever horrid thing come crawling out of the woods hunting for you. As if sensing your defeat, the door begins to creak open, the hinges whining as the godforsaken beast began to lumber inside, just as the bell strikes up again.

You swear you can hear the rapid beating of your heart above all other noise, and though you wish for nothing more than to squeeze your eyelids shut and bathe out the sight in nothing but dark, you can’t look away.

The demon is impossibly tall, shrouded entirely in shadow just as the children had said. Its eyes don’t glow and you can’t catch sight of fangs or claws, but it’s ominous enough as it slowly wanders inside, turning its head to look around the room— to look for you.

Your palm rests over your mouth to muffle your breathing, but to no avail. Panic swells within you, its grip tighter than any corset, any vise.

Until your eyes adjust to the dark figure properly. The damned thing is nothing but familiar, comforting even. No demon could ever make you feel as warm as an angel. Your vision fills with unshed tears, relief and regret overpowering any lingering dread.

The demon is not some screeching beast that clawed its way from Hell at all, only…

“König…” You breathe out quietly as you drop your hands to the wooden floor below you and slowly crawl forward. His shrouded head cocks in your direction, and if not for his stature it may have been even cute the way he rushes toward you; thundering steps as the angel no longer walks, but runs in your direction with his arms outstretched.

You lack the time to flinch back from the suddenness, because the moment he reaches you, you’re pulled into a pair of thick arms, shaking as they curl around you tightly. Your face presses into his chest as you circle your arms around his middle in turn.

“Let’s not do that again,” he rasps, pulling you somehow closer as his veiled chin rests against the top of you head. “I am sorry that I scared you… He just…”

“Stop apologizing,” you whisper as your fingers dig into the fabric of the dark hoodie. You didn’t want to hear another apology, not from him; English or German it mattered not, all that concerned you was the fact that the two of you were safe. Heaven and Hell all the same.

König sucks in a breath above you as he carefully pulls you to your feet. The bell and the darkness surrounding no longer brought you fear, only calm in such a protective hold.

He brings you back home, carrying your weight with ease as the forest disappears behind you. The hood over his face remains in place, and a part of you wonders why he even bothered to wear it at all. Perhaps not to scare you further if Lukas managed to open up that wound, or more likely so you wouldn’t have to see the face of a man so easily moved to violence at all.

König drops you off at the door without another word. The butterfly knife you had left behind someplace in the forest is slipped into your hand, the blue handle clasped shut. The weight no longer feels like that of a developing bond, but of parting.

The sting burrows into your heart instantly as he turns away from you. With his first step you find yourself grabbing at his arm, pulling him back with a desperation you had never known prior.

“Please stay,” you voice hoarsely, digging your fingernails into his sleeve. “We were supposed to… to spend tonight together.”

Not here, of course, but out there shivering in fear of the unknown. This doesn’t feel unfamiliar, you know what you’re doing when you offer to let a beast into your home, to lead him to your bedside and hold him throughout the night, and not a word of it slips out carrying the burdens of apprehension.

He turns toward you as his long fingers circle your wrist, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. If you could see his eyes now, you would find the creep of longing buried in a sea of blue.

“You want that?”

“Of course.”

Your bedroom seems even smaller with König inside of it, your bed even more so. The tumble beneath sheets is clumsy, and he has to bend his knees in a way that digs against your own flesh just to fit properly. The veil is cast off with only a muttered complaint in his mother tongue, something you could decipher without even knowing the words. You shush him with a kiss, sweet and gentle when his face is bared. A silent apology for your momentary fear, for your desperate sprint away, for making him wander into that cursed place to bring you home.

He reciprocates clumsily, all too eagerly searching beneath the sheet to grip at your waist as his tongue pries apart your lips. You break apart with a sigh, looking all the part of an adoring devotee as you melt against him, head tucked in the divide between his shoulder and the column of his neck.

“I thought you were afraid.” König sounds a bit dazed, fingers gently prodding against the fabric of your dress as his hand drifts lower to hold your hip. “I was worried.”

“I just don’t understand,” you answer in a soft murmur. “Why you…”

Your voice trails off as he pulls you closer again, his mouth pressed firmly against the crown of your head as he presses a kiss there. There’s a vulnerability to his touch, soft and tentative as his hand trails along your spine, resting just above your rear.

You could ask him anything now and you know that he would supply an answer, tell you any secret you would like to hear, but you don’t. In due time. Right now all that you craved was his closeness as you both drift off to sleep.

— ཐིཋྀ —

The haunted chapel is less so during the day. You haven’t heard the bell toll since last night, any lapse of conversation is filled with the chirping of birds or your own shy laughter each time you marvel up at the man seated next to you, his hand petting your hair, your cheek, anywhere he can touch. There’s nothing ominous about the place anymore, all filled with the bright colors from the stained glass windows as sunlight drifts through, painting the room of broken furniture and cobwebs with softness and warmth.

You’re lying on your back over a soft blanket you had thought to take along, the picnic basket König had pried from your hands on the walk here, once filled with pastries and fruit, now empty discarded at your side.

He tells you of why he stays in that house, deals with his father’s abuse— all for an ailing mother that’s never loved him, not as she should. König takes care of her, demonstrates love the best he knows how despite the absence of it during his childhood. You hadn’t asked, but he speaks more freely with each moment that’s passed since the kiss. It makes you somber, angry almost, that someone you saw such beauty in could be treated this way. You’re no savior, you can’t pull him free from it all, but to offer the angel a reprieve at all is enough. At least, to him.

He even assured you that Lukas, or ‘the arschloch’, was absolutely fine. A few loose teeth and a broken nose wouldn’t kill him, but maybe it would teach him to keep his gossiping mouth shut.

In turn, you tell him more about yourself. He kisses you after each description of hurt, cherishes you endlessly with that adoring gaze, gives you the cutest laugh in response to you telling him that in truth, you wouldn’t have cared if he had punched a hole straight through Lukas. You just hadn’t wanted him to get into trouble, to leave your side.

“You’re like an angel to me,” you murmur softly, your eyes closed as he lays next to you after the innumerable kisses you’ve shared this morning alone.

The words stifle him momentarily, and your eyelids open only to see the man staring back at you with a look of utter devotion. It’s torture for him, maybe, the way you supply him with every spoonful of sweetness he hadn’t tasted prior. He remains silent when his hand grazes the hem of your dress, and you nod to him in silent consent before the delicate fabric is swept up over your head and brought to rest on top of the basket forgotten.

Kisses are sweet like the coffee he gifts to you, but the ones he supplies now are far more urgent, warm like the steel of his knives after being caressed by rays of the sun for too long. It’s worship in a sense, the way he tastes the salt of your flesh from your neck to collarbone, and further to the space between your breasts. Your bra is pushed down, blue lace resting just below your sternum before your mind catches up to you.

“Should we..?” You ask, though it’s not the wrath of God that you fear, only that his clumsy kisses and bereft demeanor all signal that perhaps he didn’t have much, or any experience at all.

His pupils are dilated, eyes nearly black when he seizes the plush skin of your tit in a hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over your stiffened nipple.

“Ja… I want to..,” he mutters quietly, chin resting against your tummy as he gazes up at you. “Can I..?”

König looks cute like this— breathless and pleading, an unhinged sort of desire bared plainly in each word he breathes. Two decades and then some of never having this… and now you’re in his grasp, beneath the roof of this holy place.

“Yes,” you whisper to him, reaching lower to ghost your fingertips over his face, already flushing in color. He leans into your touch pressing a kiss to your palm before rearing back enough to slot his fingers along the hem of your white panties. His breath is almost ragged when he tugs them down enough, to reveal your soft mound and a grin creeps across his lips when he finds you already wet.

Your back arches when the back of his cold hand meets your core, petting you appreciatively there, pulling a shiver from you that only spurs him to carry on. The underwear is discarded in almost record time and the rip of the delicate lace tearing from your body echoes throughout the little chapel. A sulking protest nearly leaves your lips before a long finger is slipped into your slit. König probes at your entrance, gathering your slick onto his fingers with a soft groan that leaves you breathing shallowly. For all his inexperience, he’s eager; eager to prod at you until the digit finds that spongy, sweet spot that brings you to moan. His thumb toys with your clit with each mewl of encouragement spilling from your lips, gently flicking before circling over you until you’re tightening around his finger and soaking the blanket below.

“Are you close?,” he asks through a desperate pant, free hand pawing at the bulge in his trousers.

You shake your head weakly, thighs trembling as he thrusts his finger into you again. “Just feels good.”

That only spurs him to make you come, a second finger thrust into you so quickly you feel your mind go fuzzy. The sounds are obscene enough without the quickened pace of his hand. You’re teetering on the edge within mere moments, crying out his name only to be left entirely empty.

“Hah..” He gives you a little laugh when he realizes what he’s done, torn you away from a near perfect bliss. You stare at him dumbly, eyes half-lidded and lips parted as he deftly unbuckles his belt and pries his cock from his pants, flushed red and leaking headily. “I want to feel it…”

To his credit, he’s done well to prepare you for the girth of him, and you’re already too far gone to whine over the loss of relief. “Then feel it. Please.”

There’s no hesitation when he grinds his tip through the mess of slick painting your sex. When he finds that pressing himself against your clit wills you to grind your hips back against him he practically growls. He continues the motion several times before his patience entirely dissipates and the head of his thick cock is thrust into your entrance. König’s head drops against your chest at the sensation of your walls enveloping him, but he doesn’t growl or groan as you anticipated— he hisses, a gruff inhale of breath through gritted teeth.

You’ve fallen into rapture with the first thrust, filled entirely by the length and weight of his cock slowly spearing into you. He’s careful, forcing himself to continue languidly rather than taking you like you know he wished to, a starved man deprived for far, far too long.

König pulls back, grasping at your hips to tilt them upward, looking down at where your bodies connect. You know he’s in that dangerous state of pure euphoria, you feel it too as his cock twitches inside of you, tip hitting your cervix in a way that’s both nearly painful and causing you to leak further.

“You have.. an engel’s pussy,” he grits out.

It’s… embarrassing and ridiculous, his attempt at dirty talk, but despite your shame you pivot your hips forward, grinding against the mess you’re both making on the patch of dark hair above the heavy cock impaling you.

“König… please keep going.” Your voice a mere whine.

He obliges without a second wasted, pulling himself out to slam back into you. There’s no rhythm to his thrusts, not for a while, but each still manages to hit that spot inside of you that screams for his attention. König isn’t trying to be rough or selfish with you, keeping one hand grasping desperately to your hip as he plays with your clit with the other— pinching softly, deftly rolling his thumb over the sensitive bud; continuing his motions until you’re spasming beneath him, clutching him like a vise and weaving your fingers into his shirt to pull him down to you.

You moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue past your lips, rolling it against your own in time with every rapidly faltering thrust. Your climax hits like a flash of blinding light with a mere circle of his thumb, accidentally in time with the head of his length brushing against that sweet spot. It’s not a hiss that König emits then, but a loud groan as you milk him entirely. He comes with you, cock throbbing as he stills entirely, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he floods your cunt with his seed. You hold him close to your breasts as his gasps soft, riding out the fleeting waves of pleasure until he wills himself to pull out and lie at your side.

“Mein Gott..,” he huffs, curling an arm over your waist. You giggle as you relax against him again, turning on your side to bury your face against his chest. Everything feels like the summer despite the chill outside, the winter doesn’t touch you here, nothing could. The stress of yesterdays melt away, the longing finally subsiding, too.

The world fades away there in that old church, cradling you both within its walls until the sun begins to set, golden light filtering into a hazy gray, before you both have to force yourselves to tear apart from the other and carry on home.

“Will you come by tomorrow?” You ask him quietly, as you stand at your doorstep, a hand lingering on the knob.

König nods, hugging you tightly from behind as he leans over to press a kiss to your cheek, another against your jaw as you smile sweetly at him.

“I will come every day, if you want me to.” He murmurs, drawing back just enough to search your expression for any signs of doubt, fear. You don’t feel either of those things, only love; as though being bonded to him like this is something hallow and sacred in its entirety. Nothing clandestine— you would run to the church right now with his hand in your own and make a mockery of all who have used their words to harm him if it would prove anything at all.

“I do want you to.”

He presses a kiss to your temple as he turns you around to face him, squeezing you a bit tighter when his hands find your hips. You kiss him in turn, leaving a trail of demure little kisses along the chest of his dark shirt.

In time, he wouldn’t have to leave at all. For now, the light the two of you share seems just enough.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction #cod fanfic

[d0youc0py]

I’ve been seeing so much ex husband price stuff on here and it’s making me drool. So I’m contributing some ex husband/not divorced yet but taking a break for vague reasons but you both still deeply love each other TF 141….Also this is sappy, dramatic and not accurate character portrayal—just let me live in denial!

“Johnathan, it’s 1 am.” You groaned, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“Go back to bed, Honey.” He muttered back quickly. You shot him a glare at the term of endearment. He was balancing a flashlight between his teeth, his back mostly turned to you.

“Are you fixing that window?” You questioned, turning on the overhead light. He must’ve not wanted to wake you. He took the flashlight out of his mouth, looking over his shoulder at you. His chest swelled at the sight of you in one of his shirts. It took every ounce of self restraint not to wrap you up in his arms. “I told you over the phone I hired someone to come and fix it.” You yawned.

“And have some stranger traipsing through the house.” He huffed. You watched as his arms flexed at even the slightest movements. You hated these moments of weakness. It was the same reason why you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were wearing one of his shirts. Or the same reason you would light a cigar like it was incense. The same reason why you always answered his daily calls. Then you’d remember why you wanted a divorce in the first place. It always felt like someone dumping cold water on you.

And thats exactly how you felt now.

“That’s not your problem anymore, John.” You reminded. His blood ran cold. Yet he kept up his unbothered appearance.

“Never a problem, Honey.” He assured, still keeping his back to you. You sighed running a hand over your face.

“I just- I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to just show up whenever you want. It’s my house right? That’s what you agreed to. It’s not just some motel you can show up at whenever you want to feel needed.” You spat. His body was still and ridged. His teeth ached from the tight clenching of his jaw and the pain in his chest was wince worthy.

“I know.” He said slowly. “I just want you to know I’ll always take care of you, Honey.” He began to turn towards you but stopped himself. He couldn’t stand to see the look on your face.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, John.” You continued. “I was able to survive before you and when you left me every other month.” You don’t know why you were being so forceful with him. Maybe it was because you hadn’t physically seen him in a few weeks.

“Well maybe I’m not doing it for you, hmm?” He shot back, finally facing you. His eyes were just as red the day you walked out of the lawyers office. “You made your decision, but that doesn’t mean you just stopped being the most important thing in my life. So yeah, I’m going to drop by if I feel I need to because I vowed to always take care of you and no fucking paper you make me sign is going to take that away from me. If you don’t like that you can get a restraining order.”

He didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath before your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Hey, Cap.” You smiled into your phone. Calls from Price were kinda common- he just liked to check up on you here and there, but you could tell by the sigh on the other end this wasn’t going to be about you.

“Hey, Kiddo.” He started. “I catch you at a good time?” He questioned.

“Yeah, just watching TV. Everything alright?” You questioned back. There was another sigh on his end, and it sounded like he was taking a drag of his cigar.

“No one’s hurt.” He was trying to pick his words carefully. “It’s ’bout Simon, though.”

“Okay.” You responded slowly. Just the mention of Simon’s name had a small tremor rise in your body. It’s not like you had gone no-contact with him. He called you a few times a week just to ask if you needed anything, if anything in the flat needed to be fixed, or just to make sure you locked all the windows before going to sleep. “You’re building up a lot of suspense here, Cap.” You offered a fake chuckle.

“Sorry.” He paused again and you wanted to rip your hair out. “He’s just- I know it’s really none of my business what happened between the two of you but he’s not doing good, Love.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s doing fine work-wise. But I’m worried about him personally. He’s droppin’ weight, smoking a couple packs a day, drinkin’ when he knows he’s not suppose to be. When he’s not doing that he just sits and stares. Johnny has to check his pulse sometimes.” It was his turn to offer you a chuckle. Another pause and drag. A few fat tears rolled down your cheeks and Price ran a hand over his face when he heard you sniffle. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I also know you would get after me if I didn’t. Now you don’t owe him anything, but I think just a call from you would help him out a lot.”

“You think he’s doing this because of me?” You whispered.

“Course.” Price responded immediately. He cringed at himself. “What I mean to say is, you’re that man’s ‘reason.’ You get what I’m saying? Men like me and him need a reason. A reason to come home. A reason to be better. A reason to just get our asses out of bed at the crack of dawn. Like I said you don’t owe him anything, Kiddo, but I think just hearing your voice would do him some good.”

“Thank you, Price. For looking out for him and me.” You said sincerely.

“It’s what I get paid for.” He shot back with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, pressing the big red button after a ‘goodbye’. Your swollen eyes raked over the wedding photos you still had hanging in the living room. You couldn’t not call him. You wondered how long he’d been acting like this. Had he been doing it the whole time you had been separated? You rubbed at your eyes working up the courage to press his contact in your phone.

It only rang once before he answered.

“You alright?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah.” You replied, taking a deep breath. “Just calling to check in.” You said slowly. You heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

“Checkin’ in on me?” He repeated. Your heart ached at the thought that he seemed to think you didn’t care about him.

“That okay?” You urged. He hummed in agreement. “If you’re busy I can call bac”-

“Not busy.” He cut off. “What’ve you been up to?” You heard some shuffling and it sounded like he was getting into bed. You wondered what time it was wherever he was in the world.

“Nothing too interesting. I got a new cat! She’s an older tabby who’s seen some things, but she’s a Sweetheart.” You rambled on smiling.

“She probably thinks she’s in heaven with you.” He snickered. You giggled at his words and his eyes shut tightly trying to soak up every second of it.

“Simon, is there anyway when you get back you could help me move in a new cat tower? They’re all fighting over the one we have.” Using the word ‘we’ had just become habit when talking to Simon. You didn’t even realize you had said it. But you using that word was all the ‘reason’ he needed.

“Of course. I’ll be home Wednesday. That work for you?” His heart was beating out of his chest like it did the very first time he asked you out on a date.

“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then, Si.”

*inaccurate medical rules*

Your leg bounced up and down nervously, your eyes about to burn a hole in the pale blue curtain. You were in an accident- not a major one, but you did receive a concussion.

Johnny was still your emergency contact and according to the nurses he was more than willing to pick you up.

“He’s not entirely my husband.” You began. The nurse raised his eyes from the clipboard for a split second before shrugging.

“Says it in your file and he’s still your emergency contact. He’s already on his way, but do you have anyone else we could call?” His tone was bored and you wondered how many times he had to have this conversation a day. You slowly shook your head. “Well we can’t just let you leave by yourself.” He sighed.

“I know, but I filed for divorce. He just refuses to sign it. Doesn’t that count for anything?” You pleaded. The nurse gave you a sour look.

“I can change your emergency contact so in future accidents he won’t be contacted.” You furrowed your brows at his choice of words.

“Hopefully there won’t be anymore accidents.” Your body stiffened at the all too familiar voice. The curtain was drawn back revealing your husband. He gave you a soft smile and you hated the way it settled your stomach.

“Yeah right, so change your emergency contact or no?” The nurse piqued up. You shut your eyes tightly, shaking your head side to side. You wished the floor would swallow you. The nurse looked between you and Johnny before giving you two some privacy.

“I’m sorry about all this, John.” You sighed standing up. “They wouldn’t let me leave without someone signing for me. If you could just walk me out, I can call an Uber.”

“John?” He repeated, in a whisper. It was probably just intended for himself. His chest tightened. No nicknames. He partly hoped that this experience would’ve softened you. Made you happy to be alive. Make you want to wrap your arms around him and call off the whole ‘divorce’ thing. He can picture all the times you sprawled out on his chest, whispering into his skin how safe you felt with him. Now here you were inching yourself away from him like he would ever hurt you. “I’d rather take you home.” He pressed.

“It’s seriously okay John”-

“Enough with the formalities.” He snipped. Your eyes widened and he groaned at his mistake. “You’re discounting everything we’ve been through together. Treating me like some stranger.” He growled out.

“Well what am I suppose to do? Hmm? You want me to call you ‘Mac’ again. Or any of the other ridiculous nicknames I made up for you? Well I’m not going to do that! You were good to me for so many years, Johnny- please don’t think I have forgotten that. But this last year it’s like I haven’t even existed to you. You’re taking every single job that is thrown your way like you don’t even want to be with me anyone, so I’m just doing what you do obviously want but aren’t going to say.” Your voice shook and tears dropped from your eyes, but you held your ground. His jaw clenched tightly, his eyes red from holding back what you had already given up hiding.

“You think I want this? I”-

“Hey, as much as this has been the highlight of my week, we actually need your bed back.” The nurse interrupted, peaking his head through the curtains. Your flushed but nodded your head in understanding. Johnny was hot on your trail following you out. The cold air felt nice against your heated body and you turned to Johnny waiting for him to make the first step.

“I’m sorry for gettin’ on you in there.” He sighed. He shifted on his feet. “I just miss you.” His eyes refused to meet yours knowing it would cause him to break. He opened and closed his mouth trying to find the words to how desperately he wanted you in his life.

“For a man who loves to talk you sure are having a hard time.” You sniffled, wiping at your still streaming eyes.

That was all he needed to let it out. It was sloppy and unfiltered, but yet it shattered your world and everything you thought you knew about the man and how he felt about you.

You saw him at the store. It wasn’t the first time you had run into him- actually you two seemed to be bumping into each other all over the place. And without hesitation every single time he would flee the scene like you were some bully from high school he ran into. The same thing happened tonight. You both turned into the same aisle, stared at each other for a moment, then he dropped his basket and charged out the door.

You had already made up your mind weren’t going to let him go this easy.

You rushed after him, at a speed walk pace.

“Kyle!” You shouted after him in the parking lot. He was just opening the door to his sleek black car, one of his feet inside already. He paused for a moment, before sliding into the drivers seat. You were able to grab the door handle before he shut it on you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He growled, beginning to tug the door back. Your hand gripped the car door and he quickly faltered not wanting to slam it shut on your fingers.

“Just let me talk, please?” You begged. Those same brown eyes that you had spent the best part of your life staring into bore coldly into yours. “I just- We keep running into each other. I just think it’s silly that we keep avoiding each other.”

“Not silly.” He shot back without missing a beat. “You don’t want me anymore, remember?” Your heart dropped.

“Ky, that’s not true”-

“Fucking save it, Y/N. You’re the one who wanted to take a break. Why don’t you just divorce me and get it over with already.” He spat. His face curled in a way that made you want to die.

“Is that what you want?” You asked quietly. He ran his hands up and down his face.

“I’m tired of your games, Lovie.” His voice held no warmth. “I want my partner back. The same person who I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The same person I vowed to love and protect- but that person doesn’t even seem to be you anymore. I couldn’t imagine just cutting you out of my life the way you did to me. And the fact that you were able to do it fucking terrifies me. Just call me when you figure your shit out.”

He shut the door and you let him.

#d0youc0py #doyoucopy #cod #cod men #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mwf2 #fluff #sfw #simon ghost riley #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x gender neutral reader #Soap x reader #soap x gn!reader #soap x y/n #gaz x reader #gaz x gn!reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x gn!reader #captain john price x reader

[navybrat817]

Mission Report

Pairings: Incubus!Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader, Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Incubus!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: After a night with the two demons, Brock comes to collect your body and faces the fury of all three of you. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, threesome, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, spitroasting, blood, violence (shooting, stabbing, and more), physical and mental torture, dark elements, death, revenge, implied noncon, possessive behavior, supernatural elements, Incubus Stucky (that's a warning, lovelies!). A/N: Fic #10 and final fic for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! I had to revisit my incubi the day before Halloween and this is a direct follow up to Ready to Comply. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Less than a day passed since Bucky and Steve claimed you as their own, but it felt like you always belonged to them. You were their eternal award for their capture. They were your reward for the pain you endured. The three of you would scorch the earth together.

Your captors weren't strong enough to endure the flames.

As you lay naked on the floor as instructed, you counted the footsteps as the squad members got closer. There were three pairs of heavy boots, one set which belonged to Brock Rumlow. You almost pushed yourself up when fiery anger coursed through your veins. You wanted him turned to ash just so you could watch the wind blow him away into nothingness. It would be glorious to smile in the face of his demise.

“She feels your rage, Buck. Reign it in,” Steve ordered from where he sat in the corner.

“No,” Bucky spoke in an almost laidback tone from the opposite corner. “Let her feel it.”

In the very short time they bound you to them, you figured out that Steve was the more assertive of the two. It didn't mean Bucky wasn't forceful when he had to be. At the moment though, he wanted you to feel a bit more of his impulsive side.

“Now isn’t the time,” Steve chastised, making Bucky scoff in reply.

You lost the concept of time the day you were unwillingly taken under Hydra's wing. Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds did you no good as you waited for whatever horror they decided to unleash upon you. The days were no longer a precious gift, but a stark reminder that you were closer to death.

A sound reminiscent of a snarl escaped as you opened your mouth. “Hydra took everything from me,” you grumbled as angry tears sprang to your eyes. “I want their blood to stain the ground. I want it to paint the walls.”

Thanks to the demons in your cell, your demons, you would get your revenge. You would live to fight again. And you would live to serve them. You promised them forever, after all.

An odd sense of comfort surrounded you and allowed you to breathe a bit easier. “We can feel your pain, sweetheart,” Steve whispered.

Bucky hummed, the warmth doubling within your chest. “We can also feel your strength, doll.”

“We'll spill their blood,” the blonde promised as you blinked the tears away. “But not if you're impatient. We need you to act docile when they take you out of the room.”

“Stevie's right. We know you're angry. We all are. They'll pay. Trust us,” the brunette agreed. “And we'll have lots of fun along the way.”

Demons were many things and played lots of tricks, but one thing they wouldn't do was lie to you. It allowed you to let the hurt go for the time being. “I'll behave,” you whispered when the footsteps stopped in front of the door.

“That's our girl,” the incubi said in unison, the words wrapping around your heart and reminding you that you weren't alone in this fight.

The bond crackled between the three of you as the door swung open. It allowed you to remain still, just like they told you to. You made no move to cover yourself as the men observed you on the floor. Your demons also made no move to go toward them. With the symbol above the doorway, there was no way for them to escape.

Yet.

“Well, well, well. I thought we’d find a corpse when we opened the door,” Brock smirked. Instead of snapping back the way you wanted to, you made a wounded sound instead. “But I guess they fucked the fight out of you after all.”

“She was a lot of fun to play with,” Bucky said, the phantom touch of his claw moving along your back easing you. “Really does go pliant with a cock in her.”

You had to bite your lip to suppress your moan. They wrung so much pleasure out of you that you stopped counting the orgasms. You were certain their seed was still dripping out of your holes.

“She was stronger than most,” Steve added, one of his claws joining Bucky’s as you made another small sound. It was arousing as much as it was calming. As fun as it would be to beg for their cocks in front of these men, now wasn’t the time to play. And the guards weren’t an audience who deserved to watch you get off. “Feel free to bring her back.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking freaks,” Brock sneered, his hand tightening around the taser prod on his hip. “Get up, bitch. We don’t have all day.”

You slowly lifted your head and held a hand out. All you had to do was pretend just a little bit longer. “Help me,” you whispered.

His lip curled in a dark smirk as he stayed in place. “You really think I’m dumb enough to go in there? Nice fucking try. Crawl if you can't walk.”

Bucky growled in your mind and Steve’s fury simmered in your core as you began to drag yourself across the cold floor, both of your demons itching to attack when the men laughed at your “weakened” state. You let them have their fun. It would be one of the last things they ever did in this world. And it would be your laughter ringing in their ears once their souls went to Hell.

Soon.

Once you crawled far enough out of the room, the guards finally moved to grab you. They each took an arm and yanked you to your feet, uncaring of your discomfort, as your head lolled from side to side. Brock’s eyes lewedly dragged along your shivering frame before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his dark eyes. There was no mercy in his gaze.

And you felt none in your heart for him.

The fingers on your chin tightened painfully, but you didn’t give Brock the satisfaction of whimpering. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered before he forced you to look over your shoulder, your neck straining from the angle. Bucky and Steve’s eyes glowed a furious shade of red as they moved to the center of the room and stared you both down. It would’ve frightened you if you didn’t know that they were yours.

“I think they miss you already. Slut,” Brock taunted, saliva hitting your cheek as he roughly released you and walked down the hall. “Bring her to my office. Let’s see her fight back when she can barely stand on her own two feet.”

Steve whispered one word as the men began to drag you away. “Now.”

A surge of energy flowed through you as you harshly shoved the guard to your right away with enough force that he smacked the wall. Before the other guard could react, you grabbed his gun from his holster and aimed at his head. “Safety first,” you said, firing a bullet through his skull.

“Stupid bitch,” the first guard snapped as he straightened up. You grabbed his wrist when he reached for his gun, his skin warming under your touch as he gasped air. Just as quickly as his skin grew hot, he grew deathly cold.

“You feel that?” Bucky moaned.

“I feel it,” Steve confirmed. “She's giving us his energy.”

You didn't know how you were doing that since Bucky and Steve used sex to drain life force. Were you a conduit now thanks to your bond? Just how powerful had they made you?

“Help,” the guard gasped before you pressed the gun to his forehead and fired. You smiled when his body hit the floor. It felt like minutes, but happened in the span of seconds.

The blood along the walls also brought an unexpected moan out of you.

Blood. Red. Lust.

“That’s our girl,” Steve praised.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky added, their pride in you making you whimper.

“Really?” Brock muttered from the end of the hall as he turned to face you, his gun in hand as you shrugged. “I should’ve known you’d do something stupid. Now I need to hire two more men.”

“Actually, you’re the one who did something stupid by giving me to them,” you said, gesturing behind you. “And we’re going to kill you.”

Your captor’s scoff made you smile more. He didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong. “Just because you have the serum doesn't mean you're not expendable,” he said, aiming the gun at your heart. “Let's see you try and kill me with a bullet in your chest, bitch.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you spoke in a low and hypnotic voice. It wasn’t your own. Your demons were speaking through you. “You’re going to shoot the symbol above the door until you run out of bullets and drop your weapon.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Brock’s forehead as he slowly raised his arm higher, the veins in his neck straining as he tried to resist the order. He had every reason to be afraid. The marking was the only reason Bucky and Steve hadn’t killed him yet. Once they were free, he’d have to answer for his sins.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Doesn't feel good to not be in control, does it?” you replied, taking great pleasure in knowing he couldn't stop himself. “Shoot.”

You stared him down as he fired the first shot, watching him grit his teeth. Your nipples hardened as he fired again and you couldn’t help but dip a hand between your legs as power continued to move through you. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much with two dead bodies nearby, but revenge was exhilarating to say the least.

“Don’t get started without us,” Bucky called out, even as you envisioned him wrapping a hand around his cock. With a whine, you grudgingly stopped touching yourself. “I wanna taste you while he begs for his life.”

“Oh, he’ll beg,” Steve smirked, his claws scratching the wall by the door. “And we won’t listen to his prayers.”

“Shit,” Brock groaned, his arm trembling as he took his last shot.

The hall went silent as you dared to look behind you. Whatever marking that kept the demons trapped in that cell was gone now, lost in a pile of rubble and dust on the ground. “It’s time to play,” you said, urging them to come out.

The gun fell from Brock’s hand as Steve took the first step. He sighed happily when nothing prevented him from walking through, but the glow of his eyes was anything but comforting as he looked at Brock. With unnatural speed, he flew toward him as he reached for his radio. The snap of his wrist breaking was one of the best sounds you’d ever heard.

“Mmm. Break his other wrist, Stevie,” Bucky suggested as he stepped out of the room and joined you at your side. You gasped when he pulled you in front of him to grind his hips against you, his cock hard and hot against your skin. “Make him scream.”

“Fuck-” Brock screamed as Steve snapped his other wrist, his hands useless as the blonde demon grinned.

Steve brought his finger to his mouth and licked a drop of blood away. “You taste bitter,” he taunted before he lifted his head. “Another guard is on the way.”

Bucky chuckled as said man entered the hall a moment later. “All alone? That's brave and stupid.”

“Oh, my God,” he said as he surveyed the scene.

It had to be quite the sight. Blood and brain matter along the walls, the man's boss on the ground in pain, you and your demons naked and unafraid. Haunting and beautiful.

“There's no God here,” Bucky smirked as he lazily rocked his hips against you. “But feel free to pray anyway.”

“Do something!” Brock ordered through his pain.

Bucky spoke a command in his natural tongue as the guard dropped his gun. Fear radiated from him as he took a knife from his belt and turned the edge toward his throat. “I don't wanna-” he shoved the blade deep in his neck with wide eyes before he could finish his statement, gurgling as he collapsed.

“Die,” you whispered, completing his sentence.

You had to bite back a moan as Bucky turned your head to meet your lips in a filthy kiss, Steve smirking as he looked back at you two. The carnage fueled their need as much as yours. As the coppery scent of the blood continued to fill your nostrils, you justified that this was the right thing to do. The men made their beds.

They could die in them.

“Come in,” a voice on Brock's radio rang out.

“Shh. Don’t make a sound,” Steve ordered, grabbing Brock’s radio as the operative went eerily silent. His eyes bulged as the demon began to speak with his voice. “Go ahead.”

“Thought I heard commotion in the hall. Sent David in to assist. Do you need more backup? Over.”

“Negative. Subject tried to escape and we subdued her. All clear. But no one is to go in the South Wing, no matter what you see or hear. And tell all S.T.R.I.K.E. members to gather in the debriefing room and await further instructions. Over.”

“But sir-”

Steve's eyes flashed as he continued to speak like Brock. “Did I fucking stutter? Get the men there and stay the fuck out of here. That's a direct order. Over.”

“Roger that.”

Bucky chuckled when Steve crushed the radio in his hand. No alarms rang out. No soldiers ran down the hall to recapture you. There were no lockdowns. Brock knew he was fucked.

And not in the way you would be.

“You know, Rumlow. You truly are a dark soul with a penchant for pain,” the brunette began, nipping your shoulder as his hands roamed your body. “We could’ve worked out some sort of deal with you. Given you true power. But you just had to lock us up.”

Something dark surfaced from the depths of your mind as you listened. You saw yourself curled up, naked and trembling, in the corner of a cell similar to the one they kept your demons in as Brock advanced on you. “Make yourself useful or you’ll die choking on my cock,” he threatened. It was a memory you kept locked away after they captured you and shot you up with the serum. One they thought they erased for good.

The anguish was almost enough to drown yourself in.

“And you just had to hurt our girl,” Steve snarled, swiping his claws across Brock’s cheek when you whined.

“No one hurts our girl,” Bucky growled over his cry as blood sprayed from the open wounds.

You no longer felt like you were drowning as they fed you strength, allowing you to see clearly again. You always wanted someone protective by your side. Someone to fight for you. Now you had two beside you.

“He can’t hurt me anymore,” you said as the blonde grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back down the hall toward you. He may have yanked a few strands out along the way. “Would you like to hear my mission report, Rumlow?”

His chest heaved a bit as he lay on the ground, trying to breath steadily through the pain. “Yes,” he lied, knowing better than to smart off again.

You arched your back when Bucky covered your breast with his hand, squeezing it gently as Steve joined you and began to play with the other. “You tossed me in their cell with the hopes they’d drain my energy, but I came out stronger. You know why? Because I gave myself to them. All of me,” you explained. A gunshot rang out before Brock screamed and grabbed his knee, the pistol you stole from the dead guard now in Steve's hand. “Their power flows through my veins and my soul belongs to them. We’re bound to each other.”

“And her energy is delicious. Just like her cunt,” Bucky smiled as he turned and shoved you into Steve’s arms. He sank to his knees and winked before he tossed your leg over his shoulder, nosing at your slit. “Hold my horns if you need to.”

“I supposed we should thank you,” Steve said, tossing the gun away. He brought a hand back to your breast, pinching your nipple as Bucky licked along your folds. You grabbed his horns and squeezed when his wicked tongue got to work. “Whatever you injected her with helped her survive what would've killed a normal human. And the more we fucked her, the more she needed us.”

“Such a greedy, pretty thing when she takes our cocks,” Bucky spoke against your pussy, the image of him fucking your throat while Steve took you from behind shimmering in your mind. You could feel them inside you, claiming you as theirs. “Didn’t even take much for her to come when we took her ass.”

Your holes clenched, desperate for them to fill you again. “You tried to turn me into a weapon,” you moaned, smiling as blood dripped from Brock’s leg. “I guess, in a way, you succeeded. Because we’re going to destroy Hydra.”

Bucky flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit as you squirmed. It wasn't enough. You needed more. “Three guards down.”

Steve smiled as he kissed along your neck, his lips lingering on your pulse. “And you’re next, Rumlow.”

“No,” Brock breathed, pushing himself up with his elbow. Fire filled your eyes when he met your gaze, his face going pale under your stare. Were your eyes glowing? “I-I can still join you. I can help.”

“I don’t think you can help us,” Steve said, nodding down to Bucky. His tongue stabbed deep with a moan as he swiped his hand along Brock’s thigh, his claws tearing through the tactical pants and skin. More blood splattered as he screamed in agony. “But you can bleed.”

“Beg. I want you to beg for me to save you,” you moaned, grinding against the brunette’s face before your expression twisted with anger. “I was innocent, you piece of shit.”

Where was your innocence now? Gone. Destroyed. But you made a choice. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness by joining forces with the incubi they captured. And you didn't regret it for a second.

“Please,” Brock said above a whisper, trying in vain to cover his wounds. How much had it taken for him to say that single word? “I-I was just following orders. I'm sorry. Save me.”

You regarded Brock with an unsympathetic gaze. You could show him compassion that he never bestowed upon you and let him see that there was still good in you. But where was the fun in that? What kindness did you possibly owe him?

You glanced back at Steve as you considered it, who merely smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You felt Bucky smile, too. They encouraged your fury, fueled it. These demons truly were glorious. Horrifying.

And they were yours.

“You're not sorry and you know the orders were bullshit. So as far as saving you?” You asked, smiling when the realization of his doom crossed his face. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Brock's hands flew to his head as he let out a cry of anguish. It filled the hall, like a song of agony as the lights flickered. The sound almost shook you to your core, but it fed into your growing darkness. You embraced it with a smile.

“Do you know who those screams in your head belong to?” Steve asked evenly as Brock continued to yell and thrash around. “That's the suffering of every person you ever hurt. All the pain you caused.”

Bucky pulled his mouth away to glare at him. “Including our girl.”

How many bodies had Brock and his men left on their path of destruction? How many lives had they ruined? It was only fair to return the favor.

“Stop it! Make it stop!” Brock cried, slamming the back of his head against the ground with enough force to crack it. “Stop!”

You cried out when Bucky shoved two fingers inside you, his claws careful not to cut you as he thrust deep. “You're close, doll. Dripping down my fingers,” he said, the sound of your wetness blending in beautifully with the wail of pain.

“He's close, too,” Steve said in your ear as he reached down to toy with your clit, playing with the sensitive bud with a grunt. You hardly paid any attention to Brock now, even as his body twitched and blood from his skull stained the floor. He was inconsequential to you as the light began to fade from his eyes. He was nothing. “It's the end for him.”

Bucky twisted his fingers with a smirk, your pussy quivering as you were ready to fall apart. “Come while he takes his last breath. Let go. Let it all go.”

Your vision swam as you did as he commanded, your entire body throbbing with pleasure. You felt the air leave Brock's lungs as bliss flooded you, Bucky's groan obscene as he brought his mout back to lick up your essence. Steve held onto you as you lost yourself, every part of you inside and out owned by their touch.

In that moment, you were invincible.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky said, his mouth and chin wet from your release as he took his fingers out and lowered your shaky limb from his shoulder. “Damn. I thought he'd last a little longer. I wanted to shove his taser rod up his ass.”

“You still can,” Steve said, kissing your shoulder. “You did so well, sweetheart. You okay?”

The praise from both of them made you preen as you looked at the surrounding carnage, slowly coming down from your high. “I'm better than okay,” you exhaled, reaching out with your foot to nudge Brock's body, relief hitting you square in the chest when he didn’t move. Your tormentor was dead. And you wouldn't shed a single tear for him. “He's gone. He's really gone.”

“He is. And we're free, thanks to you, doll,” Bucky spoke, licking his fingers clean before he stroked himself, a cool shade of blue flickering from his red eyes. “Our mate.”

I'm theirs and they're mine.

And as their mate, you had to thank them. Take care of them. Worship their hard and aching cocks the way you were made to.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

“With pleasure,” Steve smiled, putting you on your hands and knees before he sank down behind you. He shoved his thick cock inside you with no warning, the head of it practically kissing your cervix as you screamed. “This is just the beginning. We have more lives to destroy when we’re done fucking you. For now.”

Bucky tapped his cock against your cheek affectionately before he pushed inside your eager mouth. “Alexander Pierce. Jasper Sitwell. Everyone. We'll kill them all,” he promised, snapping his hips in time with Steve as you moaned, letting them use you like a ragdoll between them. But you didn't feel used in the slightest.

You felt complete.

“You're free,” Steve grunted, bringing his palm down on your ass with a sharp slap. “We're free.”

He was right. You were finally free from the shackles Hydra tried to put on you. And you couldn't wait for the carnage the three of you would continue to spread, once you could form a coherent thought. All you wanted for now was for them to paint every hole of yours until there wasn’t a drop left.

Bucky's head fell back with an excited moan, as if he read your mind. “And we have so much time to make up for. So take our cocks and let us fill your holes before we burn this place to the ground.”

That was a mission you were more than happy to complete.

So, THAT happened and I'm not sorry. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #navy's trick or treat nonsense #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #demon!bucky barnes x reader #demon!steve rogers x reader #incubus!bucky barnes x reader #incubus!steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #demon!bucky barnes #demon!steve rogers #incubus!bucky barnes #incubus!steve rogers #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine

[indouloureux]

eddie and reader in an argument?? basically eddie misses something that he was supposed to do for her like picking her up after work or she had this big thing she hoped eddie would show up to but he got caught up on something and its not the first time it happened? but pls make it a happy ending

aaaa some hurt/comfort me love. thank you for requesting! <3

eddie winces when you slam the door open, doorknob colliding loudly against the wall as you does so. and he's sputtering out your name and stop like a mantra. but you don't.

"sweetheart, i-..." he sighs, hands falling limp to his sides as you enter the bathroom, a hasty hand opening the faucet as you begin to wash your hands. "can you please just...look at me?"

his plea was reasonable, at least. you haven't looked at him since he picked you up from the studio. poor naive eddie had expected you jumping into his arms, except he'd been greeted by an irate stance of crossed arms and foot tapping; eyes he's been daydreaming of eschew from him and it hurts his chest that you're avoiding his sight.

the car ride was silent. and he even played your favorite songs as you made your way home. but nothing made you look at him, and he wonders if the empty streets of hawkins was more interesting than the fact that he chose to listen to your songs.

eddie's how are you? was greeted by a curt i'm fine. his how was your day? was answered with a shrug. his kiss was chastised by the contact of your cheek, and both his hands were on the steering wheel than your thigh. his heart ached, really, when you kept on scooting in your corner the closer you got from home.

you turn the faucet off, a small squeak heard. you wipe your hands on your jeans, running your slightly damp fingers through your hair before you finally look at him. the frustration is evident by the way your pupils were almost a speck to nothing, a slight flare on your nostrils. although what makes him nervous the most was by the way your jaw clenches.

"what, eddie?"

he looks nervously at your hand on the sink, then at the hand on your hip before he directly looks at your irritated face. "did i do something, baby? you- you haven't looked at me since i picked you up and you sound- well, are you mad?"

you sigh, in a way that tells you're tired. physically, emotionally, his poor mind's still figuring it out. eddie has a hand lifted to reach out to you. "i don't know, eddie. i'm- i'm just tired. let's go to bed."

"hey, hey, no," he stops you on your way out, his body blocking the doorway, hands on your arms to stop you. the courage you've gathered to look at him is torn apart when you refuse to look him in the eyes once more. "talk to me, baby, come on."

"eddie, i'm tired—"

"no. no, you said communication m-makes the relationship work. so you tell me now. we're not sleeping until you tell me what's wrong," eddie frowns, trying to gather up all his patience. "please, (y/n). come on."

you close your eyes, tightly, the wrinkles around your eyes deepening until you open them and stare at him. "you didn't show up to my artshow, eddie."

oh.

his face falls, thoughts now dawned upon the realization. eddie was late to your show, one he promised about. one you talked about for weeks and one he's been listening to nonstop from how proud he was. and he was late.

five hours late, to be exact. kept you waiting outside in the cold with nothing but a thin shirt and jeans, spent two cigarettes as your thoughts filtrated around worry. and when he showed up, he had the nerve to think that everything was okay.

eddie knew how important it was to you. the same person who you expected to show up and come support you like you'd do to his gigs, never went through the door; never clapped and cheered for you.

"sweetheart," he exhales, eyebrows scrunched into a tiny raise. eddie swallows his tears, lets it hurt his throat because he doesn't deserve to cry over his mistake. "i'm so sorry."

"no, eddie! you- you promised!" you jab a finger through his chest before you wedge your thumbnail in between your teeth, blinking rapidly. "you said you'd be there! you told me every day for the past two weeks that you'd be there. and then- and then you weren't and you just left me hanging with my expectations!"

you stab your finger at his hard chest at every word, your voice wavering, filling it with this thorns around your throat that it hurts to speak while you hold back your tears. eddie takes in the pain that your nail gives, but eventually wraps his hand around your wrists.

"i know. i know, baby, i'm sorry." eddie suspires. "i just— i got caught up with the deal. they took too long. i'm sorry, it won't happen again."

you sniffle, loudly that it echoes around the porcelain walls of the bathroom. you refuse to look at him, and glare at the red pick that hangs on his chest instead. his heart aches when your bottom lip wobbles as you say, "you know, that's not the first time you said that. and every time i hear you say it, i always wished i'd never hear it again."

i'm sorry, it won't happen again.

the same words he said when he missed your performance at the pep rally and at the championship game, when he was late to picking you up from work, when he missed your dinner date that you worked hard for. countless events, arguments ended with the same six words before you both fall asleep and pretend it didn't happen because you both fool yourselves to.

"there's this voice at the back of my head that kept on whispering to me that you might be late," you mutter. "and i didn't believe it because you promised, eddie. you promised. and i believed you because i thought that you'd never really do it again. that- that you've learned—"

his heart aches at the two tears that roll down your cheeks. and before he can stop them, there's a bijou of tears that stroll down. eddie cups your face, but you shake your head to move them away. "i learned. i learned, (y/n). i promise that i learned. it's just that—"

"it's just what, eddie?" you furrow your eyebrows. "it's just that your campaign was too long and you forgot and you couldn't disappoint them? it's just that some- some guy stopped you over and asked for weed? or you took dustin to talk to his girlfriend or helped gareth with his guitar? it's just what, eddie? hm?"

"what?" he narrows his eyes at you. "baby, don't put words into my mouth-"

"i'm not," you almost yell, wiping your palm on your forehead. "i'm listing down the same reasons you tell me whenever you weren't there."

eddie lets his reason die in his throat and takes all the pain your words stab to him. he sniffles, feeling his own tears at his waterline as he stupidly decides to wrap his arms around you. you try to push him away, but your tears render you weak — pushing at his chest was as useless as the reason he tries to calm you down with.

"i'm starting to feel like i'm not important to you anymore," you whisper exasperatedly. "it's like- like all my achievements, or-or my hardwork don't matter anymore. because you're always not there, eddie."

he doesn't let go, keeps you tight to his chest as you spend all your energy into pushing him away. but with all your vigor ripped to its seams, you give in, sinking into his chest as you limply wrap your arms around his elbows. eddie whimpers at your sobs, muffled by his shirt that now has tear stains — color darkening by your cries.

"i'm sorry," he repeats. "i'm sorry. i'm so, sorry, baby i-" i promise it won't happen again. he wants to say. but he's afraid of breaking his stupid promise; afraid of breaking your heart again.

"you can just-" you wipe your nose on his sleeve. "you can't just hug me and say i'm sorry every time you disappoint me by breaking your promise, eddie."

every time you disappoint me.

his heart breaks. but he knows he's right. disappointment's always expected in relationships, anyway. it's not like he's never been disappointed in you before.

eddie shushes you, pats your unkempt hair down as he lets a few tears drop down his cheeks and onto your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

"i promise it won't happen again," he says. "i- i love you. okay? you're important to me. i'm very fucking sorry that i wasn't always there. okay so- so from now on, i'm cancelling all those stupid deals, okay?" eddie bends down, placing his hands on your shoulders. and he fights the urge to smile when you finally look into his eyes. "i promise you that i'll be there. break up with me if i break that promise, okay?"

the corners of your lips tug down, before you surprisingly let out a short laugh as you push his hair behind his ears, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you cup his face.

"i won't break up with you. but i'll hit you in your balls, eddie, i swear," you sniffle. "just promise me, okay?"

"i promise," he nods, taking you into his arms once more. "you're- you matter to me, okay?"

you want to believe him. really. but that's the point in this whole thing — which promise to believe is unknown. it's where the trust is built. so you nod, letting him wipe your tears away. "okay. okay okay. just. be there, okay?"

"yeah." he nods. "i'll be there. even at the fucking bathroom while you pee, i'll be there. or- or at an alternate dimension. or even when you ask me to follow you into mordor. i'll do it, baby."

you laugh, and it's the best thing he's ever heard the entire night.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #blurb #joseph quinn #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn angst #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #hurt/comfort

[gay-dorito-dust]

OKAY hear me out

Soft!Jason with a very touchy S/O, like we all know Jay alr has SO much trauma and he needs to constantly be touching them, making sure they're still with him, and the S/O, they're more than happy about this (LOVE LANG IS PHYSICAL CONTACT), constantly holding hands, little shoulder bumps, snuggling, forehead touches (!!!), bascially giving a Nick/Charlie vibe here but STILL

lol sorry about the long rant this thots just stuck in my head

(also can i be 🐺anon?)

Yes you may be 🐺 anon. :)

Jason wouldn’t consider himself to be a touchy person or someone who’s primary way of showing appreciation and love through physical touch like you. And yet after everything he’s been through and done, Jason finds himself extending out a hand and wordlessly intertwining your fingers together, letting out a deep sigh of relief as everything became okay again. All just because he was holding onto you.

You made everything okay for Jason.

So you knew when it was really bad whenever Jason was practically clinging onto you with no intentions of letting go. His grip was like a vice that would tighten at any signs of movement as he thought you were trying to pull away, when in actuality you were just trying to adjust yourself to a more comfortable position, and his breathing was uneven and ragged like he had just ran a marathon without any breaks. He’d go even further by burying his face deep into your chest just so he could feel that you were alive and still with him.

It hurt you to see him like this, it truly did, and so you’d respond to his need for touch in kind by running your hand up and down his back and resting your forehead against his head, pressing kisses into it every now and then whenever you heard the sound of pitiful, soft whimpering coming from the back of his throat as you cooed softly at him gentle reminders that you weren’t going anywhere without him.

‘I’m here. I’m right here Jason, you can feel me breathing can’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ He murmurs and you press a kiss against head.

‘Then that should be more than enough proof to know that I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever and I’ll prove it everyday if I have to.’ You tell him and you truly meant what you said as the following days you would do a plethora of things to set Jason’s mind at ease and quite any and every inner demon he had that tried to make him think otherwise.

In the mornings you would snuggle yourself further into Jason. Making sure that your forehead was pressed against his, rubbing your noses together and kissing his eyelids until they flutter open to reveal his beautiful eyes, making sure that you were the first thing Jason saw and welcoming him into the morning with a soft smile and a series of kisses scattered to his cheeks, jaw and lips.

‘Good morning handsome.’ You greeted him.

‘It’s always a good morning when you’re the first thing I see angel.’ He greeted you back in kind, voice low and raspy as his hands on your lower back kept you within close proximity.

‘It looks like someone’s been reading too much Jane Austen as of late to be this romantic first thing in the morning.’ You teased, smiling more at his words as he shrugs. ‘Guilty as charged but I don’t need Jane Austen to be romantic when it comes naturally whenever I’m with you.’ You smother him in more kisses after that because you were unable to come up with anything that could compare that to.

In the evening when you and Jason were starting to settle down after an eventful day, you could often be found sat next to him on the couch as he read his book while holding onto your thigh with his free hand, his thumb would trace patterns into your skin; Whereas you would go through your phone and occasionally pressing you knee against his. It was a relaxing moment the two of you often found yourselves in that it might as well have become somewhat of a tradition; sitting in comfortable silence with one another doing your own things in tandem.

However Jason -whenever he felt you weren’t close enough to his liking- would press his shoulder against yours and lean in to press a kiss to your temple before going back to reading his book. ‘I feel like I’m rubbing off on you with how much more touchy you’ve been lately.’ You told him after a while and Jason bookmarks his place in the story and puts the book down on the table infront of you before looking over at you.

‘Does it bother you when I do that?’ He asks, feeling a little vulnerable.

‘No.’ You said without hesitation and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers together and kissing each and every one of his knuckles before resting your conjoined hands on your lap. ‘I love that you feel comfortable enough to reach out to me for physical comfort. It means a lot and I’d never want to undermine that.’ You continued and you could see Jason visibly relax as a smile graced his lips.

‘You almost scared me half to death there sweetheart.’ He says in relief. ‘And the reason why I reach out for you for comfort is because you bring me comfort and bring my mind some semblance of peace.’ He admits and you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as a silent way to echo his sentiment that he too brought you comfort. Jason smiled and brought your hand to his lips, mimicking you by pressing kisses to each and every one of your knuckles while maintaining eye contact with you; It was a simple enough action to make anyone flustered at the intensity of his seemingly never ending devotion.

‘I love you Jaybirdie and thank you for choosing me to be your safe place.’ You said softly.

‘I love you too sweetheart and thank you for being my safe place.’ Jason replied, pulling you in by your joined hands, caging you against his warm chest, as he shifted his position to lay down on the couch where you both took a well deserved nap.

No nightmares or night terrors greeted Jason that night as he help you in his arms, dreaming of nothing but you and only you and your smile. His safe place.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[mournings-stars]

What's ur take on vox aftercare imagines? :3

tell me why i was so in love with this ask, wrote a whole fic and literally forgot to post it omg ANYWAY i love vox with aftercare cus that television does NOT know what he’s doing

yes he’s used to having to reign in val but convincing someone to not be criminally insane and telling someone they did a good job is a tad bit different yk (LMAO)

i doubt he’s ever actually received aftercare or given it before getting into an actual relation(situation)ship so he fumbles with it at first

he’d definitely get the hang of it tho! like i think in private he’s a very doting s/o (in his own way) like he gives you the princess treatment all day every day (as long as no one else is there to see it)

so i think despite that he kinda lacks in the aftercare department cus he literally doesn’t know it exists until you try to initiate it

anyway for this lil blurb my idea was that reader and vox have been hooking up for a while and have gotten closer (it’s not like vox would let just anyone sleep in his bed) so here u go

Vox would really try to give aftercare. Every time since you started spending the night, he’d clean you up and change the sheets. He’d get you something to wear before he took care of himself, and made sure you had anything you could physically need, but that was it. He wasn’t good at the rest of it. He didn’t think to get you tea (especially because he didn’t even like “leaf water”) or a warm blanket, he didn’t think to tell you how he was feeling or how well you did, and he certainly didn't tell you if he needed anything.

No one, before you, had ever even introduced the idea of aftercare. There was a night where you sleepily told him how well he did, and he told you to “go to sleep if you want to stay here tonight,” but you said, “I have to make sure you’re alright first,” like he was ridiculous, laughing as you kissed his shoulder.

“Of course I’m alright… Are you?” He asked awkwardly, thinking you were trying to hint that he’d done something wrong, maybe hurt you.

“Mhm. Just cold.”

“Then… use your blanket?” He pulled his sheets over you as you groaned, shaking your head at him. “What?”

“Nothing… Nothing.” You tucked the blankets over you, turning away from him as you shut your eyes. “Night.”

And it took him hours to fall asleep. Not only was he utterly confused by you, but he had a very needy feeling in his chest. He had half a mind to check and see if he was hard again, because he certainly didn’t feel it, but that was the only thing that made sense.

That is, until he looked at you, tucked into your blankets and finding himself thinking he would be much warmer than some stupid blanket. Why the fuck were you holding on to a blanket and not him—?

And then he had to pause and collect himself because who the fuck gets jealous over a blanket…?

He gently and reluctantly woke you up, feeling bad for it when he watched you blink your eyes open groggily. He came up with something arbitrary, “you’re pushing me off the bed, pretty.”

“Mmm, sorry,” you mumbled and scooted over. He took the opportunity to scoot closer, gently grabbing your waist to pull you against him. You turned toward him, assuming he wanted something else and sleepily bringing your mouth to his neck.

“As much as I like ‘sleepy sex’,” as you called it, “with you, I just want to — hold you.” You didn’t miss the way his screen glitched when he spoke, and he didn’t miss the smile that came to your face before you went back to sleep.

But of course all the niceties were gone the next day when you left before he woke up, which you always did because that was the agreement you had — but surely that didn’t mean things had to be the same in the bedroom.

So he started researching and apparently, “why the fuck is my… partner… being so nice after sex?” Was a commonly searched question in Hell, as it populated almost immediately after he typed “why.”

That led him to trying, really trying, to give aftercare. The first time, you were shocked, telling him you’d clean up, but he insisted and you relented. You let him do what he wanted, thinking he might just be in a mood, but when he very awkwardly asked if you were alright, you realized what he was doing.

“Why don’t I make us tea?” You suggested, getting up from his bed after he’d given you something to wear. “Is that alright? Or, do you want me to keep you company?”

You were much more attentive, and you always knew what to say. That alone made an error appear on his screen, but you didn’t joke or say anything about it. “That’s fine,” he finally brought himself to say.

“Alright. Be right back.” You gave him a smile, gently squeezing his hand as you passed him by and went to the kitchen.

He wanted to tell you to be quick, as he suddenly felt very lonely when he lost the feeling of your hands on him, but he stopped himself.

As if you read his mind, you came back very quickly, also bringing a bowl of fruit with you (and hot water with lemon and honey for him because, again, leaf water). “Blood sugar,” you said, making him laugh.

“So, you like to eat after…?” He concluded, because “blood sugar” was certainly not a valid justification in Hell. You nodded and he did the same in return. “What else?”

“What else, what?” You asked as you sat next to him in bed after setting the tea and fruit on his nightstand, tucking your legs beneath the covers.

“What else do you like… after?”

This time, you didn’t ignore the error screen, taking it as him pushing for too much. “Don’t worry about that — it’s more about what you need… Like, you like to cuddle,” his screen glitched as he cleared his throat, “because you need a little bit of comfort. I don’t need much; maybe, just, something to wear and sleep — but I’d rather not sleep alone.” He nodded along. “I’ll get everything I like; tea, fruit, whatever.” You gave him a very sweet smile, but he understood you were telling him to not ask any more about what you liked — or, he thought he understood that you didn’t want to get personal. “What do you like?” Then you caught him off guard.

No one had ever prioritized what he liked — or, rather, needed after sex before now, and he certainly never wanted to tell anyone. Who knows how they’d use it against him? But you… you just felt genuine.

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