#hunter looking out for his family

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I might be in the minority in that I have never read any hint of jealousy at all from Hunter in this scene.

What I see is Hunter noticing that Omega and Crosshair have developed a bond; and considering that Crosshair has obviously been through excessively traumatic experiences, Hunter is wondering the full extent of what Omega went through for her and Crosshair to have become so close.

And he's concerned for both of them.

In the same story arc, he goes on to defend Crosshair when the other clones distrust him, and even steps back enough to let Crosshair look after Omega (that was a deliberate choice on Hunter's part, he saw that Crosshair had Omega covered and let it be, and no one will be able to convince me otherwise).

Add to this the fact that in the next story, "Bad Territory," Hunter tasks Omega with getting Crosshair to start facing the reality of his hand tremors (an assignment that will only be of benefit to BOTH siblings), I think Hunter is much more sensitive and understanding of what his siblings have gone through than we may have initially given him credit for.

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 98

John and JLD are up against a threat from the infinite realm. When the being goes to declare their plans to destroy the planet. The being suddenly comes to a halt.

Apparently there is a single ecto entity that has a haunt on this planet. So they can’t flat out destroy the planet, that would just be rude.

Upon an investigation. As they are definitely gonna scout out who the ecto entity is at the minimum. They find none other the Cujo.

Seeing as it’s quite common for ecto animals to claim an ecto being in the realm as their “haunt”. The JLD assume Cujo, who is asleep on Danny, claimed Danny as his.

[kacievvbbbb]

While I think Garp would be soley responsible for Mihawk’s hair falling out in clumps if they spent any amount of time together

I do think garp and Zoro would get on splendidly. As they are after all the same flavor of person.

any attempt to put all three of them in the same room will give Mihawk ulcers.

Mihawk would comment on their stupidity

Garp would respond “ain’t got to be smart to be a marine” and zoro would raise his glass in salute “ here, here”

And Mihawk’s blood pressure would reach levels previously inaccessible by man.

[jswatson]

the two most beautiful moments imo

[fusionsprunt]

Hunter what the FUCK-

.

[wolfkilermoved]

no one should look this pretty it's not fair

[citypoprevival]

ik its cringe but um. since hunter the parenting is based off of 40k lore, and i had a sensei ( half-human child of Big E ) oc kicking around in g-docs, i revamped her to fit into the h:tp lore. meet odette! (she/they), one of the ex-children of big-d, and independent salubri kindred, currently acting as the go-between between the anarchs, independents kindred, and camarilla of east-anglia, though originally, she's from santa monica and relocated after l.a. got too hot to stick around for salubri like her back in 04

edit. added the kindred version!!

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

ngl i kind of miss the era of fics after hunting palismen but before season 1b where hunter slowly befriends luz’s friends and family under the guise of studying wild magic/espionage/whatever they were setting up with hunter spying on luz in season 2a that they didn’t have time to pay off in the show. and he finds a loving mother figure in eda and gradually realizes that belos and the emperor’s coven are bad before bravely standing up to his abuser and permanently moving into the owl house to be luz and king’s grumpy older brother.

i know his arc in canon didn’t go like that and tbh despite having more episodes to interact with him than darius or camilla eda ended up being like. the least parental towards him out of the three. but i really like that fic concept? not very action-y so i get why they played his arc out this way in the show but hunter’s heel turn in the show didnt. really feel like it was in his control? he has doubts about helping belos in every episode he appears in bc he was growing to care about luz and her friends. and ofc he finds out that belos is evil in hollow mind and ends his redemption arc by choosing to help hexside fight off the scouts.

but he was forced into all the realizations about belos by outside factors. he leaves the emperor coven not because he made an informed decision about how it was bad but because he knows belos would kill him if he didn’t leave the coven. and then when he helped the students at hexside it was because the teachers were about to trade him for gus if he couldn’t prove that he was trustworthy. i guess in the human realm he does get to learn what counts as a normal childhood and loving family, but that ties more into his post-redemption arc about found family rather than this being what makes him realize that belos was evil.

(this is also why i like to compare hunter to peridot from steven universe rather than zuko. i know on a surface level hunter and zuko are both angsty boys with a scar and an abusive father figure. but zuko had a journey bonding with civilians and the gaang where he learned why exactly the fire nation was wrong. and his decision to leave the fire nation, after zuko got back all his privilege and his fathers favor, was meaningful because it showed he was willing to give all that up to do what was right. meanwhile hunter, like peridot, had nothing left to lose by the time they join the protagonists. they fought against the villains because they were trapped with the protagonists and would die if they didn’t. i’d say even peridot had more agency in her redemption arc than hunter because she was given a chance to go back to homeworld but instead chose to save earth anyway and tell off yellow diamond.)

every confrontation between hunter and the villains during and after hollow mind was forced on him. in his earlier episodes, hunter did some small betrayals towards the coven to help luz and willow. but during the final part of his redemption (hollow mind & labyrinth runners, where he fully does a heel turn towards the protagonists’ side), saving gus from getting his sigil was the only major action he chose to do. in every other instance, his options were either help the protagonists or be killed.

this isn’t a bad thing. i like hunter’s character arc. it’s definitely more about coming to terms with one’s trauma than about anything bad hunter actually did. so they kind of brush aside his redemption arc once it’s over and the major focus is on what comes after. which i think is how toh does most of its redemption arcs? like with lilith or to a lesser extent amity. hell even mattholomule. once the character realize they’re wrong they get on the protagonist’s side and there isn’t much lingering tension about the harm they did. because once they’ve dedicated themselves to helping the protagonists, there isn’t much more they can do to make up for the past harm and toh definitely isn’t trying to preach anything about punitive justice.

so for hunter he realizes belos is evil and going to kill him in hollow mind and decides to help luz’s friends stop him in labyrinth runners. and after that he permanently joins the gang and helps fight belos and the rest of his arc is about finding himself after his redemption. which with how they wrote his backstory and arc so far i am more interested in this than seeing him haggle with the moral quandaries of working with belos and slowly realizing that he wants to be a Good Boy.

but man. those season 2a fics are so good. they’re like an au where hunter’s redmption arc is more like zuko’s than peridots and they give him a LOT more agency. in those fics he might get forced to stay with the owl family at first out of plot contrivance, but by the end he chooses his new family. and he chooses luz and eda and the rest of their friends and family over every privilege he had in the emperor coven, and over belos. and even though it might be a bit cliche, i still think that idea is really powerful.

[cherrymoonvol6]

the worst part about flapjack's death is that luz and hunter's friendship died right along with it lmao

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Can we talk a bit about the fact that Hunter seemed to just forget about Crosshair's predicament after Eriadu happened?

Because I don't think for one second that it's because Hunter doesn't care about Crosshair - his only hang up to mounting a rescue mission was their lack of reinforcements (and that's par for the course, this has ALWAYS been his hang up about carrying out an op against Imperial facilities). I think Hunter, for all his calmly explaining to Omega that Tech is gone, is absolutely shattered by what happened. He lost Crosshair a long time ago, but at least that brother left the squad alive. Tech is now dead. And Hunter is NOT going to lose anyone else. Echo has decided to go off and do his own thing, but Wrecker and Omega are still counting on Hunter. So forget any more rescue ops. It's time to put being soldiers behind them, for good.

I get where Hunter is coming from, I completely sympathize with him and interpret this as another indicator of how hard of a blow Tech's fall was to him; but I do wish the show had delved just a little deeper into this, maybe by having someone give Hunter a little more pushback to his plan of retiring before freeing Crosshair. Something like "But... how are we going to rescue Crosshair? It's what Tech wanted." Something to make Hunter have to say out loud that he refuses to risk another member of the family. Something that makes it absolutely clear that Hunter took the loss of Tech so hard he can't even bring himself to entertain the idea of fulfilling the mission Tech died for, and instead decides that the best way to "not waste" Tech's sacrifice is to go into hiding to try to survive.

[yuridovewing]

phone died so i couldn't post, but im gonna be like au speculating as i go through these and i want a good amount of them to be Somewhat rooted in canon? and man i gotta figure out whats just the erins being bad at establishing genuine connections between characters and a character genuinely being distant.

anyways is it just me or does bramblestar feel very distant from his children here

[viti-ocs]

Im completely reworking the boys Mahko had with Mimi, because recently I've wanted the kids in my OC universe to have a more active roll in the story instead of being forgettable, useless background characters or props.

The boys have new names and personalities and everything. Mimi is unable to keep them from reuniting with Mahko when they become preteens/teens, unlike originally where he never sees them again after he and Mimi get divorced. Also they're going to end up with complicated/more negative feelings about their mother because I wanna add a dash of my own mommy issues into their narrative lol. But they've also got weird feelings about their dad since he was kicked out of their home when they were both young (another bit of my own issues/trauma lmaoo)

They both eventually go on to completely move in with Mahko and go no-contact with Mimi, much to her anger. I think it'll help motivate her to enact revenge and try to harm/kill Mahko and his friends even moreso than before. After all, someone with nothing left to lose is very dangerous to deal with.

[voidartisan]

rbing this nearly two months later because I WAS RIGHT!!!!

can't wait for the tbb finale in which omega walks out of tantiss with a bunch of force-sensitive children like "these are my friends :D" and hunter briefly becomes a single father of eight

[bet-on-me-13]

Fenton, the Ghost Hunter Hero

So! When Danny first saw a Ghost attacking his school, he was still terrified of his parents finding out about his Powers.

He looked exactly the same in his Ghost Form, sounded the same, he even had the Hazmat Suit his parents had custom made for him on as a Ghost. There was no way anybody wouldn't immediately find him out if he tried to stop Lunch Lady with his Powers, it was so obvious!

But he couldn't just leave her there. She had crossed through the Portal that he opened, and was attacking his friends. He needed to stop her somehow!

So he tried, he just didn't use his Powers. He stole a bunch of his parents Inventions, fixed the broken ones so they actually worked, and ran in to stop Lunch Lady as a Human. The battle lasted far longer than he would have liked, but eventually he managed to stop her and shove her into the Thermos.

And from there on out, he just kept doing it. Danny became the Town's defacto Hero, since his parents were too Incompetent and he had the ability to actually beat the Ghosts, he had to protect the people he had endangered.

Soon enough people began to notice his Heroics. Mr Lancer didn't stop him when he ran out of the classroom, Dash stopped shoving him in Lockers, and his parents were Ecstatic when they found out he had gone into the "Family Business".

He still kept his Ghost Form hidden from his parents and the Public though. It was still too dangerous.

He only ever used his Ghost Form while in the Ghost Zone so he could blend in, and avoid being attacked by the multiple Ghosts who he had forced back in there. Danny Fenton was a Ghost Hunter, Phantom was just another Ghost wandering the Ghost Zone.

(Though he did gain some infamy by defeating some powerful ghosts, like Aragon or Plasmius)

Years down the line, Fenton remained the respected Ghost Hunting Hero of Amity Park, his greatest accomplishment being the defeat of Pariah Dark, the Ghost King.

That battle had actually drawn outside attention to the town for a change, and it wasn't long before Danny was offered a spot on the Justice League's Junior Team. It wasn't every day when the evil Ruler of another Dimension was defeated by a non-powered Human, so it actually sparked some interest in the Town.

Unfortunately, Danny couldn't accept the Invitation.

If he joined the Justice League, it ws only a matter of time before one of their multitude of Magic Users realized the truth and outed him as a Ghost. He couldn't take that chance.

He was content staying as a small town Hero dealing with a "minor" Ghost Problem, no need to overcomplicate matters.

That is, until the JL contacted him again a few months later. Apparently, their Time Travelers had warned of an Evil Ghost known as Phantom, who would one day grow so powerful he would destroy the world and leave it in ruins. They needed his help as an expert Ghost Hunter to track down Phantom, for the safety of the world.

Problem. This version of Danny had never actually met Dan, since his history went so differently. Now he is terrified of what event could have led to him becoming the Worst Supervillain in History.

[comfortless]

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”