#listen killer is extremely soft with his s/o and you can't tell me otherwise

[sir-crocodile-smile]

Nobody requested this, I just... was feeling the angst this morning. Here’s this. Idk my heart was just telling me to like. Put a character through some hurt/comfort TM this morning, and I chose my sweetie, Killer.

TW: reference to past domestic violence, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort

Punching Bag (Killer x reader)

    He fucked up. He knew he fucked up big time. He had already apologized to you, but you were still angry at him. If only he had kept his mouth shut. The crew had been poking fun at your jealous behavior towards anyone who even thought about flirting with Killer, making jokes about how laughably territorial you were. 

    “Like a dog chomping on the end of it’s chain!” Kid laughed, slapping the table. He was drunk as hell, but what else was new. “Really Kil, you should sic ‘em on the next hooker that looks at you. That’s a fight I’d pay to see!” 

    “Wouldn’t be a problem if Y/N knew how to share,” he laughed, a little too drunk to think better of it at the time. It made his stomach turn to remember it. You had told him a while ago how you felt that you weren’t enough for him, that he would find someone better and it was only a matter of time until then. He reassured you, over and over, that only you had his heart, but he should have known that it was still a sore subject for you. As a man with so many insecurities about his face and laughter, he should know better. He was determined to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. He sat on the edge of your shared bed, waiting.

    You walked into your room, spying Killer immediately. Though you saw his mask snap up in your direction, you ignored it and went about your business. There were a few minutes of silence, then he spoke up.

    “Sweetheart?”

    “Killer?” Hearing his name never stung so bad before. His heart ached. He just wanted you back in his arms, wanted to hold you and never let go. Watching your back turned to him, he racked his brain to think of a way to fix it, only one thing coming to mind. It worked with his last lover. Maybe it would make you feel better. He unclasped his helmet, removing his mask and setting it beside the bed. He approached you cautiously, only closing about half the distance with you before freezing in place. He waited for you to turn around, holding his arms out to the side slightly. 

    “Go on,” he muttered. “I know you’re mad, and I deserve it.” You blinked at him in confusion.

    “What?”

    “I’m sorry for what I said,” he mournfully explained. He closed his eyes, turning his cheek to you. “You can take it out on me. I want you to.” Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what he was trying to get you to do. You saw the muscles of his neck twitch in anticipation of being struck across the face. What on earth? Yes, you were angry, but there was no world where you could be angry enough to raise your hand against the man that you loved.

    “I can take it, baby,” he egged you on, unaware of the horrified look on your face. His mind was somewhere else, some time in the past, thinking of words someone else once said to him. “I’m supposed to be your punching bag.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Thoughts like this don’t just come from nowhere. He learned this from somebody. You closed the distance to him, gently reaching up to take his face in your hands. He flinched.

    “Killer, sweetheart, no,” you whispered, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. His eyes opened and stared at you, wide and a little confused. “I would never, never hit you. No matter how angry I am, I still love you. And people don’t hurt the ones that they love.” Killer stared into your eyes, slowly processing your words and the pained expression on your face. A drop of water fell on to your face, strangely, and he gently wiped it away. It took watching another drop appear on your cheek to realize that they were silent tears. Falling out of his eyes. His body couldn’t hold the tension any longer. His knees buckled as he fell into your arms, the weight of him sending you both to the ground, kneeling. You soothed him gently, stroking his long blonde hair as he buried his face in your neck. He clung to you desperately, completely silent except for his shaky breathing. You stayed like that until the storm of emotion in his chest was calmed by your soft voice and sweet caresses. His head lifted to look you in the eyes.

    “I love you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. You’re everything to me. You know that, right?” You kissed both his cheeks gently, his face still wet with tears.

    “It’s okay, I forgive you. I love you so much,” you reassure him. “Do you… wanna talk about what happened just now?” He shakes his head weakly, picking you up effortlessly to lay on the bed with you in his arms. He hid his face in your chest as your arms wrapped around him tight.

    “Not now. I just… want you to hold me.”

[sir-crocodile-smile]

Lovesick Fool

Blame @pirate-shrimp​, who dropped the Secret Kisses pieces this morning, because they shot me through the heart. I am overcome with pining! I am a sucker for romantic shit like that, so here’s a quick lil thing I wrote. Pine with me. Heheh.

    Hidden away from prying eyes, in the dim evening light, they’re finally alone. His thumb brushes their cheek with a tenderness he didn’t know his hands were capable of. Their skin is so soft, like velvet under his calloused hand, but it doesn’t surprise him. Someone so beautiful, so easy to adore, should feel magical to touch even with his unworthy hands. He can’t help the moment of guilt that washes over him when he remembers that he doesn’t deserve to touch them like this, because they’re an angel compared to him, a murder machine. A terrible and hideous beast. 

    But when their arms wind around his neck, their gentle hands running through his hair, how can he protest? How can he look in their pure and loving eyes and deny them what they want? When they whisper - kiss me, please? - what can he do but melt? 

    He presses his lips to theirs and his chest fills with sunlight. The softness of their lips moving against his is the closest to heaven he’ll ever get as he kisses them back with gentle fervor. At this moment, he can’t care about anything but the way they feel against him as he pulls their body flush to his and cups the back of their head with his broad palm. They don’t have to love him out loud. He can be their secret, just like this kiss, as long as he gets to be something to them. Something that’s theirs. He starts to feel strange, like his brain is shutting down and fading away, but he doesn’t mind. If he dies in the sweet suffocation of their kiss, he’ll die happy. No force on earth could tear him away from his love right now.

    Killer blinks as sunlight spills in his window. He can’t figure out where he is for a moment as he groggily rubs his blinded eyes and reaches out for you to find nothing but empty air. He looks around frantic until he realizes he’s simply in his bed. It had all been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. He’s just a lovesick fool with too much imagination. He clenches his fists and buries his face in his pillow, muffling the single, tortured sob that tore out of him.